#and i don’t think there’s any way to make it stop… i just have to be aware of it and manage it as best i can

[watchmegetobsessed]

EVEN IF IT TAKES FOREVER

A/N: aaaah im so excited for yall to read this!!! im kinda ashamed to admit this whole idea came from something i heard in an ep of milf manor but lets just move past that lol

WORD COUNT: 9k

WARNING: sexual content, toxic and verbally abusive relationship, cheating (not from Harry or Y/N)

SUMMARY: Harry Styles is used to get any woman he wants, everyone knows that. But when his interest shifts towards you, everything changes and he is ready to wait for you for as long as it takes, even when he finds out you're engaged to your asshole boyfriend. Not even that ring on your finger stops him from pining after you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You don’t have to look up from the drink you’re making to know who just walked into the bar. It’s like the atmosphere of the whole place shifts instantly whenever Harry Styles appears, a sixth sense always triggers a siren in your head before your eyes could spot him crossing the space between the entrance and the bar. 

You’d be lying if you said you felt no excitement every time he shows up, the way your heart starts hammering in your chest is a great tell that he is anything but neutral to you, but you’ve been trying your absolute best to keep yourself under control. For one, he is known to be a flirt. Every woman in town knows that Harry loves three things, attention, pretty women and the combination of the previous two. You’ve seen him around with different partners every time, but never with the same twice. You heard the stories, the gossips and the whispers, how he shakes every woman’s world and then leaves, never giving the chance for anyone to even try to tie him down. This is not what you want or deserve.

And for two… You’re taken. Engaged, to be precise. 

When you spot Harry you instantly hide your hand behind your back, hoping the diamond ring won’t catch his eyes, because you know he would flip. 

Apparently, his latest fixation has been none other than you. He came into the bar about two months ago for the first time. He sat by the bar and clearly tried to flirt with you all evening, ignoring all the women who were brave enough to go up to him. He remained focused on you and as the evening carried on he became more and more blunt about his intentions with you. 

“So, are you coming home with me?” he asked when you walked out at the end of your shift. He was waiting by the back, leaning against his motorcycle. You were never blind, you saw how attractive he was then and you still see it now, but you just shook your head no.

“I’m taken.”

“You got a boyfriend?” He arched an eyebrow and you nodded. You expected him to give up, but instead, a devilish smirk took over his expression. “It’ll be even sweeter when I win you over, Angel.”

You were taken aback by his confidence and you were surprised when he showed up the next day, but got used to his presence quite fast. 

It became a sort of usual, have him walk in not long after your shift starts, he sits by the bar so he can talk to you, he drinks one or two beers and then asks if he could take you home once you’re done. You decline and then it starts all over again. 

An unexpected feature of his never dying attempts is that you’ve actually got to know each other during those long hours when he sat by the bar and entertained you while you worked and when he drops the cheeky act he is actually someone not just bearable but rather pleasant. You’d never admit it to him, but you kind of think of him as a friend, you’ve shared some things with him about yourself not many know. 

Like how you found out your boyfriend cheated on you. 

“You look stunning, as always, Angel,” he greets you as he takes his usual spot and you’re already pouring his drink.

“And you’re being flirty, as always,” you give him a knowing look, but he just smirks. You give him his beer and then move over to another man by the bar. 

When you return you notice the change in him and you know he saw the ring. As if you could still hide it from him, you cover it with your other hand, even though you did nothing wrong. 

“What’s that?” he asks, though it’s obvious he knows it’s an engagement ring. 

“Harry…”

“He proposed to you?” he asks, eyes snapping up to meet your gaze. 

“Yes, he did.”

“And you said yes?” He is clearly growing angrier by the second and you worry, because he tends to lose his temper easily. You don’t think he would ever hurt you, but he might take his anger out on something or someone else.

“Yes, that’s why I’m wearing the ring,” you say and try to keep yourself busy, moving the clean glasses in front of you around. 

“Y/N what the fuck?! You can’t be fucking serious.”

“I am and it’s none of your business,” you snap at him.

“The guy cheated on you!”

“Would you stop airing my private life for everyone?” you hiss at him, looking around to see if anyone has heard him. 

“Then explain to me how you are so stupid that you want to marry a man who doesn’t love you?!”

You’ve had enough. Checking if there is anyone waiting to be served you find no one so you walk out from behind the bar and grab Harry’s wrist, pulling him out through the back door to the empty parking lot behind the building. 

“Who do you think you are? You have no right to talk about me or my relationship like that!”

“Y/N, you are making a huge fucking mistake!”

“A mistake would be trusting someone about dating who has never stayed with a woman for longer than a couple of hours! What the fuck do you know about love or marriage when you can’t even stay until the morning when you fuck someone?”

It might be petty, bringing up his reputation against him just to invalidate his words, but he brought the worst out of you. 

“Because I don’t fucking lie to women about what I want! Your man lied right into your face and then only admitted to cheating when he was busted. You think he wouldn’t do it again? You think he is not doing it now? Cheaters don’t change, Y/N. He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

“And you do?” you snap at him as your anger takes over your body. Maybe it’s because he brought up what Jeremy did or maybe it’s because he is lecturing you about something he has no right to stick his nose into. “Let me guess, I should ditch Jeremy and run to you? We fuck, have one great night and then leave me like you leave everyone, is that what I should go for? Is that what I deserve?”

He seems to be at a loss of words and that’s new. He probably wasn’t expecting you to call him out so explicitly, but it’s been building up for a while. 

“Do me a favor and stop trying to orchestrate my life. I’m more than capable of making my own decisions. Go and chat up another woman, fuck her so you stop trying to stick your dick inside me.”

You walk past him and straight inside, your rage doesn’t die down for a couple of long minutes. You take a few orders and then slowly get back to the workflow and manage to forget about Harry for a bit. When you glance towards his spot you see that his beer is still there, but he never returned. For a second you get uncertain, have you gone too far? 

No. He deserved it and everything you said was valid. It’s not your fault he can’t take the truth. 

Two days pass by and you see no trace of Harry. You find yourself looking at his usual seat from time to time and you mistake a few tall brunette guys with him, but he never actually shows up. You tell yourself you should be happy he is out of your hair, but somewhere deep inside you there’s still some disappointment that you try to push down every time it threatens to bubble up. 

Sunday comes and it doesn’t start off the best. Jeremy is in a mood all morning and he just practically picks a fight over anything you do. It’s whether what you cook, where you put the scissors or how you forget to lock the backdoor, he overreacts everything and by the time you’re leaving for work you’re a mess from all the fighting you’ve had. 

Being away from him is actually a bit of a relief, but your peace only lasts until he starts texting you and somehow you end up fighting again, this time about the outfit you wore to work. A simple black skirt with a white t-shirt, you’ve worn this before and he didn’t even notice, but today it seems like the skirt is too short for his taste and the shirt is too see-through. 

JEREMY: Enjoy the attention of every fucking men in the bar.

JEREMY: Congrats on being a slut.

You’re angry at him, but you’re also too tired to run around in circles. When he sets his mind on something nothing can change it, so there’s no use trying to convince him you’re not doing it to get other men’s attention.

You put your phone aside and ignore it for a while, but apparently, that wasn’t the right decision. Because the next time you check it you see a bunch of missed calls from Jeremy and another thread of texts.

JEREMY: Answer the fucking phone Y/N.

JEREMY: Are you fucking someone in the toilet? 

JEREMY: If I find out you fucked someone you’re dead I swear.

There’s only twenty minutes left until closing and the bar is almost entirely empty, so you step out to the back and call him. 

“Are you done fucking?” That’s what he says when he finally picks up. 

“Are you done being an asshole? I’m not fucking anyone!”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! I know you’re sucking dicks for tips, don’t even try to lie to my fucking face!”

He is vivid, shouting on the other end of the line and it’s making your head throb. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with his unreasonable jealousy right now. All you want to do is go to sleep, but you know if you go home you’ll just continue from here. 

“I’m not lying, you’re delusional!”

“Stop with the fucking lies! Don’t fucking come home until you can’t admit the shit you’re doing! I will not have a woman lie into my face!”

“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t tell me not to go home, that’s my place too!”

“I’m sure you can find a place to sleep if you suck another dick.”

And with that the call ends. You’re staring at the screen in disbelief for several moments before the tears start rolling down your face. You lean against the brick wall and slide down as you let the sobs bubble from your throat. You try to call him again, but it doesn’t even ring. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you bury your face in your hands. 

You always kept telling yourself Jeremy has a temper and that he doesn’t mean it when he says these nasty things, but every time it happens again it gets harder and harder to believe that you could put up with it. You get that it roots in his jealousy, but he shouldn’t act like this with you, you know it’s not normal and yet… you still haven’t been able to do anything against it. 

You’re so buried under your pain that you don’t even notice the motorcycle that rolls into the parking lot and stops just a couple of feet away from you. Harry’s voice is what snaps you out of your spiral.

“Y/N? What are you doin–Hey, what happened?”

He rushes over and kneels in front of you, one hand on your back as the other lifts your head by your chin. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, as if he couldn’t see your tear soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes. 

“No, you’re not. What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Seemingly he is trying to find wounds on you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s just… I-I don’t…” You can’t get the words out, it’s like your mind is blocked. 

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

He helps you up and you don’t protest when his arms curl around you and he keeps you close to his chest as he walks you inside. He pulls you to the stool he usually takes and makes you sit before walking behind the bar and pouring you a glass of water. 

“I need to close,” you croak and try to get off the stool, but he stops you.

“I’ll take care of it.”

You faintly hear him making the last few people in the bar leave and then the lock turns on the door before he returns and sits beside you. 

“Now tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you breathe out as you close your eyes. When you open them again, Harry is still there looking at you patiently. 

Then he stands and walks back behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the shelf along with two shot glasses.

“Alright. Then let’s drink the pain away.” He pours the liquor into the glasses and then pushes one over to you, holding up the other one. For a second you just blink at him, a warning going off somewhere in the back of your head, but you’re quick to turn it off. 

Drinking the pain away actually sounds nice right now, since you can’t go home until Jeremy is having his episode. 

So you finally take the shot and you catch a tiny smile from Harry before you both chug down the alcohol. And soon more follows, at least on your side. 

About thirty minutes and three more shots later you’re definitely drunk. But at least you stopped crying and can actually laugh now, practically on anything Harry says. 

“Oh my God, stop!” you cackle, slapping your hand onto the bartop.

“No, I swear! I climbed out the window and fell straight into the jacuzzi!”

“Did her father see you?”

“No, I would be dead by now if he did?” he chuckles.

“I can’t believe you were such a playboy even as a teenager!” you keep laughing. 

“What, are you surprised?” he cheekily asks.

“Honestly, not that much,” you snort and reach for the tequila bottle, but Harry pulls it away from you. “Hey!”

“Maybe let’s slow down a bit, yeah?” You pout at him, but he just grabs a normal glass from behind the bar, fills it with water and hands it over to you instead. 

“What, you’re not up for a bit of fun?” you grin into the glass, but take a few sips anyway. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I do want to have fun with you, Y/N. But I’m also concerned at how fast you downed those shots,” he admits smirking. 

“Ah, how sweet of you, as if you don’t just want to take me to bed,” you scoff, but you didn’t mean it in a bitter way this time, like before. “Isn’t it tiring?”

“What is?”

“Ah, don’t make me say it!”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel.”

“Angel!” you groan and then let out a sigh. “Aren’t you tired of running after me? I mean, you’re used to getting your way with women. Honestly, I thought you’d stop by now.”

Harry just stares back at you and it gets intimidating, especially when a smirk curls the corners of his mouth up. Your cheeks already feel quite hot, but now they are burning. You always hated how bothered he could get you despite all your effort to reject him in every possible way. 

Just when you think he’d ignore what you said forever, he finally speaks up. 

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because you’re different?”

“Oh no, don’t give me this bullshit!” you scoff and then just laugh it off. You change position on the stool and try to cover up just how much his words affect you. 

Because it might have been the corniest thing you’ve heard from him, but you’re also just a girl who’s a hopeless romantic and this is exactly the stuff that can turn you into a giggly mess in a heartbeat. 

“Why is it your first instinct that I’m just bullshitting you, Y/N?” he asks, but he is not at all accusing, more like curious. You purse your lip, but decide not to say anything, just sip on your water. Harry walks out from behind the bar and takes the stool next to yours. “I think you don’t know your real worth, Y/N.”

“And you do?” you roll your eyes at him teasingly. 

“I would love to, but as long as you don’t let me get closer to you, I can only work with what I see. I know you probably think I’m just lying to get into your pants, but if there’s one thing you should know about me is that I’m always telling the truth. I’d been lied to before, many times and I know what it does to you, so I would never do the same to you or anyone.”

“Is this your way of buttering me up?” you smirk, but narrow your eyes at him. Your wording makes him laugh. 

“Of course.”

“Ah, you are so smooth, I hate that about you! And I hate how handsome you are.”

Oops. That’s definitely the alcohol talking, you’d have never admitted that to him sober. You catch the surprised smirk on his face and you immediately regret opening your mouth. 

“So you think I’m handsome, huh?”

“Oh shut up! I can see your head getting big!” You point at him, but he grabs your hand in the air and tugs at you gently, just enough to make you hop off your stool and fall towards him. He catches you by the waist as you end up between his legs, your hands end up on his chest as you try to find your balance. 

“I would love to hear you say how handsome you find me, but just know, that you’re playing with my self restraint.”

Even despite the shots, you can feel the switch, your breathing becomes shallow and you make the mistake of letting your eyes move down to his lips for a moment. His fingers dig into your waist and though you know you should move your hands, you love how you can feel his warmth under your palms. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened earlier? Why were you crying?”

“Jeremy,” you say in a whisper. 

“Did he hurt you?”

“Just… with his words.”

“That’s still not okay, don’t downplay it. What did he say?”

A small voice in you is telling you not to tell him more, but his undivided attention and care towards you feels so good, it’s something you haven’t experienced in a while. Jeremy is different, he is not the soft type and though you’ve been telling yourself it’s fine, you can’t deny how much you’ve been craving this kind of connection with someone. 

“He accused me of cheating, that I… I suck people off for money.”

Harry’s hands stiffen on your waist, but he stays silent and gives you the chance to talk. You can feel your throat closing up again and your instinct is to close up, but you want to take this weight off your chest in any way possible, so you don’t hold yourself back. 

“It wasn’t the first time he flipped, sometimes he just… loses his mind and takes his frustration out, often on me.”

“Has he ever hit you?” Harry asks in a somewhat cool tone, but you can tell he is holding a lot back. 

“No,” you shake your head. “But his words… He called me a slut tonight.”

Harry exhales sharply and you see his jaw jumping. Your reasonable self is pounding down the door of the room you shut it into, but you blatantly ignore it as you push closer to him. It’s your first time being this close to him physically and you want to hate it, you really do, but truth is you feel yourself being pulled towards him and you’re just too tired and weak to fight it. 

When one of his hands moves to cup your cheek you’re ready to give in. You part your lips and give him an unmistakable look and you expect him to take advantage of the moment, but he surprises you by turning his head to the side with a heavy sigh.

“Is it not what you want?” you ask quietly, trying your best to ignore just how rejected you’re feeling all of a sudden. 

“You know it is,” he replies, turning back to face you. “I want you more than anything.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He shakes his head and your stomach sinks. You try to pull away, but he keeps you caged against him. 

“Hey, look at me.” His hand captures your chin to make you look at him, but you keep your gaze away from him. “Y/N, look at me,” he pleads again and you give in at last. 

His thumb slowly runs across your bottom lip, making it tremble from the intimacy of his touch. 

“This is all I’ve wanted since I first saw you and it’s taking everything in me not to take it. But I know you and I know that you would regret it. I would never put you in a situation that could hurt you.”

You hate how right he is, how well he knows you. 

“So considerate, respecting the… bro code and everything,” you huff, hoping to break this weird mood that’s lingering around the two of you now. Harry’s head falls back as he laughs. Then he grabs your hand that has your engagement ring on and with a confident move he takes it off, throwing it over his shoulder and you just watch with your mouth hanging open.

“I give zero fucks about the bro code, especially if it’s about that asshole you call your fiancé.”

“Did you just–”

“What I do care about is,” he continues, “you. And how you feel.”

Your mind is racing but also blank at the same time. You just stare back at him, eyes drooping as the alcohol is starting to wear you out. 

“So what, you’re just gonna wait around, hoping I will wake up one day and leave Jeremy for you?” you ask jokingly, but his answer comes in a serious manner.

“Exactly.”

There are a couple of seconds when the two of you are just staring back at each other and you swear you can see the universe in his green eyes, the past, the present and a future together and as much as it scares you, it also starts a fire somewhere deep in your chest. 

“Can you–um, can you give me a ride to my sister’s place?” Clearing your throat you pull away and this time he lets you. 

“Sure.”

You sit on his motorcycle behind him, arms wrapped around his torso tight as you watch the night lights pass by, blinking lazily, his scent filling your nose every time you press your cheek against his back. When he stops in front of your sister’s apartment’s building you almost ask him to just drive for a bit more, but you force yourself to let go of him and climb off the motorcycle. 

“Thanks for… everything, I guess,” you awkwardly say while he is still sitting on the bike. 

“Take an Advil before you go to bed.”

“Okay, stop babying me,” you laugh and he finally breaks into a smirk. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

It’s a simple question, but the obvious hidden question is right there, out in the open. It’s your way of asking if he’ll be returning to the bar despite the fight you had a few days ago. 

“Of course. Keep my seat open.”

Nodding you’re about to turn around and walk inside, but he calls after you.

“Y/N?” You look over your shoulder, waiting for him to continue. He opens his mouth, then closes before actually speaking up. “You don’t have to believe that my interest in you is genuine. I will gladly prove it to you any way possible, but… Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.”

You have no idea what to say so you just nod and then keep walking until you’re inside the building, but you stay leaning against the door until you hear his motorcycle roar up and fade into the night. 

You’d love to say that after the night with Harry at the bar everything changed, but that’s not true. The next day you went back home, Jeremy calmed down by then, you had a fight nonetheless, which ended up with some makeup sex, but your head was somewhere else.

Or with somebody else.

Then it all went back to the same usual. Harry was there at the bar the next time you were working and luckily he didn’t bring up anything that happened that night. Not what you said about Jeremy, not that you practically admitted being attracted to him and not that you gave him the green light which he rejected. It’s all locked up in a box and put aside. 

However you can feel a slight change in yourself. Harry’s words did stick with you and have been on repeat ever since. 

Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.

You and Jeremy have been together for over three years and moved in together a year ago. You can’t really remember a time you haven’t been with him. You do know that he is not perfect and the shit he pulls sometimes… 

You’ve thought of leaving him before. It did occur to you that maybe you’d be better off without him when he flipped in the past and turned crazy out of the blue. But every time it happened, he went back to his sweet old self, the one you fell in love with. 

But are you still in love with him?

One day, about a week later Harry waltzes into the bar, but he is not looking his usual, confident self. 

“Okay, hear me out before you say no,” he starts as he takes his spot while you’re drying off some glasses. “I know you might find it hard to believe, but I have friends.”

“We are off to a great start,” you chuckle.

“My best mate, Mitch, he lives two hours away so we don’t meet that often, but he is in town this weekend.”

“Good for him,” you smile, curious about what will come out of it.

“And we were talking about what we should do and all that and I made a mistake. He suggested this club we could check out and said we should meet there at nine but I asked him to make it ten thirty, because on thursdays you finish work at ten.”

Your hand stops mid-motion and you put the glass down, giving him a curious look as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Obviously he wanted to know who you were and I swear I told him we have nothing going on, but he is just so stubborn, he didn’t let it go until I promised I would ask if you wanted to come with us. So here I am, I asked, you can just ignore it and tell me to fuck off. I know you probably wouldn’t want to spend the night in a random club with me and my friend and his wife, so if you just–”

“I’ll go with you.”

Your reply surprises him the most of course, but yourself as well, though you don’t let it show. You spoke before you could think it through and not that it was said out loud and you can’t take it back… You don’t really mind it at all, to be honest. 

“Are you trying to mess with me right now?” he asks, leaning closer, examining you with a narrow-eyed look. 

“No. I haven’t gone out in forever actually, so I would love to.”

He stares back at you for a long moment, looking for any sign that might tell him you’re just joking, but when he sees none, he decides it’s better to just accept it. 

“Okay. Okay, then… I’ll, umm… I’ll pick you up after work?”

“Sure.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you say after him, feeling entertained that you could surprise the always so confident Harry Styles. “So tell me about this friend of yours. Is he hotter than you?”

His expression changes in an instant, the cockiness returns and there is the man you know and…

“He wishes,” Harry laughs. “I met him through work.”

The apartment is silent when you arrive home that night. Jeremy is working the night shift so you have the place for yourself until he comes home at around four in the morning. The bed is unmade in the bedroom, the plates he used during the day are in the sink and the hamper is full of his clothes. It’s all waiting for you to get everything done even though you work just as much as he does. It wasn’t always like this, you remember the honeymoon phase when he would cook for you and then clean up after, when he would bring you flowers for no particular reason.

When he would actually act like someone who loves you. 

With a heavy sigh you get to work even though you just finished. When the dishes are done and the washing machine is loaded you finally sink into the couch and just sit in silence for a bit. Right until a buzzing sound interrupts your peace. Only then you notice that Jeremy left his phone on the coffee table. 

Grabbing it you check the screen and see that one of his buddies is calling. The name flashes and you wait for it to stop. When he does, you just keep holding the phone, staring at your own reflection in the black screen. 

Jeremy never lets his phone out of his hands, he takes it with him into the bathroom and he is always on it. Tapping on the screen the device comes to life and asks for a password. He never felt comfortable using  face ID or his finger print, so he only uses a password to lock it. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve seen him type it out so many times that you actually figured out what it is. 

No, it’s not your name or the date you met. It’s his favorite line of his favorite movie. 

I am Ironman.

Before you could think twice, you type it in, no space, capital I in Ironman and then the phone unlocks. A rush of excitement washes over you as you open the messages in an instant and start scrolling through them. 

Texts from his dad, from his boss, from his friends and texts from…

Andrea.

And Penelope.

And Bella.

And Riley.

Unmistakable messages, photos and even voice memos. It’s all there and you just keep scrolling and reading and it feels like it never ends. When you get to the end of one thread you find another. It’s not just one woman, but about a dozen. Not even you can turn a blind eye over it this time.

But surprisingly, you don’t feel like you want to scream or cry or punch the wall. Instead, you just put the phone back where it was, walk into the bedroom, grab a bag and start packing some stuff you’ll need for the next few days. When you’re done you walk into the kitchen, grab a paper and leave him a note. 

You have two days to move out. Take your shit and move to Andrea or Penelope or Bella or any of your bitches. Goodbye. 

Then you take the ring off your finger, place it next to the paper and walk out.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he arrived to pick you up after your shift. He thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he has ever seen even when you’re wearing a stained shirt after a long day, so it really doesn’t matter to him what you wear.

But when you step out through the back door in your skin tight black dress that’s top sheer enough to tease him with a peek of your black bra underneath. 

“Are you gonna just stand there and stare or are we gonna get going?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then he just shakes his head with a laugh as you finally reach him by his bike. 

“Let’s get going.”

You hit it off with Mitch and his wife Sarah instantly. It’s like you’ve always known each other and you can’t tell if it pisses Harry off or he just likes to be the victim every time the three of you make a joke at his expense. 

Even though it’s a Thursday night, the club is pretty busy, but not the kind that makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because someone is always touching you wherever you go. Harry however stays close to you no matter what, like a guard dog, watching your every move. 

It’s giving you butterflies. Especially because he is doing all this even though he doesn’t know about your little secret you will share with him, but you’re waiting for the perfect moment. 

You start off in a booth, having a few drinks, talking and having fun and when the DJ starts playing songs that are just too irresistible you and Sarah drag the men to the dance floor. They try to protest, but it doesn’t last long. As gruff as Mitch can look, it’s obvious he is whipped for his wife and would do anything Sarah asks him. 

And Harry… Well, the moment he sees you moving to the beat he practically glues himself to you. Though dancing is not your biggest strength, you can definitely follow the rhythm and move your body in a way that’s appealing to the male gaze. 

You can tell Harry is trying to keep his cool, but the more he holds himself back, the more you push his buttons. Touching him while dancing, moving in a way that obviously makes him struggle, pressing up against him and then you pull out the big guns when you start grinding on him, when you have your backside pushed against his front. His hand on your stomach twitches when your ass meets his crotch in a not-at-all innocent way and you hear his groan even over the loud music. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he speaks into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your spine. You turn your head and your lips almost brush against his as you look at him innocently.

“Not having fun, Harry?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Do you not like it?” You turn around to face him easier, but press your front against his to keep the physical contact on the same level. 

“Y/N, you’re… taking it too far,” he warns you, but it just urges you to keep pushing his boundaries. You’re enjoying this way more than you probably should but you are giving yourself the satisfaction this one time. You’re not afraid of asking for his forgiveness later, because you have a feeling he will gladly give it. 

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, but I might if you don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?”

“Acting like… you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I can’t do that? Why?” It finally brings him to the point where you wanted him to be.

“Because you’re engaged and I’m–” he snaps, but you don’t let him finish.

“Except I’m not.”

You both have stopped moving in the middle of the dancing crowd and Harry is staring at you as if he just saw a ghost. Slowly, you raise up your hand and show him your naked fingers. Reaching up he grabs your hand as if he had to physically touch your ring finger to make sure the ring is not there anymore. 

“I ended things with Jeremy and he moved out. I’m single.”

His gaze keeps flicking back and forth between your eyes as he just keeps staring at you, it seems like you broke him and he forgot how to function, but then his expression changes and you read it perfectly. 

It’s not enough for him that you and Jeremy broke up. He wants you to give him the green light.

You look down at his lips and think of all the times you fantasized about kissing them and the guilt you felt every time, but now it’s nowhere, pure desire took its place and you’re ready to give in. 

You move a hand to the back of his neck and push yourself up, making that first move, but Harry is quick to take over from there. He moves fast as his lips crash down on yours, finally kissing you with the heat of his months long pining and never dying persistence. 

You’ve had your fair share of passionate moments in your life before, but nothing compares to the way Harry practically devours you, he’s demanding, dominant and rough, but the more he takes from you the more you’re willing to give until he has everything in you. His hands are holding your face firmly, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to greedily kiss you until your lips are numb and you’re gasping for air. And when you can’t keep up with his hunger his mouth moves down to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking shamelessly as if you weren’t on a dancefloor at a club. He has one hand move from the back of your neck into your hair, giving it a gentle tug while his other hand makes its way down your body, your ribs, your waist and then it stops on your ass, squeezing it without remorse, earning a moan from you that just riles him up even more. 

For a split second you’re convinced he is about to fuck you right then and there in front of all those people. But to your surprise he pulls back, his hand wraps around your wrist and he starts pulling you out of the crowd. At the side he finds Mitch and Sarah dancing and he leans close to his ear. You don’t hear what he says, but judging from the smirk and the way Mitch nods, he didn’t try to sugarcoat anything. 

You don’t even get to say goodbye properly, Harry lets go of your wrist, but his arm is quick to curl around your waist as he leads you towards the exit. The cool night air feels refreshing after the heat inside the club, but you don’t get to enjoy the change, Harry is eagerly pulling you towards his motorbike and when you reach it he pushes you against it before kissing you hard again. Your ass is pressed against the seat and for a moment you think it’s about to fall over along with you, but it stays steady while Harry is having his way with you. Then he just simply pulls back and helps you up, making sure you’re holding onto him tightly. 

“This will be the longest ten minutes of my life,” he says, making you laugh as he starts the motor and moments later you’re speeding down the streets. 

It really is an excruciating ten minutes until you arrive at your place, especially because you keep squeezing your thighs against his, giving him a rather hard time and every time you have to stop at a red light, Harry’s hands are quick to find your naked legs, roaming them shamelessly until he has to hold the handles again and focus on the road. 

As soon as he parks in front of the building and you get off the bike, he is back to focusing all his attention on you, so it’s a challenge to even make it up to your apartment. His hands are mapping up every inch of your body and he takes every chance to kiss you on the lips, neck or shoulder, making it almost impossible for you to even open the front door, but at last you manage and he is quick to shut the door and then push you up against it. 

But he is not kissing you this time, instead he looks at you with such passion and tenderness at the same time, it makes your whole body shiver. 

“Tell me no at any point, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper as a sudden nervousness washes over you. You are not nearly as experienced as he is and sex with Jeremy had been more about his quick relief rather than something you both could enjoy the same amount. 

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight. Holding you is more than I even hoped for tonight,” he admits with a chuckle and he gives you a short, soft kiss. 

“I want to. I just… I’m afraid I won’t be… good enough.”

You’re nervously fidgeting with the neck of his shirt while his hands are plastered to the door behind you either side of you, keeping you caged in with his body. 

“Angel, you had me running after you for two months and the past weeks felt like the longest foreplay of my life,” he chuckles. “I should be the one being nervous about coming in ten seconds.”

You can’t help but crack a smile at his words and he did ease your nerves a bit, but you’re still worried. With one hand he caresses the side of your face so softly, you almost question if he is the same man who was groping your ass not long ago in a packed club. 

“I doubt you could ever not be good enough for anyone but especially for me.”

Your inside melts and there are no words that could describe the way he is making you feel. But instead of talking, you push yourself against him and kiss him, urging yourself to overcome your insecurities so he doesn’t regret choosing you. 

You manage to hype yourself up so well that when you reach your bedroom you pull away and make him stop at the edge of the bed as you stand just a few feet away from him. His eyes roam up and down your body with such hunger you have never seen from a man before and it gives you that last boost to step your game up. 

With slow, teasing movements you start to pull your dress up, revealing more and more from your legs, than your underwear and when the fabric is bunched up around your waist you cross your arms, grab the hem and pull it up and over your head before dropping to the floor, all while Harry is eating you up with his eyes, sitting there with the smuggest smirk on his face as he watches you like he is in a movie theater. 

“Fucking perfect. Come here,” he holds a hand out that you take and he pulls you between his legs, placing your hands to his shoulders as his palms slide to the back of your thighs. He places a few open mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts before his hands squeeze your thighs, urging you to move your legs and make you straddle him. As you climb to his lap he captures your lips in a toe curling kiss and he catches you by surprise when he flips the two of you over and throws you into the mattress. 

He straightens up but just enough to get rid of his shirt, revealing even more tattoos you haven’t seen and a toned chest with abs you’re already burning to touch, kiss or lick. Or all of these above. He comes back down on top of you, his lips return to yours while his hand easily slides underneath you, unclasping your bra and seconds later he is throwing it across the room before his mouth starts moving down your neck, collarbones and then to your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair as his tongue swirls around your nipple and you gasp when he gently bites and tugs on it, flashing you a cheeky smirk when he looks up at you before he keeps moving down on your body. When he reaches your underwear he takes the elastic between his teeth and tugs on it then lets it go so it snaps back against your skin, making you gasp and give him a protesting look, but it just makes him chuckle. 

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t wear it for me,” he mumbles against the lacy fabric, skimming it with his lips. 

“I did, but not to have you play with it,” you breathe out, however you quite like how playful he can get even in such a heated moment. This is a side of him you’ve gotten to get just a glimpse of but you’re getting the full ride now. 

“Alright. Next time then,” he shrugs and hooking his fingers into the elastic he tugs it down as you lift your hips up and soon it joins the rest of your clothes on the floor, leaving you fully naked in front of him. But before you could worry about your looks, his mouth is already on your throbbing clit, making you forget about your whole existence. 

He turns you into a whiny mess with his lips and tongue in just seconds and when he adds his fingers into the equation all you can do is repeat his name like a prayer to all powers above. You’ve never experienced anything like this, not that anyone you’d been with did it the way Harry is. Before you could even process what’s happening you’re coming on his face and he is licking up every drop of it in every possible sense. 

Your body already feels like jelly when he moves back up and he kisses you with your own taste still on his tongue, but he is not even nearly done with you. 

He kneels up and unbuttons his pants and then pushes them down along with his boxer briefs so now you’re looking at just how good enough he is finding you. You can’t take your eyes off his erection, it’s big, rock hard and the tip is glistening from the precum. It’s like the sight has turned on something inside you, because before you could have a second thought you’re moving until you’re on your knees as well, hands wrapping on his cock. Harry moans at your touch and a triumphant smile stretches across your lips as you lean down and don’t stop until your lips are wrapped around the head. 

He sits back onto his heels, eyes glued to you as you struggle to push further and further down his length every time your head bobs down. You’re far from taking his whole cock, but every time you go down again and again he keeps praising you. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.”

“Look at that mouth, taking my cock so well.”

“That’s it Angel, you make me feel so fucking good.”

You don’t stop until your jaw is sore and when you finally come up he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you hard, pushing you back onto the mattress as he lands on top of you again. 

Half blindly, you reach towards the nightstand and into the drawer, grabbing a condom and handing it over to him. You’d love to be the one to roll it onto his cock, but your hands are starting to shake from how much you want to feel him inside you already. 

Once the condom is on he lowers his hips between your legs and you feel his length wedge between your drenched folds. He moves his hips back and forth a few times, coating his length in your arousal before reaching down between your bodies and grabbing himself by the base. 

“As much as I want to take you in every possible pose, I meant that I might not last long,” he chuckles as the head is already teasing your center. “But I won’t stop until you come again. And I’ll have all my fantasies played out next time.”

Next time. These two words make your heart jump, knowing that he is planning to have a next time and you’re still thinking about that when he finally thrusts forward and into you, filling you up inch by inch until his whole length is buried inside you. 

He stills for a few seconds, maybe to let you get used to his size or maybe to regulate himself enough to last longer, you don’t know for sure. But then his lips capture yours again and he starts moving. His hips are rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm and when you hook your legs around his waist he picks his pace up and his thrusts become a bit rougher than before, but it’s just what you needed. 

Your second orgasm is already building up in the pit of your stomach and you claw at his back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his moans getting muffled by your heated skin. You feel his muscles flex on his back and you can tell he is close, but he is fighting to hold back for you.

He lifts his head and rests his forehead against yours, keeping his rhythm steady and you see the struggle in his eyes. 

“I’m close,” you breathe out and he nods with an almost torturous look. “Let it go, Harry, I want to feel you come.”

“Not until you—”

“That’s what I need,” you urge him and he moans before he thrusts forward harder than before, he stays still for a moment, gasping for air as he pulls back and slams into you again, riding out his own orgasm that quickly triggers yours. 

Seeing him fall apart because of you is all you needed. 

He keeps moving for a while, but his thrusts become sloppier until they come to a halt. His whole weight is pushing against your body as your hands are lazily dancing up and down his sweaty back. You feel his heart hammering against your chest and listen to how his breathing slowly steadies before he rolls off of you. Moving with him you curl up against him, your head resting on his chest. 

Then, out of the blue he lets out a soft chuckle. Curiously you lift your head to look at him questioningly. 

“I think I need an award for lasting that long,” he comments and you laugh with him until his hand cradles your face and he pulls you up for a soft, lazy kiss. 

A siren wakes you up that passes by the bedroom window. You grimace with your eyes still closed as you roll from one side to the other, your hand reaching out, searching for Harry’s body, like you did during the night, but this time all you find is the empty mattress beside you.

It instantly sets off a siren in your head as well. 

Sitting up you look at the rumpled sheets on the right side of the bed, but Harry is still not there. Your stomach drops as you crawl out of bed and grab a shirt and a pair of panties to put on quickly before walking out of the bedroom, hoping you might find him in the kitchen making breakfast, but when all you find is your own mess from the day before, panic takes over.

There won’t be next time. That was just an empty promise, he left you just like he left everyone else. How could you even think that you were different?

Tears are dwelling in your eyes as you wrap your arms around you, but then you hear the front door open and you turn around to find Harry walking in, balancing two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

“Hey, you’re up! I went to get us breakfast, because I didn’t find much in your fridge and—Y/N, are you crying?”

“No,” you shake your head, but then a sob bubbles from your throat. Harry places the cups and the bag to the side table and rushes over to you in panic. 

“What happened? Talk to me,” he pleads, but you just shake your head, embarrassed that you instantly assumed the worst of him. 

It takes only a couple of seconds for Harry to put the puzzle pieces together as well.

“You thought I left,” he says. 

“I got scared for a moment when I didn’t find you.”

He doesn’t try to play it off or play the victim. He pulls you into a tight hug and gently sways until you calm down. When he pulls back and looks you in the eyes all you see in his gaze is determination. 

“Remember what I told you the night when I dropped you off at your sister’s place?”

“That I should look at Jeremy with criticism.”

“Before that.” You remain silent because you can’t recall what else was said that night. “I said that I will gladly prove to you that my interest in you is genuine.”

Oh, yeah. You remember that.

“The proving starts now. I will do anything to earn your trust.”

“Even if it takes a long time?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip. He smiles warmly at you.

“Even if it takes forever.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[rreids]

HIS SUNSHINE • S. REID X READER

implied fem reader (self-referential when talking about women but can be ignored); fluff; sunshine!reader x grumpy!spencer; spencer realizes he is in love with reader; implied years of friendship + building to this; kissing; promises; slight angst (crying, mild insecurity); reader has a fear of storms; ~1.5k

part of @reiderwriter's writing challenge using grumpy x sunshine; oh, oh; and libra (modified somewhat to fit the scene more)

Spencer could feel your pulse calm as he rubs his thumb over your wrist. It was an odd sensation, someone physically relaxing under you and your attention. It wasn’t unwelcome, though, and he felt himself match his breathing to your slow exhales as you steadied yourself and your emotions. 

He brought his thumb up and wiped your tear stained cheeks, rubbing the skin gently. You lean into the touch, nuzzling into his palm. He felt like his heart might stop when you let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut. He could smell your shampoo with you this close, a coconut smell and a hint of vanilla. It was… pleasant. 

“Better?”

You nod wordlessly. Your breath tickles his skin but he can’t bring himself to move away. He jumps when both of your hands find his free one and you intertwine your fingers with his. You inhale deeply before lifting your head, and the redness to your eyes makes his heart ache.

“Thank you.” Your voice is scratchy and Spencer smiles sadly, tracing his fingers up to lightly ghost over your temples and brows, a barely there touch with just enough pressure that you relax again.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“I woke you up at one a.m. because I walked to your apartment in a thunderstorm just so I wouldn’t be alone. I think I do.”

Spencer smiles. “You’re welcome any time.”

“Really?” Your voice is small. He realizes he’s never made clear that you’re not crossing boundaries when you visit when you ask “I’m not intruding?”

“You’re not Morgan,” he teases lightly, and your smile is like a ray of sun finally breaking through a gray overcast. Everything is warm again. “I don’t mind. Really.” His hand has finally stopped and dropped back to his side, but you keep your fingers tightly twined with his.

“Why is that, Dr. Reid?”

“That I don’t mind you being here?” He can hear the confusion in his voice clearly. Why would he mind? It’s a sign you feel safe, with him, and you’re good company. His favorite company.

“Why am I an exception?” Your voice is infinitely small, and he almost misses the question. It drips with vulnerability and his chest aches.

Spencer doesn’t answer for a moment. He knows it’s just a few seconds, but it feels like time stops as he looks at you. Your small smile still plays at your lips, gentle curls to the corner of your mouth; a sparkle is returning to your eyes; your face, puffy from tears and marked with tear streaks is as beautiful as ever.

He’s in love with you.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t realize before. But he can’t imagine not being in love with you either, head tilting and mouth parting as he hopelessly tries to find words that won’t overwhelm you the way the revelation is overwhelming him. 

Spencer’s eyes flick to your lips again and he realizes he wants to kiss you. 

It’s wrong, he knows that. You’re friends. Coworkers before that. You came to him in a moment of fear and anxiety, desperate for support and seeking solace in him. You wanted a safe space that he could and did provide. He would be taking advantage of your emotional state if he were to spring these feelings on you, especially since he only just realized them himself. 

And yet he wants to.

“I—” Spencer clears his throat. “You… you’re comforting, to me. It’s never too much. It doesn’t feel imposing because you will and always have respected my boundaries.” You always treat me well. I want you. Nothing could bother me beyond superficially and momentarily because I am hopelessly attached to you. “I make exceptions for you because you make them for me.”

You laugh softly. “So our relationship is only transactional?” There’s humor in your voice. You’re messing with him, and he can’t bring himself to care.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Your brow furrows. He wonders if he’s ruined the moment.

“Do you want it to be transactional?”

“No!” He answers too quickly, too emphatically, barely able to process his own words. “God, no,”

“Wow,” you drawl, all anxiety and tension gone from you. “You’re calling on God.”

Spencer can feel his face burn. He pulls his hand from your hold. Words escape him.

“Spencer.” Your tone draws his gaze to your face immediately. “I need you to be honest with me.” He nods before he can think to reject you — not that he’d deny you any request. He never can. “What are you thinking about?”

He studies you carefully, breathes out “you” before he can psych himself out of speaking. “Why I make exceptions.”

“Care to share?”

You’re so close to him. He can feel the warmth of your chest inches from him. Can see flecks of color in your eyes, could even count your eyelashes. He has half a mind to do so.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Spencer whispers softly, shoulders relaxing as you toy with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You were just crying.”

“So it’s inappropriate?” You wiggle your brows and look up at him, eyes innocent and bright. Beautiful.

“In a sense.”

You smile, innocence to your expression vanishing. “So you want to sleep with me.”

Spencer coughs. “I didn’t— __, I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You don’t want to? I’m hurt.” You’re grinning. “Here I was, thinking I’m irresistible.”

“I didn’t say I don’t…” he trails off. 

You’ve cornered him. You have a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Will you run away screaming if I tell you a secret?”

“Depends. Are you going to tell me you kill pretty women and I need to make a break for it?”

Spencer laughs. “No.” The humor fades quickly, and he can feel his pulse pounding. Hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. “I love you.” His voice hitches on the words. “I’m— I just realized I’m in love with you.”

“Well, it took you long enough.”

He can’t think of a smart reply. He can’t think much at all. All he smells is you and your shampoo and bodywash, and he tastes vanilla chapstick when your lips press gently to his. You don’t give him time to kiss back.

“Are you sure?” Your fingers trace his cheekbones and his head is swimming.

“Sure about what?”

“That you want me. I mean, I was crying on your couch for an hour because of a storm. Do you really want to deal with all of that?” All of you. You’re asking for reassurance you’re not a burden.

As much as he wants to kiss you, he doesn’t. “I want you as you are. If that’s what you want to know,” Spencer whispers. “You are enough for me.”

“And if I’m not enough?”

“For me or for yourself?”

“... both.”

“You are. You will be,” Spencer ducks his head to kiss a scar on your collarbone, a knife mark from one of the first cases you were on with the BAU. “You’ll find it. The balance between who you want and need to be. What you want others to see you as,” your fingers twirl the hairs at the nape of his neck and he’s hyper aware of your touch, buzzing with anticipation of more contact. “For now, you have to learn to be satisfied with who you are.”

You swallow. Nod. Blink back tears again.

“And you’ll have to be satisfied with how I am. With all my scars and flaws.”

You smile. “I think you’re perfect.”

Spencer rests his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m not. No one can be. As long as you promise to be how you’ve always been with me, then, yes, I’m sure.”

“So you don’t want anything to change?” The lightness is strained. You’re too emotional for it to land, but he doesn’t call you on it.

“I’d prefer if you kissed me.”

And you do. He basks in your warmth, your sunshine. You break his dark clouds and his barriers. It’s enveloping, a heat and comfort. Familiar. It’s like you were destined to slot against him, warm him from the inside out. He can taste your tears. A sun shower. He can’t pull back, soaking up your affections like a plant. You’re smiling despite the way your breath hitches from your emotions, and he knows you’re happy. Overwhelmed. It’s everything and not enough.

He traces your spine.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” His heart matches his mumbled words, beating to your tempo. It was years coming, in the making, years of your smiles and sweetness breaking down his walls and becoming part of his world in every way.

And yet the rhythm is familiar, as natural as breathing.

Spencer is tired of being upset with the world. And whenever he’s with you, he isn’t. Can’t be. He just hopes he can provide the same light you do.

i am trying. idk.. it's a fic!!! that's all i got.

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Haikyuu boys n cuddles ──☆*:・ﾟ

Team ! karasuno

Characters: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Nishinoya, Daichi, Sugawara, Tanaka

Hinata✿

He will do anything to spend all day with you cuddling but bro has places to be yk

But he still tries to cuddle as much as possible even in public. If he’s on break and your there he will cuddle up to you in front of everyone, he don’t care! Unless your the one cuddling up to him then he will start blushinggg

But mostly y’all cuddle at one of your houses. He’s so awake and hyper that he can’t stay still but two minutes into the cuddle sesh he’s gone. He drools all over you but you don’t care, and you’ll gladly kiss him awake when it’s time to go

He mainly clings onto your side, like he just clamps himself onto your waist or arm and will just stay there! He also likes being held by you but that’s only for special occasions

Kageyama✿

He doesn’t beg and whine for cuddles but he will be pissed if he doesn’t get cuddles when he wants. He expects you to read his mind; “how was I supposed to know you wanted to cuddle you didn’t say anything?” “I DONT KNOW!”

But once he does get them he is very pleased with himself, he feel like he wins since he didn’t have to ask even though he was pouting the whole day which is basically the same-

He normally big spoons you while his face is like (¬◡¬). If you catch a glimpse of his dumb smirk you tease him which makes him hide in your hair instead~

He’s scared of cuddling anywhere public in any way- he wants cuddles to be private and special! He like just being with you and no one else ok!

Tsukishima✿

He thinks he’s so smart trying to make cuddling ‘your idea’ even though you didn’t even say anything at all. Like random he just walks up to you; “fineee since you wanna whine so much I guess we could cuddle.” You didn’t even say anything before he spoke up he was just to shy to admit he wanted to cuddle

He big spoons you but what he really loves is resting his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, You play with his hair and call him ‘your baby’ and at that point he doesn’t even try to stop it. He will deny it later tho👍

The only cuddling he really does PDA wise is letting you rest on him. He doesn’t care abt all the teasing his gunna get if your tired he doesn’t care he will be a pillow. Again he will deny it later even though there were witnesses

Yamaguchi✿

Never will he ever ask to cuddle, it’s way too embarrassing to ask you he’d rather just curl into a ball on top of you and wait for you to acknowledge him, he always lays on top of you even if he’s bigger or smaller than you he doesn’t care. He draws shapes on your arms while he waits for attention, he also likes when you pat his head-

Once you finally engage with him he was just start TALKINGG, about anything! When he’s comfortable he talks! About his day n such and sometimes he goes “oh do you wanna say something? No? Ok…blah blah blahhh” you don’t mind his yapping at all though

If you try hugging him in public or pulling him in he will just look away timidly and softly push off, hopeing no one sees his red face~

Nishinoya✿

He tries cuddling you literally everywhere. He can’t go one second without a cuddle- he could be in the middle of shopping or something and he will just stop, turn around and cling onto you, then after a minute he will get off and act like nothing happened

If you guys r just hanging out at your house and y’all decide to cuddle uhm, your going to have to pick the position cuz he can not make up his mind- honestly he just sprawls out and let’s you do whatever, normally you just hold him which he’s chill with

Also if you don’t give him nose kisses or play with his hair while cuddling he’s gunna be madddd!

Daichi✿

He gives you hugs n love but cuddling is rare but when it does happen it lasts HOURS. Like 4 full hours I’m being Fr. He holds you close to his chest and just stays there, he doesn’t even fall asleep he’s fully awake and he remembers every moment!

He waits all day for you both to have free time so you could just talk and cuddle and he will get impatient in you take too long, he’s been waiting all day ofc he’s gunna get impatient; “y/n hurry up!!!” “Be PATIENT!” “UGHHH”

When y’all cuddle he always hides his face in your hair or neck and he gets cold like really easily so when he starts getting a little cold he tightens his arms around you hoping for you to bring warmth to him

Sugawara✿

He is obsessed with cuddles but if he asked for them all the time he would feel like he’s bothering you, WHICH HES NOT!

He tries to figure out if your busy in any way ; “sooo y/n, you doing anything?” “Uhm no?” “Cool…cool…” “…do you wanna cuddle~!” “Yeah” you can tell what he wants without him having to ask which he loves

He cuddles by tucking under your chin and basically hiding in the neck, when you cuddle it’s nap time for him so you have a sleeping boy hiding in your neck while softly snoring, you comment about his snoring later and he got embarrassed 😔

Tanaka✿

He normally only cuddles late at night when he’s still hype asf and needs to calm down, so he just throws himself onto you-

He obviously uses your chest as a pillow so he wraps his hands round your waist as well, you could feel him nuzzling into your chest while he whispers something about you being so hot (as usual)

On a serious note he finds is so cute when you drag your thumb over his cheeks in an attempt to calm him down, he always grabs your hand and kisses it before actually calming down.

This should NOT have taken this long but I had shit to do forgive me😋

Btw: not proof read cuz I’m lazy🤞

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!

(last one i promise)

reader & spencer who aren’t exactly enemies but they’re def not friends but reader always double checks if spencer’s fbi vest is secured correctly which in return makes spencer check her over as well and they’re always like ‘stop checking up on me and worry about your own safety’ and it just happens every single time and they swear up and down that they dislike eachother deeply (they need to make out)

BANE OF MY EXISTENCE | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer hates you, and you hate him, until it comes to protecting each other in the field

length: 0.7k

His fingers wound through the back of your vest as you made a move to dart past him, trailing after Hotch as you loaded your glock. 

You felt a yank at your neck, his obnoxiously long arms giving you a firm tug back with little to no effort, all but making you stumble backwards as he forced you to stop, and his fingers were at your hip, adjusting the strap before you could ask him just exactly what he was doing. 

“Wha- Reid, let go, my vest is fine,” You snapped, huffing when he ignored you, in the interest of fixing your belt, his brow turned down into a frown. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you get shot in abdomen and suddenly you’re bleeding out, and you lay there and thinking, dang if only the smart FBI would have told me to adjust my kevlar, and I’ll be right there to point and laugh and say I told you so,” He huffed, his fingers making light work of the fiddly strap, tightening it until he couldn’t see a single inch of your shirt to the point he heard your breathing constrict, but he thought he’d rather you be a little uncomfortable than shot. 

“I mean, if I’m laying bleeding out I won’t really have much to say other than, Reid, get medical, I think they hit something serious, please don’t come to my funeral, you were insufferable enough when I was living,” You said, allowing your body to be tugged back as he started on the other side, because there was no use fighting it when he got in those moods when he always needed to be right. 

He paused, his brain catching up to your words and he drew in a silent breath, wondering if the other side of your jacket needed tightening even more, or better yet, if there was any way Hotch would make you stay in the car as back up. 

Spencer yanked the strap with a vendetta, ignoring the way you whined it was too tight, and his lips pursed together. 

“Would you relax, I was clearly kidding,” You said, thinking his mood had come from your teasing, because you seemed to know exactly what to say to push every one of his buttons, “What I would probably be thinking however is if you’ll be able to flag down a medic with your shoelaces untied,”

His gaze snapped to his converse, and sure enough the double knot he relied on seemed to have failed him, and his strings were hazard material as they dragged along the pavement, already mucky where they’d probably been undone for hours. 

“Make sure you do them before we move in, I’m not carrying your bone head out of there if we start taking hits and you trip over your own feet,” You snipped, and he finally released you, immediately leaning down to fix his own issues, completely missing the way your eyes trailed down to make sure he did the loops tight enough because you were being serious when you said it would loathe you to be the one to carry him away from the danger, though probably not in the way he thought. 

He huffed, standing back to his full height and giving his feet a wiggle in their shoes to make sure they were comfortable, and he looked back at you where you were watching him carefully, catching the split second where something close to worry pooled in your eyes. 

It snapped back into your usual cold demeanour when you realised he was looking straight at you, and you whirled you keep your back to him, inspecting your loaded gun some more as a way to busy yourself. 

“Try not to miss, it doesn’t look good on the reports when I have to save your ass twice,” Spencer snarked, and he practically heard the scoff before you even gave it. 

“That was one time, Reid, and it was only cause I couldn’t see past your stupid fluffy hair. You’re a cop, Reid, not a poodle, you don't need that much volume,” You snapped back, the two of you squabbling the entire walk to the building, until Hotch separated you for the sake of his growing headache. 

He just wished you two would talk things out before he seriously considered Emily’s proposition of locking you in the broom closet together.

[b14augrana]

‘The Death Of You’

The pursuit to being the greatest of all time comes above everything, including your health.

Barça Femení x reader

masterlist

Warnings: slight overshadowing of injury

A/N: edited this author’s note way too many times buttttttt im not making a pt 2 of this because its just a silly little blurb that’s been rotting in my drafts and thats i wanna say okay thanks enjooooyyyyy

“When you think of passion, you think of someone that does anything for their club, and that’s (Y/N). The blaugrana is everything to her, and it is a part of her. She puts the badge before herself, and all she emits, all they admire of her, everything she represents, is Barça.

(Y/N) is Barça, Barça is (Y/N)” — Mapi León.

For Barça, you would give your life. You have put your body on the line and taken the hits until your skin turns the colours of the jersey you truly believe you’ll die in.

It’s what your mother says will eventually kill you. Going down with the jersey, for the jersey, your love for the greatest club in the world coming before all. It’s proof, almost, that Barcelona is so great, it’s worth dying for.

But, the funny thing is, you hadn’t loved living in Barcelona growing up. In fact, you hated everything about it. It felt like an asylum or some sort of confinement where the only things left to stare at are the four walls you’re enclosed by, except, those four walls were littered with posters of men you constantly watched play at the stadium of your dreams, and the only thing that made staring at those four walls so much of a punishment is the fact you were a girl and there was no such thing as a woman footballer.

You had shitty friends to remind you of that every single time they caught you stopping in the street (though you don’t even stop, your foot just drags along the ground a bit slower than usual) just to take a closer look at a mural of some Barça legend.

You hated living in Barcelona because you had nobody on your side that believed there was a place for you or any other woman behind the huge, towering walls of Camp Nou.

Barcelona went from being an asylum to a garden that was nurtured with every match played and goal scored, a title or medal sprouting from the buds of every stem and bush.

You would die for Barcelona. Hell was worth living through, for Barcelona, just to feel whatever emotion devoured you when you step out to a full stadium in the famous blue and garnet.

You want to be the best. That comes above everything — there is no point in devoting your life to something if you’re not going to be the best at it, and you had given more than what was required for Barça.

What you also want is to create a legacy not only for yourself, but the club as well, one title at a time. A legacy associated with winning, and being the greatest of all time. The last thing you need to implement this reputation? The Champions League.

You take in the stadium, the raindrop-covered grass, the noise. That headache inducing noise, caused by the record attendance in the stadium. The headache inducing noise that, when you focus on it, begins to become coherent and recognisable as the Barcelona anthem. With every step closer to the pitch, you find it harder to pay attention to anything around you, and the anxiety in your stomach is more apparent than ever before.

You kill the period of time between exiting the tunnel and finding your place on the field by warming up (or in other words, doing whatever you can to shake the nerves). You step out onto the pitch and feel the pinch of the cold wind which, for some reason, elicits an epiphany; the only thing separating you and that trophy is these 90 minutes.

Those 90 minutes drag on. Pass after pass, unsuccessful dribble after unsuccessful dribble, you’re not getting any closer to the goal but you can’t feel disheartened or unmotivated because all you have is 90 minutes. Everything can change in 90 minutes.

Everything does change. You don’t know how it happened, or who passed you the ball, or whether you even called for it, but you had it and you were moving quickly with it. Managing to glide past Renard, leaving her behind you to grapple at your jersey hopelessly, you find yourself up against Endler on your own.

Although there are 20 other players on the pitch, discarded behind you, it feels like it’s just you and Endler in an empty stadium. The goal looks bigger than it should be as your foot swings down onto the ball, and the raucous noise of the stadium can only intensify when the ball just misses the tip of Endler’s glove and meets the back of the net.

It is hard to ignore the unfamiliar discomfort in your knee, but you do it anyways. You run off to celebrate and don’t pay it another thought. You don’t mention it to anyone amidst the celebrations because how could you possibly ruin this moment, and it’s basically gone by the time you return to the midfield.

For a moment, there's hope. Your goal sparks new light into the eyes of your teammates. One golden boot shines brighter than a golden glove and there's a connection between your foot and the ball that just makes sense, and it's put away in the back of the net.

But when the ball starts rolling again and it meets the feet of Van de Donk, you realise 1 goal isn't enough.

No, it's like hanging off the edge of a cliff, fingers clawing for whatever jagged edge of a rock they can reach, clinging onto the little thing you have keeping you up. But with every minute, every intercepted pass, missed or deflected shots, the cliffside is crumbling.

Lyon is an exceptional team. That's why they manage to put one past Sandra, and you're back to square one. Your mind, drunk on pride, pushes you to do more, to give more. Your body feels like it can't possibly give anything more, yet you still run up and down the pitch without slowing down once and you throw yourself at the ball every time you find the opportunity.

It’s what your mother says will eventually kill you.

So it does, internally. When the final whistle pierces your ears and the minority of Lyon fans in the crowd burst into cheers, it kills you, because you would die for this club and it hurts to come so close but fall short.

The winning legacy you were so close to completing, was now tainted by your failure to actually win.

Your knee also hurts. A lot.

You lie down on the pitch, its soggy and uneven surface being the only comfort you have in this place where everywhere you look, there are reminders that you’re not good enough. The more you think about all the sacrifices and things you put on the line for this title, you wonder, ‘When’s it gonna be my turn?’

Disappointed fans filing out of the exits, your teammates surrounding you trying to hold in their tears, the dancing and celebrating from Lyon.

The sound of sniffles can be heard from beside you, and you roll over to see Mapi, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks dusted with patches of red.

As you line up to receive your medal, you don’t even want to wear it. Silver will never be better than gold, there’s nothing good about being second to best, being outperformed is nothing to be proud of. But you still keep the medal on.

You hang your head and look away from the winner’s stage, because your heart is too sore to take in the fact that would’ve, could’ve, should’ve been you.

‘When’s it gonna be my turn?’

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝐚 ‘𝔀𝓮’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 ‘𝓾𝓼’ ˚⊹♡

downbad!enhypen hyung line x fem!reader content(s): fluff, enhypen being down so horribly, terribly, bad, like whipped whipped for (y/n), (y/n) is sassy and loves to tease, pet names, one profanity, alcohol type: oneshot

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: in which (y/n) doesn’t call them her boyfriend because they haven’t officially asked her to embark on an official courtship˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆ “…you’re gonna be the death of me!”

“don’t you think this would look good on us?” heeseung asks as he lifts up a pair of couple-y beanies and looks at (y/n) expectantly.

(y/n) shifts her gaze between the two before she brings it down. “don’t they look too couple-y?”

“yeah, i mean that’s the point, righ—wait, what do you mean ‘too couple-y?’” the realization hits him late and (y/n)’s already walking out the store, bells hung on the door chiming behind her.

heeseung hastily puts back the beanies, panicky, before he runs out to follow her. “(y/n)! (y/n), wait! what do you mean by that?”

“by what?” the girl monotonously responds.

“there’s nothing wrong with wearing matching stuff, right? aren’t we a couple? or do you not like it?” heeseung worriedly bombards her with questions as he sticks behind her like a tail—almost stumbling entirely when she stops abruptly.

“we aren’t, though.”

“huh?”

“we aren’t a couple,” (y/n) corrects him and his eyes widen as lips gape—frantically moving to stand in front of her when she budges in the slightest.

“are you breaking up with me? please, (y/n). i-i don’t know what it is but i’ll make it up to you! please not like this, no. i don’t want to lose you,” heeseung pleads as his hands shakily grab her shoulders—much too soft to actually say he even put force but the way his fingers curl, securing onto her show that he’s more than ready to latch on for his life. “tell me. tell me what i did wrong.”

(y/n) stares at his face, the desperation and concern paint him so clearly and a guilty sigh leaves her. “we can’t break up if we weren’t together in the first place.”

now confusion settles over him. his brows knitting and doe eyes searching into hers. “what do you—oh.”

and finally putting the pieces together, a loud laugh escapes him while his not-girlfriend frowns, a small pout playing on her lips.

he coos while his thumb brushes over them. “aww, is that what this was all about?”

“heeseung, you—”

“(y/n),” he interjects with his voice laced with so much charm she just can’t refute. an endearing smirk threatens to appear on his face as he cups her cheek—looking down at her with the most tender and sincere gaze. “will you let me be your boyfriend? please?”

the air’s knocked out of the other at his soft little voice that instantly extinguishes any sort of fire in her as she instead, melts into his arms that magically made their way around her waist.

she clears her throat. “yeah, i guess. yeah.”

he finally lets the smirk form as he swoops down and pecks her forehead, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her and he chuckles at her expression. “now let’s get those couple-y beanies to celebrate our official first day as a couple, hm?”

“…yeah,” the girl bashfully replies with cheeks tinted in a shade of pink.

heeseung’s chest tightens at how cute she is to the point it’s hard to breathe and he squeezes her against him—pressing her face into his chest as he resists the urge to just gnaw at her head. “you’re just so—gosh, you’re gonna be the death of me!”

“hee, my makeup!”

the way his nickname rolls from her tongue so casually is music to his ears and he bites his lip, shutting his eyes as his head falls back. “i’m the luckiest person ever to have you as my girlfriend.”

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆ “silver or gold?”

there’s something off. he can’t quite put his finger on it—but there’s something terribly wrong. and it’s not just because of his and (y/n)’s cuddle sessions with her hugs too short to even be called cuddles, or the lack of kisses from her and hesitant acceptance of his or even the way she sometimes cringes at the pet names he uses on her.

but also because of the way she treats him in general. she’s still affectionate—greeting him with the biggest, most beautiful smile, going out for lunch dates with him and paying for his order because “last time you paid for everything” which, in his perspective is mortifying because why?? would she?? do such a thing??

it’s his responsibility—or so he claims—to spoil her as much as possible. he wants to be the one to feed her, buy her all her silly little trinkets and take her out on shopping sprees and carrying all her bags so why?? it breaks him to see her act the way she is.

but at the end of the day, it’s still affectionate, isn’t it? as much as he can’t comprehend it, he sees it as his girlfriend wanting to treat him every once in a while to show appreciation or something—a self-hypnosis, one might say so he doesn’t fall into hysteria.

despite his suspicions however, he says nothing and lets things flow as he takes the opportunity to observe her more, in hopes he can at least make a small conclusion so he won’t upset her by asking the wrong thing.

and today’s the perfect time for it since they’re having another one of their lunch dates. he sits anxiously at their table as he watches (y/n) who’s still at the counter—having bumped with her friend and now she’s accompanying her as she orders.

“is that all you’re having?” (y/n) asks her friend who nods and right after, the former passes the cashier her card—surprising her friend to which she assures her it’s all fine. “no, i insist! after all, last time you paid for everything.”

jay who has been a loyal, attentive audience this whole time instantly feels himself being washed over with dread. small lips parting and hand resting on the left side of his chest as it dawns on him.

all this time…(y/n)’s been treating him like a friend. not a lover. it all makes sense now. the distance she put between them and the affections shown that are always in border between friend and lover but never more to the latter—he sees it now.

“jay? what’s going on?” (y/n) asks from her seat facing him. “you’re zoning out. hello?”

he just had a short circuit and her saying “jay” so simply is only rusting his gears from overtime working.

“‘jay?’”’he echoes with a small frown on his face. “why jay?”

his question baffled her and she emits a small confused yet amused scoff.

“that’s your name? what else am i supposed to call you?”

“baby, bae, darling, honey—” he starts listing out loving pet names and making her gape at his eloquence. she’s not sure if being so knowledgeable in this subject is really useful at all but it’s impressive. “there are so many you can use! just not just my name as it is. we’re not friends…right?”

ding ding ding! finally, the man gets it and (y/n) lets a mischievous smirk play on her lips.

“i’m pretty sure we are, though,” she teases and her date’s jaw detaches, crashing to the floor along with his heart in shards. she giggles and the sound itself revives him, now looking at her with eyes wide and lips pressed expectantly. “i mean, i don’t recall being asked to be someone’s partner so…”

an audible gasp leaves him before he reaches out to hold her hands in his on the table. “my love, i should’ve known. i shouldn’t have left things be unclear between us. so, silver or gold?”

his question confuses her. “huh?”

“for our couple rings. i’m using it to propose to you to be my girlfriend later. so, silver or gold? actually, diamonds will be best, right? you only deserve the best.”

“wait, slow down—”

“how many carats?”

“jay!”

“‘jay???’”

“…sweetie? babe??”

“so much better <3”

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆ “i can even be your doormat!”

it’s not a secret that sim jaeyun is sometimes the embodiment of a human puppy. so it’s not surprising to see him literally following (y/n) around like tail—even before they professed their love for one another.

the only difference now is that he’s much braver in initiating skinship to show his affections like fixing her hair, or cupping her cheeks, drawing circles on whatever part it is that he’s touching on her and even cuddling with her to the point that he’s practically sandwiching her onto the couch with his buried in the crook of her neck.

but he notices something: it’s always been one-sided. and that’s weird. because as far as he knows, one of (y/n)’s love languages is physical touch. but it’s not like she rejects any of his advances, she accepts them all. maybe she’s just not very keen on starting it, but is always up for it.

so he lets it be.

until at one point, it starts to bug him and eat him from the inside out, leaving him shriveled like a wilted flower lacking every single form of nutrient and water—and all the sun’s doing is just drying up every bit of moisture and drawing the life out of him.

“(y/n)…” jake croaks weakly as he crawls onto his phone that he previously threw onto his couch, now only a sliver of the man he once was with his cheeks hollow and lips chapped as his sickness riddles him. a terrible sickness caused by (y/n) deficiency.

the other end of the call rings a few times before the voice of his beloved sings through, instantly energizing him. “hello? jake?”

“(Y/N), I NEED YOUuUuUu~” he howls and (y/n) has to pull her phone away from her ear. “i’m SICK.”

concern fills her quickly after. “sick?? what happened? do you have a fever?”

she’s bombarding him with questions as she hastily puts on her shoes near her main door, ready to leave right after. the pitiful sob from him that follows after only heightens her worry.

“i’m sick…of missing you,” he finishes and (y/n) nearly trips over air just as she’s about to step to the door. “please come over and cuddle…please…?”

his desperate whimpers are just so adorable that it nearly shatters her resolve of playing hard-to-get. nearly.

squinting her eyes and crossing one arm under chest and hooking it to the other that holds her phone to her ear, she then hums questioningly. and gosh, does jake feel like every second is another hour taken from his life span.

“no.”

nevermind. he’s dead now.

“wh-what? what do you mean ‘no?’”

huzzah! he’s been resuscitated. he wants justice.

(y/n) captures her lip between her teeth—holding back her amused chuckles at his cute confusion. “that sounds like a very boyfriend-girlfriend activity, jake. and we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend…”

beep! beep! beep!

he…hung up??

(y/n) gapes and calls him.

“the number you’ve dialed is unreachable…” the automatic machine answers.

again.

“please leave a message after the beep!…”

again.

still no answer.

worry creeps in again as (y/n) slips in her foot back into her shoe which she took off mere minutes ago. just when she stands however, a persistent ringing of her door bell freezes her momentarily.

swinging the barrier between her and the source open, she’s met with surprise to see sim jaeyun, the man himself, down on his knees as he looks up at her with doe eyes glossed over.

“jake! wha—”

“we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend? what did i do? tell me, i’ll fix it!”

“you didn’t do anything!”

“i didn’t? the-then, why?”

(y/n) opens her mouth to answer when she suddenly realizes that him not doing anything is exactly the problem—and her momentary hesitation is enough to have him clasping his hands together in desperation.

“please please please, don’t throw me away! i love you so much, i won’t be able to live without you! please please, pretty princess? PLEASE!”

the girl’s eyes widen at his sudden pleads and she anxiously looks at the other door in the corridor, hoping her apartment neighbors will disregard the chaos occurring. “jake! jake, stand up! stop doing this!”

“NO! you’re mad at me! i don’t know why but…still! is it because i’m too clingy? because i asked you to come over? sh!t! i should’ve been the one to come over not you! i’ll be better, i promise!”

“what?? no! there’s nothing wrong with that just listen to me and get—”

“NOOOO!! i’m not getting away! i’m not leaving! just keep me by your side! i’ll do anything! i-i can even be your doormat—here! right here!”

the sound of a rattling doorknob triggers (y/n)’s fight or flight and she seizes jake’s wrist that’s conveniently raised—thanks to his howls and pleads of “you said you love me!” and “love me backkkk~” respectively—and she hauls him into her apartment.

jaeyun’s eyes widen at the abrupt motion and he stumbles onto the floor of her house but before he can say anything, a pair of soft slips smash against his—ridding him of every thought as his hands instinctively reach up to cup her cheek and nape.

he limps backwards, now completely against the floor while (y/n) hovers and his vision darkens as his eyes shut—reveling in the addicting sweetness of her taste.

a small whine sounds from him when she pulls away and he chases after her lips—wanting nothing more but to relish in her essence endlessly yet her hand that gently pushes him down by the chest halts him.

she giggles at his dazed expression—his breaths shaky, eyes blown out and half-lidded as he peers up at her. “i do love you, jakey. i just said we weren’t a couple because you haven’t asked me out yet.”

“i haven’t?” he slurs like a drunken man, still on cloud nine from her kiss and his gaze casts frequent glances onto her glistening, rosy nubs. “must have been in my dream then.”

“yeah, must be,” (y/n) chuckles and sits on his lap before hauling him up—instantly getting engulfed in an embrace with his arms coiled around her waist and nose buried in the crook of her neck. feeling ticklish, the girl elicits a few titters which makes him smile against her skin.

“i can’t believe i let my princess feel so frustrated for so long,” he muffles into her. “but don’t worry, i’ll ask you now.”

“i’m all ears.”

“will you marry me?”

“HUH??”

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆ "love me please"

sunghoon is more emotional of a person than how he seems. he just hides himself well and even when others try their best to push him to the edge, he will never lose his grip on his thread nor walk the plank—able to pull himself up and return to the safe shores.

of course, he’s still human and thus, will never be completely impenetrable. one common weakness among those with strict discipline? alcohol.

“i don’t know why…she doesn’t love me,” sunghoon sobs into his arms as he’s hunched onto the counter and almost slipping off his stool. jake looks down at him before a sigh escapes. he was amused seeing his usually stoic and smiley friend act so sappy at first—but that was 3 days ago and he’s still being it since.

jake pats the other’s pack. “why don’t you ask her? i thought you guys confirmed your feelings for each other?”

sunghoon nods against his arm as a low groan rumbles through him. “we did…but then i overheard her saying to her friends that we ‘aren’t together’ and are just ‘two people who share mutual affections.’”

“maybe you misheard?”

a wail akin to a whale’s call sounds from the drunken lad and jake looks around frantically, embarrassed, and is for once thankful for the blaring DJ remixes that burst people’s ears.

“i didn’t. i heard clearly what she said, that’s why i ran away… i left her there… i screwed up our lunch plans… she’s gonna hate me more! it’s my fault! why did i just—WAAaaAaA!”

once again, his friend finds himself in a fluster, scared that someone’s going to think that a marine creature’s been illegally smuggled into the establishment—causing him to haul the taller lad onto his shoulders and out of the place of business.

“there you go. stay,” jake huffs as he laboriously drops his friend onto the bench outside before pulling out his phone. dialing a number, he then puts the gadget to his ear. “hello? sorry for calling you so suddenly but uh, sunghoon’s kind of in a situation i know you’re the only who can save him from. oh, no! it’s not anything dangerous! it’s just, well…”

after hearing his explanation, it doesn’t take long for the girl to zoom to the club and there, she meets a passed out sunghoon on a cold wooden bench and jake sitting on the edge of his seat—not having enough space due to the drunkard.

“hey, thanks for coming,” the slightly older male says with a smile and nods with gratitude at her. she reciprocates.

“so…you say he’s been doing this for 3 days straight—since he overheard me?” (y/n) confirms and jake’s affirmation elicits a long sigh from her. “dummy hoon. thanks for accompanying him, jake. i’ll take over from here.”

bidding goodbye, (y/n) then approaches the sleeping young man. her heart flutters at his delicate yet sharp visages that simply steal her breath away even when he’s doing something utterly mundane such as sleeping. her hand lifts to cup his cheek, flinching at the coldness of his skin. “sunghoon, wake up. hoon?”

she nearly has a cardiac arrest when the man’s eyelids shoot open and he springs to a sitting position before facing the blanched girl.

“(y/n)!” he exclaims cheerily with the most radiant beam before engulfing her whole against his figure—muscly biceps securing around her frame as she squeaks from the sudden embrace. she chuckles, adoring how he’s still able to be so gentle with her even whilst drunk. “hi, my love~”

the nickname brings a blush to her face that’s already mantling from the cold. “come on, let’s get you to the car.”

as soon as he’s in the passenger’s seat, (y/n) bends down slightly in front of him to secure his seatbelt but pauses when sunghoon’s head drops onto her shoulder—rubbing his forehead against the fabric covering her skin.

“(y/n)…you’re so warm,” he murmurs, eyes shut and lips parted. “if only you were really here.”

his words make the girl’s brows knit. ‘does he think he’s imagining me?’

click! the seatbelt connects and she shuts his door before going to the driver’s seat.

the drive is mostly quiet with sunghoon being drowsy and (y/n) busy with trying to get him home safely but the tranquility is broken by an unexpected monologue by the former.

“i do this again and again just to see you… and you’re always there. but i wake up and you’re gone…always gone,” sunghoon murmurs in his sleepiness, and (y/n)’s fingers tighten around the wheel at his confession—feeling her heartstrings getting tugged. “i love you so much, it hurts.”

(y/n) glances at him, feeling a surge of guilt and swallows dryly. “if the real (y/n) was here, what would you tell her?”

“i’d apologize for canceling our lunch date again. and tHeN! i’d apologize again and tell her i’ll do wAyYyYY better! i’ll be the BEST MAN she’ll ever have!” sunghoon exclaims in an inconsistent rhythm—bursting on some words and calm for the others. “the LAST one too! she’s going to end up with me, i’ll make sure of it.”

his drunken confession affects her more than she thought—butterflies erupting and tickling her from the inside out with their soft, rapid wings.

“oh, really?” she teases, an amused grin worn as she faces the road which isn’t unseen by sunghoon.

his sudden quietness confuses her but soon feels his scrutinizing gaze prickling at the side of her cheek—her peeking at him from her peripheral.

“woah. you’re the best version of (y/n) my brain’s made. you feel and look real…so warm and pretty like how my (y/n) really is… my gorgeous, gorgeous girl… hihihi…” his lovesick bashful giggles from his own comment instantly beats all her favourite music and artists, defeating all her playlists and reigns the throne.

his eyes upturned in a blinding eyesmile as cheeks and nose glow a bright red from both the alcohol and the lovey dovey, giggly mood he’s brought to himself. he’s so cute. a cutie pie.

by the time they arrive at his home, he’s onto his reason number whoever knows on his list of ‘why my-not-but-still-my-girl aka.(y/n) is the best girl.’

he flops on his bed when (y/n) drops him with a large grunt before joining his side in exhaustion. big mistake.

because now she’s caged within sunghoon’s beefy arms and as much as she loves nothing more than to stay in them—suffocate in them even, but he’d never let—she has to go home.

“sung—oof! sunghoon!” she grunts and wriggles in his unbudging grasp and just when she tries to slip through by sliding down vertically and off the edge of the bed, he nuzzles into the side of her head—drawing figures in her hair with the tip of his nose.

“love me, please,” he whispers and that instantly shuts down her motor—now completely still as she slowly turns to him. her eyes dance across his face that’s slightly scrunched and she can tell it’s because of what he overheard her say. he’s thinking about it again.

“i do love you, hoon—so so much that it physically squeezes the air out of me sometimes. i only said what i said because i realized we never made it official and whenever i hinted at you, you just acted like it was nothing. just going with it without accepting or denying anything,” (y/n) explains in a whisper as her finger moves up to trace his features.

freezing suddenly when she reaches his mouth and the corners begin to curl up.

“so i just need to make things official and we won’t just be ‘two people who share mutual feelings together?’” he asks with clarity. the lack of muddled mumbles and dragged words instantly tell the other of his sobriety.

she looks up, taken aback to see him already staring down at her with the most endearing of gazes—shifting between her eyes constantly before letting it dance across her face and back to melting their gazes together.

“i guess so…” she mutters, flustered and belatedly shy from the proximity.

sunghoon catches his bottom lip between his teeth, finding the sight before him simply too adorable and presses a kiss on her forehead. “then, just as i am already yours, will you be mine?”

his concise offer makes her heart skip beats but it still doesn’t compare to hoon’s that’s running a mile a minute, vigorous thumps almost blending into one another and she feels it from the way he hugs her tight.

so much for mr.cool guy act.

“it would be my honour, hoon,” she replies with a cheeky grin and a second later she’s squealing from getting bombarded with butterfly kisses—unknowing of his struggle to keep himself together and not just crush her every bone from the cuteness aggression, finding her to be the loveliest ever.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[bandgie]

In Pixie Dust We Trust

synopsis: You're content with being Chris's best friend for all eternity. It doesn't matter how big your heart is, you're small where it matters most. That's what you think at least.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, microphilia (reader is 7-10in/17-25cm), pussy eating, boobie sucking, reader used as a fleshlight (non-penetrative), cum eating (m!), jerking off, little bit of jealously in the beginning, does this count as monsterfucking? idk

notes: man, I did like 3 different rough drafts on this and said fuck it. ALSO?? I guess grammarly has limited help options now? fucking assholes

3.5k words

It would be impossible for Chris to hear you cheering for him amongst the dozens of shouting people, but you scream anyway.

“Go Chris!” You cup your hands around your mouth for extra volume, “Go, go, go!”

Mythics alike cheer for their representative species. Sirens, vampryes, lycans, and many more creatures roar for a winner. Despite the overwhelming number of Mythics, humans fill up a good portion of the audience to spur on Chris. He’s the only mortal in the swim meet, one of the rare humans to be able to compete against creatures like yourself. 

Truthfully, you’re not too aware of the rules when it comes to swimming. Something about a certain amount of meters, certain strokes, and when you’re supposed to come up for air. The explanations went right over your head when Chris told them to you, but that doesn’t stop you from screaming your little lungs out. 

“Jeez,” Felix rubs his ear. “Who would’ve thought a little pixie like you could scream so loud.” 

You give him an apologetic smile. “Sorry!” You decide it’s better to find a better sitting spot. Felix’s shoulder is always your go-to seat, but you don’t want to burst his eardrums from your screams. Your wings flutter rapidly, raising you high until you plop on his blonde hair. 

At least you didn’t have to pay for a seat. Being the mere size of a hand, you can easily sit on someone instead. 

You lean to one side of Felix’s head, “This better?” He nods, making your grip on his hair so you don’t slip off. “Yeah. You can cheer for your human boyfriend all you want now.” Felix’s head lightly shakes as he laughs. A sheep shade of crimson creeps up your neck and you yank on his hair. “Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend!” 

You only feel a little bad when Felix whines. He reaches his hand to fight you with the wiggle of his fingers that you slap away while giggling. “Ouch! That hurt.” 

“Whatever,” you slap the final finger away. “You deserved it.” Felix scoffs, rolling his eyes though you can’t see. “For what? Saying the truth? I’m a nymph, baby. You can’t hide those feelings from me.”

Now it’s you who rolls their eyes. As much as you would want to argue with Felix, he’s right. You may have the best friend title when it comes to Chris, but you want Chris in a way you know you shouldn't. You want to feel him hold you, have his lips pepper kisses all over your magical body until you can’t breathe. He doesn’t know how much you yearn for him when you sit on his shoulder, your wings bashfully fluttering when he talks low just for you to hear. 

It doesn’t do any good for you to think like that. It’s better to blink those thoughts away and keep cheering, pretending you’re perfectly fine with being Chris’s tiny best friend. 

But pretending is never easy for a pixie. Having such a small body does nothing to lessen the emotions you feel. Felix is doing everything he can to keep you from flying away and sobbing your heart out. When you two went looking for Chris to congratulate him on placing in the top three, neither of you expected the many female Mythics and humans to praise him. 

“Hey! He’s just feeling excited from the race, he’s just super hyped right now.” Felix laughs nervously. “It’s no biggie. They’re just all congratulating him.”

You wish that were true or that you believed it. Instead, you’re frozen at the sight of Chris smiling from whatever they’resaying. One of them goes as far as to whisper in his ear, earning a deep blush from his wet face. Felix panics more. “She just- She said- oh damn.”

It shouldn’t bother you. If anything, you should be happy that Chris is finally getting the attention he deserves. He deserves people supporting him. Someone who can give him a happy, normal-sized relationship even if they aren’thuman. Not a pixie who is barely bigger than the size of his hand. 

You blink your tears away, ignoring the ugly lump in your throat as you dejectedly fly next to Felix’s face. “It’s fine. Let’sjust go.” Felix whips his head to you, eyes wide with sincerity. “No! Pixie, we came out here for him. We can at least say hi then leave right after.” 

There’s a twinge of hope in his eyes. Felix has been rooting for you since you told him about your unrequited love. Although you would roll your eyes at his support most of the time, it did boost some confidence in you. Now you realize it was all foolish. A stupid dream you should have kept sleeping. 

You shake your head, “I can’t face him, Lix. Not when every girl in this damn city is trying to make him their mate. It’snot like he’d notice me leaving anyway.”

“You’re leaving?” Chris’s voice makes you and Felix jump. His hair is flat against his head from the diving cap he was wearing. It drips with water, leaking down his beautiful face to his naked torso. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

It’s only for a brief moment that you’re stunned. You weren’t prepared to see him so quickly. “Y-”

“No,” Felix quickly interrupts you. “She meant when is everyone else gonna leave. It’s so stuffed in here.” Felix looks at you wide-eyed as if to say don’t say anything before looking at Chris. “But dude! Congratulations!”

Chris’s signature dimple appears on his face. He wraps an arm around the nymph’s shoulder and brings him in for a hug.“I totally thought I was gonna get last. Those sirens are fucking fast.”

The embrace doesn’t last too long, not when Chris is eager to hear you praise him.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It was really impressive. I’m so proud of you!” It’s hard for you to do your normal joyful screaming, not when the bashful look he gave the mythic girl still lingers in your mind. You try to wipe the memory from your mind to focus on the mortal winner standing before you. The half-naked mortal winner that is.

“Yeah?” Chris lightens up at your words. His shining eyes warm your heart and your jealousy suddenly feels silly. “Fuck yeah! I knew you were gonna at least place in the top 5. But top 3? That’s Olympic shit right there.”

The flush on Chris’s face says it all. He rubs the back of his neck and giggles, a small squeak emitting from the back of his throat. “I would say thaaat.”

Felix laughs at the two of you, patting Chris on the shoulder. “I saw this Korean restaurant nearby - it looks super good. Minho told me that the chefs are all human. We should go before it gets packed!” The three of you look amongst each other and nod, humming about how hungry Chris must be.

“You can save a spot for us, Felix,” Chris smiles at him. “We’ll be there soon.”

You and Chris wave Felix goodbye. You wait until he’s out of earshot before you ask Chris, “Are we gonna meet up with him later?”

Chris smiles ear to ear. “We are. I was really hoping you’d come back to my place for a surprise.” Excited is the best word to describe him right now. His eyes shine with what you think is mischievousness. You can’t help the butterflies in your stomach. You smile at him back, “Now? Dressed like that?”

“Oh shit.” Chris suddenly becomes aware of his nude attire, save for the tight speedo. “Let me change first, then we’ll to mine.”

-

The naughty look on his face wasn’t for nothing. Chris didn’t necessarily plan to have you like this; nude and whimpering, but he isn’t complaining either. His intentions were pure, really. He had set up his apartment all sweet, miniature roses that could easily fit in your palms as he asked you to be his lover. 

You thought of everything wrong at first. How strange it might look for your dainty self to be involved with a human. For him to practically live in the waters while you stay in the sky. Different, too different to work you said. You couldn’t help but think of all the other Mythics flocking to him; ones that he could benefit from and most importantly, ones that he can properly love.

Yet, all your worries were washed away in his eyes, full of love and compassion. He would love you because you’re you, no matter what size.

Now you’re thinking there won’t be enough time to meet Felix at that restaurant he’s been revving about when Chris’stongue ravages your body. Kissing him felt weird enough, your lips barely able to lock with his bottom one. But having him lick and suck on every part of your body easily took the cake. 

Chris is holding you gently in his palm, your wings tightly tucked into your back so he doesn’t accidentally get them wet. The tip of his tongue dips down into your cunt before it swipes up to your breasts. You can tell he’s trying to be romantic about it, but there’s nothing soft in the way he suckles on your tits, how his saliva drips down the curve of your mounds onto his palm.

“Shit,” you moan when Chris finds your sweet, tiny pussy again. “You’re getting me so wet.” In response, Chris pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact. Your body shivers in his hold from the lack of his hot mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” But he doesn't look apologetic at all. Not when he’s looking at you as if he might take a bite. Not when he licks his lips at the sight of your body spread out in his palm, twitching and soaking. 

You reach a small hand up and grab the tip of his nose, earning a giggle from his pretty lips. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you push yourself up with an elbow to nuzzle against his face. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” the tips of his ears burn redder. “I like it too.”

The two of you share a laugh before you sprawl yourself back in his hold, opening your legs so his large tongue touches you where you need him most. Chris obediently nuzzles his tongue onto your cunt, flicking it upwards. Your hips chase the feeling, arching and twisting until he has to restrain you.

“Nooo,” you gently whine when he uses his fingers to pin your hands above your head. “Wanna feel it.”

Chris smiles, directing you to flatten your feet, spread your thighs, and arch until your back is completely lifted from his palm. It’s a weird position, but you wiggle in excitement when he leans his head down. “You will, baby,” he reassures.“Just gotta listen to me for a little, okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself still when you feel the familiar muscle on your core. It’s nearly similar to when you had the freedom to move, but there’s an extra layer of pleasure from being held back. For his tongue lick up and down, reaching up high to your stomach down to your ass. Chris doesn’t have to add much pressure, not when his tongue is half the size of your entire self.

The first taste of your orgasm builds when he swipes his tongue side to side. It moves your vulva perfectly, not focusing so much on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his fingertips and you moan. “Channie…i’mma cum.”

He hums against your body, acknowledging your impending orgasm. Chris is too busy trying to get you on his taste buds. It’s more of a hint than a flavor of your pussy. If only Chris could drown in it. To feel these small thighs wrap around his head and yank him closer until all he can sense is you. But having your boobs and pussy in his mouth nearly at the same time is a huge win for him regardless. 

Your walls clench, a clear sign that you only have mere seconds before you cum. Maybe you could ask Chris to put justthe tip of his pinky finger in. It would stretch you so much, so good. If you can’t take his cock, you’ll take the next best thing. 

“In,” you mewl. “Want it in me.” 

Chris raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused by what you mean. He can’t put anything in you, he doesn’t even want to think about it. He shakes his head with your pussy in his mouth, back to focusing on the task at hand.

“Channie!” You nearly scream his name. “Please! I’ve been good. I’ve been so good! Just the tip of your finger and-”

He sucks hard, making your entire body move from the suction. You wail, digging the back of your head further into his palm. He sucks and licks, obviously trying to get your mind off of being filled and instead finishing on his tongue. It works because all you can think about is flooding Chris’s mouth with your juices. You think about how good it’s going to feel to have his big tongue on you, licking you up.

You dig your nails into his fingers and tense. Chris places the tip of his tongue perfectly on your clit and you finally cum. 

He holds you while you shake. Chris can feel the trembling of your body, he can taste the essence of your orgasm, and he can hear your pretty little moans as you tip over. He can’t help but giggle at how your little hips roughly rock against his tongue. Deciding to give you a different sensation, Chris puts his tongue back in his mouth and puckers his lips instead. The plushness is the best way to ride out your high, gentle and soft.

You collapse in his hands when you come down. You can only whimper when he carefully nuzzles your body against his face affectionately. Chris peppers kisses on your body, from the top of your head to the soaked place between your thighs. It helps get you refocused by grounding yourself from his touch. You return his kisses, placing your hands on either side of his cheek and feeling his mouth against yours.

It feels like he’s trying to swallow you or maybe not trying to. You can’t really tell, but you don’t really mind. All you care about is how he whimpers against your lips, making you concerned about his state. 

You pull from his lips and adjust in his hands until you’re sitting. “It hurts. Doesn't it, Channie?” You don’t need to specify what you’re talking about. Not when you can see the need in his eyes, the pout in his lips. Chris nods, almost ashamed. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “I dunno what to do about it.”

He looks so dejected, so lost. Your wings untuck from your back and flutter until you’re lifted in the air. Chris’s eyes drop to your breasts as if he wasn’t just drooling on them minutes ago. You snap your fingers until he looks into your eyes. “I know what to do. Why don’t you sit down for me and let me take care of you now.”

You can tell he’s hesitant. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how he wants to. Chris easilylistens to your instructions; how you want him stripped from the lower half, sitting on the couch with his legs sprawled open so his hard, leaky cock is pretty on display.

Chris looks nervous, you can tell by how he grabs a nearby pillow and hugs it to his chest. “Are you sure, baby? I don’twant you to hurt yourself.” 

How endearing your lover is. Willing to sacrifice his pleasure for your comfort.

You fly to his lap and rest on a meaty thigh. “You don’t gotta worry your pretty little head about nothing, Channie.” You reach out a hand to rub it against his cock. “I can handle it.”

Before he can say anything else, you quickly find your place on his shaft with your back facing him. You gasp at the warmth, the thickness of his cock between your legs. Your body is already wet from your orgasm, so it’s easy to gently slide against him. The veins from his cock seem huge this closeup and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body when your clit goes over one. 

“You’re so big Channie,” you hum, looking back. “Almost as big as me.”

Chris giggles shyly, adjusting in his seat so he slightly slouches against the cushions. You turn back to face his tip and place your little hands on his dick to balance yourself. A whine leaves Chris’s throat when you grind against him higher. Your hands reach out to play with his tip, swirling around the sensitive flesh and having your fingers rub against his slit. 

His hips thrust up and you let out a surprised squeal.

“S-shit, sorry,” he moans. “I didn’t mean to.” Chris is being so careful not to have you slip off, but it’s nearly impossible for him to keep still. Not when he can see your entire body jerking him off, your little ass humping his cock so nicely. He especially loves the wet trail that you leave behind with every grind. 

You laugh, “It’s okay. Just means you’re feeling good.”

Since you’re just slightly bigger than his length, you decide it would be better to lay completely flat on his cock and slide yourself that way. It’s silly though, humping his dick in a way that reminds you of the nights you spent on your tiny bed touching yourself at the thought of Chris. Now, you’re able to put all that practice to good use.

With your legs wrapped around the base, you find it much easier to slide yourself. To go at a speed that has Chris moaning and fisting his hands into the sofa. Your tongue lolls from your mouth as you moan with him, effectively adding moisture that makes everything wetter.

“Baby! Baby, baby, you’re gonna make me cum just like that.” Chris pants. One of his hands shoots down below his cock, tugging his balls to help get him closer. You tilt your head to look down at the sight, whimpering at how he holds and rubs his sack.

It makes you go faster. You practically squeeze his cock with your limbs almost painfully. Chris only finds pleasure in your hold though. Without thinking, Chris wraps his other hand around his cock and you. Your wings immediately find cover behind your back so they don’t get damaged. The hand around you tightens slightly. 

“You want me to use you, hm?” Chris carefully drags you up and down his length. “Be my little cocksleeve, is that it?” You can’t even be a fleshlight to him, but you can be useful. it’s near impossible to nod with how he’s holding you, but you let out a breathy yes. Your arms are locked at your sides from his grip, legs open and limp so he has more access to use you how he wants. 

You underestimated how slippery you would get. How his precum would leak onto your hair and face. A part of you thought it would be uncomfortable being pressed up against his cock like this, but all you can feel is how warm he is. It feels good to have him use your body like this, having your clit brush against his girth. 

Chris isn’t as careful this time, not that you mind anyway. He grunts with every drag, squeezing your body tighter until you whimper. You feel his cock twitch under you and your cunt clenches in response. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts. “Wrapped around my cock so tight.” 

You whimper. There isn’t a chance that you would be able to cum again. Your cunt is roughly pressed against his dick to get any real friction, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling any pleasure. “You’re using me so good, Channie. You gonna cum on me too?”

There isn’t a need for Chris’s confirmation. Not when the hot spurt of his release spews from his cock. You can’t see how far it shoots up, how it lands up to his thighs and leaks onto his hand. The only ounce of cum you get is on the top of your hair, a sticky, warm glob of white.

Chris releases you quickly, letting you get the proper chance to breathe and rest on his pulsing cock. 

It doesn’t last long, not when two hands carefully lift you and bring you close to Chris’s face. His neck is a deep shade of red. The blood rushes to his face to give off a pink hue. Even the tips of his ears burn with the same color. As fucked out as he looks, he still has the energy to give you an endearing smile. 

Your lips twist shyly, “Why are you looking at me like that? You know I’m completely covered in your cum, right?” But Chris only leans in and uses his nose to nuzzle against your face. 

“Mhm. My very own pixie dust.”

[hqbaby]

seventeen — be careful

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.9k content. profanity, sexual content [brief sex scene, vaginal penetration]

You know better than to listen to Sukuna. Sukuna, who at seventeen came to you with his biggest, brightest idea: suction cups on every shoe in the world so people would—and you quote—“stop tripping on their damn faces all the time.”

You like to think that you’re better than this. That you won’t succumb to his idiocy, no matter how tempting it may seem. That you’re somehow more evolved than this, capable of saying no to anything your best friend deems to be a “good idea.”

Alas, you’re human and incapable of refusing Sukuna all the time.

Which is why you’re here, on your couch with your brilliant best friend balls deep inside of you while Maki and Nobara knock on your door, waiting for you to let them in to start the study session that you requested.

Sukuna is of course oblivious to the pounding on your door, to Maki’s threats of, “I’m gonna break your door down if you don’t let us in!” He is, unfortunately, too busy pounding into you, shoving his dick into your cunt as you try to push him off.

“Sukuna!” you hiss, hand pressed against his unmoving chest. “They’re here!”

He opens his eyes, grinning through the blissed out look on his face. “So? I don’t hear you telling me to stop.” He thrusts against a spot that has you, unwillingly moaning into the back of your hand. He snickers. “Want me to stop, tiger?”

Glaring at him, you reach down to your clit and bite his shoulder to keep your sounds at bay. “Just be quick,” you whimper, grabbing onto his back as he drills into your walls. “Fuck!”

He picks up the pace and soon enough the two of you are riding through your highs, and you are unceremoniously pushing him off of you. As he groans on the carpet, you scramble to look for your shorts, finding them in some corner—how did it even get there?—and pulling them on.

“Go into the bathroom,” you tell him, looking at your reflection on the fridge and attempting to make your hair look decent. You whip your head around when he doesn’t move. “Now!”

Sukuna stumbles getting up, grimacing as he peels the condom from his dick. “And then what?”

“Make yourself look decent!” you whisper-shout, throwing his jeans at him. “Quickly!”

“I’m going! I’m going!” he says as he scampers into the bathroom.

You give the room one last look, trying to spot any pieces of incriminating evidence, before you grab the knob and swing the door open.

“Hi!” you say, putting on your most convincing smile when you see your two friends on the other side. “Sorry, I got caught up with something.”

“Are you okay?” Maki asks as she and Nobara step inside your apartment. Of course she’d notice that something’s up. “You’re panting.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Am I?” you say. “I didn’t notice.”

You lead them into the living room, eyes scanning the couch to check for any wet spots, any stains. Your two friends, oblivious to your panicked gaze, make themselves comfortable, taking their usual spots and placing their bags on the floor.

“Do you guys want anything to drink?” you ask them, quickly making your way to the kitchen. “I have tea, soda, whatever you want.”

“Tea please,” Nobara says, pulling her laptop out. She looks at you and frowns. “Maki’s right. You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine!” you say a little too quickly. “Just—” 

“Oh! You guys are here!”

Sukuna walks out of the bathroom, face flushed as he tries his best to move coolly over to your friends. He has a totally-not-suspicious grin on his face as he sits down on the floor beside Nobara. At least he had enough sense to fix his hair. It was in a… not so good state just a few minutes ago.

“Oh, you’re here,” Nobara says, looking at Sukuna. While she’s definitely gotten used to his presence, you wouldn’t go so far as to call the two of them friends. “I didn’t know you were studying with us.”

“He’s not!” you cut in before Sukuna can say anything. “He was just passing through. Needed to use the toilet.”

He looks at you, eye twitching a little at the excuse you just gave for him. “Yeah,” he says through his smile. “You guys know me. And toilets.”

Maki looks between the two of you, immediately picking up on whatever nervous energy you aren’t able to hide. “Okay, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing!” the two of you say, not helping your case.

Maki turns to Sukuna, the weaker link. She always knows which buttons to push. “Why are you really here?” she asks. “And don’t even think of lying to me.”

A beat passes and he doesn’t answer.

Then another.

Then another.

Then—

“Holy shit! You’re fucking!”

You sink to the floor. “I’m gonna crawl into a hole and die now.”

Nobara is looking between the two of you wildly now, manic eyes shifting from you to Sukuna to you to Sukuna. She stands, pointing an accusatory finger somewhere between the two of you because the shock has made her lose all sense of direction apparently.

“No fucking way!” she says. To you? To Sukuna? You can’t tell. All you know is that she sounds confused, shocked, and mad all at the same time. “How long has this been going on?”

You roll your eyes at her theatrics (not that you weren’t being dramatic in your own right too) and walk over to them from the kitchen. “Barely two days,” you tell her. “It just… happened.”

Maki narrows her eyes at you. “His dick just so happened to slide inside you?”

Sukuna is red in the face, clearly beyond uncomfortable with this conversation. “Okay, now before you guys start—”

“You don’t talk,” Maki tells him firmly, forcing him to hug his knees and look down at the floor. She turns back to you. “I thought this wasn’t real, that the two of you,” she drags a finger from you to Sukuna, “were just fucking around because of the breakup.”

You shrink back, holding your arms and averting your gaze. “I think this is a good thing.”

The way your voice comes out is so quiet and vulnerable, it almost scares you. Judging by the look on Maki’s face when you turn to her after a moment of silence, you realize that it’s probably caused the same effect on her too. When was the last time she heard you be this open about the way you felt?

“Okay,” she says eventually. She turns to Sukuna. “Just because you two are a thing now, doesn’t mean you get to intrude on our girl time.”

He lifts his head and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

She waves him off. “Skedaddle, dude.”

“What? Like right now?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re just gonna talk about me!” Sukuna whines. He glances at you, hoping for some support. “They’re gonna shit talk me.”

You shrug, grinning now at his distress. “Too bad,” you tell him. “It’s girl time, and you’re not a girl.”

After Sukuna leaves, the three of you go about your familiar routine. You get your friends drinks, Maki pulls out a bunch of food that she brought—against your wishes—and Nobara complains about the fact that she has way too many things to study and far too little time.

“It’s so fucking cold,” you tell Nobara when she turns the AC up. You grab the sweater on your couch and pull it over your head, rubbing your arms as you shiver, all exaggerated just to get your point across.

Nobara just shrugs and picks at some of the sushi Maki brought. “Too bad,” she tells you through a full mouth. “I’m your guest and it’s your duty as a host to make sure I get everything I want.”

“Maki, she’s being mean.”

Maki hums, focused on whatever it is she’s doing on her phone. “Nobara, don’t be mean,” she says mindlessly. When she puts her phone away she turns to you, “Kento’s gonna have your ass.”

You groan. “What did I do this time?”

“What do you think you did?”

“I dunno. I was my beautiful, wonderful self?”

“Nope,” she tells you, relaxing into her seat. “You missed a zero on the financial report.”

“Oh, I fucking did not,” you say, defensive. “I triple-checked that!”

“Well, apparently you missed it,” she says. “All good though because apparently it just means we have more money to donate now.”

You grin, all smug at your not-so-terrible-mistake. “Look at me, making money out of thin air.”

“He’s still gonna kill you though.”

“I know,” you tell her. You open one of the many bags of chips Maki brought and pop a piece in your mouth. “Does that man ever take a break? It’s like he’s always texting me about the club or calling you about some shitty thing I did.”

Nobara snorts at that.

“What?” you say, looking at her with a raised brow.

“Oh, please,” she says. “We all know he has a crush on you.”

You grab one of your throw pillows from the couch and hurl it at her. “Take that back right now!” you demand. “That’s so gross. He’s like a brother to me. An annoying nuisance of an older brother.”

“The same way Sukuna’s like a brother to you?”

You frown. It’s not like you thought the topic wouldn’t come up. Sukuna was right, you were obviously going to have to address the elephant in the room—when the elephant in question wasn’t in the room anymore of course.

“Is it real?” Nobara asks you. “Because if it isn’t—and I can’t believe I’m actually trying to do something good for that guy, but because I know how much he means to you—maybe you shouldn’t use your best friend as a rebound.”

“I’m not using him as a rebound.”

Your friends share a look. You hate when they do that because it always means that they know something you don’t. They see something you don’t see.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think you’re really over Satoru just yet,” Nobara tells you eventually.

“What makes you think that?” you ask. Your voice is quieter than you would like it to be. “I was the one who broke up with him.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Maki points out. “We all know how… complicated that was.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like this at all.

After the breakup, you did your best to steer clear of the topic of Satoru. The whole thing was too much for you, in more ways than one. Having to dig that all up now… It isn’t the way you want this to go.

“Sukuna and I are good,” you say, but you begin to wonder if you’re saying it for them or for yourself. “I know you guys don’t like him so much, but he cares about me. I’ve known him forever, I trust him.”

Maki nods, clearing her throat. “Yeah,” she says as she turns away from you. “So who’s sweater are you wearing?”

You furrow your brows, grabbing the fabric of the thing you’re wearing. You look down. What could she possibly be implying—

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Nobara says, watching the recognition in your eyes. She leans over the coffee table and places a hand on top of yours. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Your mouth feels dry as you look up at your friends. “Yeah,” you tell them. “I’ll be careful.”

Your fingers drag along the hem of the sweater. Not yours, definitely, far too big to be something you’d buy for yourself. You’d say you don’t know why you still have it, but you do. Of course you do.

You should really give it back to Satoru.

notes. oh no! feelings!

[getosbigballsack]

Random thought! Baby Daddy Gojo x Complicated Baby Mama! Reader

But just imagine fighting with your baby daddy Gojo. He wasn't yours to begin with a wild man on the run looking for some good pussy to fuck. He got a taste of you and knocked you up with his child on the first night. It wasn't intentional. He just forgot to put the condom on, promising to not ejaculate inside your hole. But he couldn't resist a good pussy.

So now here you are, the mother of his two year old child arguing back and forth with him all because you refused to spend the night over at his house.

It's no secret. Almost everyone knew, including your family, that you were still sleeping with your baby daddy. So if that's the case, then why not make the relationship official already? The answer is simple, Gojo is not ready for a committed relationship like that. But he begs to differ.

"Y/N, stop fighting with me. Come on, baby girl, you know you wanna ride this dick so stop playing with me and get back in bed," he whined as he watched as you fixed the ends of your sundress. "Come on baby, it's just after 10. Where are you gonna go at this time of the night?

"Can you shut up and go put some clothes on?"

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes as he got out of bed, grabbed his robe that was close by, and put it on. "Seriously, Y/N, are you really just gonna leave after we had some amazing sex?"

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. "It wasn't supposed to happen, I only came here to drop off our son."

"And you somehow ended up in my bed, yeah, right."

You rolled your eyes, pushed past him, and made your way towards the door. You weren't in any mood to have this conversation. Yeah, he's right. You both just had amazing sex, something that you needed after the rough week you had, and you're in such a good mood right now. You'd be damned if you allowed Gojo to sully your mood.

But be damned all you want, Gojo had a few words he wanted to get off his chest before you walked out that door.

"Why do you always keep running away from me? Why do you treat me like this? For fuck sakes, we have a child together and you treat me as though I'm just a one night fucking stand."

"Gojo can we please not do this right now, I just wanna..."

"No! We are going to talk about this. Why do you keep running away from me?” He asked as he grabbed a hold of your hand, spun you around, and pressed you up against the door. “Huh? Don’t you wanna be with me Y/N? Is this the kind of relationship you want to display in front of our son?” 

You swallow, eyes looking up to meet his eyes  with a frown. “Of course not.”

“So what’s stopping us from being together? Huh? What excuse do you have this time?” he asked, as he rested his hand upon your hip, squeeze it a bit before pressing you even more into the door. “You still think I’m not ready to be in a committed relationship with you?” 

He knew that that was exactly why you won’t be with him. He was a good fuck, and of course an amazing dad to your son. He did what he needed to do for you (during your pregnancy) that is. And even after that he ensured that you, the mother of his child, wants for nothing. However it still doesn’t change the fact that he only just a good fuck, nothing more, nothing less. He’s incapable of being in a committed relationship, after all you knew about his reputation for being a slut, the playboy tattoo on his hip bone just reminded you everytime that he conquered more pussy than one could ever count. He’s just too untrustworthy for your taste. 

“If you already know the answer, then why ask?” 

“Because I think you’re just being very stubborn and judgemental at this point,”he whispered as he released your hips and pushed himself away from. “Leave if you want to, I’ll go jerk off in the bathroom once you leave.”

You frowned, “Seriously Gojo?” 

“And there you go using my last as if you didn’t just squirt and cum all over dick,” he said sarcastically as he sat on his bed, pointed at the door just waiting for you to leave. “I don’t want to waste your time and kill your good mood with idiotic rambling. I’ll drop our son off at your place next weekend, okay?” 

You let out a frustrated sigh and yanked the door. “I never once judged you Go…" Satoru.”

He scoffed, “Yeah right, give me a fucking break yeah. You do, you always do.” 

“I never…” 

“Fucking hell, you do Y/N. Always calling me a slut whenever you're around my friends or yours, making sly remarks and disgusted faces whenever you hear something as it regards what happened in my sex life. Don’t make me go there,” He half yelled, quickly remembering that the sleeping boy’s bedroom was closeby. “For fuck sakes, you’re always using the fact that I love having sex to judge who I am without even giving me a fucking chance. If I’m such a fucking slut and a disgusting whore, then why sleep with me, why do you keep coming back to ride my fucking dick off into next dawn? Why, Y/N?”

“Sa…”

“I’ve waited two years for you… I’ve tried showing you that yeah I may be a slut, but I’m more than ready to have family with you. How many times have I confessed to you? How many times have I told you that I love you, and what do you do? Discard my fucking feelings, say that I’m unworthy and you don’t trust me. And oh yeah my favourite, I’m too much of a slut. Yeah Y/N, Fucking ok, no problem, like I said, you can leave. I don’t want to waste your time and I need to go jerk my cock, since the woman that I love doesn't wanna be with me.” 

Too stunned to even come up with a proper response, you blurted out without thinking, “I’m pretty sure… You have other women on speed dial to come fuck you if you so badly wanted to have sex.” 

He turned around, looked you up and down, then laughed, “The other woman that is now in my block list and deleted contacts all because I wanted to have a family with you. Yeah, thanks for reminding me that being faithful to one woman sucks.”

You stood there in silence, not knowing what to say or what to do. You only just watched as he removed his robe from his shoulders and let it pool around his legs as he dug through the drawer on his nightstand. You watched as he pulled out a flesh light with a bottle of lube. “Do you mind?” He asked, not sparring you a glance as he got comfortable on his bed. He picked up his phone along with his earpods, clogged his ears, and then went about to do what he should have been all these years instead chasing after your judgemental ass. 

You didn’t bother watching, you just walked out the moment he squirted lube all over his cock before grabbing the flesh light. But as soon as you made it down the stairs, and tried leaving through the front door, a voice stopped you, knowing how desperately you wanted to go back and let him fuck you. 

But can you really do that, after all that was said only a few moments ago, and Gojo practically turned out his door after he confessed his love to you. Can you really go back? There is only one way to find out. 

You rushed up the flight of stairs and into the room, gently closing the door before turning to see Gojo with the flesh light around his cock, pumping away as he stared dead at you with his phone turned to your view for you to see a video he made of you a few months, masturbating and rubbing clit all so prettily for him. 

“What? Came back to watch the slut jerk off to a video of his baby mama?” He teased, whimpering too as he did so. 

“No,” you answered quickly. 

“Then what? I'm busy as you can see… I'm pretty sure you know how to let yourself out… ugh! I kinda… fuck. I kinda don't want to see you right now… so go.” 

But you didn't. You only stood there watching as your body went into heat. Pussy started leaking, legs trembling. You wanted to fuck, but also you wanted to take his words into consideration and maybe give the relationship a shot, but right now you wanted his dick. 

“Y/N… can you please just…”

“Satoru.. fuck me please!” His phone fell from his hand, but he never stopped pumping that flesh light. “I know I'm being selfish right, and I know what that seems like, but please… I'm willing to hear whatever it is that you have to say, after we have sex.” 

“But what if I don't want to have sex with you?” He asked, still pumping his hands up and down and around his cock. 

You pouted, but still you quickly turned around and rested your chest against the door, lifted up the ends of your dress, and shifted your panties to the side. It was a bit silent for a moment, except for Satoru whimpering and moaning, fleshing gripping and fapping away at his wet meaty cock. You knew stood there for more than a minute with your wet drip pussy and ass just patiently waiting for him to fuck. 

And oh boy did your patience pay off when he finally got out of bed, after coming in his flesh light that is, with his cock still standing, his hand down ripping your dress from your body. “And I'm the slut?” He whispered before slapping your ass. 

He spun you around, pushed you up against the door once more, held on to your hips as he dived in for a kiss. Though he was bit pissed off at you, he could never resist the sight of your pretty pussy just patiently waiting to get fucked out by him. 

He wasted no time, kissing and marking you as his own, loving the sounds of you softly moaning throughout the kiss as his hands slowly worked to get rid of your panties. There was a need for any sort of prep on his end. His cock already did an excellent job, stretching you out earlier. 

He successfully ripped off your undies, and you quickly lifted on leg and rested it just a little but above his waist, arching your back just waiting and ready for him to slide in. 

He never hesitated, and with practise movements, he was able to slip his cock into you hole, slamming deeply into your g-spot, kissing and drinking up all your moans from the sudden impact. 

“Fuck and I'm the slut… I wonder what they would say about you baby momma,” he whispered, as he began, pounding mercilessly into your hole, his balls slapping up against your ass with each thrust. 

“Ugh! Ugh! FUCK fu… Toru… ngh ha! Ha!” You cried incoherently, hands quickly wrapping around his neck, your lips still pressed against his. He quickly held onto the leg that was already on his waist before tapping the other leg signalling that you need to raise it up for just and bit and you did. 

“Who's the slut now? Begging her baby daddy to fuck her hmmm? He teased you. 

“Fuck… fuck you!” You managed to blurt out, feeling the force, girth and swelling of his cock penetrated you, the moment he lifted both your legs and slammed you down on his cock.

“That's exactly what I'm going to do. FUCK THE HELL OUT OF YOU TONIGHT! But keep it down, our son is sleeping, yeah.” 

[23victoria]

“mi hermosa niña” ❀

carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: request by @mimisainznorris!! Do you write Sainz x fem!reader fics? If you do,can ⭐please⭐ make a fic where Carlos and reader are in a happy relationship but she's lil bit insecure about her looks and Carlitos tries to help her with that. I think that would be cute🤧

warnings: insecure reader, that’s it really not too specific and some fluff

authors note: thank you for the request baby 🤧!! i hope you enjoy it!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

You’ve been with Carlos for a year and a half now, and everyone says you're one of the cutest couples on the paddock. Your relationship is the kind that other people look at and feel envious of. You’re loved by everyone, always getting compliments on how beautiful you are. But behind closed doors, things aren't always as perfect as they seem. You've always had insecurities about your body, and today, it's one of those days when those insecurities are overwhelming you.

Carlos decided to take you out for dinner tonight. It was supposed to be a fun evening, a chance for the two of you to relax and enjoy each other's company away from the noise and pressure of the paddock. But as you stand in front of the mirror in your shared apartment, all you can see are the flaws. You trace your fingers over the parts of your body that you wish you could change, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you.

Carlos walks into the room, looking handsome as always in his neatly pressed shirt and jeans. His smile fades as he sees the expression on your face. “Cariño, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

You can’t hold it in anymore. Tears start to fall as you turn to him, your voice breaking. “I just... I don’t feel pretty. I look at myself and I see everything that’s wrong. I don’t understand how someone as handsome as you could be with someone as ugly as me.”

Carlos’ eyes soften, and he steps closer, gently taking your hands in his. “Oh, mi amor,” he murmurs, his heart breaking at seeing you like this. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Every single part of you.”

You shake your head, pulling away to look back at the mirror. “You have to say that because you love me,” you whisper. “But I see the way people look at you. You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you choose me?”

Carlos turns you to face him, cupping your face in his hands. “I choose you because I love you. Not just for how you look, but for who you are. Your kindness, your strength, your laughter – they make you more beautiful than anyone else.”

“But my body...” you start, but Carlos stops you with a gentle kiss.

“Your body is perfect because it’s yours,” he says softly. “Every mark, every curve, every so-called flaw tells a story about your life. They’re beauty marks, reminders of who you are and what you’ve been through.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “When I look at you, I see the woman who stands by my side, who supports me and loves me unconditionally. I see the woman who makes me laugh, who makes every day better just by being in it. You are so much more than what you see in the mirror.”

You feel the warmth of his words start to melt the icy grip of insecurity. You cling to him, letting the tears flow freely now. Carlos holds you tighter, whispering soothing words in your ear. “You are beautiful, inside and out. And I will spend every day reminding you of that, no matter how long it takes for you to believe it.”

After a while, your sobs subside, and you pull back slightly to look at him. “Do you really mean that?” you ask, needing to hear it one more time.

Carlos smiles, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says. “You’re my everything, Y/N. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

He kisses you again, and this time, you let yourself take him in. You can feel the love and sincerity in his touch, and it starts to drown out the negative thoughts in your mind. You’re happy to have someone like him by your side, helping you see the beauty that he sees.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

Carlos keeps you close as you both head out for dinner. The restaurant is cozy and intimate, a perfect setting for the heartwarming evening ahead. You can’t help but feel lighter as you sit across from Carlos, his reassuring presence calming your nerves.

The conversation flows easily as you talk about everything and nothing. Carlos makes you laugh with stories from the paddock, and you can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly charming he is. He’s always been able to make you feel special, even on your darkest days.

As the evening progresses, Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand. “I want you to promise me something,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “Whenever you start feeling like this again, come to me. Talk to me. Let me remind you of how incredible you are.”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “I promise,” you say softly. “And thank you, Carlos. For everything.”

Carlos smiles, a look of relief and happiness washing over his face. “That’s all I need to hear, cariño,” he says. “I’m here for you, always.”

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

The night ends with a walk along the beach, the city lights reflecting off the water. Carlos keeps you close, his arm around your shoulders as you stroll in comfortable silence. You feel a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in a long time, and it’s all because of him.

When you finally get home, you feel lighter, more at ease. Carlos’s words echo in your mind, and for the first time in a long time, you start to believe them. He loves you, truly and deeply, for who you are. And maybe, just maybe, you can start to see yourself through his eyes.

As you lie in bed that night, wrapped in Carlos’s arms, you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Carlos whispers one last affirmation as you drift off to sleep, “You are my everything, Y/N. Never forget that.” And with those words, you close your eyes, a small smile on your lips, feeling more loved and cherished than ever before.

Bonus:

carlossainzjr

liked by bellahadid, landonorris, lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari, charlesleclerc, and 3,256,357 others

mi hermosa niña 😍😘💋

y/n_ig awww baby!!! i love you 🥹❤️

↳ carlossainzjr @.y/n_ig i love you my beautiful girl ❤️

comments have been limited

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[theodorenmyth]

possessive!theo (kinda toxic?) Who has a really pretty partner (gn!reader pls?),like stunning,making peoples head turn,always getting complimented,hit on and always getting free stuff from shops.And one day,rita sketter is doing an interview for the tri wizard tournament and she sees reader and is running after he and theo.She pulls her camera out and eagerly starts asking if she can put r! In the front cover of the paper when hes not even in the tournamet?theo not so nicely declines the request for you and pulls you away

Idk what else to add 😭😭

ofcofc >_< btw i just wanna say LITERALLY TYSM FOR 200 FOLLOWRS LIKE WHAT???? I JUST STARTED NOT EVEN A MONTH AGO. i just wanna say tysm for all your support and drop me some 200 special ideas in the comments!!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Protective Affections

Pairings : Theodore Nott x GN! Reader Summary : In the midst of the Triwizard Tournament's excitement, you find yourself constantly in the spotlight, drawing admiring glances and compliments that stir a protective streak in your boyfriend, Theodore Nott. When the notorious journalist Rita Skeeter tries to exploit your allure for her own gain, Theo's jealousy flares, leading to a tense confrontation. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 1.1k+

The halls of Hogwarts were buzzing with excitement. The Triwizard Tournament had brought an electric atmosphere to the school, and the students were abuzz with speculation and gossip. You were used to turning heads as you walked through the corridors, your striking looks always drawing attention. Today was no different; compliments and admiring glances followed you wherever you went.

Beside you, Theo walked with an air of quiet possession. His hand rested protectively on your lower back, guiding you through the throngs of students. Theo had always been a bit possessive, but with the influx of students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, his protectiveness had only intensified. He knew how many eyes were on you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

You smiled at a group of younger students who whispered and giggled as you passed by, and Theo’s grip tightened slightly. “They can’t help it, Theo,” you said softly, leaning in so only he could hear. “You know they don’t mean any harm.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” he replied, his eyes scanning the crowd for any potential threats. “It’s the older ones. They should know better than to ogle someone else’s partner.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “I can handle myself, you know.”

“I know,” he said, stopping to look at you. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” His gaze softened slightly as he took in your appearance, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You look stunning, by the way. As always.”

Before you could respond, a voice rang out from behind you. “Theo! Y/N! Wait up!” Rita Skeeter, the notorious journalist, was hurrying towards you, her Quick-Quotes Quill and camera hovering beside her. The students around you parted, whispering excitedly. Rita Skeeter was always good for a bit of drama.

“Oh no,” Theo muttered, his eyes narrowing. “What does she want?”

Rita reached you, slightly out of breath but with a wide, predatory smile on her face. “Y/N, darling! Just the person I was looking for!” She barely glanced at Theo, her eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. “I couldn’t help but notice how you’ve been turning heads left and right. You’re simply radiant! How would you like to be on the front cover of the Daily Prophet?”

You blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond. “Um, I’m not even in the Tournament, Ms. Skeeter. I don’t think I’m the right person for that.”

“Nonsense!” Rita exclaimed, her quill scribbling furiously. “You’re exactly the right person. A beauty like yours deserves to be showcased. Imagine the headlines! ‘Hogwarts’ Own Enchantress.’ It would be marvelous!”

Theo stepped forward, his eyes blazing. “Absolutely not,” he said coldly. “Y/N isn’t interested in your publicity stunts, Skeeter. Find someone else to exploit.”

Rita’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Now, now, Theo. No need to be so hasty. I’m simply offering a wonderful opportunity for—”

“For what?” Theo interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “To have Y/N’s face plastered all over your rag of a paper? To invite even more unwanted attention? No, thank you. We’re leaving.”

Before Rita could protest, Theo took your hand and pulled you away, his pace brisk and his grip firm. You could feel the tension radiating off him in waves. “Theo, slow down,” you said gently. “You’re hurting my hand.”

He immediately loosened his grip, though he didn’t stop walking. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just can’t stand that woman.”

You sighed, glancing back to see Rita watching you both with a frustrated expression. “She’s just doing her job, you know.”

“Her job is to make people’s lives miserable,” Theo retorted. “I won’t let her do that to you.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I appreciate it, Theo. Really, I do. But you don’t have to be so… intense all the time. I can handle a little attention.”

Theo stopped and turned to face you, his expression conflicted. “It’s not just a little attention, Y/N. You have no idea how many people are looking at you, wanting you. It drives me crazy.”

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m with you, Theo. No one else. You don’t have to worry about anyone else. I chose you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned into your touch. “I know,” he said quietly. “I just… I can’t help it. I love you so much, and the thought of losing you…”

“You won’t lose me,” you interrupted firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. Now, can we please go enjoy the rest of our day without any more drama?”

Theo managed a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.” He took your hand again, this time more gently, and led you away from the bustling crowds and prying eyes.

As you walked together, the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament continued around you, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Theo’s hand in yours and the reassuring presence of the boy who loved you fiercely, protectively, and completely.

Once you reached a quiet spot near the Black Lake, Theo finally stopped. He turned to face you, his expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just… I hate the way people look at you. Like you’re something to be possessed.”

You placed a hand on his cheek, making him meet your eyes. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. I’m yours, Theo. No amount of attention from other people will change that.”

His eyes softened further, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He pulled you into a gentle kiss, the tension in his body slowly melting away. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

When you finally pulled away, Theo rested his forehead against yours. “I just want to protect you,” he murmured.

“And I appreciate it,” you replied, your fingers threading through his hair. “But sometimes, you need to let me handle things on my own. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I know. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “So, next time someone like Rita Skeeter comes along, let me deal with them. I can handle a nosy journalist.”

Theo’s grip on you loosened, his arms wrapping around your waist in a more comforting embrace. “Alright. But if anyone crosses the line, they’ll have to answer to me.”

“Deal.”

With that, the two of you sat down by the lake, watching the water ripple gently in the afternoon breeze. The chaos of the Triwizard Tournament felt far away, and for a while, you could just be two people in love, enjoying each other’s company without the weight of the world’s gaze upon you.

And as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the castle, you knew that no matter what came your way, you and Theo would face it together.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - part 14.1

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | previous part | masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: okay babes I’m desperate to get this out bc this part is going to be so fucking long I had to break it up into parts

“Rhys, stop!”

Feyre’s shriek of annoyance draws your attention to the front, your eyes watching Feyre chastise Rhysand for driving almost 30 miles per hour over the speed limit. You and Azriel were in the backseat of Rhys’s car (“It’s a Tesla,” Rhys would correct), Feyre in the front seat making several comments about the way Rhys drives as if he is attempting to murder all of you.

Mor and Cassian drove separately in Cassian’s truck - you and Azriel snickered at their less than covert attempts to be alone in the apartment. The six of you had been about to hit the road when Cassian had ‘forgotten his driving sunglasses’ and Mor had immediately offered to help. Rhys had rolled his eyes, telling Cassian the four of you were going to head off instead of waiting for them.

Rhys’s lake house was about an hour and a half away, so you and Azriel had spent that time in the back mindlessly chatting, showing each other silly videos of mostly cats. Feyre sat in the passenger seat, deeming herself in charge of the music, the three of you not caring what she put on.

Whenever Rhys and Feyre were too preoccupied in their own conversation to notice the two of you, you would slip your hand into one of Azriel’s, playing with his fingers or just squeezing lightly before pulling away.

“When do we think Cassian will show up?” You ask, making eye contact with Rhys in the rearview mirror. He scoffs, turning his eyes back to the road, “no telling. He’ll get hungry eventually, so he’ll probably show up around dinner.”

The six of you met up around two, you and Azriel almost arriving late because of your lunch date taking too long. Neither of you wanted to pretend there wasn’t something between you two, but both of you wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone, causing the two of you to linger in the parking lot for far too long, neither of you wanting to keep up the charade.

The impending deadline didn’t stop him from kissing you as if he were going off to war in the parking lot of the cafe you two went to, though. You could still taste the coffee he had on your tongue.

Feyre sighed, looking out the window, “maybe I shouldn’t have put my bag in his truck.”

You laughed, partly at her melodramatics, partly at how foolish she was to leave her bag in Cassian’s truck, “I don’t think you’re seeing that bag for a while, Fey.”

She turns her head to look at you, a scowl on her face, “you make it sound like this is my fault.”

“Well, we did put Cassian and Mor in a car together, so maybe the group is at fault. Just be thankful they didn’t pull over and have sex on top of your bag.”

Her scowl deepened, a look of disgust on her features, “my poor bag would never be the same. I would never be the same.”

“You’d have Cassian butt sweat on it.”

“Ewww, stop.”

“Or worse, his butt hair.”

You laugh as Feyre whips her head to scowl at Rhys, “and how do you know about his hairy butt?”

“Cassian spent our teenage years with a new approach to life - he was determined to be naked at any and every opportunity.” You giggle at Azriel’s words, his ears reddening a bit at the attention you were giving him.

“My mother considered kicking him out because he kept walking around naked and standing in the windows.”

You and Feyre giggled at the image, but Rhys continued. “Our neighbors kept calling and complaining. I’m actually not sure how she got him to stop.”

“She probably bribed him. It’s the only way with him.” You quirk an eyebrow at Azriel before he continues, “nothing ever got to him as a kid - yelling, getting in trouble, praising him. But bribery always worked on him.”

You turn to Azriel, pointing your head in the direction of the front seat, “what was Rhys like as a kid.”

Az huffs, “same as now. Spoiled and annoying.”

Rhys glares at him through the rearview mirror, but Az continues. “He was a bit pompous, always talking about how rich his family was.”

You watch Az try to keep from smiling as Feyre laughs, before reaching a hand out to pinch Rhys’s cheek. The movement pings something in your mind, telling you to ask about it later.

“I did not.”

“You once came to school in a helicopter.”

Rhys sinks a bit in his seat, but you file this whole conversation away in a folder of your brain titled ‘ask again later’. You had a vague sense of things you had picked up over time - Rhys’ parents were technically married, but his dad would travel a lot. Rhys’ mother and sister died at some point. Somehow Azriel and Cassian came into the picture.

It was a bit fuzzy, and you never found out why Cassian lived on his own away from Rhys and Az. You had little pieces, but you needed some way to connect the. You filed it away, just allowing yourself to enjoy the car ride.

The ride eventually reached a lull where the two of you sat in the backseat texting each other while Feyre and Rhys talked mindlessly about goats, maybe. You really weren’t sure what was going on up there.

Azriel: did you know all the guys in this town are riddled with disease

Azriel: so you shouldn’t get anywhere near them

Azriel: just to be safe

You: I like disease-riddled men

Azriel: is now a good time to tell you I had chicken pox as a kid

You: oh really?

You: Mmm itchy men

Azriel: I regret this

You: do you have any scars from it?

Azriel: that’s classified

You: I’ll just have to go around searching for them from other men

Azriel: wait no

Azriel: no no no no no

Azriel: this is a joke right

His eyes snap up to you after you refuse to respond to him, and you have to stifle a giggle at the way he’s looking at you.

You: I’m a changed woman. I prefer disease free men now

Azriel: thank god you’ll stay away from Cassian now

You look up at him with wide eyes before you type back furiously.

You: Azriel we share an apartment what do you mean

You: I let him drink my coffee the other day

You: Azzy please tell me you’re joking

You huff as each of your texts is met back with the three dots indicating he was typing. You looked over at him to find him typing random letters before backspacing to allow the dots to stay up.

You: meanie head

Azriel: you’re the one who said you preferred disease riddled men

You: they wouldn’t treat me like this

You: I would be a queen to them

You: me and my disease riddled king

Azriel: that implies you are their diseased queen

The two of you continue trying to stifle giggles as Rhys drives, Az’s hand moving to squeeze your thigh. You’re so distracted by texting him and his hand on your thigh you don’t notice where you are until the car is pulling into a neighborhood of massive houses that could likely fit multiple families with room to spare. You sit up straighter, looking out the window at these multi-dollar houses and wonder if this was a vacation home, what did Rhys’ house look like growing up?

You knew Rhys’s dad’s lake house was going to be a ridiculously large house. You knew that before, you knew that as the car drove through the neighborhood, but pulling up into the driveway it was as if you had completely forgotten. The house was massive - it had to be at least three floors above ground, and the property it was on was large too.

Rhys’ car slows across the long driveway, no other cars around. You have to strain your neck to look at the house in its entirety - it was beautiful - three or four floors, large windows showing off spacious areas on the second and third floors. It was a mix of the classic lakehouse look, but with slightly modern twists to it. All you could think about while looking at it was how long it would take to clean it. Most of your squabbles with Cassian were over whose turn it was to do dishes, and you knew this place would really test your friendship with him if you lived here.

Or maybe he’d just be able to better hide his messes in this house.

“How long would this take to clean?”

Your voice comes out a bit squeaky before you clear your throat, looking over at Az.

“You think Rhys’s dad does his own cleaning?”

Rhys parks his car in the garage, the four of you getting out. Rhys opens the trunk, and you reach out to grab your bags but Azriel beats you to it, slinging your duffle bag over his shoulder. He crinkles his nose at your pout, sticking his tongue out as he walks into the house. You follow after him, taking in how nice his back looked through his shirt.

Azriel heads to the stairs, taking Feyre to her room, but you fall back to take in the living room. You could host a house party in this living room and fit a hundred people easily. You siddle next to Rhys, watching him play with the lid of his coffee in one hand, his phone lit up in the other.

“Are you worried at all about your dad showing up?”

Rhys sips his coffee before answering, “I’d be more shocked than anyone if he showed up here. Az, Cass, and I once spent an entire summer camped out here. Didn’t even catch a glimpse of him.” He shrugs, his face looking indifferent as his phone screen displays the ‘find my friends’ app, and he looks quizzically at the screen, trying to figure out where Cassian was, you presume.

He blows out a breath, “I’m gonna call him.”

You walk away, opting to look at the photos that decorated the walls. The living room is covered in them, all shapes and sizes of frames littered the yellow wall. You see photos of younger versions of Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys, photos from when they were about ten or so until pretty recently, if you had to guess. You can watch them grow, the three of them looking so unsure of themselves at various stages.

The young photos of Azriel are littered with an air of sadness to them, his eyes not quite as bright as they are now, bandages still lingering on his hands for a long time. Azriel’s the smallest in what you think is the first photo, not much more than skin and bones, his now tan skin had a sickly pale hue to it. A woman and a young girl are in the photos with them, the five of them all looking remarkably similar - it’d be very easy to convince others that the two boys were Rhys’s brothers. The photos are all tan skin, dark curls limp in some photos from the ocean water. They are scattered across the wall, no chronological order to them, but if you lined them up you could watch the three of them grow.

The photos made you feel a well of emotion - how someone could be so cruel to someone so small, so defenseless. But as the photos continued and Azriel blended in more with this family, it made you feel so proud of him for opening himself up like that, when all he knew was pain.

He hadn’t told you the extent of his childhood - just that his family was awful, he hadn't seen or spoken to them in a decade, and his step brothers burned his hands. But the pictures of this small, helpless boy looking so lost at the lake spoke volumes for him.

Rhys put the phone down from his ear as he hung up. “They’ll meet us at the restaurant for dinner. He muttered something about a pit stop before hanging up on me.”

He gazes at the photos as he stands next to you, his eyes landing on the one you’ve been staring at. It involved a very young Azriel, fresh bandages adorning his hands. The striking woman was holding him so delicately, as if her arms squeezed him too hard he’d burst in her hold.

“That’s my mom.”

His voice catches you off guard, not expecting much of anything from him. He points at the photo, his finger tapping slightly on the glass.

“She’s beautiful.”

He hums in agreement, “she loved Az. She fought so hard for him. First person to fight for him, really. Spent a shit ton of money getting custody of him.”

That surprises you, but you leave it there for now, keeping your eyes on her smiling face. His gaze lingers on her soft smile, “she loved all of us, but boy did she love Az.”

You watch his mind go somewhere, not wanting to intrude, about to step away when he speaks up again. “That’s my sister. Kaylah.”

His finger moves to a photo nearby, landing on the young girl that Cassian had hoisted on his shoulders.

“She’s cute.”

“She loved bothering Cassian. The two of them butted heads more than any of us combined.” His voice was full of love and nostalgia. “She once got so mad at him she pulled her shoe off and threw it at his head. He was so chuffed he didn’t notice her throw the other, both of them hitting his eyes. He had a black eye for weeks.”

You laugh, “oh my gods, what happened?”

“What happened?” He turned to you, a wide grin on his face, “we got kicked out of the restaurant we were in, and she had the audacity to ask for her shoes back because they landed at another table.” He laughs, a twinkle in his eye you had never seen before. “Oh, Kaylah was something. She always made us laugh.”

“What happened to her?”

Rhys looks down, the twinkle immediately leaving his eye, “she and my mom were hit by a drunk driver when we started school. We- it was a hard time.”

You look over at him, tentatively moving your arms around his waist and hugging him to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezes you back, his citrusy scent filling your nose. “Me too.”

The two of you gaze at the photos, at a time long gone, standing in silence as if an embrace could change the ending for the subjects of the photos.

The moment’s broken by Feyre’s voice, “what’s going on here?”

You turn your face to look at her, head still against Rhys’s chest, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We’re in love. He’s having my baby.”

She gasps overdramatically, clutching her chest as she puts on a ridiculous voice, “oh my stars! The scandal!”

You giggle as Rhys unwraps himself from you, “we were going to tell everyone while we were here, but it’s true. We’re naming the baby Cassian Junior.”

Feyre breaks her resolve, giggling, “how is it Cassian Junior?”

“Cassian’s adopting him, of course.”

Feyre giggles before coming to the wall of photos, looking too. “Wow, you guys were so little!”

You laugh, “yeah now we have proof Cassian wasn’t born with a six pack.”

“A six pack of beer, maybe.”

Azriel’s voice startled you. How a man so large was so adept at sneaking up on you unaware was impressive. He stopped behind you, but you could feel his warmth through your back.

“That would explain a lot,” Rhys mutters, turning away from the photos and sitting onto the couch. He stretched out his long legs, propping them on the ottoman before him. “That drive took a lot out of me.”

“It was two hours,” you scoff, sitting on a nearby chair. Azriel followed you, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Two hours is a long time.”

“Maybe for a baby,” Feyre coos, sitting next to Rhysand, pinching his cheeks. His hands swat at hers, pushing her away with very little effort. The four of you mindlessly chatter away, Feyre telling you all about something one of her sisters recently did, until Rhys’s phone buzzed again, Mor texting him that they were half an hour away.

The four of you jump back into Rhys’ Tesla, and he rolls down the windows as he drives you all to some restaurant called ‘Mama’s’.

“But ‘Mama’s’ what?” You had asked, to which Rhys and Az shrugged.

“Just ‘Mama’s’.”

You had huffed, accepting the nonanswer for the time being. The windows give you a glimpse of the tax brackets you drove through - starting the journey in multi-million dollar homes occupied during the warm months, the landscape quickly changes to lower and middle class homes for the people who live here year round.

Rhys pulls the car into a small restaurant, fitted with outdoor lighting and seating. It was so homey - a dozen or so people stood around outside, playing some variety of games like checkers and cornhole. A couple dozen more sat at tables, eating what smelled to be the most enticing food ever created. Your stomach rumbles at the smell, and Feyre laughs at you before you poke her in the stomach with an elbow.

You spot Cassian leaning against his car, Mor standing next to him on her phone. He stretches his arms out, huffing, “finally, we’ve been waiting for you!”

Rhys promptly pushes him as he walks past, and Mor giggles as he falters a bit and she falls in line with you and Feyre and you gag at her. “You smell like sex.”

She gasps, “no I do not,” before discreetly smelling her shirt.

“No, you don’t. Made you sniff.”

She rolls her eyes, copying your words in an exaggerated voice.

The six of you find a table, and you’re seated in the middle of the booth with Feyre and Rhys next to you. Azriel sits on the end of the other booth, and you make brief eye contact across the table, sending him a soft smile.

The waitress comes up to your table, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her black clothes making her eyes pop, her name tag reading ‘Steph’. She looked at all of you, but her eyes stopped on Azriel, her smile growing wider at the sight of him.

“Hi everybody, what can I get you all to drink?”

She takes your drinks orders, rubbing Azriel’s shoulder as she walks away. Cassian laughs at Azriel’s grimace, “I think she likes you, Azzy.”

“Shut up, Cass.”

Azriel looked to you as your friends kept talking, and you offered him a smile back. His face was hard to read, but his eyes looked so sad. You cock your head to the side, trying to figure out what the problem was, but he turned his head away.

Dinner goes by in a blur, the food was delicious, the six of you spent the evening joking around, except for Azriel, who spent most of the meal quiet. The waitress came by to check on you all several times, and her blatant efforts at flirting would have been amusing if it wasn’t completely obvious how uncomfortable it made Azriel. Each time she returned to your table, you would watch him tense up as she approached, her hands always finding their way to his shoulders. On her third stop at your table, she began calling him Muffin.

Rhys paid the check, handing over the receipt to Azriel.

“For you, Muffin.”

Azriel takes it, and from next to him you can see the phone number written beneath the total. His hands crumple it, discarding it before you all made it to the parking lot. He opens your door before heading to the other side of the car after you slide into your seat. You immediately pull out your phone, your texts with Azriel lighting up the backseat.

You: hi Muffin

Azriel: I’m so sorry

You: why? Did you do something?

Azriel: for the waitress?

You: did you do something with the waitress?

You: I did go to the bathroom, maybe you slipped out and made out with her?

You can hear Azriel furiously typing on his phone.

Azriel: no no no no

Azriel: I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry she was hitting on me.

Azriel: I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to tell her I had a girlfriend

You: you have a girlfriend?

You: and you’ve been making out with me?

You: you dog

You peak over at him and his face is a deep red. You want to laugh but you feel a little bad about your teasing once you see his fingers shaking, having to backspace several times over misspelled words.

Azriel: I think so

Azriel: I didn’t mean to imply anything

You: so, you don’t have a girlfriend?

Azriel: I don’t know

Azriel: maybe?

You: do you want one?

You: a girlfriend, that is

Azriel: god yes

Azriel: but it has to be a specific girl

You: anyone in mind?

Azriel: I have my eye on someone

Series taglist: @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @impossibelle @hayrunnwr @just-a-social-casualty-1 @thisisew @brieflyclassymortal @glitterypirateduck @marshmummy @bookishbroadwaybish @azsteris @doriansgf @footyandformula @od-anon @judig92 @luvmoo @marina468 @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @acotarobsessed @maryssong23 @acourtofbatboydreams @herondale-lightworm @azrielover @carnelshephard

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading ❣️

[ohithankyou]

thinking about tommy kinard hours and well, I know we’ve talked about how important it was that tommy came over to buck’s in person to clear the air and apologise about potentially upsetting him because that kind of “showing up” is something buck so desperately lacked in his past relationships. but, I also wanna talk about how important it probably was for tommy to have buck, not just hear, but also validate his feelings re: wanting to be part of a family or team in the way that the 118 are

the way tommy looks at buck when buck is explaining to him all the ways that tommy was a part of something important in rescuing bobby and athena, was part of the team, was a part of the family — tommy’s expression at certain points in this moment, it’s kind of heart breaking because you get a glimpse of a broken tommy but also one in awe. he looks so innocent. so surprised. so moved. so seen. there are just so many emotions wrapped up in his expressions in that moment and it makes me sick in the best way 

because it’s just like — this beautiful, adorable man by the name of evan buckley heard tommy kinard voice an insecurity that has probably plagued him his whole life, and immediately, without any hesitation, addressed it, making tommy feel so important. and buck doesn’t just do this because “it’s the nice thing to do” in a moment like that. no. he does it because he believes it. he believes with his whole heart that tommy was a part of their family and their team that night and he wants tommy to believe it too. so, even if a part of tommy wanted to believe on the contrary, he couldn’t. even if the insecure voice in tommy’s head tried its hardest to get tommy to not believe what buck was saying, he couldn’t. he couldn’t because the conviction and sincerity with which evan buckley said those words to him was too powerful a force and tommy had to believe him and he did

and I really think this is the moment that for tommy, this crush on 'the cute guy', goes from just being a crush on 'the cute guy', to a real longing and a yearning for evan. and so when he gets the final signal that buck may actually be interested in him in *that* way, he makes the move and kisses him

and even the kiss. I know it’s been talked about a ton but the way tommy keeps his eyes closed when he breaks the kiss, just soaking it in, it’s ahhh. because, again. it wasn’t just about kissing the cute guy. it was about kissing the cute guy he thinks he could have something with, (possibly every thing with). but in the back of his mind, he feels there may still be a chance that buck doesn’t feel that way about him, about men. so he keeps his eyes closed a little longer. but when he finally opens them, and sees the way buck is looking at him, and asks buck if “it was okay”, he realizes that yes, evan does like him. and that’s when tommy can breathe. and after that, he doesn’t even waste a second to ask him out on date 

i also think that explains why tommy cuts the date short when he does, the way he does, instead of just going along with it. if this was just any 'cute guy', maybe he would’ve went to the movie with him, had some fun (or not), and then went on his merry way, feeling no two ways about it. but no. evan buckley isn’t just 'some cute guy.' and so, he probably thought, “better that I end it now, because if I don’t, I will fall and it will hurt.” I think it may have looked to some like it was easy for tommy to walk away, but given what we’ve gotten to know about him, I don’t think it was easy at all. yes, he walked away because buck wasn’t ready and he didn’t want to pressure him, but he probably also walked away because he couldn’t risk getting his heart broken in the long run

so, tommy goes home and he thinks, that’s it. it’s done. but he also probably couldn’t stop thinking about evan and then, he gets a call, and it’s him. it’s evan and he’s asking to see him. tommy says yes. he doesn’t know what this will bring, but he’s playing it safe, he’s holding back slightly, not sitting down immediately, but then evan shocks him with the, “come with me to my sister's wedding. I want you to be my date at my sisters wedding..” 

and tommy hears the same raw, honest conviction and sincerity in his voice that he heard the night he kissed him. the night his insecurities were heard (probably for the first time ever), and he trusts evan. he believes him. he couldn’t not believe him even if he tried. he says yes, he’ll go to the wedding, and now, he’s in this, and he wants this. he wants evan and he isn’t going to hold back in showing him that

so even though he’s on call, he comes to the bachelor party and doesn’t leave until he absolutely has to. and even though he has to go to work, he promises to evan that he’ll do his damnest to come to the wedding. and even though he fought a fire for 12+ hours, he keeps his promise, and does his damnest, and makes it to the wedding (and well, he sees that his damnest is very appreciated.)

and then in the last episode, we’re back where we started with them (in the kitchen), but more domestic and lived in. buck opens up about himself and tommy, again, meets him halfway and shares something personal about himself in return. but, this time, opening up isn’t just about meeting buck halfway. he’s opening up because he knows he can. he knows he’ll be heard because evan created that safe space for him and now, tommy’s letting himself embrace that safe space in a way he probably hasn’t before, with anyone else 

he’s talking about his jealousy and his insecurities because he wants evan to know him. and what better way to let evan get to know him, than to let him in on what he’s longed and yearned for? what better way to do that than to let evan in on the parts of himself he most likely hasn’t been able to trust with anyone else? parts of him that maybe, possibly, most likely, others didn’t even care to even know? but evan. evan wants to know and evan does care, and tommy, tommy is all in. and honestly, he couldn’t not be all in even if he tried 

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [24] - Journals

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Couples can have different opinions on many things.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex, there's a fur coat line. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Alright.

Keeping a sex journal while you weren’t currently having sex was going to be challenging but you couldn’t let it stop you.

It was homework, and there was a reason why you had been such a perfect student back at school.

You sipped your coffee before putting it back on the kitchen island, then grabbed the paper bag to turn it over, the contents spilling onto the island, making you let out a happy noise. Stationery shopping always made you feel excited, gathering different notebooks and papers and pens, so you were beginning to feel like you were going to ace this already.

Alpine jumped on the island to inspect the pens, then smacked one off the counter with her paw.

“Alpine!” you said. “Don’t.”

“Charm I’m—” Bucky lifted his head when he reached the bottom of the stairs, then frowned, making his way to the kitchen island. “What are those?”

“Stuff for the sex journals,” you said as you opened a notebook, then closed it and tossed it at him. He caught it mid-air and looked down at it.

“This looks better than the notepad I have.”

You made a face as you lifted Alpine off the counter, then put her on the floor.

“It’s a journal,” you told him. “She didn’t say a notepad.”

“Can I borrow a pen?”

“No!” you said quickly, grabbing the multiple pens on the island. “Get your own, these are mine.”

“There are like one hundred pens here and you’re telling me—wait a second, did you get glitter pens?”

“Yeah,” you said and Bucky approached the counter, tilting his head.

“Are those stickers?”

“Mm hm,” you said as you started sorting them through color and Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“Why do you have stickers?”

“As a rating system,” you said. “I mean the journal will be detailed and whatever but I think using stars stickers for it will be useful.”

“You’ll give our sex life star ratings?” he asked as he took one of the tiny sticker sheets into his hand and you nodded your head.

“Yeah. It’s important to be organized while keeping a journal, and it’ll make it easier to read. This is how I used to study for exams as well.”

“Teacher’s pet,” he teased you and you arched a brow.

“You just lost a star.”

His eyes widened. “Wait what? No I want—I want five stars!”

“Then fucking act like it.”

Bucky licked his lips.

“So how are we going to do this?” he motioned at the journal. “Make stuff up?”

“No, we’ll just have sex because it’s a part of couple’s therapy.”

His head shot up. “I take back everything bad I said about therapy—”

“Of course we’re going to make stuff up!” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “I’m not fucking you for some sort of homework, this is a business deal.”

He opened his mouth to retort but his phone started buzzing, making him look down at the screen before rejecting the call.

“So I copy off of yours?”

“I’m not going to do your homework for you,” you said. “We’ll do it together, tonight. Try to find your favorite fantasy today, it’ll make things easier.”

“It’ll make one thing harder.”

You let out a groan, rolling your eyes at him but that didn’t stop the smirk pulling at his lips. His phone started buzzing again and he made a face, then put it back into his pocket.

“Want to grab lunch in the afternoon?”

“No I’m meeting Becca,” you said, your whole attention back on the sheets of stickers again as you separated them and he stepped to press a kiss on top of your head.

“Tell Becca I said hi,” he said and you hummed as he walked out of the apartment. You could feel your cheeks burning but you frowned at yourself and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you.

“Your father is just…” you trailed off and held one of the pens so that she could smack it. “Something tells me he used to be a bad student.”

                                      *

“So yeah, my boss has been kicking my ass,” Leila said before taking a sip of her coffee and you tilted your head, stealing a look at Becca.

“And you’re letting that happen?”

“I told you!” Becca said, motioning at you and Leila let out a laugh.

“Unbelievable, both of you.”

“It’s a problem and the solution is very clear,” you said and Becca nodded.

“Exactly!”

“We’re not intimidating my boss.”

“It’s not intimidating,” Becca said. “Just…you know, a gently nudge to not push you so hard.”

“I offered Ethan the same thing,” you said. “He refused.”

“I wonder why,” Leila said and Becca heaved a sigh.

“What’s he been up to?”

“He’s very busy.”

“Still in love with you?”

“He’s not in love with me, we’re friends,” you told them and sipped your drink. “Besides, don’t get off the subject. Leila—”

“The new client is a hard ass, that’s why my boss is being uncharacteristically pushy,” she said. “It’s fine, really. How about you, how’s everything with Bucky?”

“Oh our therapist gave us this homework,” you said. “Sex journals.”

Becca shot you a puzzled look but couldn’t say anything with Leila right there so you only shook your head slightly as Leila let out a laugh.

“Do you want me to cover your ears, Bec?”

“Yeah!” she said after a beat. “Yeah no I don’t um—I don’t want to know anything about my brother’s sex life, I’ll just pretend you guys only hold hands in bed.”

“Aw sweetheart…” Leila said, patting her hand and you gave her a grin, then bit into your muffin.

“Listen, it’s just—” you started, then got distracted when you saw Ryan walk into the café. He made his way straight to the counter, clearly not having seen you or the girls, then gave his order to the barista before stepping sideways so that he could wait.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Becca and Leila, then stood up from your chair to approach him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, making him turn around and he immediately straightened his back even more as if you were his commander.

“Ma’am.”

“How are you?” you asked and he gave you a faint, hesitant smile.

“I’m alright ma’am, how about you?”

“I’m good,” you said. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you since that night at the club. Thank you, again.”

“I didn’t do anything ma’am,” he said. “I’m glad you disarmed him before he could hurt you or Mr. Barnes.”

You nodded your head.

“You know how amateurs are,” you said with a wave of your hand and he swallowed, his eyes darting over your face.

“And um…” he cleared his throat. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“It wasn’t the first time I kicked someone’s ass—”

“No I mean,” he paused for a moment. “After the dinner?”

Ah.

The dinner your father had named Ian his heir.

Considering how happy Ian was about it and how Ryan was his right arm, you would have thought he would be very happy, perhaps just asking you to pretend to be polite but nothing in his eyes signaled insincerity. You pulled your brows together in confusion and he licked his lips.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my place—”

“No no,” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence and offered him a small smile. “No I was just surprised, that’s all. No one from my dad’s side asked me if I was alright after that dinner, so…”

He nodded his head, looking down at his boots and you took a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” you said. “And I really appreciate you asking that, it’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

His head shot up when the barista called out his name and put the coffee on the counter, and he grabbed it.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you long,” you said with a smile. “Have a nice day, Ryan.”

“You too ma’am,” he said gruffly and walked out of the café while you returned to the table, Leila and Becca both watching you.

“He looks like freaking Hercules,” Leila commented and Becca let out a laugh.

“I’ll never understand why he is working for Ian.”

“Me neither,” you said with a sigh. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”

                                               *

By the time Bucky got home, it was past dinner time.

“I’m so sorry, this fucking meeting—” he said as he walked into the apartment, making you look over your shoulder from the couch. “Isn’t it weird we can’t kill people over zoom meetings?”

“I’m sure technology will get there some day,” you pointed out, sipping your wine. “I ordered sushi, it’s on the counter.”

“Awesome,” he said, getting rid of his jacket to throw it over the chair and you tried not to stare at his white button up fitting perfectly to his muscular body, then licked your lips. He pulled a chair to sit by the kitchen island and reached out to grab your journal.

“Did you write anything?”

“Nah, I was waiting for you,” you said and muted the TV, then grabbed your wine glass to make your way to him. You sat down as well, then pulled the sticker sheets and pens to yourself from the other side of the counter, taking the journal from him as well. He took chopsticks into his hand and dug into the sushi while you opened the journal, then fixed your hair.

“So?”

“Hm?”

“What is your sexual fantasy?”

Bucky chewed his bite before swallowing it, then pointed at you with the chopsticks.

“You know, when I imagined you asking me this question you weren’t wearing anything and my mouth was busy with something else.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach did a pleasant flip, then narrowed your eyes at him.

“Bucky.”

“Why don’t you tell me your fantasies first?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Aside from the obvious medieval knight thing—”

“That’s not my fantasy—you know what?” you said, grabbing your phone. “I’ll just google it and then we can decide.”

“…You’ll google sexual fantasies?” he asked with a grin on his lips. “You actually need to google it? Aw, have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

“Bucky, I’m warning you.”

“Missionary doesn’t count as a fantasy so I’m guessing yours isn’t gonna be there.”

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary, don’t blame me if you have too many issues to be able to look your partner in the eye while fucking them—”

“Whatever you say, pillow princess.”

“And I’m giving you three stars, how about that?”

He pulled his brows together, swallowing his bite in a hurry. “No!”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not, we don’t know if we can trust the therapist or if she’s working for someone else.”

“I feel like if she was working for someone else, we’d have other problems than her thinking you’re not good in bed.”

“That’d be the biggest problem for me,” he said, his voice completely serious. “I can deal with people trying to kill me, but they can’t think my wife gives me three stars.”

 You rolled your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” you said. “Fine, I’ll give five stars to the fantasy thing but I’ll write I faked it the second time we had sex this week.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not giving you five stars all the time Bucky, she’s going to know we’re lying.”

“No, none of my girlfriends have ever faked that shit, my wife sure as fuck won’t.”

You blinked a couple of times before tilting your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Aw, I forget how naïve men can be about this,” you said. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

He narrowed his eyes. “None of my girlfriends—”

“That’s what you think.”

“No, I know they didn’t.”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your expression straight. “Really? And how do you know that?”

“One can tell.”

“Not really.”

“I’m not talking about porn screams all the time,” he insisted. “You can just…feel it.”

You raised your brows, smirking at him and he frowned slightly.

“Bullshit,” he said after a beat. “You can’t fake that.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your teeth, now grinning wide but before he could say anything else, someone knocked on the door, making both of you turn your heads. Bucky checked his wristwatch, his frown getting deeper and he pulled his gun out of his waistband, then made his way to the door with you following him. He looked through the peephole, then put his gun back into his waistband and opened it to reveal one of his bodyguards that you had met back at the club; Hannah.

“Hi Hannah!” you said, waving at her and she smiled at you.

“Mrs. Barnes,” she greeted you and turned to Bucky. “Mr. Barnes, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour but we figured you’d want to know. There has been an attack to the Wilson territory.”

Your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth while Bucky’s shoulders tensed up.

“Sarah—?” you started, your heart beating painfully against your chest but thankfully Hannah cut you off.

“Everyone in the Wilson family is alright ma’am,” she said, making you let out a relieved breath. “It wasn’t an attack to any of their houses, just the territory.”

Bucky’s voice was stern when he spoke: “Where?”

 “One of the bars,” Hannah said. “A couple of his men got hurt, so did some civilians.”

“HYDRA,” you murmured, your jaw clenching. “Fuck.”

“Is Paul around?”

“Yes sir, he’s downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Bucky said and closed the door, then turned to you but you had already turned around to make your way to the coffee table to get your gun.

“Charm, you should stay here,” Bucky said, making you look over your shoulder. “It could be dangerous.”

You arched a brow, then grabbed the fur coat on the rack to throw it over the mini silk dress you were wearing.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” you asked him as you pushed the gun into your handbag, then walked past him. “Let’s go.”

Bucky threw his head back and grabbed one of the car keys off the key hook, then followed you out of the apartment.

[andersonfilms]

ღ ELECTRAPLAYER ✶ SEVEN INCHES DEEP !

series masterlist collab series w/ the talented, sweet baby — @abbyscherry

tags. eighteen+, strap sex (abby!r), daddy kink, breeding kink, masc!reader but can be read by all, part of a series but can be read on it’s own.

you're gripping her hair like she's your favorite vice, cock stretching her pretty pussy, even prettier ass recoiling against you. toned back arched for you as she moans like a whore. only down side is you can't see the effect you're having on her pretty face. the moans abby continues to let out are enough to hold you over until you can see her sun-kissed skin cheeks again, hundreds of adorable freckles decorating her nose with the soft bend. the one you adore more than the stars in the sky. 

you’d been staring at her all night the day before, entranced with her beauty yet again. it’d just been the two of you, a starry skin, and her. the empty beer bottles kissing the plush grass had her singing, saying some stupid joke but caused you to have a belly laugh. incredibly loud, obnoxious even, but it makes her laugh even harder. 

the sun couldn’t hold their own against her shine. the brightest star you’ve ever known. the sick feeling comes back in moments like these, afraid of the unknown. what if it doesn’t work? nagging and deafening, the thought picks at your brain like zombies off a dead carcass. all of this could end in a moment, just like the rest but you try to believe otherwise when she does shine with blissful ignorance. 

you want to sit in it with her. 

sometimes, it’s hard to believe she’s just yours. there’s not a single soul but you to take care of her, praise her, worship her. every bit of her is for you, but tonight she’s stubborn. batting her eyelashes, give you fuck me eyes. the little brat knew it would work too. 

“is this what you wanted? fucking begging me all day to be fucked. texting me, calling me all day while i train, fuck, making me lose my focus.” you pull harder on her golden hair. a fist full of her hair, a whimpering slut — you can practically see the drool. “and sending me the video of your tits in the shower, slippery and soapy. low fucking blow.” 

“daddy, i just needed you. m’sorry, i—” you slap her ass, effectively shutting her up. well…her words only. abby moans instead, muffled by the sheets beneath her. “what? you’re fucking sorry? had to cut my day early because of you. what was so important it couldn’t wait?” 

“i don’t want to say. it’s really embarrassing.” she shyly remarks. 

“babygirl, i’m seven inches in your pussy. don’t think there should be any more secrets between us.” you slap her ass again and abby  knows what it means. 

better fess up or there’s much more painful punishments to come. 

honestly, abby ponders for a moment. almost taking them up on the offer but her need to cum far outweighs the bratty little devil resting on her shoulder. even if she hadn’t made the decision for herself, you would have gotten abby there. 

your pace increases, fucking her harder, faster. “talking back to me isn’t a smart move. you and i both know it.” you can hear just how wet she is; every thrust sends her closer and closer to what she craves. the pleasure is practically on her tongue. pink, raw lips pleading for the craving she can never satiate. not with you. 

the confession threatening to fall from her tongue, but she bites on it. rather taking the pinching in her mouth than admit she’s wrong. with anyone else, she’s always gotten her way. but with you, you effectively know how to shut her right the fuck up. 

“tell me what i want to hear. what’s in this pretty head angel? hm? does daddy need to fuck your harder? y’know i will.” without prompt, you start piston fucking into her, the flimsy headboard beating against the wall. her moans growing louder, heavier, sluttier. 

“f-fuck, daddy. shit, shit, shit.” abby can’t stop whining, her thighs shaking controllably, back arching ever further, if it was even possible. “please? fuck, i-, need you to spill, daddy. please need to be stuffed full of your cum.” without any buffer you’re pulling her hair so hard, abby’s back collides with your chest. 

your cock filling her up even deeper as you continue to fuck her. she almost pulls your hair out from the root, before her neck to bitting into your neck, sucking, before she lets her tongue soothe over the mark. 

it’s obvious, you’re so close to cumming. you can hardly stand and fuck, the base of the harness is rubbing against your clit. god, combined with abby’s moans. you’re close. 

“fuck yeah? wanna have my babies baby? want me knock you up? pump you full of cum until you just can’t fucking take anymore?” 

“please, god, daddy i-, i’m going to come. can i come? please? fuck, need to come all over your cock. please say yes. god, daddy?” 

the last words are a nail in her coffin. 

“c’mon babygirl. show me how much you want me to breed you. need to know how worthy you are of my cum. my babies. fucking show me how much of a dirty slut you are.” you press your lips on her ear, kissing it softly. “that's right. just for daddy."

hope you enjoyed! mwah mwah!