#but let's not pretend for a SECOND that either of them would have left a good first impression on a career soldier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yieldtotemptation · 2 months

Text

BLUEBERRIES ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

"SURPRISE ATTACK!"

—is the last thing you hear before your entire world tilts sideways, the weight of your girlfriend crashing into you, sending you toppling over the arm of your chair and onto the thankfully plush carpet.

And just like that, Kim Chaewon has arrived—shattering the quiet of your apartment with the sound of her giggles and the thud of your bodies.

To her credit, she gracefully lands on top of you—legs straddling your torso, hands pressing down on your chest—pinning you to the floor, and she's grinning—all doe-eyes and mischief, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry-blonde halo.

"Do you surrender, baby?"

You could pretend to put up a fight—push back a little, buck your hips, take her by the waist—get a little rough. But why would you? Especially when losing meant having Chaewon on top of you.

So, like always, you decide it's best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants and you play along: enjoying the creamy thighs squeezing your sides, that collarbone peeking out of your stolen sweatshirt, those impossibly large eyes looking down at you as she makes herself comfortable—and you respond with a rather theatrical groan, "I surrender, Chae."

"Nuh uh," she corrects you, her voice dropping down a comically low octave. "It's Chaewon-rys Targar-something, Queen of Apartment 19-4, Ruler of..."

"My fridge?" You offer.

"Very funny,” Chaewon replies, bemused.

It's been weeks without this—without her—and you've barely survived. Chaewon's schedule is a merciless beast, devouring every second of her time. But here she is, now, with you—on top of you—back in your life and picking up from exactly where she left off.

“But,” she continues, “seeing as you're in the mood for jokes how about… ThisI" Chaewon turns cruel, unveiling her most brutal method of torture—tickling. She catches you off guard, shifting her weight, her hands abandoning your chest and flying to your sides, her light fingers dancing over your ribs, her nails lightly digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"Wait-wait-wait!" You try to twist your way free, but she's got you good, her fingers now inching closer to your armpits, towards your most vulnerable spots. "Mercy!" you yell, but she's just getting started— “Mercy!”

"No mercy!" She's relishing this far, far too much, all giggles and grins, delighted at your pathetic efforts to struggle out from her grasp and escape her vicious assault. Your laughter comes out in uncontrollable bursts, as you desperately try to cover your sides to protect yourself from her onslaught.

"Ok-ok-ok-I give up! You win— you win—I give up!" You cry out, your laughter morphing into wheezes as Chaewon's relentless tickling at last, mercifully subsides.

"Aha! Round 129 goes to Kim-Chae-Won!" Chaewon turns and bows to an imaginary audience, mimicking a faraway crowd chanting her name "Kim-Chae-Won! Kim-Chae-Won!"

"I have once again been defeated," you feign a dramatic sigh, drawing an even harder laugh from Chaewon as you roll your eyes to the back your head and let your tongue loll out of your mouth.

Your apparent death does little to faze Chaewon, who takes this as an opportunity to plop down on your stomach, pressing her full weight down on your chest. She props her elbows on either side of your shoulders, her chin resting on her interlocked hands. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize.”

Chaewon slides her hands upwards, her fingertips walking up your arms towards your wrists, squeezing them lightly and pulling them over your head, holding them firm against the ground.

When your eyes finally refocus, she’s hovering over you, her button nose brushing against yours, and her lips—bright pink and slightly parted—just millimeters away from your own.

You're trapped under her, but you hardly mind—she's so warm, so soft, so natural—crime would skyrocket if this was considered a form of punishment.

"Let this be a lesson," she's whispering now, very much satisfied, so close that waves of her strawberry-blonde hair spill down on either side of your face. Strands tickle your nose with the scent of her shampoo, a floral bouquet that you've come to associate with lazy Sundays and the promise of warm breakfasts in bed. "I. Always. End. On. Top."

She finishes her victory speech by stealing a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

That simple kiss has your mind wandering, entertaining the thought of flipping the script—of surprising her, overpowering her and turning the tables.

You could grab her, kiss her long and hard—get rid of that ludicrously oversized sweatshirt and tear off those dangerously short sweatpants. Part those lithe, never-ending legs, feel the warmth of her bare skin against yours, mark your territory on her perfect, toned thighs and each individual abdominal muscle.

But the way she's looking at you, her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes sparkling with playful triumph, she's so adorable that the thought of manhandling her right now seems almost...sacrilegious.

And, let's face it, it's seeing this side of her that you love—the Chaewon that's free from the glitz and glamour of the stage, the choreography, the smiles that are painted on for the cameras. The Chaewon that is not wearing the mask of someone enjoying herself, that is actually, genuinely having a good time.

Here, in your apartment, with the curtains drawn and the outside world blocked out, she's just yours—Kim Chaewon, your girlfriend. The one who laughs at your terrible dad jokes and makes fun of your outdated sense of style, the one who can tell whether you've had a good day or not just by how heavy your feet are when you walk through the front door, the one who knows all the perfect ways to make you relax after a tough day at—

Fuck.

Work.

The word sneaks into your mind like a ninja in the night—silent, swift, and really fucking inconvenient.

Fucking work.

A bullshit spreadsheet you're supposed to be updating and a deck that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, even though you know it won't be looked at for another month.

You don't have to say anything, Chaewon's already reading the frown lines on your face. "Oh—no-no-no. That's your—'fun time is over I have work to do'—face. I hate that face."

"There's these slides..." you know you’re fighting a losing battle, your voice trailing off as you try to hold onto the last remnants of what was once a very pleasant afternoon.

"No way—not happening," Chaewon insists, emphasising her point with a firm squeeze of your wrists. "I only just came back from Japan, and it’s been weeks. There is no way you're going to ditch the beautiful love of your life for that laptop. I'm literally on top of you right now!"

"Come on, Chae, I was almost done when you came in—"

"—when I defeated you in combat and forced you to surrender— "

"At least let me do a quick review then I swear I'm all yours," you negotiate, trying to maintain eye contact with her but failing as your gaze falls to the laptop atop your desk, the open tabs taunting you. "Five minutes, tops."

"Nope, not moving, not going anywhere, you're just going to have stay under me like this forever." Chaewon's being petulant now—this is more your fault than anything, you've been spoiling her like a princess—and while she is acting like a brat, it's a brat of your own creation.

"Chae—come on—let me up, please."

"If I let you up, you'll get into one of your 'zones' and then it'll be hours before you’re done and you’ll completely ignore me," Chaewon pouts, her nose scrunching up in a way that's both endearing and exasperating. "And I've missed you too much for that."

"I promise I won't—”

Chaewon rolls her eyes at that.

“I'm serious—just let me up."

"Oh, you're serious now, how scary."

"Five minutes, Chae—"

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, let me up.”

"Or what, what are you going to—wait—what the—wait!"

It doesn't take much effort at all—face it, she's at best a hundred pounds soaking wet—but you're already on your feet, wrists free of her dainty fingers, holding her up with just one arm and a single hand palming an ample ass cheek.

You catch your breath as you stand, and she’s still reeling as the sudden balance shifts. She’s forced to cling to you, wrapping those long, toned legs around your waist, and looping her arms around your neck, her hands grasping at the back of your head as if she's afraid you're going to drop her.

"H-how the—how did you—I had you pinned!" Chaewon squeaks out, pure disbelief colouring her voice as she clings onto you.

You leave her to work through the logic on her own, returning to your desk, righting your fallen chair, all the while still holding Chaewon like a prize you've just won at an arcade.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Chaewon protests, but it's too late. You've already set her down on your desk, the laptop between the two of you like a barricade. She tries to keep her limbs wrapped around you, legs around your waist—do anything she can to stop you—but you gently, quite easily, peel her off—earning another scowl from your girlfriend.

You can feel Chaewon's eyes boring into you as you sit down at your desk, her legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the desk in frustration. The work itself doesn't take long—you were being honest—just a minor grammar check here, fixing some formatting there and—

"What was that? How did you just—”

It's the first time you've ever seen Kim Chaewon—usually so composed and untouchable on stage—so completely, utterly flustered.

"I don't get it. I mean did you just get this strong?" Chaewon's voice is small, barely heard over the sound of your keystrokes—trying to process what just happened. She's shifted on the desk, leaning back now on her palms, looking at you like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anywhere at all. "Or have you always been—you were just—were you letting me win? Hey—why are you laughing?"

You hit a final 'enter', saving your work with a performative flair, and spin the chair around to face Chaewon so you can give her your full, undivided attention.

But she's not looking at you—no, she's still trying to make sense of it, her gaze flitting from the chair, to the floor, to the laptop, to your hands that are now folded neatly in your lap. You're expecting a comeback, something witty and biting, something that'll make you laugh, but she's just sitting there—pouting. Adorably so.

"Chae, come on."

"What?" She snaps out of her daze, the hardware in her head overclocking. "I just—I exercise way more than you—I run, I dance everyday, I go to the gym, I do pilates—you can't be that much stronger than me."

"I'm like twice your size, Chae." You chuckle, reaching for the water bottle on your desk and taking a well-earned swig. "And I do manage to sneak in some workouts when you're not around to tickle me to death."

"But... this whole time?" Chaewon asks, there’s an accusation in her voice as she crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently distracting you with the way it makes her sweatshirt pull tightly across her breasts. It's too fucking cute, and you can't help but lean in for a kiss, but she turns her head away at the last second. "Every time, you've been taking it easy on me? Kiddie gloves?"

You sigh. "More or less."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought you knew," you say with a sheepish smile, "but even then, I didn't want to spoil the fun for you." You take another sip of water, watching her carefully. "You're so competitive, Chae. And when we’re playing like this and you win, you're so... happy. I just like seeing that."

"But that's..." Chaewon stammers. "Even when we're... You know... You're so... Gentle with me."

"Of course, I never want to—I'm just afraid that—"

"Afraid of what? That you'll break me? Okay, Bruce Banner." Chaewon teases, seemingly having made some decision in her own mind, as she hops off the desk to face you. "So, you've been holding back? You really think you’re that much stronger than me?”

You give her a very cautious shrug.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you’re really as strong as you think. Show me. Here—take my wrists—" Chaewon says, holding them out to you, "—and I bet I'll still be able to break free like I always do."

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you say, setting your bottle aside and standing up to face her.

“Why? Chicken?” She answers, and you try not to facepalm, reminding yourself that it is easier to just give her what she wants—most of the time, anyway.

"Alright, if that's what you want," you reply, gently placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her so her back is flat against the nearest wall. She's staring up at you the whole time, watching you intensely as you take both her wrists in one hand, holding it against the wall and above her head.

"Really, only one hand? This will be real easy to get out of—" Chaewon starts to taunt, but she never gets to finish her sentence, because your grip tightens around her wrists and she feels the full weight of your body pressing into hers. She tries to pull away, expecting the same give she's felt countless times before, but your hand is like a vice—firm and unyielding—and it dawns on her that she's not going anywhere.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tries to hide her surprise—because she's still in the game, still playing along. She tries to push off from the wall with her legs, but you anticipate it, placing a hand on her waist and keeping her in place.

Even you're surprised at how little effort it is to keep her still—a small push here, a slight change in weight there—Chaewon is at your mercy and it feels... different.

"Wait—I can't—" Chaewon still hasn’t given up, squirming and wiggling, doing little to help her escape but a lot to make you want to keep her against you.

She's trapped, every move she makes only making it worse for her—better for you—moulding her body closer into yours, aligning the softness of her curves with the hard lines of your chest.

But still, she struggles, tries every way she can think of to break free—twisting, turning, pushing with her legs, even trying to bite you at one point—but her best efforts only make you chuckle, and press her harder into the wall, press yourself harder into her.

You can feel her heart racing beneath her sweatshirt, and there's something there—you both feel it—a sudden tension in her helplessness, a thrill in your newfound power over her. "Damn it—this is so—argh!"

Chaewon’s eyes meet yours, and there’s your confirmation—that spark of something new, something unspoken. It's not anger or fear—no, she's never looked at you with fear—it's something else entirely. It's excitement, curiosity, a hint of arousal.

And so, you lean in, closing the last gap between you, and kiss her—right there against the wall.

It's not the gentle peck she's used to, it's not the sweet, loving kiss she’s grown to expect—it's more. You don’t even understand it yourself—it's raw, it's passionate, it's the kind of kiss that could start a war—or end one—the kind of kiss that sucks all the air from the room.

Her body tenses up, and for a moment you fear that maybe this is too much, too far, and you ready to let her go.

But she melts into it—into you. You let go of her wrists to cradle her face, and her arms fall to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back—kisses you like she doesn't want you to ever stop, like she knows she couldn't stop you even if she tried. Her nails dig into your skin, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you that she's here, that she's alive and real and in this moment with you.

You push her into the wall, the plaster giving a gentle protest, and she’s lifting her legs up—she’s straddling you again, gravity doing its job and keeping her affixed to your torso.

Chaewon adapts, her ankles lock behind your back, pressing herself against you, her thighs tightening around your waist, and she’s hips grinding down over your sweatpants.

It’s almost too much, too fast—zero to a hundred in record time. You break the kiss, panting, breathless, but Chaewon's eyes stay closed, her chest heaving, as if she's afraid that if she opens them, this moment will evaporate like a mirage.

"Enough proof for you?"

"Yeah," is all Chaewon can muster, and she opens her eyes, dazed, like you’ve just woken her up from a particularly good dream.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to ruin your fun. Are you upset?"

"Upset?" Chaewon repeats, letting the word roll around her lips. "Maybe a little bit," she's biting her lip—so endearingly—and you can see the wheels turning in her head—recalculating, reassessing. "But now I'm just..." she pauses, looking down and rolling her hips against you once more, "I'm just really, really turned on."

Her admission hangs in the air between the two of you, and the air in your apartment begins to feel hotter, thicker, laced with something new.

"I love how you take care of me, how you make me feel safe..." Chaewon continues, "But this... the way you're holding me up like this... So easily, it's just so..." Another shifting of weight, another grind of her hips, and she’s slowly discovering what your sweatpants is making very little to hide. "Hot."

"Is that right?" You can't take your eyes off her lips, the way they form those delicious words. Maybe you've been wrong to treat her like she's fragile, like you could hurt her if you're not careful enough. Maybe what she’s really been craving is to prove herself to you, to prove to you that she can handle you—all of you. "Tell me what you like about it."

"I like how—ah—" Her voice hitches as you let go of her waist with your hand, sliding it under her sweatshirt, running your fingers over her toned stomach, feeling it cave in a sharp inhale. "How in control you are. How strong you feel."

Even without your hand at her waist she doesn't fall—her legs simply tighten around your waist, her grip on your neck becoming more secure, more possessive. You trace her belly button with your fingertip—her breath catches, her eyes flutter shut.

"How it feels like you could do—mmm—" she continues, her words getting lost as your hand rises higher up her body, reaching the swell of her breasts. Chaewon arches her back, pushing her chest out for more, a soft mewl escaping her lips. “—could do anything to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you."

You slip your fingers under her bra, the fabric stretching to accommodate your touch, press your thumb against her nipple, feeling it pebble under your touch. You pinch and roll them lightly, basking in her reactions, the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her mouth forms a perfect 'O'.

"I can do anything I want to you."

Chaewon's eyes open, and she’s looking at you like she’s seeing someone entirely different in place of her usual, doting boyfriend. She's panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks a glowing shade of red that seems to spread down her neck and into the fabric of her sweatshirt. She opens her mouth, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, and she whispers—"Will you?"

Two simple words. Two simple words that unlock something deep inside you. Something primal. The thing inside each man since the dawn of time that drives them to hunt, kill, fuck like their lives depend on it.

Two simple words that have you leaning in and kissing her again, not just her lips—your mouth traces a fiery path along her jawline, the tender spot behind her ear, down her neck. Each kiss is a promise of what's to come, each nip of your teeth makes her shiver.

Chaewon gasps, her body writhing under your touch, her legs tightening around your waist, desperate and afraid you'll pull away. You don't. Instead, you press into her, feeling the wetness spreading through her shorts, and it takes all your self-control to not rip them off her right there.

"Bedroom," she manages to get out, a soft, fleeting whimper between kisses, "take me to the—"

You never find out the end of her sentence—twisting her body around, your hands cupping the firm, round globes of her ass, and in a single, swift motion, you lift her higher, throwing her up and over your shoulder.

"Wai—" Chaewon squeals as you hoist her up, her legs dangling in the air, has ass pointing to the sky.

She's giggling again, the sound muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt, her laughter vibrating through your back as you carry her across the apartment.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this—" she's still giggling, managing to separate herself from your back to chide you,

"—you're so strong it's unfair—",

"—treating me like I weigh nothing—" ,

"—like a caveman—",

"—I'm going to have to tell the others about this—",

"—they won't believe it—",

"—I don't even believe it—",

"—my what a big, strong boyfriend I ha—"

But she's cut off again as you kick open the already ajar bedroom door, the wood slamming against the wall. Before she can realise what's happening you're throwing her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before she lands in a sprawled mess of limbs and exclamations.

"Are you ever going to let me finish a full sen—"

"Chae," her name comes out deeper and gruffer—far more demanding than you intended, cutting off her playful protests in an instant.

For once, Chaewon is paying full attention—no quips, no sarcasm, no laughter to lighten the mood—the room completely quiet except for the sound of her breathing, and even that seems to hush in anticipation of what's to come.

You stand over her, her legs still in the air, her body open and exposed for you—her sweatshirt riding up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the little mole you've kissed a thousand times just above her navel, her shorts stretched so tightly over her thighs.

It's in the way she's looking at you too—the way she squirms under your gaze, the way she can't help but make her body arch up towards you, pushing out those beautiful, perfect breasts, slightly parting her legs as if inviting you to dive in—wanting you to take her (to fuck her) in all the ways you wanted to but were too afraid to try before—it's all so different, all too much, all so fucking intoxicating.

"You want me to do whatever I want to you?"

Chaewon swallows hard, and nods.

"You want me to take you however I want?"

Another nod, another submission.

You step closer to the bed, your mind completely made up. "Then say it."

Her voice comes out hoarse, a strained whisper. "Take me."

"Again."

She repeats it, this time her words clearer, urgent. "Please—take me."

And with that—her shorts—those tight, far too tiny shorts—become your first victim. There's no time for slow, teasing unbuttoning or the gentle tug of fabric over skin. You're too far gone for that.

So, you rip.

The button pops off with a satisfying ping, and the material gives way, revealing her panties beneath. The sound makes Chaewon gasp, her body shiver.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you drag the shorts down her legs, bringing them gliding over the soft skin of her ass, catching briefly on her thighs before you toss them to the floor.

Her panties are next—white, cotton, and oh-so-innocent looking—the kind tailor-made to be ripped off and left in shreds. But just as your hand reaches the waistband, something holds you back.

A thought—a flicker of doubt—crosses your mind. What if she doesn't like this? What if you're getting caught up and taking things too far? What if she regrets what she's about to let you do to her?

But then, "I'm okay," Chaewon says, reading your hesitation. "Stop thinking like that." Her voice is firm, almost commanding. "I want this."

"Chae—"

"I. Want. This." Chaewon repeats, her voice stronger. “I want it all.”

You trust her—you always will—and so, you nod, understanding the gravity of her words. You lean over her, capturing her gaze, making sure she sees you, really sees you. "Alright, but we need a safe word."

"A safe word." Chaewon echoes, a smile rising on her face, as she realises what a safe word means—what it enables you to do to her.

"If you want me to stop," you say, slowly, like a professor and his star pupil. "Just say..."

"Blueberry," Chaewon interjects, the corner of her mouth curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Blueberry?" It's so unfitting, so fucking adorable, so Chae. "Fine then, if you want me to stop," you begin to explain the rules of the game that you're already starting—kissing down her calf, over her knee, down that gorgeous curve of her inner thigh, until your lips are meeting cotton— "you just say 'blueberry'. As loud as you can, the second you want me to stop. Otherwise, we keep going until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Chaewon nods eagerly, a little too eagerly, but you don't miss the glint of excitement in her eyes. She's so ready for you, so ready for what's to come next, her body vibrating with anticipation.

"Good."

The single word hangs in the air, a declaration of intent. With it, your hand moves to her panties, the cotton material damp with her arousal. You don't hesitate, you don't play it slow, again—all it takes is your thumb in her waistband and you rip. What were once her panties gives way easily, tearing with a sound that's halfway might as well be a starting pistol, revealing her bare, already glistening, already so wet pussy to the coolness of the room.

But Chaewon's not just lying there waiting for you to make your next move. No, she's not that kind of girl. She's sitting up now, her sweatshirt coming off with a flick of her wrists, the heavy garment flying through the air to land somewhere in the room, forgotten.

Her bra follows suit—quick, efficient, like she couldn't wait another second to be naked for you. Chaewon's breasts bounce free, full and firm and so fucking perfect, rosy tips hard from the cold air or maybe just from the way you're looking at her.

Fuck, the sight of her alone is almost too much. You take a moment, just to breathe her in—to admire the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows on her skin, highlighting the curves and valleys of her body. She's a work of art, a masterpiece, and now, she's all yours—every line, every freckle, every goosebump that pops up as the cool air kisses her heated skin.

But you're not here to admire, not now. You're here to give her exactly what she wants, to treat her exactly how she deserves.

You push her back into the bed, your hands on her shoulders, the mattress sinking under your joint weight, and you're kissing her again—no, not kissing, consuming. You kiss her like you're trying to claim her, like you're trying to brand her with your mouth, and she's kissing you back with matched desperation, her nails digging into your skin like she's trying to climb you, to get closer, closer still.

"Mmmm..." Chaewon presses herself up against you—her taut, stiff nipples pushing into your chest, perfect buds squashing themselves against your body, her bare skin gliding over your shirt, her pussy, hot and wet and slippery, working its way over the swell of your sweatpants.

Her hands are everywhere—fumbling with your shirt, running up and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair—and her lips follow, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, her tongue tracing the shell, her lips whispers sweet—filthy—nothings into your ear.

She dares to move a hand lower, squeezing in some tiny gap between your two bodies, reaching for the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers teasing the skin just above the elastic.

But you're quicker, catching her wrist, pulling it away with a firm, yet gentle grip.

"No."

You collect her other wrist in the same hand, stretching her arms out and over her head, pushing her down—with your grip, your weight, your hips—keeping her in place, keeping her where you want, paying her back in kind for her earlier “victory”.

"I know what you want," you murmur against her neck. You lean more of your weight into her, your hips pressing down, grinding against her—a slow, deliberate movement, that stains your sweatpants with the juices leaking from her pink, puffy lips.

"Yes," she purrs, "I need you."

"I know," you taunt—another grind, another groan, a deepening stain, "but I need you to want me more."

"I do," she's pleading, begging, "please, I need your cock."

"Not yet," you say, a light chuckle at the whine that escapes her lips. "Not yet."

"But—"

"I am going to fuck you," you say. "Not how you're used to." Her breath hitches, throat swallows—apprehension, arousal, adrenaline—it's all there, playing out on her face like a silent movie. "I'm going to fuck you in every way that I've ever wanted to, in every way I thought you could never handle."

You snake a hand from her waist, drawing a path with your fingertips, running them over her soft, unblemished skin, the ridges of her abs, as you move your hand down, down, until you're right at the juncture of her thighs.

"Ah!" It's the sweetest sound, a high-pitched gasp that turns into a full-throated groan as your index finger breaches her wetness, sliding into the slick, dripping opening of her cleanly shaved cunt—so, so wet—until it's buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Chaewon's back lifts off the bed, her body curving as you slide your finger in and out of her, settling into a steady rhythm. Every movement earns a different, delightful reaction—you trigger your finger: her body shakes, you kiss her neck: she echoes back your name, you add your middle, then your ring finger into her tightness: she falls apart.

"God—gah—" she chokes on whatever noise her mouth is trying to make, her legs spreading wider, hips bucking up to meet your hand, your rhythm. She's beyond soaked; her thighs, her lips, your palm—all drenched in hot, insatiable wetness. "You're so—so fucking good at this."

You add your thumb to the mix, brushing the hood of her clit with the pad; you curl your fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her crumble.

Her eyes start to close, she’s lost to the sensation, her face contorting in beautiful agony as her walls close around your digits, before you snap her out of it—tightening your grip around her wrists, a slight jolt of pain to force her eyes to meet yours.

"Look at me," you grunt. "Look at me while I fuck you."

Chaewon doesn't dare even blink—she’s so obedient—and the way she's looking up at you now—so willing, so wanting to please, so eager for more—it's bordering on complete worship.

So, you give it to her. You plunge your fingers deeper, twisting and turning, feeling her tighten around you, her wetness coating your hand, the walls of her pussy fluttering with each stroke. You can see it in the redness of her cheeks, the trembling of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles tighten and release—she's close, she’s been so close for far too long.

"Good girl." You kiss her forehead, her nose, her dimples, something sweet amongst the depravity.

"Am I?" Chaewon's question is hopeful, so disastrously erotic, her voice a breathy whisper. There's the beginnings of a storm in her eyes, the first hints painting her features in a way that's so vulnerable, that tells you the only thing holding her back from collapsing is your explicit approval.

"Yes, Chae," you murmur against her ear, nibbling gently, your fingers melting inside her folds. "You're being such a good girl for me."

"Th-thank you," she manages shaky words, barely keeping it together, at the mercy of the quickening of your fingers, the circling of your thumb, the movements of your hand, helping her climb towards that wonderful peak. "Oh my God—how are you—how is this—so—fuck—fuck—"

"Good girls deserve a reward." You're roughly kissing into her collarbone, feeling her pulse hammering under your lips—you want to leave a mark on her body, something for her to remember this by—something to remind her how completely she came apart for you. "Cum for me—cum now—cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it—how much you love it."

"Please," Chaewon's desperate, so desperate, trying to do something, anything, everything that she can to convince you to let her fall apart. "I love how you touch me—just—please—I’m so close—"

She’s on fire, there’s too much pressure—your fingers work inside her, undoing a knot of their own making—unravelling that slutty ache inside your girlfriend—your good girl—fucking her and stretching her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth to drop open in a silent scream.

"So good—so fucking good—just like that—mmmm-MMMPH!"

You breathe it in—your mouth on hers, her cries dying in your throat—feeling her tighten, tense, release around your hand as her small, tight frame—her whole, amazing body—overwhelmed by just three fingers and a thumb.

It takes her like an eruption, a natural disaster—dancing along her skin, to her hips, her thighs, her ribs, her breasts—turning her into a shivering mess, leaving her limp beneath you.

"Fuh—"

You release her lips, watching her pant and quiver, her chest heave, her body spasm from the aftershocks of her climax.

Your hand is drowned in her heat, her juices sticking to your skin as you slowly draw your fingers out of her, glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Here, have a taste." You lift your hand to her face, tracing your sticky fingers along the seam of her mouth, smearing her juices over her soft, parted lips.

Chaewon's tongue darts out, welcoming your digits as you push inside her mouth. She sucks greedily, her tongue lapping your fingertips—she can't get enough of the taste of herself on you.

"Good girl," you say again, and again—she shivers.

The tremors of her orgasm start to fade, and you pull your fingers from her mouth—no longer lathered in her cum, but shiny with her spit.

You straighten, leaning back so you're on your knees, between Chaewon's spread legs. Her eyes follow your hand as it leaves her wrist, traveling up to the neck of your shirt, pulling it off your head and reuniting it with the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her gaze wanders down, down your body, landing at your waist, at your pants, painfully stretching over your erection.

"Take it out for me, Chae," you instruct, unnecessarily—she's already there, licking her lips, quick at work. Practiced fingers pull down your sweatpants and set your cock free, letting it spring into view, hard and heavy, landing directly on her lips.

But she doesn't get the chance to take it in her mouth, to swirl her tongue around the tip and suck you like she's so clearly been dying to—you have her by the hair before she can dive on your cock, to take it down her throat. It's harsh, it's sudden, it elicits a startled groan from her throat—but it makes it clear that this is not going to be the usual 'good little girl' kind of night.

"No," is all you have for her. You're on the edge—you've been on the edge ever since she pleaded for you—you’re done with the foreplay; you're done with the teasing. Fucking Chaewon senseless. That’s all there is now—fucking her hard and fast.

You pull her up by her hair and your mouth is back on hers, pushing and pulling, tongue in her throat, tasting her—tasting her nectar on her lips—dominating her, her own tongue dancing and wrapping around yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, squeezing her breast in your palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness of her skin, the hardened peak of her nipple against your palm. There's not enough time—you want to shove your face between them, taste her nipples, feel them roll between your teeth, give them the attention they deserve.

But instead, you're pulling back on her hair again, gritting your teeth. "Turn around. Bend over."

There's no hesitation, no protest from her—Chaewon's a good girl, and good girls do as they’re told. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air—she's presenting herself to you: an offering, a prize, a fucking goddess on a platter. Her spine arches as she looks back at you over her shoulder, the soft curve of her cheeks begging for you to take it.

You startle her, taking her by the hips, pulling her back to you so that when you lean in, your mouth is pressed to her ear, and your cock is twitching against the waiting, wanting, folds of her lower lips. "I'm going to make you feel it," you whisper. "Every part of you, understand?"

Chaewon nods, but it's not enough—not for what you have in store.

"I don't just want a nod, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how good it feels while I'm fucking you—I want to hear it all."

"O-Okay.” She’s tense, you can see it, like a coil winded up in her body, but she's eager, so fucking eager, been waiting for this for far too long—"make me scream for you—FUCK!"

Chaewon's true to her word—she shrieks as you bury yourself deep inside her, is undone by your cock—as ready and wet as she is for you, she's still so incredibly tight, needing you to stretch her, fill her, own her.

But it's not enough—you’re not going to ease her into this, to the pleasure ripping through your bodies, not going to let this moment breathe.

As soon as you've sunk into her, given her every inch that her needy little pussy could take, you're backing up, sliding your stained shaft right out of her cunt before slamming back forward.

She's crying out, making barely intelligible sounds, as you’re digging your fingers into that tiny waist, holding her by her hips as you crash into her, feeling it all—the unfathomable heat, the tightness, the wetness, the way she clenches around you with each thrust—again and again and again.

"Words, Chae," you remind her, needing more from than just the sounds of her sweet, sweet agony, and the slapping of your hips against her ass cheeks. "I want words."

"Y-yes—fuh—fuck—YES!" One-syllable noises are all that Chaewon can manage to start—all you can fuck out of her—but with each thrust, she's getting better, getting bolder. "It feels so good, so hard, so big—God, so deep—you've never—I've never been fucked like this…"

"More." It's addictive, hearing her talk like this, knowing every word that comes out of her mouth is the absolute fucking truth—the proof is in how she's shaking beneath you, how she drips around you, how her fingers claw into the sheets, trying her best to hold on. “Tell me more.”

"Y-you're going so fast—so fucking hard!" Mindless, stream-of-consciousness, fuck-drunk ramblings spill from her lips—she's begging, cooing, whimpering as you mercilessly fuck her, making her divine tits swing below her, her ass ripple with each collision. "Making me so wet—making me so fucking wet—I can't even—can't think straight—just your cock—your fucking cock!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Chae?" You hiss, over the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed creaking beneath you, and her moans—oh those moans. "This is how I'm going to fuck you from now on—however I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Yes-yes—this is what I want—what I fucking need. To be fucked like this—pounded—broken—so fucking sensitive." The words come so easily from her lips, straight from the pleasure centres of her brains and to your ears. "I deserve this—I've been so good—haven't I? Aren't I your good girl—please tell me I'm your good girl—please?"

"You're my good girl, Chae, you’re my perfect little slut," you acquiesce, and she cries out in relief, her body shaking under the weight of your words—she leans into your touch, your control, your cock. "And good girls get what they fucking deserve."

Another thrust has Chaewon bowing her head down to offer more of herself to you, to give you a better angle to pump her harder, deeper, laying her cheek on the bed and turning her face so you can see that blissful grin on her face, see her lips mouth your name like a prayer.

It's so perfect—she's so fucking perfect—so impossibly tight, a ridiculously wet dream of a cunt—"all yours, all yours"—so aching for you to fuck her straight into the mattress—"I can't take it"—so needy for you—"use me"—so hungry for you—"more—please—I need it."

You're giving in—giving long, intense strokes—you're consumed by it, by her, by how every lovely curve and tensed muscle of her immaculate body is doing its best to take you, to please you, to give you a fraction of the ecstasy that’s breaking her into a million tiny, euphoric pieces.

"God, I love it—love your cock—pounding me—fucking me—hurting me—I can't even think—GOD!" She's doing her best to form coherent sentences, but it's futile, she's slipping—you're not even sure if she's aware of what she's even saying anymore—it's just raw, unfiltered need.

This is going to be a problem—you're never going to be able to go back. Not when she's so needy for you—so needy to be filled by you, so needy to hear your praise as she takes your cock, so full of nothing but words of thanks for how roughly you're treating her, how you're completely ruining her—"thank you—thank you—thank you for fucking me so good."

And then you're falling, a deep, sharp thrust and you’ve sent her forward—her knees give in first, her elbows buckle. She's taking you with her, pulling you by the cock still lodged deep in her cunt. You catch yourself before your face hits the bed, one hand on the mattress, the other still wrapped around her waist.

It does little to slow you down—just gives you a better vantage point to fuck her deeper into the mattress—"yes—yes—fuck—fuck—" —to run your hand up her body and seize her by her tits, so ripe and full and yours to squeeze and twist and tease— "touch me—hurt me—it's all yours—all fucking yours."

And you do—oh, you do—you take her by the tits, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts give way to your grip, roll her nipple between your thumb and forefinger—so sensitive, so responsive. She's lost in it, so happy in the pain and pleasure of your touch—you're leaving another mark—and she cries, she curses, she clenches around you, she joins her hand over yours and pushes you for more, needing more of the loving sting you're giving her.

She’s pulsing on your shaft—walls tightening and quivering—she's so close, so fucking close to cumming—and your body responds, your cock thickens, your strokes powerful, purposeful. "I can't—I can't—baby, please—please—please—"

"You're going to cum for me now, aren't you?" You ask, like it's a question, like you can't see the tension building in her body, can’t see how she's holding her breath and gritting her teeth—it's so fucking obvious she's about to explode.

"Yes—yes—I'm about to—about to—FUCK! I can't fucking take this anymore!"

You take her by the throat—twisting her face so you can see it—you need to see it—need to see the moment she breaks for you. "Look at me," you demand—her eyes rolling up to meet yours, all teary and flawless and beautiful— "look at me when I make you cum."

"God yesssss," Chaewon gurgles, shivers, quakes, "please—please—I'm cumming—I'm cumming— I'm cumming on your fucking cock—OH FUCK!"

Your name leaves her lips in a long, symphonic, slurred cry—and she cums—not in that lovely, beautiful way you've seen her orgasm dozens of times before—this is overpowering, consuming, violent—a million tiny deaths—one magnum opus—sculpted by the Gods and utterly ruined in all ways possible, reduced once again to nothing but a mess of quivers and mewls and moans—pushed over the edge by your cock, forcing her to gush down her thighs.

She's clenching and wringing and doing everything she can to bring you with her—"God—so fucking good—I’m cumming so hard—GOD! I just need—I want it—please give it—give me your cum—fill me with it—do whatever you want to me just give it to me!"

Her eyes are open again—she's inflicted with the same curse as you—she needs to see it, see the look in your eyes as you fill her, finally claim her in her entirety as yours, finally join and become undone in the same preciously brutal ways.

"Keeeep going—cum in me—cum in me—" It’s becoming a mantra now—three short words—as if there was any other option, as if she had any choice. As much as you want to hold on, to drag this out, to savour every second of this chaos—fucking her silly, viciously, tight pussy choking your cock, she won't stop, refuses to— "cum in me—cum in me—cum in me -"

"You want it? You need it? Does your cunt need my cum?"

"Y-yes, please—fuck—fill me up—fuck me up—fill—me—fucking—PLEASE!"

She's a vision, a goddess, she's yours, she's—"Fuck, Chae, god-fucking-take-it!"—she's taking your cum like the fucking slut she is.

God, it feels dizzying, a high so perfect it must be illegal, making your vision dark and your ears ring—the only thing tethering you to the Earth itself is the feeling of her burning hot cunt, the cunt you're fucking like its only purpose in this world is to make your cock feel good.

You’re speeding towards the final stretch now—hard and rough and somehow lasting forever but ending far too soon. Nothing matters except for her exceptionally tight hole, taking you—all of you, everything you have—and you’re clinging onto her—her tits, her throat—you’re bruising and choking her, your body crushing her into the bed, and she's still screaming your fucking name like she's so damn grateful to you for treating her like she deserves.

And then, you let go.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my fucking God," Chaewon groans, "It's so much—you're filling me up— oh, fuck, oh, fuck, OH FUCK!"

It’s a car crash, a pressure valve opening, it’s too fucking much—you can’t hold back—she can’t possibly take anymore.

It burns through you both—the first, the second, the third—rope after rope after rope of cum firing into her sore, well-fucked cunt, filling it completely to the brim. All the lust, all the tension, everything, all at once, released at once in a tidal wave of white into Chaewon's swollen, sopping wet pussy.

“SO GOOD—SO FUCKING FULL!”

One final thrust—one shared cry—like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re being torn apart and reassembled, piece by piece—and you collapse into her, your bodies melting into one— boneless and shaking in the aftermath of it all.

Chaewon’s cumdump of a pussy is still twitching around you—still begging for more, milking your cock even though it’s already given everything it can, every drop it has—making it impossible for you to pull out without feeling like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.

Eventually—when the numbness subsides and you're able to move again—you slide off her, onto your side, slipping your spent cock out of her well-fucked pussy. It's an image that you burn into core of your brain—her ass in the air, your cum dripping from her, the puddle of you leaking from her glistening folds and pooling on your ruined bedsheets.

"So good... so good..." Chaewon's slurring, drifting—fucked out of consciousness—already lost in some blissful, post-orgasmic dream.

That's where you follow her, exhaustion seeping into every bone in your body, and you're slipping down, down and away into that heavenly oblivion.

When you awake, Chaewon's curled into you—your chest is her pillow, your arms her blanket. She's still (thankfully) naked—your cum drying on her thighs, and she's awake, lazily drawing circles with her finger around your heartbeat.

"Hey," you say, kissing the top of her head, getting her attention.

She looks up at you—God, she's so fucking beautiful—a soft smile on her lips. "Hi."

"That was..." You dare to start, but the words catch in your throat.

"Perfect," Chaewon finishes for you, "so fucking perfect."

"Are you sure? I got lost in the moment there, Chae, I—" The ghost of an apology is on your lips, but Chaewon's eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over your mouth.

"Don't," Chaewon stops you, "don't ruin it with an apology. I wanted that. Needed it. More than I thought, I guess. It was amazing."

You look down at her, so small in your arms, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you can find is perfect contentment.

And she's smiling, so sweetly, so happily. So Chaewon. The slutty cum dumpster, the adorable princess—the woman of your dreams.

She’s giggling still, tracing wider patterns on your chest, her breath warm against your skin. "You were incredible," she presses her nose into your neck and inhales deeply. "I never knew you had that in you."

"I didn't either," you admit, stroking her hair, looping strands between your fingers. "I had no idea how much I'd like it—how good it would feel. I mean I love getting to hold you like this—hugging you and kissing you, but—"

"It's nice to not have to treat me like I'm made of glass, isn't it?" She finishes. A beat passes, before Chaewon tables her final request. "You know, that thing you called me, while we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she's blushing now—the kind of blush that makes you want to kiss her, kiss it off her cheeks, kiss her until she's blushing all over again. "I think I called you a lot of things that probably shouldn't be repeated outside of this room." You say, and she’s laughing, slapping your chest lightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says. "Call me it again. Please? Can you?"

You laugh, bending down so you can steal a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

She's pouting, doe-eyes wide and hopeful—so Goddamn adorable—and you can't resist, after all—it's always best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants.

"My good girl," you murmur into her ear, "my perfect little slut."

#kpop smut #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #male reader

2K notes · View notes

melancholyhigh · 7 months

Text

CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #gender neutral reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4 smut #idk how to do conclusions #✩‧₊˚ fics

2K notes · View notes

withleeknow · 9 months

Text

forgetful.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; minho is lowkey the biggest simp wbk, unedited ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ word count: 0.9k note: first fic of 2024! don't look at me tho, at this point i just keep writing the most self-indulgent shit lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

minho is the type to - 15 seconds after he meets you for your weekly date night - ask you where your gloves are when he sees your reddened and shivering hands. there was a greeting kiss preceding the question, of course.

"i think we both know what the answer is," you tell him, trying to rub your hands together for warmth until he takes them and presses your cold fingers against his cheeks, before he kisses your palms.

"what’s the point of getting matching gloves if you keep forgetting yours?" he says, a light scolding tone in his voice that matches the slight frown tugging on his brows.

"it's not my fault!" you try to defend yourself. you'd raise your hands for emphasis, but he's still keeping them near his face, alternating between kisses and blowing into them to get you all nice and toasty. "i keep them by the door on purpose so i wouldn't forget to take them with me when i go out. you have to at least give me a little credit for that. i just... never actually remember to bring them."

he rolls his eyes, an act that most would find patronizing especially if minho is the one who's doing it. but when it comes to you, everything minho does is full of affection, even as he pretends to be annoyed.

"what am i going to do with you?" he mutters like a disappointed parent.

"it was your idea to get the gloves. i didn't really need them though. i have you."

"but i'm not with you all the time, baby. you need to keep yourself warm."

"well, you're here with me, aren't you? you can keep me warm now. i'll worry about cold hands later."

squishing his cheeks together, you pull him toward you for a swift peck.

despite his exasperated sigh, minho still presses his lips against each of your palms one last time, even turns them over to kiss your knuckles, before he settles on intertwining his left hand with your right one, stuffing them in his coat pocket as he pulls the both of you toward the direction of your dinner reservation.

"wait!" you exclaim, holding up your neglected hand, "what about this one? it's cold too."

he turns to look at you, his face devoid of all emotions as he assesses your so-called dilemma. then, minho lets go of you, telling you to put both your hands in your own pockets.

"come onnn," you lament, pouting at the man in front of you.

"you come on," he retorts. "just do it."

you huff childishly, watching as the breath comes out in a puff of smoke in the cold air, thinking minho is really letting you fend for warmth by yourself for the remaining 10 minutes that it takes to walk to the restaurant.

it's not like you meant to forget the gloves at home.

before you can resume walking, minho moves to stand behind you, pulling you to him, eliciting a surprised oof! from you. he shoves his hands into your pockets, intertwining your fingers once again within the confines of the fabric as he shuffles you forward, his legs on either side of yours so it's easier for you to walk. the thick coats and wool scarves that you're both wearing already make you look like a pair of clumsy bears roaming the street, but with your back pressed against his front like this, you have no doubt that by-passers must be thinking you're two cotton balls waddling in the middle of the city.

"minho!" you laugh, partially embarrassed that people are side-eyeing this strange public display of affection. "stop!"

"you wanted me to keep you warm, didn't you?"

"people are staring!"

"you said you were cold." he seems unfazed though, continuing to nudge you forward like it's the most normal thing in the world. "make up your mind."

"i take it back!"

you do your best to plant your feet firmly on the ground to keep him from moving. it works though, or at least it staggers him enough for you to wriggle out of his hold. you take a few steps away from minho, and he looks at you with unimpressed eyes.

"i take it back," you repeat. "we're only a couple blocks away. i think i'll manage."

he stares at you for a moment longer, before he reaches into his bag and pulls out a pair of gloves, identical to the matching ones that you two picked out together a few weeks ago.

"how do you have my gloves?"

"these aren't the ones at your place," he clarifies. "this is your backup pair. i went back to the store and got them because i know you never remember to take shit with you."

you don't even try to suppress the grin that tugs on your lips when he walks closer to you, taking your hands and attentively covers your skin with the wool. "so you just... keep them with you at all times now?" you ask.

"pretty much, yeah."

once he's made sure that gloves are hugging your fingers snugly, you pull him down for a kiss, your lips moving together warmly. you feel him smile against you even though he's trying to look stern.

"you love me sooo much," you simper when you break from the kiss.

minho sighs, a long one as if to say yes, unfortunately i do love you very much.

"now come on." this time he does speak aloud. "let's go before they give away our table."

because that's just the kind of person minho is. because no matter how grumpy he may appear from the outside, he's still the type to always think of you and your wellbeing and show up for you even when you don't show up for yourself. no matter how callous his facade is, he is still the type to love you quietly. tenderly. completely.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

2K notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 6 months

Text

all of my past i tried to erase it

part 3 of family line tensions are still high between Ingrid and her sister. Mapi tries to keep the peace. Solstråle tries to pretend she's fine. Ingrid tries to pretend she isn't going insane not understanding what is going on. cw: mentions of poor mental health / panic attacks. ingrid is pretty worried about solstråle and whether or not she is safe.

-------

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Mapi bringing her parents to the match shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did. You didn’t really have an explanation for it, either. You saw Ingrid talking to Mapi’s mom and it felt like everything that had gotten marginally better in the last few days had miraculously disappeared.

You were 8 again, sitting in the office at school, fielding pitying looks from the office ladies. Both of your parents were busy watching one of Ingrid’s matches; at just 16, she was playing for Rosenborg. Your mom was supposed to bring you to watch, too. She’d forgotten.

You were 10 again, lying to the school nurse that your parents hadn’t known you’d hurt your hand. She said it looked broken, and you pretended that you hadn’t asked your mom to take you to the doctor the night before. You pretended your mom hadn’t told you to stop faking injuries when the attention wasn’t on you for one minute.

You were 13 again, sobbing into your pillow, while everyone celebrated just down the hall. Ingrid was leaving to play in Lillestrøm. 5 hours away. She was leaving you behind.

You were 16, having just been dumped by your first girlfriend. You’d come home in tears, and when you told your dad what was wrong, he told you it was for the best, that a girlfriend was just a distraction. He warned you not to bother your sister with this, because she was busy with much more important things in Barcelona.

You were 17, so drunk you could barely speak, walking home on a dark road in the middle of the night because neither of your parents had answered the phone to come and get you from the horrific party you already regretted attending. It was dark, a windy road you were walking along, and if a car came, you weren’t sure your reflexes would be quick enough. You were 17, stumbling over the smooth pavement, the depression you’d been trying to drown in alcohol making a reappearance. You were 17, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended there, just like this.

You were 17, standing in the airport with your parents, preparing to board the plane to Spain. You leaned in towards your mother for a hug. She avoided it, pinching your cheek lightly, and reminding your father that they had a dinner reservation to get to. You watched them walk out of the airport from your place in the security line. Your vision was blurred with tears, but you still could tell that they didn’t look back at you once. You were 17, and your mom hadn’t told you she loved you before you moved across the continent.

In a second, all of these memories that you’d fought so hard to keep locked away deep inside your head were flooding out. Tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Ingrid didn’t care. Mapi didn’t care. You weren’t worth caring about. How had you forgotten that? How had you let yourself forget that, after everything?

Ingrid didn’t see your expression change, too busy thanking Mapi’s parents profusely for coming to see her play. Mapi did, though. She watched as you caught sight of your sister talking to her mom, and she watched as you flinched like someone had swung at you. She watched as you slipped out of the crowd, speed walking into the building. Mapi was torn in 2 directions, Ingrid on one side, and you running off the other way. You needed Ingrid, most definitely but Mapi didn’t like the look on your face as you ran off, like all of the emotion had been sucked out of you, and all that was left was exhaustion.

Someone else had noticed your disappearing act, though. Caro stood, staring after you, before her gaze fell to Mapi, raising an eyebrow. The defender nodded, and Caro followed after you, while Mapi turned to her girlfriend. She pulled her away from her parents with an apologetic smile, appreciating that Alexia walked over and picked up the conversation where it had left off.

“Ingrid, vamos,” Mapi whispered urgently. Ingrid looked at her, confused and unmoving.

“What? I was in the middle of a conversation, María,” the Norwegian scolded.

“I know, it’s your Solstråle, though, she’s upset, come on,” Mapi insisted, pulling on Ingrid’s hand, who finally seemed to feel a sense of urgency, and let Mapi lead her into the building.

“Upset? Why? Did something happen?”

“She saw you with my mom and just looked really upset.” Mapi explained. A bit of understanding washed over Ingrid’s face, and now she was the one leading her girlfriend, rushing down the hall and beginning to open door after door in search of you.

Caro, meanwhile, had found you pretty easily. You were on the floor of a room she often came to when she was overwhelmed, although that happened much less these days. You knew Caro, obviously, and she knew you, had known you since you were pretty young. She had a calming presence, and the minute she sat next to you, and extended her hand in your direction, you took it gratefully.

“Mapi is bringing Ingrid.” She told you, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat next to your trembling form and held your hand. It was enough for now, enough until your sister arrived.

And when Ingrid did arrive, it was with a loud bang as she threw the door open, sighing in relief at the sight of you. Though, that relief quickly dissolved back into worry at the state you were in. She quickly took Caro’s place at your side, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your sister was surprised when you turned and threw your arms around her neck, crying silently into her shirt.

“Jeg har deg, kjære. Det er greit, du er ok.” She murmured, looking worriedly at the other two women hovering in the doorway of the room. Mapi nodded at her encouragingly, and Ingrid refocused, rubbing a hand slowly up and down your back.

“Thank you,” Mapi muttered to Caro, as they both stepped into the hall to give you some space.

“Of course.” Caro said easily. “She having a hard time?”

“Which one?” Mapi asked wryly. “Yes. It’s… it’s a work in progress.”

“She’s a good kid.” Caro noted, Mapi nodding her head in agreement. “Well, Marta and I are around if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you, Caro. Really.” Mapi said, squeezing the forward’s shoulder. Caro just shrugged like it was no big deal, and headed back out to the pitch. When Mapi reentered the room, you were tucked perfectly into Ingrid’s lap, although you seemed to have calmed down some. Ingrid was speaking to you in hushed Norwegian, and something she said had you lurching away from her and to your feet, stumbling blindly to the door.

“Solstråle, wait,” Ingrid called, not really sure what she said to upset you, but well aware that it had been something. You fell right into Mapi’s arms, and though she looked a little startled, she easily pulled you close.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’re all okay.” She murmured, noticing the rather heartbroken expression on her girlfriend’s face at the fact that you had fled from her right into Mapi’s arms. After a few minutes, you said something quietly that neither girl could hear. “What was that, nena?”

“Can we go ho- back to the house?” You asked, correcting yourself quickly, and pulling away from the comforting embrace Mapi had you in. Ingrid felt like you’d stabbed her, honestly, when you didn’t let yourself call it home. You were stoic again, though, your face void of emotion, wiping roughly at your cheeks to rid them of tears.

“Kjære,” Ingrid said, hating the way you forced all evidence of your breakdown away. You’d been so upset, about something, but now you were acting as though nothing had happened. Your sister would have climbed into your brain if she could’ve, just to understand what was going on in there.

“Let’s go home.” Mapi said easily, shooting her girlfriend a meaningful look. Ingrid wasn’t supposed to push you, she knew that. It was just getting harder and harder to not do so, especially when she could see how much pain you were in. She couldn't understand why you wouldn’t just talk to her, and you couldn’t understand why she was so concerned or why she was so desperate to hear what you were feeling. And considering it was the two of you, the situation was bound to blow up into an argument. It was just a matter of time.

-------

Ingrid knew what was coming before her phone rang, but she still desperately wanted to avoid it. She was quite comfortable at the moment, curled up on top of Mapi in their bed, a show playing softly in the background. Mapi was scratching lightly at Ingrid’s scalp with one hand, and tracing lines over her back with the other. The movements made Ingrid’s entire body relax, which had definitely been Mapi’s goal, but it was all interrupted when her phone went off from next to her.

She sat up off her girlfriend, glancing at the screen, her expression hardening.

“Your mom?” Mapi guessed, pulling Ingrid back down into her when the Norwegian declined the call.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t talked to her since Solstråle’s letter, have you?”

“No.” Ingrid said. “I think I hate her right now.”

Mapi was surprised, only because Ingrid didn’t hate anyone. If there was going to be a person, though, it would be someone who had hurt you. Because Ingrid didn’t like to kill spiders she found in the house, but Mapi knew she would kill a person for you without a second thought. “That’s okay. You can hate her.”

“I miss her.” Ingrid admitted after another minute, her voice cracking. Her forehead was scrunched with sadness, and her hands gripped Mapi’s shirt tight in her hands.

Mapi sighed, wishing she could take Ingrid’s pain away. And yours too, for that matter. “You can miss her too. You can feel whatever you need to feel.”

“No, I can’t, not when Solstråle is so upset,”

“How your sister feels does not limit how you feel. You can be hurt, and sad, and frustrated too. It doesn’t take away from pequeña’s feelings. Just like her feelings don’t take away from yours. You are both upset. That’s alright.” Mapi said confidently. “This isn’t just happening to your sister. It’s happening to you, too, and you can be sad, mi amor. You can cry.”

Ingrid hadn’t even known she’d been about to cry until Mapi said that, but suddenly there were tears running down her face, and she was clutching tightly to the Spaniard underneath her, who did not seem surprised at all at the sudden emotion.

“I know, baby.” Mapi husked, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Ingrid’s head. She knew Ingrid needed this, and was content to let her cry it out until she heard a sharp breath from the doorway. You were standing just outside the room, frozen and horrified.

“I’m sorry, Ing,” you mumbled, having come in to say goodnight, rather stunned to see your sister so distraught.

Ingrid could only cry harder, now furious with herself for letting you see this, but too upset to do anything but squeeze Mapi’s hand, wordlessly begging for her to do something.

“Ven aqui, nena, it’s alright.” Mapi said, gesturing you over to the bed. You looked skeptical, but you did so anyway, carefully sitting on the bed next to your sister.

“I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I don’t mean to stress you out.” You whispered. You were in a guilty mood, it seemed, not an angry one, and Ingrid felt that somehow, she preferred when you were angry to this.

“Don’t apologize, pequeña. You haven’t done anything wrong. Ingrid is upset, and you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to cry.” Sometimes, Mapi felt like she was teaching preschoolers how to identify and express their emotions when she talked to the both of you, though that might be an easier task.

“I’m not upset with you, Solstråle, I am upset with mom, and I am upset with myself. You don’t need to say sorry. Not for having a panic attack, for having a hard time, for any of it.” Ingrid managed then, taking your hand in hers.

“I’m doing my best.” You said. “I know I’m not making it easy, but I promise I’m trying.”

“We know you are. You’re doing so well, nena.” Mapi said enthusiastically, with so much excitement at you saying something remotely positive about yourself that you and Ingrid both cracked smiles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ingrid asked after a minute. At that, you withdrew, pulling your hand from Ingrid’s and rising from the bed. Both your sister and her girlfriend repressed sighs at your sudden withdrawal.

“No, I’m really tired. I came to say goodnight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You rushed out, before bolting out of the room at a speed that could barely be considered a walk.

Ingrid sighed once you were out of earshot, settling back into Mapi. “She’s so difficult.”

“She’s stubborn. Like her sister. She’ll come around, just give her time.” Mapi assured her.

Giving you time, though, was a lot harder than it seemed.

-------

Your whole life, you had been encouraged by your parents to be smaller, to take up less space. If you were upset, you should keep it to yourself. If you were angry, you should calm down. You were taught that your needs always came second to everyone else’s. You didn’t like to be vulnerable with people, and you didn’t like to put your emotions on others.

So when you woke up the next day, it was the feeling of intense shame swirling around inside of you. You’d ruined what was an impressive win for your sister, and a nice moment with Mapi’s parents. You’d upset Ingrid, so much so that she had cried about it.

Too much. You were being too much.

You resolved yourself to be happy today. If not happy, content. Mapi and Ingrid probably needed a day off from your ridiculous, all over the place, emotions. So today, you wouldn’t feel. You’d be perfect, you’d be small, and you’d cause as little trouble as possible.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for that to be the opposite of what Mapi and Ingrid wanted from you. They didn’t care if you took up space. They just wanted you to talk. More than anything, they just wanted you to be okay, no matter how inconvenient that process was for them.

It was a day off for both girls, due to the match the day before, and they were able to let you sleep in. Ingrid was worried you were sleeping too much, but Mapi assured her that angsty teens always needed a lot of sleep, and depressed teens going through a rough time needed even more sleep. Pair that with the intense panic attack you’d had the day before, you were bound to be exhausted.

When noon rolled around, though, and you’d yet to make an appearance, Mapi relented, much to Ingrid’s relief, who had half a mind to check you for a pulse. Mapi made a coffee to bring up to you, opening your door quietly to find you out cold under the covers.

With Snø clutched tightly in your arms, your nose pressed against the soft polar bear, you looked so young.

“Pequeña, despierta,” Mapi murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling the covers away from your face a bit.

You blinked up at her groggily, an adorably sleepy expression on your face, and Mapi couldn’t help but push some hair out of your face and smile down at you. You looked slightly suspicious, as you couldn’t remember being woken up like this in the entire time living in Spain, but Mapi just handed you your coffee, and settled on the edge of your bed.

“Morning,” you said after a minute and a rather large sip of coffee.

“Afternoon.” Mapi corrected, a little confused when your face turned red at the comment. “It’s 12:15.”

“That’s weird. Normally Ingrid comes to make sure I’m breathing if I sleep past 10.” You noted.

Mapi chuckled. “We’re working on some of your sister’s annoying habits.”

“Don’t get rid of too many, or there won’t be anything left.” You said, your lips tugging up into a smirk.

“Okay! I will just go through this chocolate croissant I made for you in the garbage!” Ingrid scoffed from the doorway, turning on her heel and marching back down the stairs.

If there was any surefire way to get you out of bed, it was to present you with a breakfast pastry.

Within 90 seconds, you had kicked Mapi out, thrown some clothes on and bounded down the stairs, in search of the promised croissant. It was sitting on a plate at the counter, waiting for you, next to your sister who was glaring at you slightly.

“Thank you, Ing,” you said sweetly, throwing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

You hit Mapi’s hand playfully when she reached for your croissant, and she withdrew it with a laugh. “You’re like breakfast pastries the way Ingrid is about coffee.”

“Reasonable? Reasonably attached to it? Is that what you mean, María?” Ingrid asked with a frown.

“Of course, mi amor.” Mapi said with a smile, kissing Ingrid’s cheek softly. You averted your eyes, but you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make you happy to see your sister loved so well.

The morning, or afternoon, was going exactly as you’d hoped. No attempts at conversation. No feelings. Of course, it couldn��t last. Once you’d finished eating, Ingrid perked up and seemed to prepare herself for what she was about to say, which instantly made you weary.

“We should talk about last night, kjære.” Ingrid said calmly.

You froze, slowly putting your mug back on the counter. Both other girls watched the way your whole body tense, the way every ounce of emotion was wiped off your face.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” You said stiffly.

“That is not true. Something upset you, and we should discuss it.” Ingrid argued.

“Ingrid, it’s fine. Just leave it. We don’t need to talk about that. We don’t need to talk about anything.” You replied defensively.

“It’s not fine!” Ingrid said, raising her voice, and shaking off Mapi’s gestures to calm down. “None of this is fine. We need to talk about last night. We need to talk about the letter you wrote. We need to get you in therapy. These are all things that need to happen, solstråle. We’ve given you time, now we need to do this.”

“I am not going to therapy.” You declared, standing up with a scoff and crossing your arms across your chest. “Ingrid, I am fine. I don’t need to talk and I don’t need help.”

Ingrid grew visibly more angry with you at that, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration.

“Amor, take a breath.” Mapi said quietly, sighing to herself when Ingrid did not do so.

“You don’t need help? That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard. You do not write the things that you wrote and then turn around and say you’re fine. You. Need. Help.”

“Ingrid. I am not going to therapy, and I am done talking about this.” You said, your voice dangerously quiet.

Your sister wasn’t phased, stepping closer to you with her eyes narrowed. “You will go to therapy if I say you will, and this conversation is not over until I say it is.”

In retrospect, even Ingrid realized that this was decidedly the wrong thing to say. You didn’t take well to being told what to do. Your reaction really should have been worse; Ingrid had gotten off easy.

“Jesus, Ingrid, do you hear yourself? You sound just like mom.” You spit back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the hurt that flashed across your sister’s face. “I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with you.” You spun around and began stomping towards the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me.” You warned over your shoulder, causing Ingrid’s jaw to drop.

“Do not-” Ingrid began, starting after you.

“Amor, leave her.” Mapi said, intervening before Ingrid got very far, and pulling her back.

“She is the most frustrating person on the planet.” Ingrid huffed, slamming a hand down onto the counter. Mapi looked unimpressed.

“She is probably thinking the same thing about you right now. I told you not to push her.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Could you be on my side here for once?” She asked bitingly.

Mapi very calmly shook her head, opening her mouth to explain when Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “No. I am on your sister’s side, and you should be too. No one has been for a really long time.”

The Norwegian deflated at that, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter. Mapi continued speaking, pulling Ingrid’s hair gently out of the bun it was in, and running her fingers through it. “You’re looking at this wrong, mi amor. She doesn’t need you to talk her into therapy. She’ll get there on her own, you just need to give her time. That girl has a long way to go before she admits she needs help, believe me.”

Ingrid sighed deeply. “Can you go check on her? She’s mad at me, I just need you to make sure she’s okay and she isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Of course.” Mapi said, delicately kissing Ingrid’s lips. “I love you.” She reminded the Norwegian with a soft, almost shy smile.

Ingrid wanted to cry at how sweet, how perfect, how helpful and kind and funny and beautiful her girlfriend was. “I love you, so so much.”

Mapi headed for the stairs, and Ingrid made yet another cup of coffee, a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Because Mapi came running back down the stairs a minute later, an apprehensive look on her face as she approached her girlfriend.

“Mi amor, she isn’t up there.” She said carefully.

“What do you mean she isn’t up there,” Ingrid asked, rising to her feet and feeling panic rise within her.

Mapi just shook her head, putting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. “She isn’t up there. Her window is open, I think she snuck out.”

Ingrid felt like something inside of her was collapsing, leaving behind a chasm that was quickly filling with anxiety. “Where… what? She… she’s gone? She…we have to-”

What had you left to do? Only horrible, life shattering options of where you were and what you were doing were flying through Ingrid’s head, and she reached out, latching on to Mapi’s outstretched hands.

“Amor, breathe. Calm down. We’ll find her. Where would she go?”

Mapi hoped, with everything in her, that Ingrid had an answer. Because she had to be calm right now, for Ingrid, but Barcelona was a big city. And if you didn’t want to be found… Mapi didn’t know what would happen.

Ingrid’s mind was racing, but one thought pushed to the front of everything else. “The lake, there’s a lake in Melhus she would always go to when she was upset. She’d go to water, a body of water.”

Mapi nodded. “Okay, there are 2 beaches in walking distance, in opposite directions. We’ll go to one, and we’ll send Frido to the other.”

Privately, Mapi hoped Frido found you first. She wasn’t quite sure that you wouldn’t bolt away from Ingrid, but you wouldn’t be expecting Frido to pop up.

-------

A quick call to Frido later, Mapi was directing one very frazzled Norwegian into the car, and setting off for the beach. Ingrid was deep in thought, and Mapi kept her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, softly and soothingly rubbing her thumb back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the beach, and Mapi knew Ingrid would talk before they arrived.

“Do you think she’d do something stupid?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her hand covering Mapi’s and gripping tightly. The Spaniard didn’t need her to explain what she meant; she knew this question was coming, really.

“She said she wouldn’t.” Mapi said calmly.

“She said she wouldn’t ‘do that to me,’ that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it, especially now that she’s mad at me.”

“This is a little fight. She wouldn’t… do that. Not over this.” Mapi reassured her, but Ingrid remained unconvinced.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking, María, maybe she was lying before.”

“Ingrid, mi amor, calm down. You have to trust her. Even when you’re scared, and even when it feels like you should take her bedroom door off the hinges and implant her with a GPS chip. You have to trust her not to hurt herself.”

“But what if she does?” Ingrid asked softly, as if saying the words loud enough would somehow will it into existence.

“We can’t think like that. Promise me you won’t think like that, okay?”

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed faintly. Both of them knew she was lying. It was all she’d been worrying about for days, and all she would worry about for many to come.

--------

Frido found you first. When she drove by the beach and didn't see you there, she got another idea. There was a rock climbing place nearby; Ingrid had said you always used to go to a lake back home when you were upset. Though Frido didn’t want to say so, it had been a long time since Ingrid had lived with you, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if your habits had changed. And the Swede knew from your instagram that you spent a lot of time rock climbing. She told Mapi where she was headed, and sped over to the gym.

Sure enough, as soon as she walked in the building, she spotted you in the middle of the hardest wall, seemingly only using the smallest holds to get yourself up. You were breathing hard, and the worker belaying you looked a bit concerned.

Frido pulled her phone out, shooting off a quick text to Mapi. “She’s here, she’s okay. Let me talk to her, don’t let Ingrid come in. I’ll bring her out.”

Ingrid probably wouldn’t help the situation, if you were as angry as you seemed. The blonde spoke quickly to the front desk attendant, and headed over to where you were.

She stood, just watching you. You were a few feet from the top now, luckily for your hands, which you clearly had not put enough chalk on, and were beginning to really hurt. With only a bit to go, you took a risk, attempting an impressive, one armed pull to get your other hand to the next hold. You just barely missed, falling away from the wall.

“Fuck,” you cursed, swinging back towards the wall and smacking it with your hand. You were lowered down, clearly fuming, and Frido took the opportunity to step in front of you, giving the girl attached to the other end of the rope a look.

“Again,” you requested, avoiding Frido’s gaze.

She took your hand in hers, though, inspecting the tear in your skin, shaking her head. “No, that’s enough Solstråle.”

“Leave me alone, Frido.” You snapped, trying to pull away from her when you felt the rope fall slack. You turned, seeing that the worker had abandoned her harness in favor of going to help someone else, no doubt at Frido’s direction.

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting it when the Swede raised an eyebrow at you. Ingrid could be scary sometimes, but she had nothing on Frido.

“Are they here?” You asked, loosening the harness and stepping out of it with an exasperated sigh.

“They’re outside. You terrified your sister.” Frido said, pulling you over to a bench and making you sit down, before handing you a bottle of water.

You looked unimpressed. “I’m 18, I can handle myself in the city for an hour.”

“She wasn’t worried about that, she was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Frido said bluntly, sitting down next to you. She ignored how stiff you’d grown and how uncomfortable you seemed, reaching for your hand and looking at it critically.

“That wasn’t on purpose.” You said defensively, wrenching your hand away once again. “And I told her I wouldn’t do that.”

“Can you blame her for worrying, Solstråle, really? And maybe you didn’t do that on purpose, but you came here to push yourself instead of dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.”

You really hated that she was right. Frido was always right. It was simultaneously her worst and best trait.

“Are they mad?” You asked in a small voice, suddenly looking very much your age. Frido stood and held out a hand to help you up.

“Not right now. Just worried. Ingrid’s going to give you a hug and you’re going to let her.” Frido instructed. You supposed that was fair. And really, you could use a hug. Hugs from your sister always made you feel better, even if you’d never admit it.

As you exited the building, you instantly spotted your sister and her girlfriend by their car. Mapi was leaning calmly against the Cupra, while Ingrid was pacing frantically, speaking fast and gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Did I do that?” You asked quietly.

Frido laughed. “I think she was born like that.”

As you neared the car, Ingrid turned as Mapi pointed at you, her face melting with relief at the sight of you. It really hit you, then, how worried she must have been, to still be so anxious even after Frido had likely told her you were okay. You weren’t making this easy on your sister.

She practically knocked you over with the force of her hug. “You’re okay.” She murmured into the top of your head, leaving a kiss there.

“I’m okay.” You reiterated, letting yourself hug her back tightly, even if it was just for a moment. She felt you tighten your arms around her almost unconsciously, and made a note to hug you more often. Even if it seemed like you weren’t very interested. After a minute she pulled back, placing both hands on your cheeks and making you look at her.

“Next time leave through the front door? And tell me where you’re going? Please?” She asked. You appreciated that she didn’t tell you to do this, leaving it more as a request, although you knew it was a reasonable rule for her to put in place.

“Promise.” You said quietly. She nodded her head, satisfied, before pulling Frido into a hug that also looked to be too tight. Mapi was looking at you, rather unimpressed. You knew she was not happy with you for upsetting your sister so much, and though it annoyed you a bit, you knew it was deserved. And you appreciated that your sister had someone that was so protective over her.

“In the car, nena. I want to talk to you when we get home.” Mapi instructed. You got in the car with no argument, the fight having gone out of you a bit. It had nothing to do with the hug Ingrid had given you, nothing at all. Definitely not. Instead of anger, you only felt apprehension, because Mapi looked dead serious about whatever she wanted to talk about.

-------

You were nothing short of shocked when Mapi opened the door to the garage and gestured you inside upon arriving home. Ingrid watched on anxiously, and you pretended not to see the way Mapi whispered some reassurance to her and kissed her cheek, before pointing her towards the kitchen

You’d never been in the garage before; it was Mapi’s space. You were already invading her home, you wouldn’t invade the one place of the house that was really hers, too. You knew she worked something out there, knew there was a reason both cars parked in the driveway instead of in the garage.

Mapi followed you into the room and sat down on a stool next to the large motorcycle in the middle of the garage. It was clearly in the process of being restored. You hadn’t known Mapi rode motorcycles. Well, you hadn’t known that your sister let Mapi ride a motorcycle. You stood awkwardly in the door as Mapi inspected 2 different wrenches, until she pointed at the stool next to her.

“Ven aqui, nena.” She said.

You took a seat, not really enjoying the tense silence that washed over the room. “Are you mad at me?” You asked after a minute. For all your anger, and all your bravado, you didn’t like it when people were mad at you. Especially not people you looked up to, people you admired.

“No. Not mad, nena. Never mad. I wish you hadn’t snuck out your window, but I understand why you did. I wish sometimes you thought a bit more about how your actions affect me and your sister, but I know how hard that is to do when you’re as angry as you are.”

“I’m not angry.” You said defensively. Mapi rolled her eyes, handing you a couple of tools and beginning to tighten something on the bike.

“You are angry. You’re so angry that you feel like you’re going to explode sometimes. You’re so angry that sometimes you forget that you’re sad, too. You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I cannot blame you for that. If anyone has a right to those emotions, it’s you.” You didn’t really enjoy being perceived so well, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I know angry, nena. Do you remember when I hurt my knee?”

You nodded. The first few weeks of Mapi's injury hadn’t been a fun time, your sister beyond stressed with dealing with Mapi’s injury and her new role in the team, and you’d tried hard to be on your best behavior.

“I started working on this bike a year ago, when everything happened with the Spanish federation. It was Ingrid’s idea, a way for me to distract myself. When I hurt my knee, it had been a bit since I’d worked on it, but suddenly I was back in this garage until all hours of the night. It’s nice to be able to control something like this, when everything else feels out of your control. That is how climbing is for you, yes?”

You relaxed a bit at the turn the conversation was taking, and Mapi wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t just the topic; it was the fact that she wasn’t staring at you, putting pressure on you to give her an answer she wanted to hear. You were just talking. Casually.

“Yeah. I’m in control, and I don’t have to think about anything else. It’s relaxing.”

“It’s good for you to have an outlet like that.” Mapi stated. “This bike was Ingrid’s idea, when we first got together. Do you know what her other idea was?”

You were pretty sure you did, and you grimaced at the thought. “Therapy?”

Mapi snorted, handing you the wrench she was using and taking the screwdriver from your hand. “Yes therapy. You don’t have to look at it like that, though, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me.” You said decisively.

Mapi just shrugged. “I didn’t think it was for me either.” She paused, knowing your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d ask for more information.

“What changed your mind?” You asked after a minute.

“Your sister did. After the euros, I had a hard time coming back to Barça and playing. Those weeks were some of the hardest of my life, trying to find my rhythm again but trying to recover from the stress I’d been under that summer. I was a mess. And Ingrid was right there with me, through all of it. I’d had a really bad day, and I asked Ingrid to come home early from a lunch she had. She came home, calmed me down, and afterwards, she asked me if I trusted her. I said I did. And she said that she really wanted me to try therapy. That I didn’t have to feel how I felt, and I deserved help. I deserved to not be miserable. She asked me to try it, for her, just give it a try.”

“And you did.”

“And I did. Because she’d done so much for me, I couldn’t refuse her request. Not when I knew she just wanted the best for me. I gave it a shot, and it helped, more than anything else had helped. It wasn’t a fix all, but it helped. It made me feel like I was doing something to get better.”

Mapi abandoned her work on the bike, looking at you for the first time since you’d entered the garage. You could only see sincerity in her gaze. Not anger, but annoyance. Just sincerity. “You deserve help, Solstråle. No matter how you feel about yourself, Ingrid and I know you. And we know you deserve help. You’re a good person, and you deserve to be happy.”

María sounded so sure. So completely convinced. You looked away from her, blinking hard.

“You don’t have to agree to anything now. Keep an open mind about it. Think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly, grateful that Mapi didn’t make a big deal out of it, only nodding slightly.

“One more promise?” She asked.

“What?”

“Talk to us. Or just me, or just Ingrid. We’re a little lost here, nena. It feels like we were just kind of plopped down in the middle of this. We had no idea anything was going on, not really. And all of a sudden we’re reading that letter, and realizing we missed a lot. That’s on us; we should have noticed sooner. We don’t have the whole picture, though, and that makes it really hard for us to figure out how to help you. We’ll both worry a lot less if you talked to us, just a little bit.”

That was reasonable, you had to admit. When she put it like that. You’d spent so much time being annoyed that no one had noticed, then being annoyed when they finally did notice, you hadn’t really spent a ton of time thinking about how little they knew. There was no context to your behavior, aside from what you’d put in the letter. And that just barely scratched the surface. You supposed they deserved an explanation. At least a bit of one.

“I’ll try.” You promised.

Mapi grinned at you this time, an infectious smile. “Bueno! Come here with that wrench. No, that one. Put it on this bolt. Twist.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Easily. You got the feeling that Mapi would have let it go if you’d insisted on it, but you miraculously felt better. Talking, listening had made you feel better. Mapi had made you feel better.

-------

You both emerged from the garage around an hour and a half later, when the smell of baking cookies became too strong to resist. Ingrid had clearly been stress baking, one of your favorite of her habits. There were at least 3 different types of cookies on the counter, some done baking, some still in progress. It smelled so distinctly of home in the house, it was almost overwhelming.

“I have something for you,” Ingrid said, drying her hands and stepping away from the counter when you walked into the room.

“I can see that.” You said, nodding to the cookies appreciatively, but Ingrid shook her head.

“No, something else.” Ingrid said.

“OH! I do too.” Mapi said excitedly, and they both disappeared in different directions. You stood bewildered in the kitchen, not quite sure what you were about to be given.

They returned simultaneously, each holding what looked to be 2 frames. “Mapi’s first.” Ingrid directed. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

You looked surprisingly at Mapi, taking the present and beginning to unwrap the wrapping paper. “What is this for?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” Ingrid said quietly. You froze momentarily, an unreadable expression flashing across your face. “I know it seems like we forgot, but we didn’t. We got the dates messed up, but we had presents, and we had dinner reservations, just… for the 25th. Not the 15th.”

“Oh. I thought you’d forgotten.” You said slowly, seemingly slightly emotional.

“Nope, just bad at remembering dates. Now open your present.” Mapi said impatiently, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited child.

You unwrapped it slowly, as if you were slightly weary of what it might be. When you pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, though, every wall you’d put up fell instantly, your jaw dropping open at the piece of art in your hands.

It was a map. Not just a map, but a map of all the hiking trails in Barcelona. It was textured, detailed, labeled. It was intricate, all neutrals and earthy colors. It was so you. From the contents to the design, it was like it had been made just for you.

“Mapi…” You whispered, staring, stunned, at the map. “Where did you… how did you… what?”

“Ale’s sister Fresa went to school with this girl that hand makes maps like this. I got her name from diablillo, and I told her what I wanted. Do you like it, do you like it?” Mapi asked excitedly.

Mapi got her answer when you handed the frame to Ingrid, and launched yourself the few feet between you and Mapi, wrapping her in a tight hug. Mapi beamed at Ingrid, who was trying very hard not to cry. She hadn’t even given Mapi any advice on the gift. It had been all her girlfriend’s idea, she executed it all by herself, determined to get Solstråle the perfect gift.

“It’s perfect, thank you María,” you mumbled. The ridiculous smile on Mapi’s lips didn’t falter at the use of her real name, only squeezing you tighter.

“Te amo, Solstråle.” She said back. For once, you believed it. When you pulled away from the hug, it was to see Mapi looking smugly at your sister. “INGRID I DEFINITELY WON.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She hasn’t even opened my present yet.”

“Still. I won.” Mapi smirked.

Now it was Ingrid’s turn to hand you your gift. It was wrapped in the same paper, and you tore it off, almost cautiously, not quite sure what Ingrid would have gotten you.

You were, once again, speechless at what you saw. This time, your eyes filled with tears immediately. Ingrid wasn’t as excited as Mapi had been, instead looking at you anxiously.

It was a painting of a waterfall back home not far from your house. It was so distinct, you knew Ingrid must have paid a ridiculous amount of money to get someone to hand paint it. Each individual stroke was so precise, blending perfectly into the image it was supposed to be, but if you focused hard, you could pick out the greens and greys and blues and whites that you’d grown up with.

It felt like home. It felt comforting. You could almost smell the trees, feel the cool sting of wind on your cheeks. It was a little piece of home just for you, and it was perfect. So beautiful and artistic that you weren’t sure you were worthy of it, but you looked at it in awe nonetheless. You wiped at your cheeks, not able to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over you.

“Kjære? Is it okay?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her eyes searching your face, trying to figure out if these were good tears or bad tears.

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? Ingrid… it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s… perfect. Thank you.” You said, turning to her with a look of complete shock. And even though it pained Ingrid that you were so surprised to receive a nice gift for your birthday, she pushed that feeling down. Instead, she pulled you in towards her, placing the frame on the counter so she could hug you properly. You were happy with it, now, and that was all Ingrid had control over.

After a few seconds, Ingrid moved to pull away and break the hug, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not quite ready to let go yet. Maybe it was the homesickness, or maybe it was your sister making you feel so known, and so loved. Whatever the reason, you just wanted her near you for a minute more, holding you nice and tight and safe against her.

“I love you,” she whispered, hearing you mumble the words back, your voice thick with emotion. When you did pull away, a minute later, it was to wipe at your face in an almost embarrassed manner.

Seeing how desperate you were for the attention to be off your tears, Mapi spoke up, her voice light and easy. “You can put them up in your room, you don’t have anything on the walls.”

You looked at the ground, then, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know I could put anything up on them.” You admitted.

The room fell quiet, but even though you could tell that what you said had hurt Ingrid and Mapi, they just shook their heads softly. “It’s your room, for good, you can do whatever you want to it.” Ingrid told you.

You were about to thank her, and try to move the conversation long when Mapi let out a dramatic gasp. Both you and Ingrid whipped your heads to look at her, confused at the mischievous grin on her face.

“Ikea. WE CAN GO TO IKEA AND GET FURNITURE FOR SOLSTRÅLE’S ROOM.”

“María, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t want to redo her room.” Ingrid looked at you hopefully, and you knew it had nothing to do with your room, and everything to do with her not wanting to take Mapi to ikea.

You simply smirked back at Ingrid, who sighed and shut her eyes for a minute.

“Okay. Ikea.” She said finally. You and Mapi cheered, comically loudly, completely ignoring the rules she was setting in favor of high fiving each other and going to get ready to leave. “María, you are not building anything. Solstråle does not need her bed to collapse under her in the middle of the night. And kjære, please, please, don’t let Mapi talk you into a loft bed, you’ll fall off of it and break your arm. Amor? Kjære? ARE EITHER OF YOU LISTENING!” Ingrid shouted after you, rolling her eyes at the chants of ikea echoing around the house.

Mapi in Ikea was a handful. You, too, were a handful at the store. Together? She was going to lose one of you, she was sure of it. It had been a long day already. And it was only set to get longer.

--------

fluffy engen-león family trying to put furniture together in the next part?

yes, that IS all i have to say about this chapter thank you for your time.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #sol☀️#🍓☀️

891 notes · View notes

penny00dreadful · 1 year

Text

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.”

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered.

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.”

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it.

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

5K notes · View notes

roseghoul26 · 4 months

Text

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Teasing, Flirting, Developing Relationships, Injury, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Synopsis: It had been apparent from the moment you met him that The Ghoul was Cooper Howard, your favorite actor. He had no idea that you knew who he was, so how could you not have some fun with it? Author’s Note: i’ve watched nothing but bridgerton recently and now i keep finding myself writing the way they speak also i’ve got no clue how radiation and water interact to just pretend what i wrote is true okay? also if you got the notif for the first upload of this fic, no you didn't :) Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The poster you stood in front of was in remarkable shape, with only hints of discoloration littering the page. The frame that held it had stood the test of time and came out victorious, with only a few scratches across the glass to show for it. A fond smile grew as you read the words emblazoned across it: The Man from Deadhorse.

A man was also pictured riding on the back of his trusted steed, pistol in hand, aiming it toward an unpictured outlaw. A man that you knew to be Cooper Howard, the actor who you’d grown quite fond of during your life in the vault. You’re sure you’ve watched his entire discography or at least all his films that your vault had, which was a significant amount.

So when said actor captured you after being exiled from your vault, albeit a little less human-looking, you couldn’t believe it. It took a second to clock it, but you managed to piece two and two together when you heard him talk and watched how he wielded his gun. Hell, he was still wearing the same clothes from the movie whose poster you stood in front of. It hadn’t been that difficult.

Of course, he had no idea you knew who he was. You didn’t utter a word, not from when he first captured you to when he begrudgingly let you tag alongside him or even when you’d formed a bond. Friends, maybe not, but you trusted each other, and that was enough.

You couldn’t help but admire the man on the poster, if just for a few more moments. Anyone could see that Cooper Howard was handsome, and his charisma added to that. As incredible of an actor as he was, you would admit that you didn’t watch his films just for his skills. He’d been your childhood crush, following you into your teenage years.

And maybe it was still around, lingering at the back of your mind. Perhaps that would explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at The Ghoul. Even though his face had completely changed, you still believed he was just as handsome as before becoming a ghoul. His charisma and wit had just become sharper, and even though he sneered more than smiled, you still recognized that grin from the movies.

You snuck a glance at your traveling partner, Cooper Howard, The Ghoul. He had yet to see the poster, or maybe he chose to ignore it. Either way, his back was to you, rifling through the desks of the building the two of you had entered. It was becoming evident now that this place was a movie theatre, someplace you thought, until now, they had entirely made up to mess with you in the vault. They knew your love of movies; why not tell you there was a place where you could see them on giant screens?

“You gonna stare at that fuckin’ poster all night, or are ya gonna help me?” So he had chosen to ignore it, then.

You refrained from sighing, not wanting to annoy the man. Instead, you got to work on the other side of the theatre, where a few doors stood. Glancing into the first room, you found it filled with garbage. Literal garbage. Bags were piled from floor to ceiling, and even after all the time that had passed, it still smelled. Holding back a gag, you shut the door as best you could. Gross.

The next door was a little more pleasant. It was a bathroom with three stalls lining the rightmost wall and a few sinks. A first aid kit had been bolted on the wall, and a slight, victorious noise left you when you found two stimpacks, a roll of bandages, and a small canister of water. You quickly deposited those into your bag before continuing to the stalls.

Two were empty, but the third had something in the toilet. When you peered in, you chuckled. A teddy bear sat on the edge, a newspaper in its hands, a pair of broken glasses on its face. No matter how vicious the surface world was, people still managed to find humor in the small things, and you cherished it.

The third and final room was locked, so taking out a bobby pin, you got to work unlocking it. It took you some time, as you weren’t nearly as quick as The Ghoul was, but eventually, the door swung open. Inside was what you presumed to be once an office, a desk with a terminal flush against the wall. A large safe was tucked into the corner, nearly hidden by bookshelves. Grinning at your new prize, you bent down in front of it, pulling the bobby pin and screwdriver back out.

If the door took some time, the safe took even longer. A small pile of broken bobby pins had started to grow at your feet, and your back was beginning to ache from bending over for so long. You could feel that you were close; you just needed to move it a little more to the right…

Snap!

“Motherfucker…” you grumbled under your breath, adding another pin to your collection. The idea of admitting defeat flashed through your mind, but you shook it away. You needed to prove this to yourself.

And to The Ghoul.

You heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, stopping when they reached the room you were currently in. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was; you could hear his spurs. “The hell is takin’ you so long?” His gruff voice stopped you as you were about to insert another bobby pin.

“This fuckin’ safe,” you sighed, resuming your attempt at lockpicking. Your back was really hurting now, and so you got down onto your knees, which helped a little. The concrete floor was uncomfortable, but sitting offered some respite, and you bent forward, returning to work. You had expected The Ghoul to have already left, so you were startled when you felt him crouch beside you.

His gaze was locked onto the safe when you glanced at him, and he shifted almost nervously beside you. Weird. “Lemme do it.” His tone held no room for argument, yet you still shook your head at him.

“No, I’ve got this.”

“You’re gonna run outta fuckin’ bobby pins before ya open it,” he jabbed, nudging the pile with his foot. You didn’t bother to hide the glare you sent him.

“Then I’ll just take yours.” You were pleasantly surprised when you turned the lock and were met with resistance an inch before it had turned all the way. You were close.

“Oh, I’d like to see ya try, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I already have.” You had shifted the pin to the right and were met resistance way later, and a victorious smile grew on your face. “C’mom, baby, open up for me,” you whispered, voice dangerously low, and you missed the way the man beside you shifted even more.

He didn’t offer any more arguments, and you let out a small laugh when the safe door finally opened. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of the contents inside when you saw a gloved hand sneak inside. You smacked it away, glaring at him. “Open your own fuckin’ safe,” you chastized.

He matched your expression, human-looking eyes glaring daggers into you, but you didn’t let up. It was a quick standoff, but he eventually backed down, not before muttering something under his breath. You didn’t hear what he said, but you didn’t care.

Opening the door further allowed more light in, allowing you to see your prize. A stack of pre-war bills sat on the bottom, and you tucked them into your bag. There was a silver locket, which you also grabbed, knowing you could get some caps for it. A few unlabeled chem bottles were on the top shelf, all added to your bag.

But you were most excited about the revolver tucked behind all the chems. It was heavy, heavier than the pistol on your hip, and in surprisingly good condition. The barrel's metal was mostly unscratched and shiny in the dim light. The wood grip, a deep brown oak, was cool in your hand, and it contrasted beautifully with the steel of the rest of the gun.

You raised a brow when he held a hand out expectantly, moving the gun a bit closer to your chest. “Are you gonna give it back?”

He let out a deep exhale. “Yes,” he responded before making a ‘give me’ motion with his upturned hand.

After some hesitation, you set it in his palm, observing as he tested it in his hand. His expression was difficult to read as he evaluated it, his eyes carefully roaming the gun. You had to bite back a laugh when he raised the gun to the right of him; he looked like he did on the poster you just saw.

You must’ve done a worse job than you thought, holding back your laugh because he was fixing you with another glare. “Sorry,” you began between chuckles, “it’s just… you look like the guy on the poster.”

The Ghoul was good at hiding his emotions, and his face remained unreadable as he glared at you, but you swore you saw a bit of alarm behind the fire in his eyes. “Do I, now?” He asked, seemingly unbothered.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you teased, an idea forming that made you grin. “I’d take it as a compliment, being compared to as handsome a man as Cooper Howard.”

The heat in his stare dimmed, replaced with a hint of surprise. He blinked at you for a moment, unsure what to make of your words. You continued. “What, you thought I watched his movies just for his acting skills?” You were careful not to use the word you, not wanting to let him in on the secret.

When he continued to just watch you, at a loss for words, you finally stood, your back crying out in relief. You stuck out a hand, gesturing to the gun in his hand, and he slowly gave it back to you. “Thank you,” you smiled sweetly at him, your confidence growing at how you managed to stun the man. “I’ll meet you out there. Help yourself to whatever is left in here.” With that, you tuned and left, your sweet smile turning to one of victory.

Unbeknownst to you, the man you’d left in the room had a slight smile on his face before quickly coming to his senses. A groan left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face as if he could wipe away the heat he felt in his cheeks.

If he could blush, he was sure he would be bright red right now.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Why the hell were ya kicked outta your vault, anyway?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the question you expected to hear today. You glanced behind you at The Ghoul, continuing down the long-since abandoned street the two of you were on. Even though it had been a few months, it still hurt, the wound never fully closing. “Why’d you ask?” You responded after some hesitation.

“Do I gotta have a reason?” He shot back, and you sighed.

“I suppose not,” you agreed before taking a few moments to formulate your answer. “They thought I was a threat to their way of life. I was too inquisitive for my own good, didn’t work well with authority, and constantly challenged said authority.”

“You? Disagreeable? Never.”

“Well, fuck you too,” you huffed, turning away from him. Here you were, telling him about possibly the worst thing that happened in your life, and he was insulting you. Asshole. For a moment, you thought he was being genuinely friendly, wanting to learn about you. You were bitterly disappointed to find the opposite.

A tense silence hung in the air as you continued to walk, not bothering to glance at him. He didn’t deserve your attention right now. Your somewhat positive mood was now ruined, both from having to bring up your past and because of him.

“They really kicked ya out for that?” He finally spoke. It wasn’t an apology, but you could tell it was an attempt at relieving the dispute.

“I think they were afraid I would change everything, and you know there’s nothing vault dwellers hate more than change. Even if change would improve their lives, they’d rather stay with what they know, not wanting to risk losing comfort and familiarity. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that change is a good thing. I don’t think they ever will.” The words had just tumbled from your mouth, anger making you ramble freely. When you finished, you finally glanced behind you, cringing at yourself.

To your surprise and relief, you didn’t find a look of judgment on his face. Instead, he seemed almost pensive, not expecting to hear you voice your opinions like that.

“Do ya miss it?”

“Fuck no. Even with all its dangers and obstacles, life up here is infinitely better than any life I could’ve had in a vault. At least up here, my life is mine. I make my own choices, for better or for worse. I exist for myself, not to fulfill some corporation’s quota or for some experiment. I am myself.” You let out a sigh. “There is one thing I do miss, though.”

He didn’t respond but nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “I miss the movie room,” you chuckled, almost bittersweet. “It’s silly, I know. But I miss lounging on one of the couches and getting lost in the story.”

“Did ya have a favorite?” He asked, and you swore he was reminiscing a bit as well.

“Oh, plenty. The Wizard of Oz, The Man from Calabasas, and The Silence of the Lambs, to name a few.”

“The Man from Calabasas?”

“Have you seen it?” You knew damn well that he had done more than seen the movie. He had been the lead star of it.

“Somethin’ like that,” The Ghoul muttered in response. “You weren’t kiddin’, were you?”

“About liking Cooper Howard’s movies? No, I certainly was not. Hell, I’d go as far as to say he’s my favorite actor.”

Like always, his expression towards your response was unreadable. “Would ya, now?”

“Uh-huh. I had a crush on him growing up. Maybe I still do,” you laughed lightly, shrugging your shoulders. He faltered a bit, his eyes widening a fraction, and you had to return to facing forward, unable to hide the smirk on your face any longer. It was so fun to tease him. Every time you’d seen a poster with him on it for the past weeks, you were sure to point it out, always commenting on him.

“He’s much older than ya, sweetheart,” he finally responded after some time.

“It wasn’t like I was dating the man,” you laughed. “Not that it would’ve deterred me, though. I always liked them older.”

The man behind you cleared his throat, and when you turned, you saw his eyes locked onto you, his jaw clenched, and a quickly growing fire in his eyes. Oh, this was so much fun. “You got something against that? Not that I’d change my mind based on your opinion.”

“Not a problem at all.” His words were clipped, strained. You halted in your tracks, holstering your gun, the revolver you’d just found a week ago. He cocked his head, watching you closely, stopping a good few feet behind you. His shoulders tensed when you approached him, his jaw never unclenching.

“Everything alright?” You asked, innocence dripping from your words. “You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine,” he bit out. Giving him enough time to stop you as he spoke, you raised your hands to his coat, fixing the crooked lapels. Once they were straight, you ran your hands down them, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t feel it through all of this fabric, and it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it, but a small groan rumbled his chest.

“If you say so,” you teased, running your hands up one last time before letting him go. You took a few steps back, glancing around at the dilapidated scenery. “We should probably find shelter soon. Only an hour of sunlight left.”

“I… sure.” You’d never heard him sound so uncertain, completely taken aback by what you had done. A part of you worried that you had taken it a step too far, but you knew the man. He would not have let you touch him if he didn’t want it. As you turned back forward, you failed to see how his eyes trailed down your body hungrily, gloved hands lingering where yours had just been.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Even though the bed was the comfiest thing you’d laid in in months, sleep would not come. No matter how much you tossed, turned, and readjusted, you just could not sleep. It wasn’t like your mind was preoccupied by anything.

Well, that wasn’t true. You’d found your mind wandering to your traveling companion more and more these past weeks since you’d stopped and fixed his jacket right in the middle of the street. You thought he had been more affected than you, but ever since then, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he felt under your hands and what he’d feel like elsewhere.

With a huff and warm cheeks, you sat up, giving up on falling asleep. Slipping on your shoes, you kept your steps light as you crossed the room and made a pointed effort not to glance at the sleeping silhouette of The Ghoul. Grabbing your gun, you stepped outside, the cool night air doing wonders for your flushed skin.

You sat on the edge of the barely standing porch of the house you were sleeping in. You balanced your gun in your lap, and from the pockets of your jeans, you pulled out a beat-up pack of cigarettes and a barely functioning lighter. It took a few moments for the flame to catch, the clicking noise filling the silent night, but you eventually had a lit cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling comfortingly around your body.

You felt the wood creak before you heard it, and you whirred around, gun pointing at the new figure behind you. The figure let out a familiar chuckle, and you sighed in relief, putting the gun back down. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you muttered as you turned back.

The Ghoul sat beside you with a sigh, arms extended behind him. “You’re gonna attract unwanted attention with that,” he muttered, ignoring your previous statement.

“Like you?”

He laughed. “You’d be lucky if the worst you got was me.”

“I suppose,” you conceded. “But your company isn’t exactly… unwelcome.”

He merely hummed in response, and you offered him the cigarette. He eyed it briefly, eyes flicking from it to your face, but he eventually grabbed it. Skin grazed yours, and it almost startled you when you realized he wasn’t wearing gloves, and it felt scandalous to see him without them. Still, you kept your composure, observing him silently as he took a drag.

“Can’t sleep?” You heard him ask after some time, and you shook your head. “Me neither.”

“Sorry if my tossing and turning kept you up.”

“Ain’t your fault,” he sighed, passing the cigarette back to you. “Is… are ya alright?”

He’s been surprising you with the questions lately, and you couldn’t help the slight disbelief on your face, nearly choking on the smoke. “Just a lot on my mind” is what you finally went with. It was not entirely a lie, but it withheld specific details.

He thankfully seemed to clock that you didn’t quite want to talk about it, so he left you in silence, taking the cigarette you passed to him. You both whipped your heads to the left when you heard the sound of something groaning, followed by a few more groans from other entities. Whether it was human or not, you couldn’t tell. He quickly smashed the cigarette under his boot, standing up slowly, hand inching towards his gun.

His other hand extended towards you, and you didn’t give yourself time to second-guess before you interlocked your finger with his, letting him pull you up. You had barely gotten to your feet when he was dragging you inside, nearly making you stumble over the planks of wood sticking up.

Still, both of you managed to get inside quickly, the door being kicked soon shut by him, and you locked it. Peering out the blinds, you saw a horde of ferals shuffle their way down the street, some gathering where you were just sitting. You and The Ghoul probably could’ve bested the group, but you never knew. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that said companion wasn’t looking outside like you were but instead trained on you.

When the horde continued further down the street, you let out a breath before switching your attention to the man. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes scanned over your face, something unreadable in them. You gasped lightly when you felt him squeeze your hand, your fingers interlocked with his. So that’s what was making him act so weird.

A small smile graced your face as you looked down at your intertwined hands, neither of you making any move to pull apart yet. His hands were rougher than you were expecting, and even though you could feel the grooves of his marred skin, his fingertips were incredibly calloused as they rubbed into your skin. It was the most lovely thing you’d ever felt.

You’d never seen him regard something so gently when you looked back up at him. It was like you were catching a glimpse of the man he once was before the war. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the actor, yet this was no scene from a movie. This moment was real, two lost souls finding some semblance of comfort with each other.

But just as soon as the gentle moment had started, it came to a screeching halt, and The Ghoul took a step back, pulling his hand from yours. You tried not to let it sting, but you couldn’t help the slight hurt in your heart as he backed away. “Good night,” he muttered out, his voice cold.

You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice, and you heard the receding footsteps of The Ghoul as he marched back towards where he was sleeping. You stayed locked by the door for a good moment, unable to move, and embarrassment and sadness locked you there.

You don’t even remember walking back to your bed. All you remember is that you were suddenly looking up at the ceiling, sleep even further than it was before. You swore you could still feel his hand in yours, the heat from his skin, the texture of his skin beneath your fingers. Sighing, you rolled over on your side, back turned away from where The Ghoul was sleeping.

Sleep didn’t come to you that night, and when you finally got up hours later and saw the way The Ghoul sat hunched over the table, you knew he didn’t sleep either.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It had been days since that night, and things had been incredibly tense between the two of you since. Hours of travel, once filled with light conversation, were now done in silence. Soft glances were now guarded, lingering touches nonexistent. It was distracting, constantly on your mind, overanalyzing everything you’d done or said to him.

Maybe that distraction was the reason you now sat bleeding out, half lying against an old car, your fingers clutching your stomach uselessly. Blood poured out between your fingers, every breath feeling like you were being stabbed all over again by that Raider. It had been a poorly hidden ambush, yet they still managed to catch you off-guard, your thoughts elsewhere.

It had been fine until you’d gotten cut off from your companion and forced into a small alleyway. You’d managed to take down most of your attackers, but one had gotten lucky with a stab to the stomach. They currently lay dead on the floor as well, shot by your gun, but that had been after they got you.

The sounds of gunfire had ceased about thirty seconds ago, making your ears ring. Or maybe it was the blood loss. You couldn’t tell.

You heard the sound of loud footfalls, and you reached for your gun with a crimson-covered hand, which made it difficult to grasp the weapon. Your arm shook like crazy as you raised your gun, training it on the entrance of the alleyway, waiting as silently as you could. Small gasps of pain kept pouring from your lips, and you blinked back tears.

Relief flooded you when you heard your name being called by The Ghoul, his gruff voice never sounding so lovely. You managed to croak out a response, your arm falling to your lap, unable to hold it up any longer. He called out your name again, even closer this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, your energy quickly leaving.

When you saw that familiar silhouette at the entrance, you couldn’t help the small smile on your face despite your incredible pain. He was by your side in a second, or maybe you blacked out for a bit. Everything was so blurry now. You cried out in pain when you felt him press down on your stomach, and you tried to squirm away, but he was much stronger than you.

You sagged against the car, unable to fight him any longer. Your eyes felt heavy, but you tried your hardest to keep them open, especially when The Ghoul practically shook you awake. “You better keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” he snapped, and if you were more conscious, you would’ve been able to detect the panic in his voice.

“Are you threatening me?” You wheezed out.

“If that’s what it takes to keep ya awake, then yes.” You felt cold air hit your stomach as he lifted your shirt, examining the wound. You didn’t look at his expression, not wanting to know how bad it was.

“At least take me out to dinner,” you chuckled before a cough rattled your body. Something warm and sticky fell from your lips, making The Ghoul curse, who hurriedly looked for something in his bag. A small first aid kit clattered to the ground, and you cringed when you saw him pull out a needle and thread.

“After this, I’ll take ya out to as many dinners as ya like,” The Ghoul murmured, and because of how hazy your vision was, you missed how his hands shook as he threaded the needle.

“Is that a promise?” It was starting to get hard to get the words out now, as they were beginning to slur.

“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetheart.”

“I love it when you call me sweetheart,” you admitted, unable to stop yourself. Your smile turned into a wince when you felt the needle pierce your skin. He muttered an apology, but you just shook your head and leaned forward slightly as he worked quickly to sew your wound close. It was just close enough that you could see him clearly, and you unabashedly let your eyes roam his face.

Blood loss was kicking in now, and the world was spinning. You tried hard to keep your eyes open but found them fluttering close even more frequently, your head drooping to the car. He shook you gently whenever he felt you do it, promising that he was almost done. “We gotta get this close before I can give ya a stimpack.”

“You’re pretty,” you whispered before almost immediately breaking into laughter.

“And you’ve lost a lot of blood,” The Ghoul shook his head, working diligently.

“I mean it,” you practically pouted. “You’re so pretty.”

“I’m sure I’m quite the fuckin’ catch.”

“You’ve always been a catch,” you teased, and you tried to bring up one of your hands to caress his face, but it fell limply to your lap.

For the first time, his eyes shot up to yours, confusion on his face. But they quickly returned to his work, shaking his head again. “Whatdya mean by that, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to keep you talking. Or maybe he was genuinely curious.

“The entire time I’ve known you, I’ve thought you were beautiful,” the tiniest bit of tension left The Ghoul, “but even before then, I’ve always thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen-”

“You don’t mean-”

“Guess that’s why I’ve still got a crush on you,” you sighed, continuing despite his objections. But you didn’t get to see his reaction, the weight on your lids growing unbearable, and you let them fall close, unconsciousness finally claiming you. Your name being said like a plea was the last thing you remembered.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You weren’t sure how long you were out for. All you know is that the room you woke up in was unfamiliar, and everything in your body hurt. Wincing, you tried to sit up, only to collapse in pain, your stomach in agony. A shadow fell across your face, and through tears, you managed to see the familiar face of The Ghoul above you.

He looked as terrible as you felt, the deep sockets of his eyes somehow even more pronounced. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. His clothes were more rumpled, and he had discarded his hat somewhere in the room. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve asked him why he looked like, well, shit.

His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear the words, your ears ringing too loudly. You fought back when you felt a needle enter your skin, but you relaxed when the pain began to dim like a bright light covered with a blanket; the pain was still there but not nearly as noticeable.

After a few more seconds, your ears finally stopped ringing, the man's gruff voice replacing it. “Just some painkillers,” he explained.

You tried to thank him, but your voice was too dry, and you broke into a coughing fit. With a lot of help from him, you could sit up enough to drink, greedily gulping down the canteen of water that he presented you. Despite your objections, he pulled it away from you when he deemed you had enough.

You were starting to feel more alert now, and your vision was not as fuzzy as it was moments ago. The Ghoul sat in the chair you just noticed beside your bed, a soft sigh leaving him. The room was still unfamiliar, and you realized he had probably just dragged your unconscious body into the closest possible building.

Glancing at him, you watched as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d done something wrong. Well, something besides getting stabbed. “How long have I been out for?”

“Almost three days.”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

You gestured to your body. “For saving me.”

In response, he made a vague noise, his arms crossing over his chest. His stare became scrutinizing, and you felt like he was picking you apart. You could feel your heartbeat accelerate, your nerves becoming terrible, yet you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

After what felt like hours of tense silence, he finally spoke. “Whatdya remember?”

“Well, not much, to be honest. I remember getting injured, and then you helped me, and then I passed out.”

“D’ya remember anythin’ you said?”

You furrowed your brows. “No? Did… did I say something bad?” When he didn’t respond, you grew even more worried. “Look, if I said something to offend you-”

“How long have ya known?”

You blinked. “What?”

“How long have ya known who I am?” His voice was surprisingly steady, not leaning towards any particular emotion.

Internally, you were kicking yourself. Of course, you just had to let your secret slip while you were bleeding out. You figured it useless to attempt lying, so you just sighed deeply. “I’ve known since the moment we met,” you confessed.

“So this entire time-”

“Yes.”

The chair creaked, and you jumped when you felt his elbows lean on the edge of your bed. “And ya didn’t fuckin’ think that was important to tell me?”

You leaned as far away from him as you physically could. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed at that, a bitter sound. You felt his fingers creep toward your hand beneath the covers, noticeably bare of gloves. Something dark crossed his features when he made contact, his fingers running along your hand tortuously slowly. You whispered out his name as a question, confused but not against this conversation's direction. “You know my real name, sweetheart. Might as well use it.”

Your throat suddenly became dry, but you didn’t dare reach for the canteen perched in his lap. “Cooper,” a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “I thought you’d be… angrier.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ pissed.” You saw his eyes flash momentarily, making you want to shrink into a ball and hide. You’d never been on the receiving end of his anger, and you hated it. Or at least that's what you told yourself. “But there’s far more important things on my mind right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like keepin’ ya alive, for example.” His teasing tone turned somber. “You almost bled out.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You hadn’t realized how severe the wound you’d gotten was. Tentatively, you lowered the sheet that was around your body, then raised the still bloody shirt that now had a hole in the front. “My poor shirt…”

He scoffed. “Ya got stabbed in the gut, and you’re worried ‘bout your shirt?”

“Do you know how hard it is to find intact clothing up here?” You shook your head before examining the stitched-up gash on your stomach. Well, the once stitched-up gash. Thanks to the magic of stimpacks, he had been able to take out your sutures, leaving behind a barely healed scar across your stomach. You supposed it was a miracle, too, that it hadn’t caused severe damage to any of your intestines. “Thanks, doc.” You tried to jest.

He laughed, but it sounded forced even to you. His gaze locked on where he rubbed your hand, looking like he wanted to say something. “Was… was there anything else?” You asked carefully.

He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

An exasperated chuckle left him. “Everythin’. Every comment, every tease, every single fuckin’ thing you did that’s kept me awake for nights on end. Did you mean it?” To any other person, the way he re-asked the question would’ve sounded angry, pissed off. But you knew better. There was almost a sense of desperation in his words, his gaze boring into you as he waited for a response.

“I am many things,” you began slowly. “A liar is not one of them. I meant it, every single thing.”

He paused. “Were your words only meant for the man I was?”

“Can they not be for the man you are as well?”

Your words seemed to catch him off-guard. “I guess they can,” he sighed, tilting his head down to break eye contact. Without thinking, you freed your hand from the blanket and his touch, and you gently tugged his chin until he was looking at you again. You were both equally surprised by the action, but you didn’t let yourself back down now. Not when you were so close to what you wanted.

You gave him a moment to pull away from your touch if he was so pleased, and when he didn't, a gentle smile grew on your lips as you adjusted your hand so that you now held the side of his face. It was a stretch to do so, but seeing how he practically melted into your touch was worth it. You wondered how long it had been since someone had held him like this.

“I rather like the man you are,” you admitted softly, your thumb running over his scarred cheek. “The man who put up with my constant teasing. The man who’s become the person I trust the most in this fucked up world. The man who just saved my life.” You sat up slowly, much to the complaint of your stomach and The Ghoul, but you ignored both.

With one arm holding you up, you tugged him forward until he was half on the bed, one leg between your own, the other still firm on the floor. His hands braced on either side of you, face inches from yours as he leaned above you. He was close enough that you could feel his chest rise and fall, now slightly quicker than before.

Human eyes flicked down to your lips, an unspoken question to which you already knew the answer. Instead of speaking, you let your actions do the talking, closing the distance until your lips brushed over his. But you didn’t let them connect. You wanted him to do it, to show you that this was what he wanted.

You heard your name said softly, a mix between a plea and a warning. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“Cooper,” you sighed in response, and that seemed to do the trick. He finally closed the space between you two, lips surprisingly gentle against yours as he kissed you. It was everything you wanted, and you sighed happily, fingers trailing patterns across his skin.

After a few moments, he pulled away, much to your audible displeasure, and chuckled. “I’m still fuckin’ angry at ya, sweetheart.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you laughed lightly, “but be mad at me later.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to kiss me again.”

“So fuckin’ needy,” he teased, a slight grin on his lips, but he brought himself back down to your lips. “I like it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing against yours with noticeably less gentleness. You didn’t resist as the force of it pushed you back gently onto the bed, and your hand fell from his face to the front of his jacket, grabbing a fistful of the material. His lips were almost feverish against yours, a barely contained desperation in the act, and you felt fingers brush against your cheek. They were just as rough as you remembered.

The bed shifted as he finally put his entire body on it, one knee between your legs, the other resting by your hip. One hand still worked to keep himself from resting his whole body weight on you, the other tracing patterns into your skin, just like you had done to him. If he had any reservations left, they no longer existed. The only things on his mind were the way you felt beneath him and the way your lips felt against his.

You gasped when you felt him move down your jaw, down to your neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin there. No longer able to hold his jacket comfortably, you switched to holding the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against the skin. He practically shuddered, his arm buckling slightly, some of his body weight falling onto your lower body.

A groan of pain tore through you when you felt him press against your stomach. It was almost funny how he seemed to jump off of you, hooded eyes immediately becoming alert. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-”

“Get back down here,” you practically growled, reaching up for his shirt again. He stopped you, redirecting your hand to the bed, securing it with a firm hand when you tried to break free.

“You’re injured,” he countered, stopping your continued attempts to break free with a look.

“And?”

“And we just got ya stable. I’d be even more fuckin’ pissed if three days of work was all for nothin’.”

“We’ll just be careful, then,” you protested, desire making you irrational. You’d just gotten a taste, but you needed more of him. Hesitancy flashed across his features, making you nervous. “Unless you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I fuckin’ do,” he chuckled. “But I ain’t doin’ anythin’ to ya until you’re healed.”

“Anything? Not even a kiss?”

He sighed, shaking his head, but his face had a fond expression. “You’re difficult, ya know that?”

“I’ve been told,” you laughed. “So is that a ‘no’, then?”

You had to stop yourself from laughing when he kissed you. When he pulled away, he rested his head against yours. “There. Satisfied?”

Far from it. “For now,” you sighed, lying comfortably on the bed. Now that you didn’t have anything exciting in your near future, exhaustion slowly began to creep back in, making you yawn. He chuckled, moving to get up, but you halted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lay with me? Please?”

You could tell that he was ready to argue against it, but he relented. With a smile, you were able to roll over to one of the sides of the bed with limited amounts of pain, giving him enough room to squeeze in behind you. Immediately, you felt one of his arms tuck beneath the pillow, the other resting on your hip, being careful to avoid your injury.

With his front pressed against your back, you let your eyes fall close, much less violently than previously. Your breathing eventually evened out, and you let your body fully relax against him. He must’ve thought you were asleep because you felt him brush away any hair that covered your face, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was observing you.

You manage to be still when his lips grazed the shell of your ear, a featherlight kiss, and his following words were just as light. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetheart.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

You’d accidentally stumbled upon it, traveling a little too far off the beaten path, but you were so glad you did. In front of you were scattered pools of water, about six total, ranging from five to twenty feet across. Steam billowed off the top of the pools, the water bubbling by some unseen force, disturbing the clear water's surface. Set into rust-red stone, you couldn’t tell how deep the pools were, but you were eager to find out.

Stepping toward the edge of one of the larger pools, the rational part of your brain finally kicked in, and you took out your Geiger counter. You expected to hear the annoying ticking noise that accompanied said pools of water but were surprised when it remained silent.

After checking it a few more times to be sure, you sat back on your heels, debating. It was then you finally heard the footfalls of your companions, huffing in annoyance because you ran off on him. “The hell ya doin’?” He asked, wary of how close you sat next to the water.

“There’s no radiation!” You called back, glancing behind at him. “At least not enough to be a problem!”

The Ghoul crouched beside you, glancing from you to the pools of water. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Look!” You returned the counter to the water’s surface and received the same results.

He hummed curiously. “This must’ve formed after the bombs.”

“What is it?”

“They’re hot springs,” he responded like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Stick your hand in it.”

Cautiously, you let your fingers dip beneath the water's surface and were startled to find it quite warm. A small laugh left you as you pulled your fingers out, wiping your hands on your pants. “Are they safe?”

“Well, sayin’ as there isn’t any radiation, and no creature can live in waters like this, I’d say so.” He had just gotten the words out before you stood again, toeing off your ragged shoes and socks. “The hell you doin’?” He asked again, bewildered by your actions.

Your bag hit the rocks with a thud right next to your shoes. “I’m getting in,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “I’m filthy, sweaty, gross, and I desperately need a bath. You see any other options around?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Turn around if you don’t wanna see me get undressed.” Your gunbelt and armor were next to join the ground, close enough to the edge that you could grab it if you’d like.

“And if I wanna see?” he asked when your hands reached the hem of your shirt, still partially stained from the event the week before, a hastily sewed-on patch on the front.

You finally glanced down at him, and he watched you with rapt attention. “Well,” you laughed lightly, “then enjoy the show.” Your shirt was off in one movement, joining the pile on the ground. You didn’t bother to look at the new scar on your stomach, which had become significantly less painful over the past week.

You knew you were toying with something dangerous, a line the two of you had been dancing on over the past week. Things hadn’t gone beyond kissing and lingering touches, and you were ready for more. You wanted more, and if the way he seemed to restrain himself each time he kissed you, you knew he felt the same.

Your jeans were next, leaving you in only your undergarments. He was utterly transfixed, excitement visible on his face as you reached for the clasp of your bra. It had been weird; over the past week, you felt like he was becoming better at not hiding his expressions. Or you were getting better at reading him.

You playfully threw the garment at him when it slid off your shoulders, obstructing his view momentarily. During that, you let your underwear slide down your legs, and you kicked it off your ankles, letting it join the pile. For a moment, you let his eyes hungrily roam your body before submerging yourself beneath the water’s surface. It was just deep enough that you could stand, and your head and shoulders were free, letting you breathe freely.

The sound you made when the hot water met your skin was unintentionally filthy, a mix between a moan and a curse. “Fuck, that feels good,” you laughed airily. The water was nearly unbearably hot, but you quickly grew acclimated.

Leaning back, you let your head submerge beneath the water, wetting your hair. At this angle, you could see him still, stunned, and still crouched by the water. Grinning, you adjusted back upright before reaching him, resting your arms on the rock face, and you rested your chin on them, looking up at him. “Are you getting in as well?”

That question broke him out of the semi-trance he was in, and he shook his head, much to your displeasure. “Someone’s gotta keep watch,” he grumbled.

“You’re no fun.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded. “C’mon, just for a little bit.”

“Sweetheart, you and I both know that if I get in there, it won’t be for ‘a little bit’.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He shook his head again but removed his gloves, making your grin wider. Backing away from the edge, you watched his hat come off next, then his gunbelt and coat. When he reached the buttons of his shirt, he paused, glancing into your eager eyes. “Turn around,” he requested, and you responded with a confused glance. “Do ya want me in there or not?”

You were still confused, but not wanting to push his comfort, you complied, distracting yourself from the scenery around you. It was hard to hear over the rolling water, but you listened to the sound of clothing hitting the rocks, making your breath hitch in excitement. Anticipation made your skin crawl, although not unpleasantly, and you waited for the sound of water splashing as he joined you.

But after a moment passed and you were met with just the continued sound of bubbles, you shifted nervously yet didn’t dare look back. Time seemed to crawl on agonizingly slow, your breaths turning shallow. You nearly screamed when you felt an arm wrap around your midsection, still mindful of the injury, but relaxed almost immediately when the familiar timbre of his voice hit your ears. “Not even a peek, I’m impressed.”

“Is it truly that shocking that I can follow directions?” You scoffed, letting him ease you against his now bare chest. The contact was blissful, and you sighed out in content. “Can I turn around now?”

He made a noise of consideration before resting his head on your shoulder. When he spoke next, it was almost straight into your ear. “In a moment. Lemme hold ya for a bit longer.”

When he received no objections from you, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. His other arm joined with the other, keeping your body wrapped up in his arms. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but you managed to reach around to hold the back of his head gently. You could feel him smile lightly when your nails scratched lightly.

“So, how’d you figure it out?”

It took a few moments of wracking your brain until you finally realized what he was talking about. “We’re having this conversation now?”

“Don’t see any better time. Besides, ya can’t run away from the questions now.” It was true; over the past week, you’d found an excuse not to answer his questions, finding something else to do as an excuse. Now it looked like he had you right where he wanted.

Groaning, you hung your head, much to the amusement of him. “It was your voice, mainly,” you admitted. “When I first heard it, I thought I was just reaching. Then, it just clicked after watching the way you wield your gun, the way you carry yourself, everything. You even look a bit the same,” you chuckled.

“And you thought the best thing to do next was to fuckin’ tease me?”

“You have to admit, it was kinda funny.”

You felt his shoulders shake, a light chuckle leaving him. “I ain’t admitting to nothin’, sweetheart.”

“Are you still upset about it?”

“Not for the reason you’re thinkin’.”

That piqued your curiosity. “Oh?”

“I wished ya told me sooner because I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to do this.” His arms tightened the tiniest amount around you. “D’you know how hard it's been these past weeks, months, haivn’ to bite my tongue every time you make one those comments, those touches.”

“Months?”

“That’s how long it’s been since we met, right?”

Shocked laughter left you, and you tried to turn in his arms. You could only get halfway around before his grip stopped you, but you had turned enough so that you could look at him. You weren’t expecting him to look so confident about his response; the muscles of his brow raised like he was daring you to say something. “You’ve wanted me for-”

“Since the moment ya stumbled into me that night.”

“You tried to kill me.”

He shrugged. “Still knew that I wanted ya.”

“How… romantic,” you scoffed.

“And they say romance is dead.”

“You did promise to take me out to dinner.”

“Out of everythin’ from that conversation, that’s the fuckin’ thing you remember?” You felt his arm go lax for a second, but that was all you needed. Turning, you finally were facing him, your chest pressed into him, making him groan appreciatively. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace, and you felt his hands begin to trail up your back. One settled on your ribs, the other continued up to the base of your neck, brushing your hairline.

Any words you were about to say fell short when you felt him scratch lightly, a choked noise leaving you at the action, your body shivering. Your mind went blank, and he just chuckled knowingly. His fingers ran up even more, your body reacting similarly, and you both knew the conversation was over for now.

You gasped when you felt him grab a fist of your hair and pull back; it was not rough enough to be incredibly painful, but it still stung a bit. But it wasn’t like you could feel the pain anyway, your desire being far more powerful. He leaned down into your space, face hovering above yours as he tilted yours back. “What, cat got your tongue?” He teased you for your sudden silence, which was uncharacteristic.

“Fuck you,” you managed to whisper, making him laugh.

“We’ll get there, sweetheart.”

His lips were on yours before you could respond, your senses now overwhelmed with him. His other hand wasn’t shy, grabbing and kneading at every piece of skin it could find, making you groan against his mouth.

You laughed when you began to feel him back up to the edge of the pool, barely able to keep up with his eager movements. But you were confused when you felt his hands grip your waist and lift you so that you were now sitting on the rock edge. It was a warm day, but even the warm air wasn’t enough to stop you from shivering from the temperature difference. “I thought we were supposed to be getting clean,” you tried to protest.

It didn’t even cross your mind that your entire body was exposed to him now, and if you did remember, you doubted you’d even care. Not with how his eyes roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart so he could stand between them. He stood level with the base of your throat, wasting no time before he lavished it with kisses and bites.

“We can do it after,” he murmured against your skin. “I need to fuckin’ taste ya, Now.”

Involuntarily, your legs tightened around his body at his words, laughing lightly in shock. You don’t think you’d ever had a partner so eager to go down on you. “Cooper-”

“I fuckin’ love hearin’ you say my name. I bet ya sound even better screamin’ it.” His lips had moved down to your breasts, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.

You tried not to think too much about the implications of his words. And you tried even harder not to let your body react any further, not wanting to fan the flame of his ego anymore. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t enjoying his cockiness. “Is that a promise?” You echoed the question from the previous week.

You felt him smirk. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” A soft nip made you jump slightly, and he soothed over the hurt with his tongue. “Lie back, sweetheart.”

Excitement and arousal buzzed in your veins, and you required no further encouragement before you were resting back on your elbows, unable to feel the stone beneath you. He pulled away when you leaned back, something almost like pride in his eyes at how easily you complied.

He adjusted your legs so that they now rested on his shoulders, the heels of your feet resting on his back. It gave him perfect access to your center, and between your thighs, you saw how his eyes turned impossibly dark. They flicked to you one last time, looking for any hesitation, before leaning forward until you felt his breath caress the sensitive area.

But he didn’t make contact where you wanted. Instead, you felt his lips ghost the insides of your thighs, teasing you. Groaning, you tried to close the distance with a roll of your hips, but he shut that down quickly. His hands no longer held your thighs open. Instead, they were splayed across your hips, keeping you pinned down to the rocks as he continued his light touches.

You’d forgotten how strong he was, and you found yourself unable to move your hips any longer, rendered completely still by him. You didn’t have to see him to know he was loving tormenting you, inching closer and closer to where he knew you desperately wanted him. “I thought you said you needed to taste me,” you reminded him, and repeating his filthy words made you warm.

“I know what I said,” he breathed. “Consider this payback for the weeks of fuckin’ torture you’ve put me through.” A frustrated noise left you, and you tried to move away, but to no avail. Teeth dragged against your skin, up towards your center, halting right before reaching it. “You don’t get to run off on me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

“Cooper, please.”

“As amazin’ as you sound beggin’, you ain’t gettin’ what you want that easy.” One of the hands holding you down moved up, calloused fingers grasping at your breast, making you whine. If you thought that because he let up one of his hands, you’d be able to move your hips freely, you thought wrong. All you could do was lay there and comply, much to his evident enjoyment.

You’re not sure how long you sat there, time crawling on tortuously slow, as he continued to tease and rile you up. Occasionally, you felt his lips ghost over where you wanted him, and you’d think he was finally having mercy on you. But when he passed over, too light to provide any relief, you knew he was just working you up more. No matter how much you pleaded or begged, he didn’t relent, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

But he was only human, and he, too, had a limit to his patience. It broke when the hand groping your breasts snuck between your legs, fingers spreading you open. His breath hitched when he saw the evidence of your arousal. He sighed, an air of finality in the sound.

“Oh, fuck this,” you heard him growl before his mouth was finally on you. Startled but oh so relieved, a jumble of words left your mouth, a mix of his name and curses. His tongue swept through you desperately, face burrowed deep between your thighs, a groan tearing from his lips as he finally tasted you.

He was incessant, addicted now that he’d gotten a taste. Your thighs tightened around his head as he ate you out, but he didn’t seem to mind. It almost seemed to urge him on, knowing he was making you feel that good. He still had a hand holding you down, the one between your legs teasing at your entrance, making your eyes flutter close.

When his tongue began to focus on your clit, you could barely keep yourself propped up any longer, and your arms started to shake. Desperate for something to hold on to, you grasped at the hand on your waist. He adjusted so that his forearm now pinned you, leaving his hand free for you to grab, which you did eagerly. It would’ve been funny how the two actions juxtaposed each other if he wasn’t making you see stars.

His name was being said like a mantra, turning more and more breathy as pleasure began to build. It turned louder when you felt one of his fingers ease into you, and you could feel the various groves of his skin, all adding to the stimulation you felt. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, his mouth continuing to toy with your clit. Peeling your eyes open, you dared to glance down at him, gasping lightly when you found him looking at you.

He looked so eager, so hungry, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you slowly begin to fall apart. You were caught in a trance, unable to look away from him anymore. Not that you’d want to look away from such a glorious sight.

Keeping your gazes locked when you felt a second finger join became a challenge. The tension that he had so beautifully wound up inside you was on the verge of snapping, your breathing growing faster as you neared your release. You didn’t have to say anything to him; it seemed like he knew your body as well as you did. As he moved his fingers, you felt him crook his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, making you cry out.

Your thighs around his head begin to shake, your heels digging into his back almost painfully. You were so close, your grip turning vice-like on his hand. It was when you felt his lips latch onto your clit and suck when you finally fell apart. You had no idea how loudly you cried out his name, the sound of your ears ringing blocking out any other noise. White-hot pleasure washed over your body, your one arm finally going boneless beneath you, your back hitting the rock.

It took a few moments of deep breaths to get your heart under control, the ringing in your ears becoming background noise. You didn’t have the energy to prop yourself up yet, so you just strained your neck until you could look at him. He was still between your thighs, fingers having been withdrawn, but he continued to lap at your release. You could feel the smirk on his face when you made eye contact.

Overstimulation quickly made itself known, and with a groan, you finally sat yourself up. Easing your legs off of him, he still didn’t let up, and so with a half-hearted shove, you backed him up. He didn’t stay away long, helping your back towards the edge of the rock, lips once again making contact with your throat. His hands caressed your body, but he didn’t do more than touch, giving you a few more moments to recover. “Told ya I’d make you scream,” he muttered, making you scoff.

“I wasn’t that loud.” Was I?

“Scared off a few birds.” He laughed when you slapped his shoulder in mock offense, making him look up. “Ouch,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, shaky hands grabbing the sides of his face and bringing it close to yours. You snuck a quick kiss to his lips, but even though it was short, you could still taste yourself on it. It made your head spin, and you offered no objects as he tugged you into the water, the temperature shock making you gasp.

You’d barely gotten your footing before he was on you, all lips and teeth against your skin. Hands skated down your slides, beneath your thighs, tugging one of them up until it wrapped around his body. You gasped when you felt his hard length press against you, and you rocked your hips eagerly. It got the response you wanted, a groan of your name leaving his lips.

“C’mon, Cooper,” you gasped, hands grasping his shoulders, bracing yourself. “C’mon baby, let me feel you.”

An almost pained noise left his lips before he thrust into you, the mix of your arousal and the water around you allowing him to enter with ease. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, setting a brutal pace almost immediately, his hips snapping up into you. Your nails dug into his scarred skin, and once the initial shock wore off, moans tumbled from your lips.

Water splashed up because of the movement, hitting the rocks, but neither of you paid any mind. How could you, when he was fucking you like it was the only thing he could do, wanted to do? His hand remained on your thigh, helping keep your leg propped up. His other hand held the side of your face, your mouth hung open and panting, and he pulled you in for a messy kiss.

His tongue swept into your open mouth as if he owned it, a groan leaving you at the filthy act. There was so much happening, and like before, you could do nothing but just let it happen, reciprocating as best you could with soft noises and touches.

A particularly hard thrust left you gasping, breaking away from the kiss, choosing to just rest your head against his. Pleasure blossomed across your body, and you felt that familiar tension return. Sneaking a hand between your legs beneath the water, you began to rub at yourself, making you clench around him.

“Hands up,” you barely managed to hear him hiss through a groan. “Keep those hands on me, sweetheart.”

You complied, returning your touch to his shoulders, but your lost additional pleasure was only momentary. His hand replaced yours, nimble fingers working you as well as you could, maybe even better. His fingers moved in slow, hard circles, a complete contrast to the rapid movement of his hips. The two different sensations drove you wild, your breathing coming out as short, hot pants.

You could feel yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it. The movement of his hips had turned more desperate about thirty seconds ago, and you knew he was close as well. Running your hands up his neck, you pulled his face against yours when they reached his jaw, on the verge of bruising your lips with how aggressively you smashed them against his. “Cooper, I’m so close,” you whispered between kisses.

“Cum for me, sweetheart, fuckin’ fall apart.” You couldn’t tell if he was asking or pleading, but you would fulfill his request either way.

It took a few more presses of his fingers and snaps of his hips until you came, shouting his name like you’d done before. You could barely see through the haze the satisfactory smirk on his lips, pleasure once again washing over your body. Every muscle in your body tensed, and that smirk immediately fell from his lips, turning into an almost scowl as he staved off his own release. “Where-”

“Inside.” You didn’t have to hear the whole question to know what he was asking.

For the first time, he moaned, too caught up in his own pleasure to care. “Fuck, you gonna let me fill ya?” A small laugh of disbelief left him when you nodded. “Goddamn…” His words trailed off as he chased his release, the continued thrusts of his hips bordering on overstimulation. But you didn’t have to wait long, because with a much quieter groan of your name, his hips stilled, and you felt his release seep into you.

For a moment, the two of you just held each other, catching your breaths. Your body felt like it was on fire, a mix of pleasure and the hot water around you, yet you made no move to leave, not wanting this moment to be over yet.

Slowly, his hand let go of your leg, and even though the water helped ease the irritated muscle, you still let out a noise of discomfort. He eased out of you then as well, leaving you feeling empty. Some part of you feared that he would push you away next, but a relieved smile appeared on your face when he tugged you into his arms, a surprisingly gentle kiss placed on top of your damp head.

“You alright?” You don’t think you’d ever heard him so soft, so genuine, and knowing it was aimed at you nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Too many emotions swirled in your chest, and instead of facing them and the discomfort they could bring, you resorted to humor. “I’m surprised you lasted that long, Cooper Howard. You being an old man, after all.”

“Oh, I’ll fuckin’ show ya old, sweetheart.”

#cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #fallout tv series #fallout prime #fallout show

910 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 9 months

Text

No Judgement- Simon "Ghost" Riley

---- F!Reader, fluff, dad!Ghost, husband!Ghost, mentions of dad-bod!Ghost ----

A/N: I've been having baby fever for about a week now and recently saw a tiktok and…it made me emotional for some reason so…here's this piece I wrote

Simon was the man who saw himself living in war and dying in it and then you came into his life. For some reason only he knows, he found himself being more careful during missions. Before you, he would rush into a room without care and now, he is more cautious. All because he wants to make it home, to a warm and cosy house. To your arms and loving kisses and to those three kids he swears he'll forever love.

You dated him for 2 years before he knew that you were it for him. Two years and five months, that is what took him to get on his knee and ask you to marry him. Oh if only Tommy was here to see this, that laugh he would have. Before you, Simon didn't show much emotions, besides anger or that cold and rude one he presented himself with. Now, all he can do is talk and talk about all he feels and most of the time, he shows that love and raw emotion through actions.

He didn't cry before you either, except for when his family died but when he saw you walk down the aisle, he couldn't contain the tears. Soap patted his back without judgement for he knew the girl walking to the groom was the one who made the crying groom's heart beat once again. Three years into the marriage, you become pregnant with your first child, a son and oh was Simon delighted.

He was prepared for it all, took courses, read books and made sure the home was baby proof of course, you took the role of being the princess, not a finger lift from you or he would pretend to get upset at it. He needed to protect you, even from the corners of the table, which he of course made sure were ready in case you or the kid would bump into them.

One baby and a puppy later, Simon Riley was a father and for the first two years, he took leave from the military and focused on you and the baby. His eyes are like his father and his energy is just like his. There were days when Simon cried, from sadness and happiness. For one, he was sad his mother didn't get to meet his son and he was happy that for the first time in so long, he knew what a family was like. Lazy Saturdays and Sundays, laying under a tree in the back yard, the grass all nice and soft so the baby would learn to crawl and eventually walk. The puppy watching with the guard, just in case the baby fell.

Simon was always there, for motivation, protection and love. He wanted to ensure that he wouldn't fuck up with this life of his. Soon enough though, he went back to work but he made sure to always have his family in mind. The giggles, the lullabies, smiles and that sweet emotion he had when he watched you and his son. It was bittersweet but so beautiful.

The birth of your second son came as no surprise when Simon once walked to you, shirtless and holding his son with one arm. For some reason that sight alone provoked you to want a second child, which as the loving husband Simon is, he obliged. Nearly ten months and he was by your side, holding your hand, letting you grip it and cry as your second little one came into the world. That cute nose and that smile, what a delight to be a mother to a whole new little light of life.

The holidays became more chaotic as the two boys grew up. Simon slowly left the military, doing fewer missions and being home more often. He began to grow a soft tummy and muscles, something he grew to be insecure about but with plenty of hours of cuddling one night and many kisses that included sweet nothings to his ear, he loved this new him. He wasn't his father but rather the best dad those two little monsters could ever ask for. His beard grew a little and you began to love this sight of him, it was beautiful really. So much so, that one day, as he was doing push-ups with his sons on his back and how they giggled, you teared up.

Making a home was easy but making a happy family was hard and rewarding. Before you knew it, Simon was carrying the kids around the living room, letting them beat him in a playful game of fighting and tag. The giggles around the house, the way Simon smiled like he had entered heaven, that is what made you tear up the most. This is home.

During the holidays, Simon gets so excited that he overdoes it all. He dresses like Santa Claus, eats the biscuits, drinks milk and even gets a treat from the woman of the house. A sneaky little kiss before Santa has to leave for other homes. "I've heard the woman who lives here is the most beautiful, maybe she'll kiss me as a little treat?" He smiles, pleading with those eyes of his. And who could you be to deny him of a sweet kiss?

For the first 5 years of being a proud dad to his two sons, Simon would wear matching outfits with them. It was sweet, watching him get excited like a child, trying to dress his sons up and take them for a walk.

There is one thing he was always making sure would be a rule at home and that is how they treated you. No son of his would be discarding a woman, no son of his would be disrespectful and no son of his would not see how much it takes being a mum and one who works and keeps a home clean and steady. And you bet he taught his sons how to clean and cook later in life.

One warm Spring day came in when you told him the news. Baby number three would be on her merry way. Just like before but with some slight changes, he spoke to your belly. He kissed it, read to it and told his jokes to it. His warm hands are placed on your soft belly when he looks up at you, "Thank you," his eyes are watery and you tilt your head just a bit. "For what?" you ask.

"For giving me a family, for making a home with me. Lovie, before you, I was truly nothing, just a man in a borrowed body and now, I have reason to own this old body of mine. I'm a husband and a dad, I love you," he kisses you and then your belly.

After the birth of your daughter, he like your two sons carried her in a camouflage carrier. A pink bow is one of the little patches. 'Baby girl Riley' is one of those patches as well.

As time went on, he transformed into a retired military officer. Now, he is a full-time dad. Night shifts and diaper changes were his duty as well as your comfort. With more time, he had a softer tummy, his dad bod making him insecure some days but as always, you were there to reassure him it was normal and it was beautiful.

There have been moments when you catch yourself being mesmerised by him.

For instance, when he plays dolls with your daughter or he gets into his role of the cashier when playing grocery. His sass when your daughter doesn't hurry up paying with her card or cash and how he calls her sweetheart any time she pays. There was one time when you saw him sat down on the sofa, watching telly all as your daughter did his makeup, hair and how she gossips with him and he gossips back. By the end of the day, he asks you to undo the tiny rubber bands from his hair.

Before he retired, you found him sitting by his desk, toys all over it as he wrote a report, played and gave his attention to his sons and this was because you were tired and he wanted to give you extra hours of sleep.

He became a football coach for your son's team, every Saturday he was on that field, whistling and shouting for when they make a goal. Of course, you and your daughter sat on the bleachers, eating snacks and cheering for the young footballer of your son. Simon of course would have dark cargo jeans and in most pockets, he had snacks for all his kids. "Daddy, mummy says you have my gummies," his youngest son would softly say and Simon would just pat his bottom pocket and his son would soon take out his gummies.

As his daughter grows old, it's his dad duty to not allow his daughter to date some idiot so, he makes sure to take her on dates, bring her flowers and make her understand how a man should treat her. When he and his two sons go to a different city for some sporting event, he comes back with two bouquets, one for you and one for his princess.

Since he didn't have a stable childhood, Simon, during winter buys everyone matching pyjamas. It just makes things 110% better in his opinion and who can deny a man with easy needs such a cute need? Never you, certainly.

By the time he reaches forty-three, Simon has his entire camera roll filled with pictures of his beautiful family and the occasional picture of a bird he thinks the kids would like to see.

Now, as you lay in bed with him, he turns to you, "I think I have lived this life to its fullest, lovie," he smiles and caresses your face. "Hm, yeah?" you lean into his touch and he nods like a little kid. "I mean, I have three amazing monsters, I am getting to see past thirty and I have always wanted a hot and funny wife, so I know for a fact that I have lived the best of it," he kisses your hand and holds it as he falls asleep.

A/N: Sometimes, I want a husband, a picket fence and lazy weekends with our kids bursting through the door in the morning and feeling like I made it in life…anyway…bye!

Tags:

@somehopeatlast @liyanahelena @archangel1206 @sagebarness @notyourlittlesunshine @stay-08 @subhara @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @@talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife

Join my TagList

2K notes · View notes

indulgentdaydream · 4 months

Text

Comparisons Pt.2

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,730

Part 1

Warnings: insecurities (reader). Bad self esteem (reader). Criticizing oneself in the mirror (reader). Black eye (jason)

Have at ‘er guys.

The first thing you did once you got back into your apartment was throw your bag on the floor. The next thing you did was slump back against the door and slowly slid your way down until you were sitting on the ground, knees to your chest, head tucked into your folded arms.

Your eyes had been burning the entire walk back. Your throat was tight and especially your lungs from how fast you had power-walked.

Now that you were out of the public eye, you let the tears finally fall after trying so hard to hold them back.

Thank the crime for Gotham’s low rent. You didn’t think you’d be able to make it to your bedroom to hide your oncoming sobs if you had been living with roommates.

You were exhausted. You felt entirely stupid, too. As if you weren’t enough for Jason. Artemis had everything. Everything you didn’t and more.

You were beginning to think he had settled for you.

You knew he could pull attractive women. Could pull damn gorgeous women. He was entirely handsome himself, even though he never saw it.

Nearly every time you two were out he would have people coming up to him. Flirting with him. Asking for his number. Even when you were right there, his arm around your shoulders or your waist. Or if he was alone because you had gone to the bathroom. That was when they came out of the woodworks the most. It’s like even they could tell you were subpar for him.

The thing is: Jason would never even look at them. No matter how long they stood there. Usually, when he had ignored them for long enough and was getting annoyed, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure they had left.

You couldn’t even explain why you felt like this. Jason had done nothing to prove that he didn’t love you.

But if Artemis, someone Jason had very possibly loved before you, was still in his life… what chance did you have at being allowed to stay?

Another sob left your throat. You were never in Jason’s league. Why ever pretend? Especially for this long?

You had overstayed your welcome.

Your phone buzzed in your bag. A call coming through. You sniffled, as you pulled it out of your tote.

Jason’s profile was displayed across the screen. A picture you had taken of him when you had dragged him out to the park a few months ago. You were both smiling at the camera as you took a picture. You had thought he looked so handsome in it. A soft smile, kind eyes looking a little off from the camera, the sun basking him in a sweet early spring glow. You had never liked the way you looked in that photo. When you made it his contact, you had cropped yourself out.

You frowned as your phone kept ringing. You didn’t want to deal with him right now. You set the phone on the ground in front of you, face up, letting it go to voicemail.

Your phone went black again. You started feeling a little guilty. Then, seconds later, it rang again.

You didn’t pick up. Even despite the guilt that began to chew at your stomach lining.

That call only rang four times before ending again.

A minute. Then a text message.

Jason: Just tell me whether or not you made it home, baby. Please?

You stared at it for a moment.

Another text.

Jason: I’m coming by soon either way. We’re talking about this.

You frown. He sounded mad.

Your head pounded lightly. A headache from how hard you’d been crying.

Maybe he was coming here to break up with you.

You’d obviously been delusional the past few weeks. Jason was using a case as an excuse to distant himself from you. To get familiar with Artemis again.

That had to be it.

Another text.

Jason: I know you’re seeing these, love.

Screw him. Screw him and his perfect grammar. And his stupid pet names.

You picked up your phone, opening the messages. You send back a simple “Home.” Before closing your phone again, placing it on the ground.

Jason: Thank you. See you soon.

Tears burned at your eyes again, but you swallowed them back.

You pushed yourself off the floor. No point in letting him see you, huddled in a heap of despair, still in your food splattered work clothes. Making your way to your bedroom, you began to change out of your work clothes. You automatically reached for the grey t shirt hanging off the post at the end of the bed, but hesitated. You stared at it. The far too big for you, men’s t shirt that was worn around the collar and smelled so much like Jason.

Your hand hovered over it before you stepped away.

He’d probably be wanting it back after this.

You stepped towards your dresser, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You hate it.

You can’t even see yourself as yourself anymore.

You stand there, picking yourself apart bit by bit. Rifling. Dissecting. Looking to find something good, something likeable, until you’ve tossed every part into the “discard” bin of your mind.

You can’t even do anything about it. All your tears are gone. You simply hang your head as you step into your sweatpants and slip on your t shirt.

You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to climb under the covers. Not bothering to shower.

The sun was still shining in, reminding you of how you were wasting such a beautiful day.

Your mind was working against you. Coming up with reasons for why Jason would be with you. Why he would have done everything that he had ever done with you if he didn’t love you.

The most prominent reason was that he was just taking pity on you. He had the time on his hands to do a favour for the lonely, ugly girl because he had broken up with his gorgeous amazonian warrior girlfriend. He couldn’t be giving out favours anymore now that he had her back.

You laid there on your side, arms hugging yourself. You realized you weren’t out of tears. They continued slip out of your eyes and pool to the pillow below you. The occasional sob leaving you when your mind concocted something else outrageous.

You don’t know how long you laid there for.

In the silence of your apartment, you could hear the lock of your front door click before the door swung open.

You tensed, arms hugging yourself as you laid on your side, back to the door.

You heard Jason slip off his boots, the steel toes he always wore clattering against the floor, signalling his arrival.

Padded footsteps followed, moving down the short hallway. Then the creak of your bedroom door behind you that had already been ajar.

Jason’s voice was soft as he called your name, “You’re not asleep, are ya?”

You simply glanced back at him over your shoulder, twisting. He took up the whole frame. He was dressed the same as earlier. Dark blue jeans, dark grey shirt with a faded brewery logo on it, and his leather jacket that he hadn’t bothered to take off at the door. His sunglasses were gone, showing off the fresh black eye that you hadn’t seen. He held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

Who brings flowers to someone when they’re about to leave them?

You laid your head back down without another word.

More footsteps. The bed dipped behind you, Jason’s weight settling on the mattress, sitting in the crook where your knees bent.

A beat passed before he sighed, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, doll?”

His hand reaches down to brush away the hair that was covering your face. The second his fingers brush over your cheek, you flinched back.

Jason draws his hand back, “Talk to me. I know how your mind gets, baby. What happened today?”

You stared straight ahead of you, towards the window Jason would often use to enter your apartment in the middle of night, the sunlight shining through. “Are you going to break up with me?”

Jason’s answer was quick. Honest. “No. Never.”

You should’ve felt more relaxed, but you didn’t. You just felt more stupid, “Did you love her?”

Jason paused, “Artemis?”

You nod.

Jason shifted on the bed, bringing more of his weight onto it before answering, “I thought I did. When I was with her. But… no.” Another pause. “You taught me what love was.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew Jason loved you.

You felt horrible. began to cry again, your voice cracking.

You just… you just needed to make sure, “Are you only with me because— because you pity me?”

“What?” Jason’s hands were suddenly on your shoulders, turning you onto your back. His fingers brushed your hair back and cupped your face. “Of course not!” You met his gaze for a moment through a haze of unshed tears. You’d never seen him more worried. More concerned. More… heartbroken at your words.

His eyes drift to the wet patches on your pillow, then back to your face. He takes in your red eyes and red nose. “Baby… have you been crying over this? Thinking I was going to leave you?”

You look away from him without answering. A silent “yes”.

Jason sighs lightly, “Because of Artemis?” His thumbs begin to stroke your cheeks, “She was just giving me some papers for a shipment. She owed me a favour from a long time ago.”

“How long were you with her?”

“Eight months,” he said, though there was a flit of a questioning tone at the end of it. He corrected himself, “Nine.”

“Why have you never talked about her?” You see him frown, his eyes shutting for a moment. You feel your face burn from embarrassment at all your questions.

Jason takes a breath, “That relationship… wasn’t a good one. It was my second real one, ever.” He shrugs, “It was built off of shared trauma, I guess. Once the Outlaws disbanded we didn’t really have much of a reason to stick around one another.” He pauses. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d even consider it a real relationship. More of a fling.”

There’s a beat. You still don’t look at him.

“You know I love you,” he says. You bite deep into the inside of your cheek. “You know I love you… right?” His words sound so distraught at the idea of him making you feel unloved.

A small breath left your lungs. “I know.” Tears spill over as you talk, your arms still wrapped around yourself, hands squeezing the flesh of your biceps, “But that could’ve been an easy hand over. Five minutes.” You tried taking a deep breath, “Why… why make time to go and have coffee with your ex when you can’t even make time for me?”

Jason cursed quietly under his breath. Your face crumpled, but you tried for keep it together. “She wanted to.” Jason said. “Trust me. I didn’t. But I need that information.” He shuffled more onto the bed, hovering over you. “You have no idea how happy I was when I saw you walking past. You were like some angel coming from heaven. I’m serious.”

The moment replayed in your mind. Your bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably as you remembered his consistent frown every time he had looked at you.

“Then why—“ your voice hitched with a small sob. “You only smiled at her. You just started nitpicking me the second she left. Started when— when she was still there.”

Jason sighed again, his eyes shutting, “I know. I was acting like an asshole. I know. I’m sorry.” He leaned his face closer to yours, thumbs swipes away your tears. “I just get so worried about you sometimes.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

You sniffle again, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jason mumbled against your forehead before leaning back. “I’m sorry, baby. I was already ticked off that I was wasting time with her.”

You squirmed lightly, still hugging yourself, “I’m still sorry. I know you love me. I do trust you. I just—“

Jason shook his head, “No. Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have had coffee with her. I should’ve been picking you up from work.” He moved his hands to gentle grasp onto your hands, “Come on. Sit up for me, yeah?”

You followed his instructions, sitting up, crossing your legs in front of you. Jason grabbed a tissue from your bedside table, handing it to you to blow your nose. You felt like asking whether the case he was working was real or not. You decided against it, realizing his black eye should be proof enough.

Jason brushed your hair back as you blew your nose, clearing your face. “Why did you think I’m with you because I pity you, love?”

You look away, shameful, “Because… because you’re the first guy to ever ask me out.” You shrug lightly, “And… and no one else was wanting to. And I just…” You sniffle again. Jason takes your old tissue and hands you a new one, his other hand on your knee, his thumb stroking the side of it gently. “I saw how pretty she is and—”

“Not as pretty as you,” he gave you a soft smile, lifting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

You gave no reaction.

Jason paused, “…do you not think you’re pretty?”

You try and turn your face away again, shrugging, “I’m just so far out of your league. She’s not.”

“Damn right you’re out of my league,” Jason laughed softly, grasping onto your shoulders as they fell in defeat.

Finally. You thought. He realizes. This is it. This is—

He took one hand and tilted your chin until you were looking at him again. “Love, you’re leagues above me. You hear me? I’m serious. I’m so lucky to have someone as sweet and caring as you.”

You begin to shake your head. Jason firmly yet painlessly pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, stopping you. He begins to nod your head. Up and down. Forcing you to agree with him.

He presses his thumb into your bottom lip. He pulls it down and back up over and over again, mimicking speech as if you were some puppet. He pitched up his voice and octave, “Yes, Jason! I’m the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen!”

You can’t help it. A smile tugs at your lips. You pull his hand away and hold it with both of your own as you place a kiss to it.

Jason grins, tilting his face down to yours, “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You shake your head at him, “I’m sorry for thinking you were going to leave me for her…”

Jason smiles softly, “No more apologies. I know how your mind is.” He tilts his chin up and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Evil mind.” He mutters against it, making you giggle.

You hum lightly, leaning into his touch. “What happened to your eye?”

Jason scoffed lightly, “Some thug last night. My helmet was already broken. He got a good right hook in.”

You smile up at him. You sit up straighter, pressing a feather light kiss to the edge of the bruising.

Jason hums in satisfaction, “Thank you, baby.” He smiles again, looking back at you. “What do you want to do now? You’ve got me until nine.”

You perks up, “Nine? But it's already four! Don't you have to read those papers? Don’t you have to—“

Jason smiled and shook his head, cutting you off, "Already did. I just have to intercept that shipment tonight and then you'll have me all day tomorrow, too. I’ve got nothing else but time to spend with my girl.”

Your smile grows a little wider, "Really?"

Jason nods, "I promise."

You play with his fingers as you think it over. Rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, picking up each digit and curling them and straightening them again, "Can we go for a ride?"

Jason grins, "Course, love. Where's your helmet?"

AHHH!! Hope you guys enjoyed!!!!

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x civillian!reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fic #dc x y/n #dc x fem!reader #dc x you #dc x reader #dc fic

875 notes · View notes

fangisms · 1 year

Text

spring breaks loose

A/N: idk what it is but every evermore song makes me want to write ab this lifeless-eye, sexy-ass, grumpy fool. so first up is ivy! gif creds: @audrey-inspo

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader (implied Slytherin, but it doesn't matter)

Summary: Spring breaks loose, the time is near // What would they do if they found us out? 1.0k words

Warnings: fluff, secret... relationship?, major pining, kissing, lowk toxic friends (lovingly), friends to lovers

Everyone wants to know about your secret fling. But it's not a fling, they just wouldn't get it. It's not some silly affair; you're not even sure there's a word for it under the umbrella term of relationships. What you are sure of is that there is something tying you to Theo that you've never felt with anyone else.

And he feels it, too. It's one of the few things he lets himself feel. How could he resist it? You.

So you meet up some midnights, awkwardly brush knuckles in the courtyard, let yourselves speak candidly with each other while dodging watchful eyes. For a while, it's easy like coloring in the empty spaces between clear cut lines. As long as you've got a steady hand, it should be simple. Even fun. Until you have to start sharing crayons with your nosy group of friends.

"Anyone else want to know what's going on between those two?" Draco says. He nods to Theo's fingertips tracing your kneecap where it's bent over his thighs. And where your wrist hangs from his shoulder as his head rests back against the couch, nearly dozing off.

"Yeah, me!" Pansy chirps.

Mattheo scoffs, pointing at Theo, "look, he's smiling, the wanker!"

He lifts his head, bearing his knowing smirk with pride. He spares a glance at you, then. And you press your palm to your mouth to choke down a laugh.

"Come on," P whines, "tell us!"

"Yeah, if you can kiss in private, you can kiss in front of us, too."

You whip your head round, aghast at Mattheo's request: "We do not kiss in private. We don't kiss anywhere!"

Theo lifts your legs from his lap, "Seems like a good time to turn in—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Draco urges, "Not so fast"—Surprisingly, Theo settles back down in his seat—"If there's nothing going on, then prove it. Kiss."

Theo looks over at you, defeated. You both know they'll never give this up, it'll be months and months of teasing either way. At least this way will shut them up for a few hours. You shrug, and he rolls his eyes when your friends cheer and whoop.

"You lot are perverted," he sighs, smiling at you, "we need better friends."

You lean in and whisper, "Let's get this over with so we can find new ones."

Theo cocks a brow, leaning in, meeting you nearly halfway when he brings his cold hand to your cheek, thumbing over the warm skin. He's going easy on you, letting you take the lead. You press your mouth to his, clumsy but careful when he shifts closer. He recoils when you put your hand on his chest and slide your tongue against his lips. He'd call himself shy, but you know that look of embarrassment when he pulls away. It makes you smile.

Your idiots clap and form a chorus of 'aw's. Mattheo whistles, breaking Theo away from your piercing eye contact so he can quietly threaten him.

"You didn't have to use tongue!" Pansy shrieks. You scoff and stare at her, counting down from three on your fingers. She bursts out into laughter when you lunge after her on one, tearing off towards the girls dorms in a fit of giggles.

Theo watches you turn back for just a second to wave him goodnight. He holds up his hand, and you twirl around and head for the top of the stairs. Once you're out of sight, he lands a kick to Mattheo's side.

"You complete idiot," he grumbles.

...

You'd been staring at the dark ceiling, listening to girls filter in through the doorway until no one was left downstairs. You couldn't find tranquility enough to sleep or even shut your eyes for a while and pretend.

As the clock chimes once through the window, you shiver and creep toward the crackling fire.

His footsteps are rapid on their way down the stairs. You whip around just as he lands at the bottom of the steps, letting out a breath as he smiles at you. Both shuffling towards each other, he tries not to move too quickly in his subtle desperation.

Still, you nearly crash into each other.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hello.”

“I was just look—”

“Looking for you. Me too,” Theo huffs.

A few seconds linger between your slowly rising chests, your fingers ticking at your sweater’s sleeves, and his pushing through his hair. You open your mouth to speak just as he begins as well, and you both snap your mouths shut.

“No! You were first,” you say.

“Ladies first,” he shakes his head, “please.”

“Alright.” Something in you seizes and what seemed so easier to admit a moment ago has now been snatched from your chest, shriveled into oblivion. “I… really liked kissing you.”

His eyes light up. “Me too.”

You grin and shift a little, surprised at how bright his eyes seem even in the darkness. How his hair still coils sweetly down from his hairline in the middle of the night. And how he can still see right through you when it’s almost pitch black. Save for the dim firelight.

“And also,” he says, “I’d like to kiss you more. For longer. If that’s… if that works for you.”

“Yes! Yes, it does. I do. I do, too.” You’re out of breath at the admission, and he nods, seemingly relieved by your dulcet enthusiasm for him and all he does.

So he kisses you, dipping close and stealing from you what he has always wanted. Just a peck, or maybe it escapes him a little and he leans into it. But he pulls back to find you’re practically attached to him and neither of you want it to end.

“So… I guess this changes everything?” Theo whispers, cupping your elbow when you reach for his shoulder.

You shake your head, “it doesn’t have to.”

“I want it to.”

masterlist

3K notes · View notes

anadiasmount · 3 months

Text

known strangers - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: when a stranger from the past is now your future, how are things going to work when the only thing in mind you have is that weekend and him. your boss.

wc: 4k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: HIIIIII!!! ceo!jude ?? yess plsss!! inspired by a clip back when he did cibieles, and a few requests i mixed and played around with 🤭🤭 like always hope you enjoy!! and i am sooo sorry for delaying this!! yet i do feel i'm getting back on track 🤞🏻

“it should not be this fucking hot… why is it so hot?” you blabber to yourself, the wind blowing pieces of your hair around all over the place, making them stick to your lipgloss. you gently removed them from your lips, but they frustrated you more as they returned. your heels clicked against the floor, tugging your purse tighter once you arrived at the huge, tall building downtown.

you were directed right away by the receptionist, her simple instructions to take the elevator to the last floor and then turn left. you felt frozen upon seeing the metal doors, a bubble of anxiety rising through your throat as you began to take it all in. the huge building, the fancy decor, the employees. you felt more than fortunate to land a job a couple of months after you graduated.

most of your friends and people you attended uni with either landed jobs before graduation or were still looking for those opportunities. your line of work came in handy, and you were very pleased at how much you had achieved at your age. you could travel, work, spoil yourself, and make a title for yourself. this was the first chance for you to start your career independently and you took that very seriously.

you scrolled aimlessly on your phone while waiting for the elevator doors to close, checking the latest emails and texts from your friends, holding your purse tight, and fixing your hair back to how it should've been before the wind ruined it. “advice them to assure they're all prepared, the last time they couldn't even utter a word and take responsibility for what they did…” you looked up, standing straighter as you heard a deep voice.

the word scared couldn't even define how you felt at that moment, the blood rushing down your face and stomach-turning upon seeing a similar figure. the same person you spent a night with a summer ago. you recognized him from a mile away as he moved in slow motion, or was it just in your head? it couldn’t possibly be him? or could it?

you looked away almost immediately when you locked eyes for a few seconds, clearing your throat and pretending not to be bothered, but truly you were dying inside just a little. not a little, a lot, you felt like throwing up. maybe you were being dramatic, but a worse fear of yours was seeing somebody you recognize or know in public.

oh how much you wanted to be over, yet it didn't end. the elevator ride was endless, the four walls feeling like they were closing you in, filled with heated tension, and awkwardness. All you could do was breathe quietly, look up to be faced with his firm and structured back under his suit, or be on your phone. you let out a sigh of relief once you walked out, legs wobbly, and your stomach back in place, thankful you didn't throw up from nerves.

you quickly forgot about it, knowing he didn't remember you or acknowledged it. you attended the first meeting of the day, getting to meet a couple of new coworkers who would be participating in the same campaign as you. you all settled to get drinks and lunch together later on after finishing a hypothetical proposal and outline.

a bead of happiness burst in your chest. you could get used to this, it wasn't as bad as it seemed and you fitted in with the rest of them there.

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷 —---------------

“this weather is so bipolar i don't think my hair will handle it,” said lilly frustrated, shaking her umbrella and putting it away. “as an american this is completely different than where i live, i’d be dying from the heat right now,” she jokes earning a laugh from everyone. “i promise it’s not that bad,” chris sarcastically says shrugging off his coat.

“that bad? it rained all week!”

you were allowed an hour break for lunch, so you all settled for a nice coffee shop across the street since the weather didn’t look promising. after debating and getting conceived by lilly, you ordered an iced coffee and chocolate croissant, content and ready to eat something. the whole group sat by the windows, getting distracted by the rainfall before julian spoke up.

“have you guys met the ceo?” you shake your head no, having no idea what they were or who exactly they were referring to. “no, let’s not even call in that negative energy… the receptionists in the front were gossiping how he had super high expectations for us after last years team was a disaster,” julian stressed, shaking horrified, almost as he had been part of it.

“who exactly is the ceo?” you asked with an unsure smile, earning looks and daggers. “what? what do you mean you don’t know who he is? he basically runs this entire city!” julian was first to speak making you laugh, “you’re joking right?” you deadpan earning a shake from julian. “no… you do realize we have a meeting later with him… right?”

“i barely fully moved in two days ago and haven’t had time to do any research,” you explain taking a sip of your drink. “okay why did i also not know this?” chris exclaimed taking his phone out immediately to check his email.

“guys we can’t forget stuff like this especially when he has strictly scheduled meetings with us! i’m not lying when i say this man will fire us on the spot,” stressed julian making you and lilly snicker a laugh but totally agreeing with him. you couldn’t lose this job just because of minor details like this. you needed to be prepared and organized.

“what else do you know about this ceo?” lilly teased him, laughing when he squinted his eyes towards her.

“well for starters this man is strict and loves his work done in a well manner. if he believes you won't succeed with him, he won't even bother to call you into his office. he was born and raised in england his whole life, he's considered like royalty now with the status he has. you can probably piece he’s the most young eligible bachelor if women are luck to cross his path.”

“he started his company at a young age, no one knows by what or what inspired him, but it's rumored by a small incident when he was young. he's rated most arogant, executive, successful, directorial ceo in all of europe. If that doesn’t scare you than i don’t know what does…” he finished saying.

“well then… no pressure guys,” you joked

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷 —---------------

“my hand hurts i can’t write anymore,” you sigh removing your glasses and gently closing your eyes feeling how dry and irritated they were, from switching to your ipad and writing notes in your notebook. “that double espresso shot hasn’t kicked in yet,” yawned chris, standing up and stretched.

“for our first day we haven’t done so bad-”

a knock on the glass doors made everyone turn their head, a woman in her late 50s came in, “your scheduled meeting with the ceo is in five.” a sudden mood shift was practically immediate, everyone glancing at each other before prancing around to gather their items. julian even taking a breather before being the first to walk out.

your steps stopped, lilly almost crashing into you as you stared ahead to the one person you didn’t think of ever seeing again. jude. there was no describing how you felt, you couldn’t hear anything around you, just focused on him. How he spoke and had this angry daze on him. julian wasn't lying when he said everyone feared him, you just prayed he didn’t call or recognize you.

“you good?”

“y-yeah-h i’m fine! It just hit me out of nowhere you,” you quickly lied, offering a small smile before hiding behind everyone.

jude looked up dismissing what seemed like his assistant before stepping over to where you all stood. luck didn’t seem to be on your side, since everyone got into a line and put on their most professional smile. jude shook everyone's hand, greeting them and welcoming them to his company. your chest moved up and down as he approached you, biting the inside of your lip anxiously.

“hello, welcome. i’m jude bellingham, it's a delight… to have you here,” jude stammered, his hand shaking yours slower almost as if he wanted to take a better look. you barely looked up just focused on shaking his hand and for him to continue down to the last person. “thank you for having us here,” you spoke softly, removing your hand gently so he could continue on.

jude’s stare lingered on you earning a small shove from lilly who asked with her eyes, “does he know you? do you know him?” you ignored, rather focusing now on your shoes which you had not noticed had mud on them, a headache wanting to appear just by the couple last minutes.

how was it possible? how was it possible for the two of you to be here? in the same room? he was now your boss, and you were his employee. you were to follow his rules, while he just observed and made them. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. you envisioned a dream different than this. you were convinced it was someone else but not him?

you avoided him at all costs, not wanting to make it weird for him or yourself, but rather save the embarrassment and fear you felt for some other time. if you felt he got nearer you walked away somewhere else, you looked up when it felt like he was the only one staring at you while he spoke. the only constant thought in your head was to act like the professional y/n everyone knew. the one who held her head up high, and got her way no matter what.

------- ୨୧ -------

“why is it you’re doing this?” you asked cheerfully, slipping into jude’s hold as he fixed his sunglasses and laid back on the pool chair. “i don’t understand what you mean?” he shrug, his hand racing from your spine down to your bum, where he rubbed it softly over the bikini material. “explain to me darling.”

“we just met jude… it feels like we’ve known each other longer… surely it feels like something else…”

jude chuckled. “i’ll keep it simple. i happened to be on a business trip and i stumbled across you. you’ve recently graduated, and traveled here to celebrate. though now you're here with me… in this lounge chair, in my bed, in my arms, because that how attached we’ve gotten? tell me i’m wrong?” he challenged, as he leaned up and slid you onto his lap.

“you’re wrong,” you dared with a huge smile on your face sliding your hands onto his shoulders feeling his lips pepper kisses onto your jaw.

“then i’m not doing my job correctly.”

------- ୨୧ -------

“i wanna know more about you, tell me,” you leaned over slightly grabbing his hand and brushed your thumb softly over his knuckles. jude’s eyes followed your movements feeling hesitant since he never did this. his job didn’t allow him to have enough personal time to be himself. but with you, he’d kill to spend every moment together.

so he found himself losing himself in your eyes and allowing himself to reply to any question, doubt, feeling you had. “i promise i’m not that interesting as you think…”

“surely that can’t be true? there's always something more hidden, a locked mystery in a person who doesn't fully show themselves to the world…” you reply taking a sip of your wine staring into his intense eyes, not knowing that behind them jude was already obsessing and going crazy about the idea of you. you allowed yourself to be you and vulnerable, why couldnt he?

“ask me anything.”

------- ୨୧ -------

“what's the biggest aspiration you had as a kid?” jude randomly asked, tucking his head closer into your neck. “the word aspiration would be impossible for five year old me to know. the dream she had was to explore the ocean as a mermaid, then grow up to be teacher,” you rambled.

“would she be proud of the person you are now?”

“she would be mad because of stubborn she was but yes, more than proud…”

------- ୨୧ -------

Jude’s chest burned with anger, grabbing the nearest item before throwing hearing it break into tiny pieces. He took a seat by the balcony looking over to the small

‘dear jude,

the past week has been the most strangest yet fulfilled week i’ve ever had. never did i imagine to meet an extraordinary person like you. and so it pains me write this knowing we have different and separate lives. believe me, i’m saving you from something that would’ve turned ugly. you deserve better and its not me. you have exclusivity, a richer mentality that i know for sure i can’t live up to… just think of me of the one person who you first ever truly got to be yourself with… five year old jude would be proud.

- y/n ♡︎

jude was back to the old him. the one before meeting you. the one too busy for anything and focused on his companies future. yet he couldn’t think at all, your scent lingering around his rrom, in the white button up you wore the night before, just right after moaning his name during your high.

he laughed in disbelief, once again feeling the disappointment and pain in his chest, gliding across the room to the coffee bar where a almost empty bottle of whiskey stood. not thinking it one second and grabbing the bottle to take a huge jug of the bitter drink.

“exclusivity my ass.”

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷 —---------------

“anything else we can get for you sir?” your coworker asks, jude sighing and loosing his tie. you looked down at your feet, making sure your heels were still shiny after stepping on mud but cleaning it off as you shifted your weight nervously. “you. what’s your name?” his tone laced with a demanding manner. “me?-” lilly blurted.

“no her, the one next to you.”

“i’m y/n… what can i help with,” you nodded. you felt exposed under a microscope. like a new scientific specie discovered. everyone's eyes were on you, making you want to run out and book the first flight back. jude’s eyes widen a tad bit, not knowing if he was just taking you in or if he remembered that same night back in the almafi coast.

“that’s it for today. i will see you all wednesday,” jude shook his head, a bubble of relief bursting through his chest when he recognized you. that same excitement from that night you first met, where you spent the entire evening together, drinks, dinner, dancing, to then sharing his bed in the most intimate manner.

had you remembered him like he did?

“y/n? please stay back, i’d like to run a few things with you,” you were sure your stomach had dropped to your ass again for the second time today, heart banging in your chest that doctors would’ve busted into the room quickly. your friend gave you a confused look, receiving a shy smile from you. you weren’t sure what he wanted, or expected, all you wanted was to leave.

“what can i help with?” you said again, taking short strides as you opened your notebook and prepared to take notes. “why is that i recognize you from somewhere?” jude pushed his brows in, eyes roaming you as you took a seat in front of him. you gulped afraid your voice would sound scared and small in front of jude. could you even call him that? or would you have to refer to him as sir like others? “uh… maybe you have me confused with someone else,” you offered a lie, pursing your lips.

“no. i know who you are…” jude persisted

“i’m sorry sir, i think you are mistaken-”

“jude, call me jude.”

“j-jude, this is a huge misunderstanding,” you giggle nervously shaking your hands, watching as the tall man stands up from his chair and came around to sit on his desk right exactly infront of you. his jaw clenched, leaning slightly back as his hand interlocked and rested just below his stomach, watching as he took a deep breath. “some could argue it isn’t.”

“i don't know-”

“last year i fired two people on their first day because they lied to me. will we have a repeat of that today y/n?” he said sternly making you scoff in disbelief. “excuse me? if me being here bothers you that much then it sounds like an ego problem,” you defend sitting up straight, closing your notebook.

“i’m not here to waste your time or mine either. just get onto what you need to say,” you hurried no caring if you sassed or had an attitude. the nerve to threaten you, on your first day, just because of some history. ‘the history that keeps you up y/n’… said your conscious.

it’s true… and while you hated to bring him up, to recall every memory spent on that trip. you knew deep inside he wasn’t just a stranger. he was someone engraved in your mind until forever held its peace.

you felt shitty the morning after leaving him. remembering how tears flew down your cheeks as you wrote the letter, how jude could sense the already empty space before you walked out. out of the room and his life. but never in your life had you become that scared of being that vulnerable and attached.

every piece of him haunted you. the name, his music taste, the black tie he used the first night you shared a bed together, his briefcase filled with documents, the black gel pens, and gold watch. you felt him everywhere though he was no longer there. you knew the insecurities had won, and you accepted that a person like him could never be with you. the status, the medal he wore around his neck. you couldn’t be that.

“what i need to say? it’s not even close to enough to what i felt after you left me… i know it was you in the elevator this morning, yet i fooled myself into thinking it wasn’t because surely it didn’t seem real…” you looked away rubbing your hands across your lap to clean off the sweat your palms began to build.

“you didn’t mean anything to me… i lied,” you said quickly wanting to forget about him and to push him away. you couldn’t mess up this job opportunity. not wanting to risk what your colleagues, what the press would say. not wanting to risk the possibility of a lifetime just because of a week you spent together. you didn’t do all this work just to get nothing and over a man who just feel rage because of your fault.

��you see, to me exclusivity means nothing to me. not when i know i have the voice to control and decide my life… to chose who i want to spend the rest of my life with,” his voice sounded deep, he looked so hot with his suit on. just exactly how you remembered if not even more handsome. “then do it with someone else, you aren't enough, never will be,” you appointed quickly, standing up and paced around.

jude scoffed a laugh, not feeling an ounce of hurt, rather the exciting feeling in his veins, he sat still in the corner of his desk as he watched you frantically. “baby i’ll always be more than enough, my name is jude bellingham,” he turned you down wanting to laugh at the glare you gave him. “There’s more to us than the almafi coast, don’t you forget it,” he stood on his point, knowing there was no way out for you.

he walked to you, hands in his pocket, “i just needed a warm bed to sleep with at night,” you said trying to hurt him and make him believe you were terrible, but he could see the lies behind your eyes… “the lies y/n… when will it stop and just admit you know you can't deceive me…” his chest brushed against your back, feeling his nose trace your ear down to the corner of your jaw.

“you don’t want to tell me its fate?” he felt you crumble, how you allowed him to hold and let him continue. “you don’t mean to tell me you aren't here because the universe put us in this exact moment?” he defied, referring to a small astrology talk you had when walking on the beach late at night.

“you’re just bluffing.”

“no you’re wrong…” he shook his head, turning you swiftly where he lifted your chin gently to face him. “you can try to forget and ignore me at all costs, just know i’m the only one here who know you. not just professionally but personally as well,” jude intimidated. yet you didn’t feel scared or frightened. you felt drawn to be closer and closer, because its the aura and affect he carried.

“this is wrong jude, what will they say! you're my boss… everyone is afraid of you…” you said softly, breathing deeply as your forehead itched closer. “they should be afraid of me especially if they have the nerve to speak about you,” he lifted your face once again, wrapping an arm firmly around your waist. “but when i'm with you… i’m the man who i was back in the almafi coast. i don’t have to be forced to be someone i’m not, i can be jude… the jude five year old me would be proud of…” jude continued, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

“jude…” you whimpered, hands gliding across his chest where you slowly drew up to his neck.

“i’m angry with you so angry… for leaving me… for hurting me… for allowing me to get to this point…” jude spoke, his brows drawn in angrily yet holding you so gently, shaking his head at every sentence. “i’m sorry…” you attempted but instead were silenced by a small ‘shh’ jude hummed.

“it can be scary i know it can, but we could have saved us from all this if we simply tried y/n… all i wanted was for us to try. you left me confused, used! you let me believe i was used by you because you left in the end. i was scared i had pushed you away,” jude spoke softly yet with a tone filled with remorse.

“i pushed myself away… my thoughts were consumed by past actions and beliefs jude! i did it with the intention to protect us from this! from the hurting you feel, felt! i can’t allow myself to get so attached to a person knowing the outcome it can have. we both don’t deserve that,” you humbled.

“we don’t darling, we don’t… but you're here with me… in my arms, what does that say?” you shrugged at him, feeling to pull away but the feeling of home in his arms was to much to overcome.

“it means that were known strangers, and it won't be easy to just work under the same building knowing what we did, what we felt. and i’ll do anything to prove to you that exclusivity and status have nothing to do with the future i picture you and me with. there is a happy ever after for us, can’t you feel it?” he placed your small hand against his fast-beating heart.

“yes,” you threw yourself at him, jude groaning as he devoured you as a whole. your kiss messy, not an ounce of sweetness, making up for the long european summer that held the distance you parted with. tasting you like it was his last meal, engraving your closed his in his mind knowing that no matter what, you were his.

“mr. bellingham? the orders from germany have just arrived, and we had the underground staff separate them-” a man's voice spoke as they barged in seeing the whole scene uncut, wide eyes and lips as he stuttered out a response. knowing he walked into a lion's den, and it would be hell to get back out. you pushed away from jude, who held a confused stare, to then glaring at his assistant.

“oh no…” you whimpered scaredily.

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷 —---------------

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham smut #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader #football imagine #football x y/n #football one shot

624 notes · View notes

talaok · 10 months

Note

can i request a fic with joel miller? where he marks up readers neck with loads of hickeys and tommy and ellie ask about them?

idk whether joel would be embarrassed or proud lol, like ellie would be horrified or bully him depending on his attitude ig

love your blog!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

It was a beautiful sunny morning in Jackson, the sun was high up in the sky, the stove was working without any issues for once, and as you stood there, bare feet on the floor tiles, eggs frying in the pan... you took a moment to breathe, to enjoy the silence that spread around you... something so simple, and yet impossible to get as of lately.

And just like clockwork, as always, the moment you were starting to relax, the sound of fast-paced footsteps echoed from the hall, as Ellie came down the stairs at full force.

The day that kid didn't wake up with enough energy to power a whole city was gonna be the day the world came to an end.

You remained turned, as she sprinted through the door.

"Good morning" you smiled, turning your head to give her a brief smile, before getting back to the pan.

"Good morning!" She grinned, slightly out of breath as she sat at the kitchen table

"did you sleep well?"

"I would have slept better if Joel had stopped snoring so loud the whole night"

You couldn't help but snort

You loved that man with your whole heart... but she kinda had a point on that.

"Count your blessings" you laughed "At least you don't have to sleep next to him"

"Yeah I have no idea how you do that"

"me either" A soft chuckle left your throat

"so what's for breakfast?"

"eggs"

You could physically feel the disappointment take over her body.

"what a surprise" she grumbled "Never had those for breakfast before"

"hey!" you gasped, still inevitably smiling "Eggs are good for you, and you should be thankful I'm even cooking you breakfast, kid"

And although you could hear her sigh, the moment you turned, pan in hand to give her her breakfast, that shit-eating, fake grin she'd learned from Joel was plastered on her face,

but that was only for a moment, because a second after, the smile, together with any type of joy, pretend or not, left her features.

"what happened to your neck?"

You frowned

"What?"

Her eyes were wide, worried, seemingly scared

"Y-your neck, what happened? Did You get hurt? Did someone hurt you? Does Joel kno-"

And only then, only when his name left her mouth did you realize what had happened, did you realize the mistake you'd made this morning.

"No Ellie" you shook your head, putting the pan down to place a gentle hand on her arm "It's... it's nothing, don't worry"

She shoved your hand away with a quick move as she argued

"What do you mean don't worry, your whole neck's red y/n! What happened?!"

"Nothing Ellie, I promise" A soft laugh threatened to spill from your lips as you tried to calm her down, but the girl resisted as she stood up suddenly, the chair screeching at the movement

"Why don't you wanna tell me what happened? I'm not a kid, I wanna know who did this to you!"

"Ellie, I-"

And just then, heavy footsteps entered the room.

"What's with all the screaming?"

Joel's disheveled self had joined the party, looking every bit of tired as he was.

He passed a hand through his messy hair, groaning lowly before his gaze settled on you and then on Ellie.

Ellie scoffed as her eyes widened even more

"Are you serious!?" she almost shouted, clearly done with the both of you "Are you blind? Something obviously happened to y/n e she doesn't wanna tell me what it is!"

You watched as every bit of sleep left his body, now tense and alert as he always was when danger was near

"What happened to you?"

But before Ellie could intervene and get even madder, you shut them both off as you rolled your eyes at Joel.

"My neck Joel" you explained, raising your brows "Ellie wants to know what happened to my neck, and since it's your doing... I'm gonna let you handle this"

And with one simple sentence, both their attitudes had changed

You watched as the realization hit Joel, and then a moment later as the other realization hit

Your neck.

your neck was red and bruised,

and he knew why

Of course he knew why... he was why

"what do you mean it's his doing-"

Ellie's face was creased in puzzlement, but all you did was turn to Joel, waiting for him to dig himself out of the grave he'd dug.

"Ellie- I-" a heavy sigh fled his mouth as he shot you a -why do I have to do this- look, although he knew damn well why... mr "just one more".

"what, what happened?"

He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to hold the kid's gaze

"Well, Ellie" you didn't miss the way his voice cracked the tiniest bit in the middle "Y/n's neck is red because..." his expecting eyes traveled to you again

"Because?" Ellie asked, impatient.

"because well, Ellie when..." you watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed the sand in his mouth

Funny how you'd seen this man do things that would make the average man piss his pants, without a hint of dread, and this was the most you'd seen him scared.

"Well, it's that... when-" he cleared his throat again, as his hand went to scratch the inexistent itch at the back of his neck "when- uhm- two adults love each other very much they... well they do-"

And thanks to some god somewhere Ellie stopped him before he could end the sentence

"Oh my god-stop!" she moaned, looking ready to throw up"I know what sex is Joel!"she gagged, looking between you two "So is-is that why your neck's..."

You only needed to give her a slight nod before another agonizing groan left her mouth "Oh my god-" her face contorted into a frown "that's - disgusting, you didn't have to tell me that!"

"You said you wanted to"

"yeah well I take it back!"

And even though you tried to stop her, calling for her, she had bolted out of the room before you could do anything, bumping into a figure as she did.

"woh" Tommy breathed, frowning as the kid flew past him, having let himself into your home once again

"what happened? Why is Ellie-" he asked, his brows pulled together in puzzlement, before they creased even more "Wait what happened to your neck?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly

"That's what happened to Ellie" you breathed, still smiling "Your brother got a little too carried away last night"

You watched Joel roll his eyes as Tommy laughed like that was the funniest thing he'd heard in days

"'s that right?" he joked, throwing his brother a smug grin "And you tried explaining her just now, didn't you?"

"yeah" Joel grunted, waiting before Tommy inevitably laughed again, this time even going as far as throwing his head back.

"it ain't that funny" he argued, sighing loudly as he walked to you

"No, no you're right, You explainin' to a little girl about sex ain't funny at all" he snorted, laughing even louder somehow.

The moment he finished his little scene, you were both looking at him annoyedly, although a spark of amusement still ignited your eyes.

"alright, alright, I'll go talk to her" he held his hands up in defeat, "just leave me some of those eggs, 'm hungry"

And that's all he said, before he was out of the room, leaving you and Joel alone

"Just one more huh?" you smiled, looking up at him, "my whole neck's red"

"why didn't you cover it?" he asked, which, to be honest, was a legitimate question, you always did cover it whenever something like this happened... which were more times than you liked to admit.

"Ah so now's my fault?" you cocked an eyebrow

"c'mon now, sweetheart, you mark me too" he argued

"yeah but where no one can see, baby"

And at that a lascivious smirk appeared on his lips as he gripped your waist "mmmh what can I do?" he breathed, his mouth hovering over your lips just to get lower to the reddened skin of your neck "i just can't help myself when I see this pretty neck"

And then once again, he was kissing it, softly starting to focus more just underneath your left ear

"Joel..." you whimpered

"what?"

"are you serious?" you chuckled, clinging to his arms

"one more can't hurt at this point darlin'..."

2K notes · View notes

thriftedtchotchkes · 11 months

Text

eyes on the monitor

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike catches something on the security cameras that really shouldn't be happening at a family-friendly pizzeria—even an abandoned one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, stranger!reader, submissive!mike, trespassing, smut, m&f masturbation, public masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, squirting, finger sucking, cum eating, looming danger

word count: 3k

Mike has seen a lot of things on the security monitors in his three short nights working at Freddy's.

Old animatronics that still roam about like they're possessed, cryptic messages written on dusty windows and mirrors. But he can honestly say he never saw this coming.

As the cameras shift from right to left, one of the screens glitches and crackles, and then there's you, tucked into a booth like you belong there. Except you don't. He's not even sure how you evaded his notice, let alone how you got into the building.

Don't you have any idea what's lurking in these halls? The dangers that patiently wait behind the curtained stage not even ten feet from where you're sitting? From where you're...

Fuck.

There's no way you possibly can because you're still lounging there without a care in the world, your legs spread wide and your jeans dangling off one ankle while you fuck yourself on your fingers. Two of them, your ring and middle, pump a steady rhythm in and out, dribbling slick all over the vinyl beneath you. You're so wet, even the camera's picking up the refracted light from the prize counter glinting off your pussy.

He should be panicked. He should be halfway to the auditorium by now to stop you, to drag you out of the pizzeria before the unthinkable happens, but—

But he can't bring himself to move or stop watching. He can't stop himself from palming his stiffening cock through his pants, either. Your head lolls back onto the booth and your body readjusts, giving him the perfect view of your languid movements. Now, it's almost like you're on display just for him.

And suddenly, he doesn't care about Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, or Foxy. He definitely doesn't care about his job or whatever else that career counselor said on the phone. The only thing Mike cares about is getting his dick out as fast as humanly possible so he can match the calculated press of your fingers and your frustratingly unhurried pace.

You're thoroughly enjoying your pleasure—that much is clear—and it would be so easy to just...join in. He'd planned on sleeping through his fourth night, but now that you're here, there's nothing else he'd rather be doing than spending his shift fucking his fist and pretending it's you.

It'd be wrong. So, so wrong, but as you continue on, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil, he can feel himself getting harder and harder. There's a growing wet patch on the front of his sweatpants that's getting difficult to ignore, and he nearly moans as he grinds the heel of his hand into his lap for relief.

His gaze trails down your figure, surprisingly clear on the aging monitors, and he watches, dry-mouthed, as your unoccupied hand snakes up your body to tweak a nipple through your shirt.

Fuck it, he can't take this anymore.

He yanks his pants down so fast, he's shocked he doesn't knock himself onto the floor, and hisses out a breath the moment his fingers wrap around himself. It aches with how good it feels, but he only allows his eyes to roll back for a split second before they're locked back on you.

And you're sexy as hell. Your shirt's been tugged up and tucked under your chin to reveal that you decided to forgo a bra, in addition to the rest of your inhibitions, and he's thanking every deity he doesn't believe in that he doesn't have to imagine the plush curve of your tits and how they'd look sucked into his mouth.

Crap. He can't keep thinking shit like that if he wants to last longer than a few minutes. Ignoring the angry pulsing against his palm, he starts to stroke himself in time with your thrusts, diligently following your lead. But you're moving so slowly like you've got all the time in the world in this abandoned wonderland you've claimed for yourself, and Mike's time is limited.

The longer this night goes on, the more restless they become, and it won't be long before those curtains open and you're interrupted. For good. There must be something seriously wrong with him, because he doesn't give a shit about that, either. They can wait. He's got another job to finish, and he needs this.

It's been so long since he last allowed himself to let go, and even longer since his body actually wanted to. He's harder than he's ever been in his life, and it's confusing and a little painful, and yet he hopes he lasts until his alarm goes off at 6 a.m., teetering on the edge of nirvana right alongside you. He wants you to make him cum so badly, and he knows you will, even if you don't know it yourself.

Tiny, hushed pleas escape him as your fingers speed up, begging you to coax him, to encourage him to be good for you and follow your every move. His office is too far from the auditorium for his words to carry, but he continues to moan them anyway, desperately. Obediently.

His eyes flutter closed as he succumbs to the fantasy of your lips grazing the shell of his ear, giving him firm instructions and praising him when he proves how well he can listen.

Such a good boy for me, Mike. A little faster, not too much. Nice and tight, just like that.

"Fuck. Like this? Is...is this okay?" he whimpers aloud, thumbing over the tip on his next upstroke.

His hips buck into his hand at the sensation, and he grits his teeth, anticipating an admonishment that never comes. He's more than a little disappointed.

That is, until he hears it, crystal clear as it filters through the cracked door and reverberates through his entire body. A needy, perfect moan, rising in pitch and volume with each passing moment. Yours.

You must've heard him, somehow. It's the only explanation. He has no idea how long he's been babbling, drunk on the tight, slick slide of skin against skin, but you're responding to it encouragingly like he's only ever imagined in his wettest dreams.

Mike's eyes shoot open, darting back to the monitor, and he has to grip the base of his cock tight to keep from cumming then and there. You're staring directly at the camera now, your chest heaving as you fuck yourself with three fingers, and he winces at how quickly his balls start to tighten.

He's going to cum. Shit. Shit.

But you didn't tell him he could. You're not even aware of the power you hold over him, and yet—

"You sound close, baby. You gonna cum for me?"

He sees your lips move and then your voice rings out a moment later, breathy and labored, and...how the fuck did you end up in this place? Who are you? He fucks into his fist frantically, leaking precum all over his fingers, and he can feel sweat matting his dark curls to his forehead, pooling where his aching wrist meets his hip bone.

Maybe it doesn't even matter how or why you're in this pizzeria, not anymore. He can't stop anyway, not when you're urging him on and calling him baby. He feels delirious, blind to the rest of the security monitors and newly flickering lights. To the purple curtain slowly opening behind you.

Right now, it's just you and him. The familiar, searing heat in the pit of his groin, and the wet squelch of your fingers stroking your convulsing walls and rubbing tight circles into your clit—you're both so close, he knows it. He just needs you to say it. He needs your permission.

"Only if—," he gasps, belatedly realizing that his other hand is cupping his balls, squeezing reflexively without his permission. "—only if you say I can."

He watches your jaw drop, and your thighs begin to quake in response. Quicker than he can process, there's a sudden shift, and your gaze darkens mischievously to match the subtle quirk of your lips. You're in control now and you know it. You like it. He does, too.

Your pace doesn't slow at all and, instead, your hips begin to swivel into your touch, grinding into the sticky vinyl bench for more friction.

So, that turns you on, huh? If he strains his ears, he swears he can just make out the squeaking of a diner booth being pushed to its limit. He's never been more jealous of furniture in his life.

That could've been him, if only he'd manned up and done his damn job. He could've had you bent over that table or bouncing on his cock; felt you gushing around him, clamping down on him. You would've wrung him dry.

Turns out you still do, just from a little further away.

"Still hanging in there?" you coo from the other room, but the teasing in your voice is undercut by something headier. You sound wrecked.

His eyebrows pinch together, his expression almost pained, and he can feel that telltale pressure building, building.

"Y-yeah, but I...fuck, I can't hold it anymore," he whimpers, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his hand. His thrusts are getting sloppier and tears are beginning to gather at the corners of his eyes. He wishes you could see him right now. "C-can I? Please."

Your fingers stutter and, for a second, he thinks he might've pushed you over the edge, but you recover just long enough to give him one final push. To tell him the one thing he's been longing to hear since he tugged down his pants and started playing your little game.

"Such a good boy," you repeat from earlier, a murmur that just barely reaches his ears, except this time it's really you and not just a fantasy. "Cum, baby. Let me hear you."

Then, his mind goes blissfully blank.

Mike doesn't just cum, he bursts. Soft whimpers taper into something guttural and animalistic as thick spurts coat his security vest and dribble down his length, soaking into the thick fabric of his sweatpants. He moans his way through it, nearly giving himself a friction burn with the intensity of his grip and speed. And he's loud, just like you told him to be. Much louder than he should be.

For a brief moment, his vision whites out, and he almost misses what he's been looking forward to all night. He blinks away the lingering spots obscuring his sight, and that's when it happens. Bathed in flashing green and yellow fluorescents, your entire body curls in on itself, shaking as your orgasm overcomes you and soaks the floor.

His cock jerks pathetically in his hand as you work yourself through it, your eyes heavy-lidded and still locked on the camera. After a few more pumps, you slump into your seat and remove your fingers from your cunt, sucking them wetly into your mouth.

He should get up. He should walk right into that auditorium with his dick still out so you can clean him up too, but he feels frozen in place. The skin at the back of his neck prickles and erupts into goosebumps and it feels like a warning, yet he still can't bring himself to look away from you.

So, he doesn't notice the purple curtain opening just a fraction more in the background, and the curved, silver hook that peeks out from behind it. The blood rushing in your ears and steady heaving of your chest masks the metallic rattling, leaving you dangerously in the dark, too.

But Mike's eyes on the monitor are just enough to keep the pirate in his cove, and you're captivating enough to ensure they stay there.

Sticky fingers twitch in his lap and, as if you can tell, you smirk around your own before pulling them free with a lewd pop. His mouth waters at the thought of what you must taste like and, unbeknownst to him, you're thinking the exact same about him. Since you're not there to help him yourself, you ask him to be good for you one last time.

"It's your turn," you laugh teasingly, swirling your tongue around your fingertips. "You should probably clean yourself up before you head home. It's almost six."

Heat curls low in his stomach and compels him to obey again. A cursory glance down at his watch tells him you're right—his alarm will go off soon, way sooner than he expected, and he's still covered in sweat and his own release. He could pop out of the office to the bathroom and be back before any real damage is done, probably. But that's not really what you're asking for.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he calls out, not bothering to hide the neediness in his voice. He's never experienced anything like this—like you—before and he's not sure he'll get the opportunity ever again.

"Lick it off. All of it," you instruct, dropping your fingers between your legs to swirl around your clit before popping them back into your mouth. Slowly, you show him exactly what you want, and he's a little horrified to realize he's getting hard again. "Can you do that for me?"

He nods quickly, forgetting you can't see his approval, but it doesn't matter, anyway. He's sucking the drying cum off his palm and fingers faster than he can reply, and his muffled responding moan tells you everything you need to know. After everything that's happened during this unexplainable night shift and everything you've made him feel, he'd likely do anything you asked.

"Such a good listener," you continue, ceasing your ministrations to lazily slip your underwear and jeans back into place.

He's hit with a sudden wave of panic. This can't be over yet. There's still so much mystery shrouding you and whatever connection you have to this place, and if you leave now, he'll be left wondering forever. He wants answers, but disappointingly, you only leave him with more questions.

"How did I get so lucky with you, huh? The other security guards weren't nearly this fun," you smirk, dropping another bomb he never saw coming.

Oh. Oh. He freezes as he finishes laving the remaining wetness between his thumb and index fingers, the reality of the situation finally making itself known. This isn't the first time you've done this. It's probably not even the second or third. This is a habit, and he's not the only unwitting participant to fall prey to your seduction.

Fuck, he knew you were too good to be true. He hates that his body's still fighting his rationality while you sit there genuinely believing you've done nothing wrong. So innocent and, yet, still such an enigma. No one's ever made him cum that hard but, thankfully, his head is finally clear enough to put a stop to all of this. It's time to do his job.

The opportunity presents itself almost immediately. The flickering lights that have progressively gotten worse since his shift started reach a fever pitch, and the familiar figure in the corner of the screen reveals itself, wrenching his attention away from you.

Mike barely has enough time to warn you before the screens start to glitch—every single one of them—and display nothing more than lines and lines of meaningless code.

"You have to go. Now," he yells, struggling to be heard over the tinny screeching and jarring sounds of children's laughter crackling violently over the intercom. "Just—get out of here. Run, you have to run!"

He doesn't wait for a response, operating on autopilot as he wrestles his pants up and shoots out of his seat to the breaker box across the room. Terror and adrenaline pump through his veins, puppeteering him through the instructions left for him by Mr. Raglan.

Pull the lever down then back up, reset the power, and wait for the monitors to reboot. All he can do now is hope the machines don't deem you a threat and let you go. The room is plunged into darkness and the speakers go eerily silent.

Then, the systems come back online just like they're supposed to. But you're gone. He frantically searches the monitors for even a trace of you, evidence that you ever existed at all, but there's nothing. The only relief he's granted is that there's no blood or pieces of you scattered across the building. There's nothing at all.

Bracing himself on the desk in front of him, he breathes in desperate lungfuls of air, crashing from his adrenaline-fueled high and giving in to exhaustion. Just one more night. One more night at Freddy's, and he'll take that paycheck and never look back.

After a while of waiting for his panic to subside, his watch starts to beep, signaling the end of this night from hell. Fighting to ignore his conflicting feelings and lingering confusion, and even more so the phantom heat still licking at the base of his spine when he lets his thoughts stray back to you, he grabs his backpack and all but speed walks to the breaker to cut the power again.

As his fingers close around the lever, the intercom suddenly crackles to life. Something akin to hope blooms in his chest, and he whips around to see your image picked up by the camera at the entrance, radiant and unharmed under the morning sun of a new day.

You're smiling, and he can't find it in himself to care that he's smiling back. You turn to leave, then think better of it.

"Same time tomorrow?"

He scoffs, shaking his head at how ridiculous his life has become since he started this gig. If not even haunted animatronic mascots and the looming threat of death can't keep you away, then who is he to try?

Yeah. He'll see you tomorrow.

thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf imagine #mike schmidt smut

2K notes · View notes