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impeakcharacterdesign · 2 years ago

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Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

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strawberrystepmom · 2 months ago

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dante x f!reader. established relationship, fluff. | wc 807, reading time: less than 5 minutes.

“Oh shit!”

You exclaim too quickly as you walk into your kitchen after tossing your keys and bag aside and taking your shoes off. The wall between the entryway and the kitchen is a blind spot, leaving you unprepared to walk in on a towel clad, still dripping from the shower version of Dante who grins and points at you.

“Welcome ho-o-o-me.”

He sings his greeting while you press your hand against your chest, trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate from the surprise of seeing him. It’s never that shocking that he makes his way into your apartment, he does know where the spare key is. A spare key that is just the one you had made for him he insisted that he couldn’t take so you hid it in a place you knew he’d find it.

Clearly it has been used.

You eye him up and down though it’s playful, folding your arms over your chest while approaching him.

“Let me guess. You used the good stuff in the shower and have finished off the last of the juice by now too, right?”

Dante shrugs in response, turning the shrug into a shimmy that gradually becomes something more frenetic, his whole body moving in response. The ends of his hair drip onto your floor yet it’s impossible to do much but smile sweetly at his rolling chest and shaking hips.

“Is this your version of a mating dance?” Whispering out of the corner of your mouth, you raise your brows while wrapping an arm around his moving hips. “I feel like a girl bird or something right now.��

“Dunno, is it working?”

Shaking your head, you grin up at him. Distraction successful, he notes to none but himself.

“Hi handsome,” the words are muffled while you press a kiss to his smiling mouth.

Dante’s hand naturally falls to the small of your back and he pulls you against him, chest to chest, and swaying softly in place with you. You look down to check on your feet, quickly returning them upward to glance at him. Those pretty blue eyes stare down at you, his lips curling into a fond smile when his eyes fall upon the crinkle of your nose.

You lean against his bicep, letting him rock you at a rhythm nobody but him can hear.

Copying the little sing-song in his voice from earlier, you raise your eyebrows expectantly while asking. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

He pulls you tighter against him and you place your feet atop his, letting him take full control of whatever is happening. A big hand slides from your lower back to your ass, cupping it gently. The damp towel over his thighs gets the front of you wet but whatever worry it causes fades away while you let him step you around, holding onto you and swinging you in a makeshift circle. He indicates he’s about to dip you and you giggle, bending backward over his arm and wrinkling your nose again while he leans in to collect a small kiss.

“Making myself at home just like you always tell me to.”

Grinning, another giggle springs out of you.

“You mean it this time?”

A stronger man would stick to his values and say no. He’d avoid this - the domesticity that makes a wild man tame and lazy. He’d decline the comfort of your shampoo and sheets, the fridge that’s always semi full, the pleasure of seeing the owner of his favorite pair of lips and hands and other things in her natural habitat.

A man is only as strong as his biggest weakness. Dante’s fortunate that his weakness possesses so much strength of her own, enough to keep pushing the issue until you knew he’d eventually give in.

He nods, his amused-at-your-surprise smile fading into something fond. A knowing smirk perhaps, always certain that you knew he’d end up giving in eventually. A simple bow of his head puts it just above yours.

“Yeah,” he kisses you and you greedily allow it, the dancing pausing while his towel slides a little lower on his hips. Both of you burst into a fit of childish giggles, the arm you have slung around his waist pinning the towel in place to keep him decent.

“Think I’d have to be an idiot to keep leaving such a good thing.”

His lips barely part from yours yet he continues to speak, the dancing paused in favor of touching, hand sliding across every still clothed part of you they can touch. Lost in the moment, you slide your arm upward and the towel wrapped around his hips falls to your feet.

“Yeah, I think so too.” You whisper, lifting a foot to kick the towel aside while he reaches to grab your thigh and wrap your leg around his waist.

Never one to miss a signal, you hop up and wrap them both around him, resuming your giggling and kissing while being carried off to christen the couch like it hasn’t been done a thousand times before.

At least it’s a couch you technically share now.

#dante x you #dante x reader #dante sparda x you #dante sparda x reader #dmc x you #dmc x reader #kendall writes #danken #canon au

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mandoalorian · 2 months ago

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the mechanic's girl [mechanic!bucky barnes x f!reader]

Synopsis: When your car breaks down, you pull into Barnes Auto Fix, and encounter Bucky, an older-looking man with a metal arm and a haunted past. As he works on your vehicle, you notice the way his sweat-soaked vest clings to his chisled frame and can't help but let your neediness and desire get the better of you.

Warnings/Rating: 18+ explicit content, no minors, smut, age-gap (reader is in their 20s), dom!bucky, he’s rough and possessive with you & talks you through it, unprotected p in v, m receiving oral, cunnilingus, spanking, biting, choking, allusions to cheating, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise kink, sex-tape, this is just pure filth, also the reader doesn’t have a clue about car stuff lol, she’s not dumb she’s just like me<3

Word count: 3800>

Masterlist

You pushed open the creaky door of Barnes Auto Fix, the bell above jangling weakly as a gust of swelteringly unbearable air followed you inside. The day had been a scorcher, the kind of hot, humid hell that made your clothes cling to your skin like a second layer, sweat beading on your forehead and dripping down your spine.

The air inside the garage wasn’t much better. It smelled of motor oil and metal, with an undercurrent of gasoline, and the faint hum of an old radio playing a scratchy rock tune filled the space. Your car had sputtered to a stop just a hundred yards down the road, and you’d barely managed to roll it into the gravel lot outside, your thighs sticking to the vinyl seat, leaving you peeling yourself off it with a grimace.

Behind the counter, a man looked up from a greasy engine part he’d been inspecting. His stormy blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch, pinning you in place. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair falling messily over his forehead and a scruff of stubble along his jaw.

His white vest was soaked through with sweat, the fabric clinging to his chest like it had been painted on, outlining every ridge of muscle, every dip and curve of his torso. The humidity had left a sheen on his skin, droplets of sweat rolling down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of the vest. A faded denim jacket hung open over the vest, and his left arm, shimmering metal from shoulder to fingertips, caught the dim light of the garage. Bucky Barnes, the name stitched on his jacket told you, and the way he looked at you, like a predator sizing up its prey, sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat.

“Car trouble?” he asked, his voice low and rough, carrying an edge of authority that made your stomach flip. He set the engine part down with a deliberate thud, wiping his hands on a rag, his movements slow and controlled. The motion made his biceps flex, and you caught a whiff of him—a heady mix of sweat, motor oil, and something unexpectedly delicious, like cedarwood and leather, a scent that made your mouth water despite the oppressive heat.

You nodded, brushing a strand of sticky, sweat-dampened hair from your face. “Yeah. It just… died. I don’t know what’s wrong. Can you take a look?”

His eyes raked over you, slow and unapologetic, before he gave a sharp nod. “Bring it around front.” The command in his tone left no room for argument, and you found yourself moving to comply, your heart racing as you felt his gaze on you the whole way.

By the time your car was in the garage, the afternoon sun had dipped low, but the humidity hadn’t let up, the air thick and heavy, pressing against your skin like a damp blanket. Bucky popped the hood and got to work, his hands moving with a quiet confidence that spoke of years of experience. You sat on a stool nearby, sipping a lukewarm soda he’d pulled from a mini fridge in the corner, the can slippery with condensation in your hand. The silence between you was heavy, broken only by the clink of tools and the occasional grunt as he worked.

You couldn’t stop watching his hands—those strong, capable hands, one flesh and one metal, as they worked with precision. His fingers, smeared with grease, wrapped around a wrench, tightening a bolt with a deft twist, and you found yourself imagining those hands on you, the way they’d feel, firm and unyielding.

The thought sent a wave of heat through you, pooling low in your belly, and you shifted on the stool, pressing your thighs together to ease the ache. His white vest was practically obscene now, the sweat making it stick to him like a second skin, and every time he leaned over the engine, you caught another whiff of that delicious scent, a mix of hard work and raw masculinity that made your head spin.

“Fuel line’s shot,” he said abruptly, straightening up and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. More sweat rolled down his temple, catching in the stubble on his jaw, and his vest clung to his chest, the damp fabric outlining his pecs, the faint outline of his nipples visible through the thin material. “I can fix it. But it’s gonna take a while,” He announced, taking a step back from the vehicle, his gaze locking onto you. “You got family? A boyfriend to come pick you up?”

The way he said it wasn’t a question—it was a statement, or an assumption, even. And the weight of his gaze made it clear he wasn’t waiting for an answer. But regardless, you gave him one. You swallowed hard, nodding. “Okay,” you said, testing the waters. Bucky didn’t shift, his blue eyes like steel, boring into you like you were some sort of spectacle. “Family is on the other side of the country, and no, no boyfriend.”

You hopped onto the edge of the counter, legs swinging beneath you. Bucky’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing and just went back to work. You felt the shift in the air, the way his presence seemed to fill the room, commanding every inch of space. You tried to make small talk, asking about the town, the garage, but his answers were curt, his focus on the car unwavering.

He’d bought the garage a few years back, he said, after getting out of the military. Didn’t like people much. Preferred the quiet.

The hours passed, and you found yourself helping him with small tasks—handing him a wrench, holding a flashlight while he tightened a bolt. His hands brushed yours more than once, the contact leaving a smear of grease on your skin, the warmth of his touch lingering even in the stifling heat, and each time, your breath caught, the intensity of his proximity making your pulse race.

By the time he finished the repair, the storm had arrived, the storm that you both had known was forecasted. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and rain began to fall, a steady patter that quickly turned into a downpour. You stood at the garage door, watching the water stream down the gravel lot, the rain a welcome relief from the oppressive humidity, though it did little to cool the heat simmering beneath your skin. There was no way you were driving in that.

You heard the faucet turn off as Bucky had finished washing his hands, dropping a towel haphazardly by the sink. A signal that the work was complete.

Your eyes were locked onto the brewing storm outside, a flash of lightning making you jump slightly, and you realised you were holding your breath.

“You’re not leaving,” Bucky said, his voice a low growl as he came up behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. The scent of him hit you again, stronger now, a delicious mix of sweat and cedarwood that made your knees weak, and you noticed his vest was still clinging to him, the damp fabric outlining every inch of his torso in a way that made your mouth water.

You turned to face him, your back against the doorframe, and his eyes were dark, predatory, as they locked onto yours. “I… I guess not,” you managed, your voice trembling under the weight of his stare.

He stepped closer, crowding your space, his broad frame towering over you. “Good,” he said, his voice rough with intent. “Because I’m not done.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs as he reached out, his metal hand gripping your waist, pulling you away from the door and into the garage with a force that made you stumble. He didn’t let you fall—his metal hand caught your arm, steadying you, but there was no gentleness in his touch, only a raw, commanding strength that sent a thrill through you.

“With the car?” You asked, biting your lip incredulously.

“With you.” He replied, his voice dark like honey. Before you could process what was happening, he had you backed up against the workbench, the edge of it digging into your lower back as he pressed himself against you, his body a wall of heat and muscle.

“Bucky—” you started, but his lips crashed into yours, cutting you off, the kiss hard and demanding, like he was claiming you.

His metal hand stayed on your waist, holding you in place with an iron grip, while his flesh hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to deepen the kiss. You gasped against his mouth, your hands grabbing at his shoulders, feeling the slickness of his sweat-soaked vest, the hard planes of muscle beneath it, and he growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you.

“You’ve been watching me all day,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a rough rasp as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing. “Don’t think I didn’t notice. You want this, don’t you?”

Bucky brought his hand down to his belt, undoing it and unlacing it through the loops of his light-washed, oil-stained jeans. You glanced down, a knot in your throat forming when you noticed his bulge pressing against the denim.

You nodded, breathless, your body trembling under the intensity of his gaze. “Yes,” you whispered, and that was all he needed.

He lifted you onto the workbench with a roughness that made your breath hitch, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks as he stepped between your legs, forcing them apart. His lips moved to your neck, his stubble scraping against the sweat-dampened curve of your throat as he bit down lightly, drawing a whimper from you.

“That’s what I thought,” he growled, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head in one swift motion, leaving you exposed to the humid air and his hungry eyes. “What’s a young thing like yourself doing this far out of the city, alone?”

His metal hand pinned your wrists above your head against the workbench, the coolness of the material a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he pressed himself closer, his hips grinding against yours.

“Fight with my boyfriend,” you mumbled, ducking your head down as warmth crept across your cheeks. "Needed to get outta there."

“Ah,” Bucky let out an airy chuckle. “You told me you had no boyfriend.”

And yet, he didn’t step back. If anything, he pushed closer to you, his frame towering over you. There was no room for running. No room for escape.

“I’m going to break up with him.” You announced, your eyes nervously meeting his, anticipating a reaction.

“When did you decide that, doll? When you were watching me hunched over, fixing your car?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow, almost in disbelief. Almost like confusion was masking itself. Was he impressed?

Yes. Yes. You’d watched Bucky working meticulously in the heat, his skilled fingers doing laboured things that your boyfriend wouldn’t have the first clue about. When you didn’t reply, Bucky grazed his teeth over your neck. You gasped, fingers curling around the edge of the workbench.

“You’re mine now,” Bucky said, his voice low and commanding, and the possessiveness in his tone sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You ever been fucked by a man as old as me?”

His hand found your neck, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he admired your face. You felt a pool of heat coil into your abdomen. God, you could burst just from the way he looked at you.

“Just how old are you?” You asked.

Bucky laughed darkly before turning his back on you, like he’d vetoed the question. Fine, he didn’t have to answer, but from the look of him, he had to be mid-40s. You briefly considered the age gap, but ultimately, you were definitely okay with it.

“I want to remember this,” he said, his voice dripping with dark promise as he reached into a drawer on the workbench and pulled out a small, battered camcorder—the kind that was popular in the late ‘80s, with a clunky lens and a red record button. Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding through you.

“You’re gonna look so good on camera,” he said, setting the camcorder on a tripod nearby, angling it to capture the two of you against the workbench, the storm outside framing the scene like a gritty, intimate movie. The red light blinked on, and the air felt heavier, the moment charged with a new kind of intensity. You felt exposed under his gaze, under the lens, but the way he looked at you—like he owned you—made you want to give him everything.

He released your wrists, but his hands didn’t stay idle. He tugged at his own vest, peeling the soaked fabric off and tossing it aside, revealing the sweat-slicked expanse of his chest, the dark hair dusting it, the scars that told stories of a hard life. His scent enveloped you completely now—cedarwood, leather, and that delicious musk that made your head spin—and you couldn’t help but lean forward, pressing your lips to his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin.

He let you, but only for a moment. Then his hands were on you again, rough and insistent, one gripping your thigh to pull you closer, the other tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, forcing you to look at him. “Not yet,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “I fixed your fucking car. You’ll do what I want first.”

He kissed you again, hard, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as his hands roamed your body, possessive and unyielding. Then he pulled back, his eyes dark with intent as he pushed you down onto your knees in front of him, the concrete floor rough against your skin.

“Show me how much you want this,” he ordered, his voice rough with desire as he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his ankles.

No fucking underwear. Holy shit.

You looked up at him, your breath coming in short gasps, and the sight of him—towering over you, his chest heaving, his white-hot intensity burning in his gaze—made your pulse race. Your hands trembled as you reached for him, pressing soft kisses along the taut skin of his lower abdomen, feeling the lingering heat of the day on his skin.

He was fucking huge, thick, a distinguised vein running up the base of his cock. You already felt full just from the sight of him, and you suppressed a moan as your core clenched around nothing. His muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out a low groan, his hand resting on the back of your head, guiding you with a firm grip. You parted your mouth, and he nudged himself against your lips, asking, no, begging for entry.

You could barely take half of him before you were gagging, unshed tears glossing over you as you looked up at him with big, doe-like eyes. Obscene sounds filled the room as you sucked, the taste of his sweat and precum leaving a saltiness on your tongue.

His grip tightened in your hair, a silent command for you to open wider, and you obeyed, your hands and lips working in tandem, drawing out every shudder, every growled curse that fell from his lips.

Eventually, your nose was pressed against his stomach as he’d pushed himself down your throat. The sounds he made—low, guttural, almost feral—sent heat pooling in your core, and you felt a surge of power, even as he dominated the moment, knowing you could affect him like this.

You pulled off him with a wet pop, gasping for air as a string of your saliva connected your lips with his cock. But before you even gave him time to adjust, you were back on him, this time licking a stripe down the underside of him before palming at his balls. He was loaded, and as you took him between your lips again, he made you feel small.

“Agh!— fuck,” he hissed, his hips twitching and bucking into you.

The camcorder’s red light glowed in the corner of your vision, a silent witness to the way Bucky’s chest heaved, the way his metal hand flexed against the workbench as he braced himself.

Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you off his cock with a groan, not wanting to finish yet. No, not before he had the chance to feel your pussy.

He yanked you back up to your feet, his hands rough on your arms as he spun you around, bending you over the workbench with a force that made you gasp. The edge of the bench dug into your hips, and his metal hand pressed between your shoulder blades, holding you down as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re so damn perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, and the praise, paired with the roughness of his touch, made your knees weak.

Your breath hitched, fingers scrambling to hold onto the edge of the bench as he kicked your legs apart with one boot. You gasped, but he was already behind you, already shoving your skirt up and groaning when he saw you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered, large hand smoothing over your ass—before he brought it down with a sharp crack that echoed through the garage.

You cried out, thighs clenching. “Bucky—”

“Say it again.” Another slap. “My name, sweetheart. C’mon.”

“Bucky,” you whined, louder this time, desperate, humiliated, soaking wet.

He chuckled low in his throat, and then he leaned down, biting your shoulder, hard. “You wanna act like a needy little brat, I’ll treat you like one.”

You could barely breathe as his fingers slid between your legs, rough and unrelenting, no teasing this time. “So wet for me already,” he growled, almost to himself. “Bet none of those boys your age ever touched you like this.”

“N-no,” you stammered, rocking back onto his hand.

“That’s right,” he said, dragging his fingers down again, slower this time. “You’re mine now. You get that?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look over your shoulder at him. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

He kissed you then—filthy, biting, possessive—his hand still between your legs, the other wrapped around your throat like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go.

“Good girl.”

And then he turned you around, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you flat on the bench.

“Now keep those pretty legs open, sweetheart,” he said, undoing his belt with one hand, the clink of it making you shiver. “Daddy’s gonna ruin you.”

Your back hit the cool metal with a clatter, tools shifting around you, but you didn’t care—not with the way he was looking at you. Like he was starved. Like you were the one thing he wasn’t supposed to touch, and he was gonna do it anyway.

“Look at you,” Bucky muttered, tugging your thighs wide open, eyes locked on the mess between your legs. “So fuckin’ wet already and I haven’t even gotten my cock inside you yet.”

You whimpered, hands gripping the bench behind you for balance. “Please—”

His hand came down hard across your inner thigh. Crack.

“Did I tell you to beg, baby?”

“N-no, Daddy,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“That’s right,” he said, dark and smug as he palmed himself, already leaking at the tip. He wrapped a hand around his cock, giving it a few rough strokes, eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t beg unless I say. You take what I give you. And you’re gonna thank me for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless, almost crying with need.

"Yes?"

"Yes Daddy." you huffed, correcting yourself.

He didn’t wait any longer—he lined himself up, dragged the head through your slick folds once, twice, and then thrust in with one brutal stroke.

You cried out, head thrown back as he bottomed out inside you.

“Fuck,” he growled, both hands on your hips now, holding you still while he stayed buried deep. “So tight for me, sweetheart. This little pussy’s never gonna be the same.”

He pulled out almost all the way—then slammed back in hard, making the workbench rattle beneath you.

You moaned his name, over and over, each thrust driving it out of you like a prayer. Your legs trembled around his waist, but he just gripped you harder, biting your collarbone and fucking you rougher.

“Take it,” he snarled, one hand slapping your ass while the other squeezed your throat. “Take all of it like a good girl.”

You were already unraveling, eyes glassy, brain gone. Every time his hips slapped against yours it sent sparks shooting up your spine. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t speak.

But he wasn’t done.

He bent over you, pressing his chest to yours, lips brushing your ear. “Gonna fill you up,” he whispered, filth in every syllable. “Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep it’s all you’ll feel for days. That what you want?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sobbed, clutching at his shoulders.

“Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Daddy—thank you, thank you—”

He kissed you then, deep and messy, swallowing every sound as he fucked you into the workbench like he was trying to break you open. Your name was a growl on his lips as he came, hips jerking, cock twitching inside you while he held you down and moaned against your throat.

The camcorder captured it all—the way his hands roamed your body, the way you arched against him, the way the fluorescent lights flickered above you. It was raw, messy, intense, and as the storm raged on outside, you surrendered to him.

Your legs were shaking.

Your back was sore.

And your thighs were soaked—dripping with his cum, your release, sweat, and something so much filthier it made your cheeks burn.

You barely noticed when Bucky pulled out, cock still hard, chest still heaving like he hadn’t even begun to slow down. He watched you for a second—just stared at the mess he’d made of you, spread out on his workbench like something for him to tinker with.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “So fuckin’ perfect like this.”

You whined softly, trying to close your legs, but his hands shot out—rough and fast—grabbing your knees and keeping you spread. “Ah ah. Don’t hide from me, baby. Let Daddy see what he did.”

You turned your face, embarrassed, only for him to grab your chin and force your gaze back to his. “You wanted this, remember?” he said with a smirk. “You begged for it.”

“I know,” you breathed. “I know—I just—”

“You did so good,” he said suddenly, softer this time, but still wrecked, still growling at the edges. “So fuckin’ good for me. My perfect girl.”

That made your chest flutter.

And then he stepped back, grabbed one of the old, half-clean shop rags from the nearby counter, and started cleaning you up—gentle now, but still firm, still his.

You gasped when the cloth dragged over your thighs, and he grinned.

“Sensitive already?” he teased, kneeling between your legs, his eyes flicking up to yours with that dangerous gleam.

You nodded, lips parted, completely fucked out—but glowing. His gaze dropped back to your thighs, admiring the mess he’d made, before he reached for the rag again and gently finished wiping you down. He was quiet for a moment, almost focused, but the tension hadn’t left him—it just simmered lower now, heavy under the surface.

“You took it so well,” he murmured, tossing the rag aside and smoothing his palms over your thighs. “Didn’t think a pretty little thing like you could handle my cock like that. Guess I underestimated you, huh?”

You huffed out a small laugh, still face-down on the bench, your cheek resting against cool metal. “I could barely walk before. I’m definitely not walking now.”

“Good,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Means I did my job.”

He helped you up carefully, guiding your body until you were wrapped in his arms, your legs slung around his waist as he carried you across the garage, like you weighed nothing. He set you down gently on the old couch tucked in the corner, grabbing his flannel from the hook nearby and draping it over your bare shoulders like it was instinct.

You melted into the warmth and the scent of him, blinking up through your lashes as he sat beside you, one arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers playing with your hair.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low, a little hoarse now. “Wasn’t too much?”

You shook your head instantly, leaning into him. “No. It was perfect.”

His eyes darkened again, like just the memory of having you like that made him want to drag you back onto his lap.

But instead, he leaned in, brushing his lips over your temple. “You ever show up in that little skirt again,” he muttered, voice sinful and teasing, “I’m bending you over the hood of my car next time. Right in front of the open garage door.”

Your whole body reacted—heat flooding your cheeks, thighs clenching.

He chuckled darkly, watching you squirm. “Yeah. That got your attention.”

“Maybe I will,” you said, half-daring.

He looked at you, all rough affection and smouldering hunger, and smiled like a man who knew you were already his.

“Daddy’s not done with you, baby,” he whispered, tugging you closer. “Not even close.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

Taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world

If you want to be tagged in all my future Bucky/Sebastian works, let me know. <3

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #smut #mechanic bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #thunderbolts

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whateveriwant · 16 days ago

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The 141 being freaky in bed

18+ only. GN!Reader.

I’ll be honest, most of the time I headcanon the guys as pretty vanilla in the bedroom, but I do think they have a few instances where they’ll embrace their nasty freak tendencies.

Ghost

This man is such a freak in his day to day life that, comparatively, I don’t think he’s very freaky in the bedroom

That being said, one thing he does really enjoy is degradation. Things like making you hump his boot while he yawns boredly or leaning against the headboard as you ride him, crossing his arms behind his head, tutting as he mocks, “Y’ call that puttin’ your back into it?” (But he never lets you embarrass yourself for too long before he’s flipping you onto your back to show you how to really fuck)

In a similar vein, he loves to talk to your genitals like they’re their own person, e.g. “Is this needy cunt/cock desperate for me? She’s/He’s drippin’ like she/he is. Tsk, poor thing.” Sometimes he pretends like you’re not even in the room with him – that it’s just him and your holes he can’t wait to stuff

He’s also a big fan of spit play. Whether it’s spitting on your groin as he stares you deep in the eyes or spitting in your mouth while he pries your jaw open, letting out a string of cigarette-flavored drool. He uses it almost like a stake of ownership, not unlike when someone licks their food to stop others from stealing a bite

Above all else though, he likes having control. There’s the usual things like deciding the pace, the position, and so on when you fuck, but then there’s other things he also takes upon himself. Things like carrying you to/from the bed, stripping/dressing you like a doll, bathing you, shaving you. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.

Freak-o-meter rating: 3.8/10

Gaz

Don’t let his boy-next-door looks fool you. This man is more than capable of getting down and freaky when he wants to

For example, he’s a deviant for public sex. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the backseat of the car in a packed parking lot, in the bathroom at your family get-together, or even in the stuffy janitor’s closet at base when there’s a meeting happening right next door. For him, the riskier the sex, the better

He also loves to mark you up. Whether it’s a small love bite on your chest or a hand shaped bruise on your ass, he lives for seeing his marks on your skin. But one thing to note – those marks are for his eyes only. Don’t be going around showing them off to everyone. And also, don’t worry about them ever fading. He’ll make sure to apply new ones before the old ones can disappear

Now, some might consider this cheesy, but he really enjoys roleplaying in the bedroom. It can be as subtle as a single word huffed in your ear or it can be as extensive as a stage production – complete with costumes, props, and plot. By far, one of his favorite scenarios to play is the injured soldier being “tended to” by his slutty nurse

Building off that last point, not only is my man a bit of an actor, but he’s also a director because he loves to film you two having sex (Martin Scorsese, eat your heart out). His POV is his preferred angle to film from because it puts him right back in the moment when he watches it again, but really, any angle where he can watch you come apart on his cock is grade-A wank material for him

Freak-o-meter rating: 5.1/10

Price

I think of him almost like a sleeper cell freak. Most of the time he goes about his business very mild and vanilla, but then something will set him off and then all of a sudden he’s going full blown freak

While he is first and foremost a man of obtaining consent, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a little free use when you permit. Especially if he’s had a long day at work or if he’s just finished a tough mission, having you ready and willing to take him whenever he wants is precisely what he needs to wind down

Say it with me, folks: creampies, creampies, creampies. To him, there’s nothing better in this world than stuffing a nice tight hole full of cum. He loves to dump multiple loads in you and then have you hold it, before pushing it all out in one thick glob. Bonus points if he shoves it back in with his fingers so you can do it over and over again

One nasty habit he has is taking your cum-stained underwear with him whenever he’s away for work. So when he misses you or needs a reminder of home, he holds it up to his nose (or cock) and remembers what he’s got waiting for him. (By the time he gives them back to you, those drawers are so stiff they can stand on their own)

As you’ve probably already guessed, this man has a big scent kink. When you come home after the gym or after doing a double at work, he loves to bury his face in your chest, pits, crotch, etc. and just inhale. That natural tang of your sweat is an aphrodisiac like no other to him. It very much gives Napoleon telling Josephine not to bathe before he returns from war

Freak-o-meter rating: 6.8/10

Soap

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. This man is a capital-F Freeeeeak!

Foot fetish, ‘nuff said. He likes to admire your feet, pamper them, massage them, kiss them, put his cock between them and fuck them, etc etc. Once, when he was really down bad, he had you don a pair of strappy heels and stomp on him (best night of his life if you ask him)

As long as he can remember, he’s liked to play with his food, and the bedroom is no exception to that practice. Whether it’s feeding you sensual staples like strawberries and champagne or drizzling his cock in chocolate syrup and having you suck it off, he’s not one to shy away from mixing food with sex

However, one kink he does get a little nervous about sharing is his interest in pet play – him being the pet, that is. It’s not that he has any real shame in it, but more so he never knows how the other person will react when he brings it up. If that is something that interests you though, he’ll be absolutely thrilled. There’s nothing he’d like more than to be led around on a leash by you. (And might I say, he looks great on his knees)

But by far, without a doubt the number one thing that gets his rocks off is group sex. There’s just something about getting to share in multiple people’s pleasure simultaneously that excites him beyond comparison. So whether it’s cucking, partner swapping, an orgy, etc. he’s down for it. He’s truly the inspiration for the phrase “guys literally only want one thing and it’s fucking disgusting”

Freak-o-meter rating: 9.99999/10

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hamburgerndsprite · 4 months ago

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Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 11

Note: (I'll keep updating the lists as I read more fics. Also, all the moodboards are edited by me therefore I request everyone not to repost them as theirs)

[Masterlist]

[OT7]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Tangled Hearts by writersrealmbts

Pairing: Hybrid! Poly! Bts x Reader Genre: hybrid au, Monsta X cameos, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive Stuff, SFW Wordcount: 22,844 Description: Hybrid!ot7 x reader: You have seven hybrids and life with them can be both good and stressful. Some days are better than others, but in the end, you know that they’re always there for you, in more ways than one.

{SERIES}

➺ Royal/Bodyguard AU by jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

Pairing: Bodyguard! BTS x mafia princess! Reader Genre: fluff + angst Summary: your bodyguards became your best friends and you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Chapters: 7/7

➺ Before I Leave You by hollyhomburg [ONGOING]

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia Au, BTS x Reader Parts: 80 chapters Posted Summary: Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who’s clearly been through some shit).

➺ A Place Called Home by agustdakasuga

Pairing: vet! reader x Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour Parts: 25/25 Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Growth by happy-meo

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Fluff, mild angst Summary: Namjoon was everything you weren’t but you were everything Namjoon wasn’t.

➺ Autumn Night by sodoyouknowbts

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Romance, steamy smut Summary: You attend an event to support Namjoon, who is the keynote speaker for the night. You can’t help but feel insecure about the attention and the advances he is receiving from the girls he lectures. You attempt to leave the event early, but he stops you, intent on reminding you exactly what you mean to him.

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONESHOT}

➺ With You by yoonpobs

PAIRING. kim seokjin x reader GENRE. marriage!au, divorce!au, childhood friends2lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut WORDS. 22.1k SUMMARY. Marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.

➺ Turn Back Time by raplinesmoon

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor! reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ word count: 13.3k summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

➺ Good Girl by Jamaisjoons

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: seokjin x reader x yoonji x jimin ❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut • some fluff, pwp au. ❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 23k : ) ❥ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 accidentally walking in on your boyfriend’s flatmate, min yoonji, and her boyfriend park jimin, was probably the best thing you’d ever done. 〞

➺ The End by Jimlingss

➜ Pairing: Jin x Reader ft. OT6 ➜ Words: 31k ➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst ➜ Summary: It’s been a habit of yours to vent in the form of love letters. There’s six in total. They’re kept secret, hidden in your closet. But on your 30th birthday, what you least expect is for each letter to become reality. All done by the whacky ghost of Christmas future trying to grant your birthday wish.

➺ Lost and Found by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Jin x reader Genre: fluff; angst; sfw; strangers to lovers. Word count: 21.2k Summary: What do you do when your whole world comes crashing down around you? When everything you loved turns out to be a lie? When your fiancé tells you he’s been having an affair, you feel like your whole world comes crashing down, but then you find an antiques shop and the strange man that runs the shop helps you slowly rebuild your life and realise maybe not everything about you is broken.

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Bangtan's Receptionist by wooataes

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem! Reader, implied ot7 x Fem! Reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death. Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

➺ Crave You by borathae

Pairing: Yoongi x f. Reader Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, some Fluff, smol lil Angst Summary: ”You should be angry at him for breaking his promise to you, but how could you, if kissing him feels so good? Or alternatively: all it takes is a small fight to discover a kink you and your fiancé share...”

➺ Anything by jiminrings

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 10k glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved. alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.

➺ The Final - Day 02 by yoongiofmine

Pairing: DDAY!Yoongi x Groupie!Reader Genre: idol au, porn with a lot of plot, one-shot WC: 16k Summary: You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

➺ Damn the Charcuterie Board [M] by bratkook

pairing: min yoongi x reader x park jimin genre: light crack, smut, pwp, warnings: threesome (obvs), oral sex, face riding, unprotected sex, sloppy seconds, stupid jokes about raw meat lmfao word count: 6.7k of pure filth

{SERIES}

➺ Take Five by jiminrings

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 10k genre: angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced. alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.

➺ Oh, Baby! by honey-boyyoongi [ONGOING]

Pairing: single dad! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Fluff, angst, crack, neighbor au Chapters: 60/61 Summary: Min Yoongi, is a simple man. He likes his coffee black and iced, he enjoys his job, and he loves his baby girl. But what happens when the new neighbor, quite literally, drops into his life?

➺ Pink Bird House by 54daysormore

Pairing: Single Dad! Yoongi x Reader ft. Mini Tae Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Tae is yoongi's baby Parts: 25/25 Synopsis: Tae really wants a pink bird house, but his dad is definitely too busy to make one with him. Enter Y/N. Then exit Y/N. Right?

[MIN YOONJI]

{ONESHOT}

➺ La Petite Mort by snackhobi

pairing: assassin! Min Yoonji x assassin! reader word count: 9.7k genre: f x f smut, assassin! Au summary: Based on a post that said: "my ex-wife sent an assassin on me but I sent an assassin on that assassin & they fell in gay love & now they're having sex in my guest bathroom"

➺ As we go along by ddaenggtan

pairing | min yoonji x reader genre | NSFW; Fluff, Smut, a dash of Angst bc why not, idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers, Awkward Gays, Idiot/Oblivious Gays, OH The Min Twins aka Yoongi and Yoonji are siblings uwu wc | 10.4k summary | Four years ago, the beautifulstunningattractivefrustrating Min Yoonji came into your life. Ever since, it’s been a competition between the two of you to win the HOA’s Holiday Decorating Contest. The fiery looks she gives you paired with the pointed insults throw you off your game every year, but not this time. This holiday season, you’re determines to win; and along the way you might just find that Yoonji’s been trying to win something else. ;OR the queer hallmark movie of your dreams.

➺ The Song Thief by justanotherstarlightmonger

Pairing: Idol! Min Yoonji x Idol! Female reader Genre: Smut, fxf, idol! au Word count: 4.5 k words Summary: Min Yoonji makes sure you're not stealing her latest song

➺ Good Girl by Jamaisjoons

➺ Chatoyant by jincherie

pairing: min yoonji x reader genre: hybrid!au, magic!au/ witch!au, familiar!au, smut, slight angst words: 15.5k summary: You’re a witch, and Yoonji is your familiar. The tension between you has been rising steadily over the months, and comes to a head after Jungkook and Taehyung pull an April Fools joke that doesn’t quite go right. Perhaps you should thank them for how things turned out... right after they finish running from Yoonji, that is.

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Midnight Rendezvous [M] by kookscrescent

➤ pairing│Hoseok x female reader ➤ genre│smut, fluff, boyfriend au ➤ word count│6k ➤ summary│Because of a rule that was implemented at Hoseok’s apartment, he has to sneak you in without his roommates finding out. But perhaps you were a little too loud...

➺ Us by honeymoonjin

pairing: idol! Jung Hoseok x gf! reader genre: FLUFF, established relationship, idol au summary: ❝ Among the publicity of being an idol, hoseok wants his proposal to be a private affair. ❞

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONESHOT}

➺ 100 km/hour [M] by chateautae

➵ pairing: fuckboy!jimin x f. reader ➵ genre : college!au, smut, pwp ➵ rating : 18+ ➵ word count : 7k ➵ summary : what exactly happens when you and your friends have to pile into one car for the ride home after an insane halloween party, and you find yourself sitting in park jimin’s lap? especially when he's dressed as an angel, and you're in the sluttiest devil costume ever?

➺ Sugar, Spice And Everything Nice by dovechim

➾ pairing: weak sperm jimin x witch! reader ➾ wordcount: 13k ➾ genre: a crack smut essentially ➾ summary: you and jimin have been trying for a baby for the past six months, to no avail, but then you realise one crucial mistake: you’ve been neglecting your witchy heritage. what ensues is a month of trial and tribulation... for jimin at least.

➺ All into You [M] by taegularities

pairing: Jimin x female reader genre: fantasy!au, HP!au, established relationship, fluff, some crack, basically pwp wordcount: 7.1k Summary: “The weather. It was nice today, no?” you repeated yourself, your gaze meeting his hazy, lustful eyes. “You’re literally riding me right now.” Teasing your boyfriend while being surrounded by your closest friends? Entertaining. But when he drags you away to punish you for it? That’s when you’re in for a ride.

➺ Damn the Charcuterie Board [M] by bratkook

➺ Let's get Quizzical by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Jimin x reader Genre: friends to lovers; fluff; angst; smut Word count: 28.6k Summary: Thursday night pub quizzes with your friends are a must. One of those friends being your long-term friend, long-term crush, Park Jimin. At this point 99.9% of the population knows you have feelings towards him, Jimin being the 0.1% that doesn’t. But what happens when a bet goes wrong and your weekly quizzes become more complicated than fun?

➺ Into the Wilderness by gukyi

pairing: park jimin x female reader genre: angst, fluff, comedy, camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au word count: 27k summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

➺ Turn to Stone by jjungkookislife

❄ pairing: gorgon!jimin x elemental!reader ❄ genre: established relationship, supernatural au, smut [18+] ❄ wc: 8.4k ❄ summary: Childhood best friend turned boyfriend has only wanted one thing in his life, to be able to look you in the eyes without the risk of turning you into stone. The last (and only) time it occurred, it was nearly fatal for you but with your anniversary coming up, he’s willing to give it another go.

➺ Home is where the heart is by bangtanfanfiction

♢ Pairing: Jimin x Idol!Reader ♢ Word count: 12K ♢ Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint ⌲ Description: You’ve been together with Jimin for about three months. But you’ve been keeping a big secret from him. A secret in the form of your 6 year old daughter

➺ Paper Hearts by namfinessed

pairing: jimin x reader genre: fluff, college au, friends to lovers word count: 9k summary: hearts fragile like paper, tear it or don’t?

➺ Potions by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Jimin x reader Genre: Prince Jimin, Healer reader, royal au, fluff, angst. Word count: 23.6k Summary: Magic is banned, to perform it is an act punishable by death, a law brought in by the queen. And yet, here you are, living in the same palace as her, defying that law by performing the magic she so hates. You don’t feel at risk of being found out, you are only a lowly healer, a nobody. But when the prince discovers you and can’t seem to leave you alone, you may not be as safe as you thought.

{SERIES}

➺ Tainted by muniiimyg

pairing: jimin + oc au/genre: est relationship, angst if you’re a crybaby, fluff COUGH COUGH jimin + oc are SOFTIES, ex-fuckboy!/ex badboy! and angelic oc, and somewhat healing vibes warnings: implied smut, one sided pining, explicit language, self doubt/hate aka insecure jimin parts: 20/20 summary: after going public with their relationship, everyone is amused as jimin isn’t exactly what they had in mind for a girl that is practically an angel. perhaps a dance with the devil is what it takes for both worlds to fall into place. + nobody thinks he’s good enough for her. she think he’s all she needs. he wants her to be right.

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Unbreakable by smoljimjim

>Pairing: Taehyung x OC named Siri, lovers-exes-lovers >Genre: angst, small fluff, happy ending >Word count: ~16,300 >Description: Taehyung and Siri were the perfect couple and had the perfect relationship. They were known as the 'unbreakable' couple. That was until Taehyung found out something about Siri he couldn't ignore. He thought he knew everything about her, but this... this one thing was a relationship deal breaker.

➺ Requested Drabble by taleasnewastime

pairing: idol! taehyung x reader genre: fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au summary: The reader meets Taehyung, but she initially has no idea who he is until he introduces himself. Taehyung is immediately drawn to her and goes out of his way to charm her. One thing leads to another, and they end up having a passionate encounter together.

➺ Sunflower Boy by happy-meo

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: fluff summary: a fluffy oneshot of when reader met taehyung for the first time. [Part of First Meeting Series]

➺ Good Luck Charm by gukyi

pairing: actor! kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love, friends to lovers!au, roommates!au word count: 11k summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{SERIES}

➺ With a brush of fate by yoongiofmine

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x f!reader Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers. Parts: 21/21 Summary: Your roommate was sure she found you the perfect man. Her boyfriend believed he found Taehyung’s soulmate. The only problem was that you never wanted to date an idol and he never wanted to drag you into this life. Taehyung didn’t even know what he wanted anymore and was tired of being criticized for simply growing up. You just wanted to finish university and do something for yourself. What started out with the meddling of your friends became something neither of you expected. Could the two of you be what the other is missing? Or would things just fall apart?

[JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Daybreak by bbangtans

pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional wordcount: 10.1k Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

➺ Lucky Number 7 by smoljimjim

>Pairing: husbandJK x wifeOC named Siri >Genre: slight angst, satisfying ending >Word count: ~7500 >Warnings: swear words, JK's a cheater, the world works in mysterious ways. >Description: The seven-year itch has hit Jungkook. It hit him so bad, he did the unthinkable to his wife, Siri. How will Siri handle it?

➺ Cool with You by kooktrash

➣ pairing: afab!reader [she/her] x neighbor!jk ➣ genre/au: strangers to friends to lovers. smut. ➣ wc: 14.6k words ➣ summary: your break up from kim taehyung sent you spiraling into what felt like a midlife crisis of tear stained cheeks and tubs of half eaten ice cream with a broken heart. after finding out that your neighbor, jeon jungkook, was eavesdropping on your meltdowns and came to find out that your ex was his old friend, he found himself wanting to comfort you. he knew the kind of guy Taehyung was and he didn’t want to see you beat yourself up over a guy who wasn’t worth it so in the end he helped you through it and was unable to ignore the growing attraction you felt toward each other.

{SERIES}

➺ The Cocktail Triology by borathae

Summary: “It takes a trilogy to tell this story. It is a story of love, friendship, the hardships of being young and unexpected encounters. Experience the tingling butterflies of a summer’s love unexpected, witness the significance one little mistake can have on the lives of others and feel the exciting sparks of a love so strong it could move mountains. Find out what it means to grow up, what it takes to find yourself and how to make the best out of your granted time on earth.” 1. Tequila Sunrise 2. Purple Rain 3. Orange Ginger Tea

Tequila Sunrise by borathae

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader Genre: s2l!AU, Diner!AU, Biker Gang!AU, Smut, Romance Chapters: 5/5 Summary: “You always thought of your life as nothing exciting. Small town, stable job at the local diner, a roof over your head and nice friends. It didn’t take much to make you happy. But that all changes with the arrival of Jeon Jungkook, mysterious biker with dark hair, inked skin and a preference for leather jackets. It doesn’t take long for you to realise that life has so much more in store for you and Jungkook is happy to show you all of it…”

2. Purple Rain by borathae

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader, Yoongi x Jimin Genre: Biker Gang!AU, Road Trip!AU, Smut, Romance, Hurt and Comfort Chapters: 29/29 Summary: “Two months on the road with Jungkook and his friends and you couldn’t be happier about your life. You spend your days laughing, dancing and rolling around the sheets with the boy of your dreams, all whilst visiting beautiful places. But your idyllic life soon changes, when Taehyungs past catches up with him, putting not only him, but your entire gang in danger. Can the group get through his betrayal and if so can you outrun the danger before it is too late?”

3. Orange Ginger Chai by borathae

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader, occasional Taehyung x f.Reader & Taehyung x Jungkook Genre: Smut, Fluff, slice of life!AU, established relationship!AU, domestic!AU, tattoo artist!Jungkook, restaurant owner!OC Chapters: 54/54 Summary: “Snippets out of the adventure, you and Jungkook call “your life together”. This is a collection of drabbles all in the name of The Cocktail Trilogy couple. They all play after the events of the main story.”

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vidals-harkness · 7 months ago

Text

seekest thou the road

summary: a random thursday turned into a strange series of happenings which meant certain clarity for you and your mother. but that clarity also meant the start of a new journey, the revelation of true feelings, and a quest for one's desires.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, rio vidal x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

It was a normal Thursday morning for Agnes and her daughter Y/n.

You trudged out of bed, blanket wrapped around you as you made your way downstairs to see your mom, Agnes O'Connor, making her morning coffee none too happily.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling a little as you sipped on the cup of coffee she had kept ready for you, in response to which you recieved a short grunt.

Agnes O'Connor really wasn't a morning person.

The sound of rain broke the silence that hung heavy between you both, and as the chill seemed to only increase, you pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling your hands tingle with the warmth of the cup in them. The sharp ringtone of her phone made you jump a little, but her chatter faded into the background as your attention went to the kitchen window.

The fog lay thick, same as when you had woken. However, it seemed to strike a chill down your spine which stood out from the cold of the season. Through the pattering of rain on glass, you could hear loud T.V static, the sound of canned laughter. Normal but...foreboding.

Your gaze darted behind to where the T.V was, but the flat-screen was dark, inactive. The sound was from right where you had been looking before--outside. You squinted through the gaps the raindrops left on the glass, to see an old-timey T.V right there in the middle of the street, showing a black-and-white sitcom. The words were not clear, same as the faces of the characters, but you felt like you'd been there before. Not like reminiscence, not like déjà -vu. Just...familiar.

You blinked rapidly as everything came back into focus. Your mom looked happier than she had in maybe weeks, and you didn't want to ask about phantom T.Vs in the fear of maybe wrecking this strange sense of happiness she seemed to have.

"Get in the car, kid, you're coming to work with me today," she said, tossing her keys up and catching them with an audible jingle.

You groaned. You did not want to spend several hours just sitting in her office, watching her play Candy Crush.

"Great," you grumbled sarcastically, going upstairs to change your clothes. Pulling on plain, comfortable clothes, you discreetly stole her green flannel shirt and pulled it on, combing your hair carefully. You were a lazy teen, yes, but you weren’t an animal.

The car rolled down the empty road, the haze seeming to part like the Red Sea, while the view beyond the windows warped with the raindrops running down it. You rested your elbow against the glass, head resting on your palm as you scrolled through a website on your phone, the rumble of the car pairing with the pattering of rain to create the perfect ambiance for silence.

“So,” your mom said, breaking the somewhat comfortable quietness that had settled. “What’s the latest hyperfixation?”

“Still history,” you said in a bored monotone.

“What’cha reading about on that tiny screen anyway?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,”

Agnes rolled her eyes subtly, which you ignored, and shrugged, “You realise none of that matters anymore, right?”

“You mean the repression of women and the deprivation of knowledge they faced due to the fear of being burnt at the stake under the accusation of being a witch just cause she can count to ten? Yeah, pretty sure that matters,” you deadpanned.

“Jeez,” she scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. She’d been sour and irritable for months now, especially after her riding the desk period.

“I don’t get why I have to come,” you said. “I’m seventeen, the worst thing I’ll probably do is watch A-rated stuff on Netflix,”

“Yeah, well I needed your true-crime expertise,” she said curtly. “And you gotta spend your suspension productively somehow, don’t you?”

“Well if the police system in Westview wasn’t so shit, maybe you wouldn’t even need a seventeen year old to help you solve a murder. And for the last time, my suspension is actually invalid, unlike yours,” you rolled your eyes, earning a sharp flick on your temple from her.

“Don’t even start,” she scowled. “We’re shorthanded here,”

“Sounds like a you problem,”

“Sounds like a week of no phone if you keep up with this attitude, little miss,”

The silence settled again, broken by only the sound of her humming a strange, soft tune. You liked it, but you weren’t going to admit it, no way.

Your eyes caught sight of a car wreck just on the side of the road, which was concerning because they weren’t any skid marks from what you could see through the watery glass. You shook your head. You’d clearly been watching too much true crime lately.

The car halted, and she exited, holding the two coffees she’d bought, nodding at you to get out which you reciprocated with an eye roll.

The air was colder here, the chill of a murder hanging in it, standing out deliciously. You noticed a dark, smoky figure dancing in your peripheral vision, but you blinked and it was gone. Shaking the strange feeling, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans, standing beside Agnes.

“Another beautiful day,” said your mother.

“Hey Herb,” you nodded at the man, who stood behind the yellow tape.

“Hey, neighbour,” he nodded at you both, gaze shifting over to Agatha. “Surprised to see you out here, Detective,”

“Oh, and the sixteen year old isn’t surprising?” She scoffed, earning a shrug from him. She shook her head and continued, “There I was, sitting on my duff, playing Candy Crush, happy as a clam, enjoying the fruits of my undeserved disciplinary action—“

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Beg to differ,”

“You punched a suspect,” Herb deadpanned.

“Oh, now a convicted felon. I can’t be right and wrong at the same time,” she shrugged.

“Debatable,” you singsonged quietly, earning a kick to your shin.

“Yes, you can,” he confirmed.

“When the Chief calls and tells me, ‘Hibernation’s over. ‘Got a case only you can solve.’,” sensing his skepticism, she added, “Direct quote,”

He sighed with defeat and pulled up the tape, allowing you both in. You chuckled softly and patted his shoulder with sympathy, earning a soft laugh from his end.

“Playing hooky, Y/n?” He asked as you walked beside him.

“Suspension,” you grumbled. “Punched a kid in the face,”

“Moving on from the start of your delinquent career,” Agnes interrupted, prompting Herb to continue.

“Jane Doe. Found her down here by the water. Dispatch was tipped off by an anonymous call,” he explained.

“Basic,” you rolled your eyes. “Lasting evidence?”

“This is all she had on her,” Herb handed over an evidence bag with something in it—a library card.

“What’s this? From a library book?” She asked, snatching it away.

“No shit, mom,” you scoffed, looking around the area for clues. “And real mature for a 50 year old,”

“Watch your mouth,” she snapped.

“Westview branch,” Herb interjected.

“Cause?” She asked.

“Blunt force trauma,”

Blunt force trauma? Unless she’s been clocked over the head at the library with a dictionary, you didn’t see any cliffs she could’ve been thrown off of.

As if she’d read your mind, your mother said, “Not much of a drop around here. She fall?”

“She was crushed,” he sighed.

Crushed? Even better. Where could you find boulders in a creek where the biggest stone was probably the same size as your hand?

“By what?”

“Something big. And heavy,”

“So she didn’t die here,”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she, Herb?” She asked, brow raised.

“Oh, she’s really, most sincerely dead,” he confirmed.

“You never know,”

The body lay face down beside the creek, and you could’ve sworn you saw that same shadowy figure, this time with a flash of…green? It vanished before you could make sense of it.

The woman wore a hoodie and slacks—house clothes, suggesting a home murder? Maybe? This case was too complicated. Blunt force trauma with nothing in particular, a library card, and clothes which resembled a breakup uniform. It made as much sense as a toddler’s handwriting.

Your mother had vanished somewhere, looking for clues, leaving you alone with forensics and the body, surrounded by yellow tape.

The air grew another chill, separate from the one caused by the rain. You felt someone breathing down your neck, and turned sharply to check who it was.

Strangely, nobody.

Your head gave a sharp stab of pain, and you winced, the voices in your head growing loudest, but still giving way to one, familiar voice. And all it said was a single sentence. ‘Snap out of it,’

There was a snap of someone’s fingers near your ear, and the voices went back down to whispers in the back of your mind.

Agnes knelt beside the body, freshly rolled over.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. “What happened to you?”

“You okay, Agnes?” Herb asked, concerned.

“How do you mean?” She snapped.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” He said nervously.

“For starters you’re asking a dead body for answers,” you smirked, poking her cheek.

She smacked your hand away. “Oh, yeah? And who is that exactly? I’ll try to be more cheerful for you next time,” her tone was bitter as she stood up. “But right now this unidentified woman lying dead in a creek has just got me down in the dumps,”

“Jeez, looks like someone’s hormonal,” you rolled your eyes, bumping her shoulder as you walked past her. “I can’t tell who’s the teenager here,”

“Shut up,” she snapped at you, turning to Herb. “Let me know when the dental records come in,”

You sat in the car with her again, on the way to the library. Yet again, there was that silence—that uncomfortable, thin-ice kind of silence which frankly drove you up the wall. There was a time where you would make jokes with her, a time where you both would sing to shitty music on the radio, but that was long gone. Now, all you both did was sit together, a cavernous distance between you two which, in reality, was just a few inches apart.

You loved your mother, of course you did, but it was at times like these where you felt she didn’t feel the same.

“What do you think, hm?” She asked at last—that same, irritated, clipped tone breaking through your thoughts.

“About what? If it’s your fashion sense, I think we could use some work—“ you began, judgement evident in your own tone.

“About the case,” she sighed. “Cut it out with the sarcasm,”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that the broke noir-chic is starting to look a little bit more divorce-chic except you’re not getting the benefits,” you shrugged. “But as for the case, there’s definitely more to it,”

“Okay, and?” She prompted.

You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Well, for starters, the method of killing is hazy. She died of blunt force trauma, but that was inflicted by crushing, but this is Westview. The biggest boulder in the creek is probably a skipping stone. And you can’t crush someone with that. Not their whole body, definitely,”

She hummed thoughtfully. You hated how the only time you talked was about cases. It was never about school, or football, or anything else. Always murder, crime, arrest.

“Whatever, anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “We’ve reached,”

The library had a stupendously long queue, and you were about stand in it, only to have Agnes grip your wrist and pull you forward.

“Ah. Official police business. Excuse me, excuse me,” she said, pushing past them all, earning disgruntled comments from them all.

“You use that line at the supermarket checkout, too?” Dottie, the library clerk asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, avoiding eye contact with Agnes.

“Only suckers wait their turn,” your crazy mother replied haughtily.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” Dottie asked, sighing softly.

She produced the library card, the packet crinkling as it hit the desk. “Found this on a victim,”

“Ooh. Who’s the victim? Is she dead?” The lady asked.

“Now, why do you assume it’s a woman?” Your mother frowned.

“Exactly,” you frowned. “Statistically, males are more subject to be murder victims, given that on an average, only 30% of victims are women,”

The lady gave you a prompt side eye, saying, “I don’t know. Sounds more titillating,”

She took a look at the card, shaking her head, “There are no names on here,”

“But there are dates,” Agnes interjected.

“We don’t use cards anymore. Everything’s digital now. Sorry,” she grimaced.

“Well, thanks a bunch for your help, Dottie. You’ve been an absolute angel. Incidentally,” Agnes’s voice rose to a shout as she added, “Where were you last night between the hours of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?”

You put your head down, covering your ears and groaning. “You’re an embarrassment, mother,”

Just to shut her up, thus sympathising with you, Dottie calmed her down, “I guess I could run the book title,”

“Oh, can you?” She snapped sarcastically. “Come on, Y/n,”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, evading her attempt to yank you in the library. “It’s time for you to be an adult and give me some money for ice cream after I just suffered second hand embarrassment at your hands,”

“Fine,” she conceded, after holding your gaze for a good ten seconds, handing you some money.

“Thank you,” you said firmly, marching out of the library.

You heaved a sigh of relief, as if you'd exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The sun shone down on the pavement, casting sharp shadows as you walked down the street to your favourite place--the coffee shop where you and your brother would participate in open mic nights. You remembered how well he'd sing with you accompanying him on the guitar...

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. You hated thinking about Nicky. It always ruined your mood. More so than your mother.

You entered the shop, sighing in relief at the familiar scent of chocolate chip cookies and ground coffee beans. The owner of the shop was a sweet old lady and her husband, both of whom were perhaps the kindest people in Westview.

"Hi there," you smiled, handing her the money. "Can I have my usual, please?"

The lady, Mrs. Jackson, smiled before saying, "Oh, that nice young woman over there already asked for one, paid for it, too,"

You turned in the direction where she was pointing, seeing a shockingly familiar woman in police attire, her hair pulled back in a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck, the top two buttons of her white shirt opened, while the sun glinted off the badge she had hung around her neck.

She beckoned you over with the curl of her finger, and you went over, sitting down in front of her.

"Hi there, Detective Vidal," you smiled slightly.

Rio chuckled softly, pushing the cup of coffee towards you. "I see you're still stuck,"

You frowned a little at that. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Here, in Westview. I'd have thought your mom would've gotten sick of this place by now,"

You inhaled deeply, sipping the coffee happily. "Wishful thinking," you said. "That lady is fucking crazy. So...what brings you to town?"

"You know why I'm here," she nodded. You liked her for this reason. She was straightforward, just as enigmatic as a detective should be, yet she spoke with a kind of firm kindness which few could master.

"You're here to...get under mom's skin?" You tilted your head, curious.

She laughed, looking down as she shook her head. "I've been assigned to help with her...case,"

"Oh she's going to be pissed," you giggled, fingertips running along the edges of the saucer your cup was on. "But is this case really FBI worthy?"

"Well, it's worthy of federal intervention," she nodded. "But that's not entirely why I'm here,"

You nodded a little dejectedly. "Oh. You're not here for too long, then?"

"Just until this whole matter clears up," she shrugged. "Shouldn't be a while. But we can go for ice cream sometime. How're you holding up here?"

You paused, meeting her gaze fully for a good minute. An aura danced along her outline--black and hazy. Your fingertips tingled against the warm ceramic of the cup, and you felt that same stab of pain in your head like you had in the morning.

"Easy," Rio said softly, her fingertips tapping on your wrist. "Think through it, you're still stuck,"

The world bend out of shape for a good moment, the only thing remaining constant was her face. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the cup on the table tremble as the voices began to scream.

"Come on, nena," her voice was soft, quiet. "Snap out of it,"

You heard the snap next to your ear again, and when you opened your eyes, you saw through the veil for a moment. She was dressed in black, you could see the bones...

Down came the veil, and with it the voices quietened. Her face was normal again, soft jaw, sharp smile.

"You've got it in you, Y/n," she said softly, her hand still tracing your wrist. "Just snap out of it,"

You blinked, and she was gone.

The next morning, you woke up dazed. It was a similar morning like the previous day's--foggy, cloudy, confusing, gloomy. You avoided your mother completely, she seemed to be a little more off her rocker than usual.

"I'm assuming you're taking me to the office again?" You sighed softly as she grabbed the car keys.

"Yes ma'am, get your ass in the car in five," she said, heading out.

You squinted at said 'car'. It was...a broom on a desk in the living room? But you shook your head, going back to normal. It was just the same old Honda Civic she'd been driving the last few years you had been in Westview.

The station was radiating depression as per usual, and you groaned to yourself as you walked past the Chief with a brief good morning.

She settled in her chair while you sat on the couch, reading your book quietly.

“You hear what happened at the library?” Agnes asked the Chief.

“No, I—“ he began, but she cut him off.

“Somebody torched one of the stacks, like, took a flame thrower to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, distracted. “I’ll have one of the guys follow up. But listen, Agnes—“

“You got a spot on your shirt,” she pointed out.

“Oh—“

“And your tie,”

“Mom will you cut it out?” You asked, irritated with her constantly making the poor guy conscious.

“You makin’ breakfast smoothies again, Chief?” She asked, none too kindly. “You know you’re supposed to put the lid on before you blend it,”

He sighed, fully used to her antics. “Yes, I know. Um…listen, Agnes…”

She sighed deeply, irritated. “You’re about to tell me somethin’ I’m not gonna like,”

“Soil samples from under the fingernails and toenails of the Jane Doe came back,” he started, peaking your interest. “They don’t match the soil she was lyin’ in,”

“That’s no surprise. We assumed she’d been moved,” she said, nodding.

“Yeah, like perp probably carried her off,” you said.

“There were traces of a particular microbial sediment only found in Eastern Europe,” he sighed.

“That sounds like a hell lot of work for a perp,” you chuckled.

“Now get to the part I’m not gonna like,” she said, looking at him sharply.

He stepped aside from the door, and your expression brightened as a familiar woman entered the room.

“Here I am,” she said, her demeanour badass as per usual. “Hey, trouble,” she winked at you, earning a rare smile from you in return.

“You always find new ways to piss me off, don’t you, hon?” Agnes addressed you deadpan, her eyes fixed in Agent Vidal.

"Me? I'm an angel," you rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” Chief sighed.

“Fancy dirt always attracts the attention of the Feds,” Agnes scoffed disdainfully.

“Agent Vidal is an asset here, Agnes,” he reasoned. “More brain power and more resources mean you get to the finish line faster. Strength in numbers. Teamwork makes the dream—“

“Eat my ass, Chief,” she interrupted him.

“You’re just throwing a hissy fit because you’re not gonna be alone in the paper headlines,” you chuckled, earning an eraser chucked at your face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Chief said simply, exiting the room.

“It’s been a long time,” Rio said, taking a seat in the sofa, playing with your hair gently.

"What are you doing here?" Agnes asked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

"My job,"

"You wanna take control of my investigation,"

"No," after a brief pause where her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, she said, "If you wanna be in control, you can be,"

Your brow raised, but you went back to your book, as Agnes continued speaking. "She…The body was moved across state lines. Is that your play?"

Rio took a moment to look around, sighing softly. "Is this really how you see yourself?"

You looked at her, head tilted, and brows furrowed. She continued her movements, her hand gently stroking your hair. You noticed the voices had quietened down significantly...

"Sure. Let’s talk about the case," she said eventually, resignation clear in her tone. "What are your theories? How’d she end up in the ravine? Trouble?" Her gaze went to you.

"My guess is she was killed elsewhere, probably rolled down the hill," you shrugged.

"No drag marks. Thinking the perp carried her," Agnes said.

"Uh… Seems logical, but you don’t really believe that because…" She stood up, placing the file down with pictures on it, taking a perch on the corner of Agnes' desk. "Oops. No tracks for the perp. Not a leaf disturbed before Forensics showed up. It’s almost like she just magically appeared," her voice took an odd tone, somewhat...coaxing?

"Let’s stick to reality here, yeah?" Your mother scoffed.

"Who hurt you? Whatever happened to alternate possibilities?" You rolled your eyes. "Like, who shat on your creativity?"

Rio stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Agnes. She cleared her throat, "Sure,"

"If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that these cases are always about the place," Agnes' tone was clear with the taste of theory within it, the backing of facts, the slight hint of senility. "The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie,"

"Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?" Rio shrugged, moving off her perch. "Yeah, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true… Agnes?"

The pause was jarring, carrying notes of coaxing again, the same tone she'd used at the coffee shop.

"I don’t want you here," Agnes scowled.

"Yeah, because anything even remotely comforting in my life you seem to hate," you scoffed, looking at Rio. "I'm sorry about her, she keeps waking up on the wrong side of the bed,"

"It's all good, nena," she nodded, before leaving the files on the table for Agnes. "I'll get you ice cream sometime before I leave town,"

You nodded, high-fiving her, before she nodded at Agnes. "Te veo," she said, leaving.

Your gaze snapped to her, angry. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with you? Getting all mushy-mushy with the feds," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Maybe because she actually cares about me more than you, you wanted to say.

"I dunno, maybe because her helping with your investigation might mean I'll be free to do what I want," you scowled. "But obviously, you wouldn't care about my happiness, would you?"

You saw a flash of anger pass over her face, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe she finally understood how you felt, maybe this was hint enough—

"We're going to the pawn shop, come on," she snapped, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No such luck.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, shrugging, "Sure thing,"

The pawn shop was musty, dank, and none too welcoming. You hated it.

“Is it real?” Agnes asked him.

“Oh, it’s real, all right. And it’s a beaut,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mind your beeswax, Norm,” she snapped. “Where’s it from? How old is it?”

“A picture of politeness and ladylike behaviour,” you rolled your eyes, playing around with a vintage puzzle box.

Norm chuckles in agreement before nodding, “North American. New England, maybe. Late 17th century, I guess. It’s made from cowrie shell,”

“What’s a cowrie?” She frowned.

“Sea snail,” he turned the brooch around and showed it to her, pointing at the ivory figures. “And these hotties here. That’s Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, Crone,”

“Common figures in witchcraft, late 17th century lore,” you added.

“What, no Working Professional Goddess?” She scoffed.

He chuckled and the brooch opened with a click, revealing a strand of hair. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Looks like your brooch is a locket. You looking to sell it, Agnes?”

She raised a brow. “How much you offering, Norm?”

“For you? Two hundred,” he shrugged.

“I smell bullshit,” you singsonged, grinning at him cheekily.

"Great. Now I know where to start the bidding on eBay," she snatched it back. "Come on, Y/n,"

"No, save me, Norm..." you mock-wailed, saluting him with two fingers as you exited the shop.

The sun went down and the moon came up, rising slowly in the sky as the nightly autumn chill set in. You napped on the couch, thoughts racing and mind a jumble of scenes and words while she worked.

"Go home, Agnes," Said the chief. "Or atleast call a cab for her," he nodded at your napping form.

"I am home, Chief," she said dismissively. "And I'm sure she's fine,"

The Chief switched her office lights off, earning a disgruntled noise of, "Hey!"

"Go home," he said forcefully.

You blinked sleepily as she shook your shoulder, groggy and tired.

"Come on, kid, we're going home," she said gruffly, grabbing her keys and her jacket, waiting for you.

You drowsily sat in the car, elbow leaning on the windowsill as you rested your cheek on your fist, dozing off slowly. You felt Agnes ruffle your hair gently.

“You did good today, kid,” she said quietly, as a quiet song played on the radio.

You smiled a little, tilting your head to fix your gaze on her. “Careful, you might say you love me, next,” you half-joked, earning a gentle punch to your shoulder.

She parked the car and got out of the driver’s seat, humming to herself still as you followed, still sleepy. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, slipping your hand into hers slowly. She sighed softly at that, but allowed it.

The house was quiet, you could sense some kind of odd energy around it—just like you’d felt an odd energy around everything else after meeting Rio at the cafe.

Almost like nothing was real…

You felt Agnes pull her hand from yours, saying, “I’ll set dinner in sometime,” she kept the distance between you both again. She went in his room, her movements slow and slightly sluggish.

You hated that room.

You heard a knock on the door as you lounged on the couch peacefully.

“What?” Came Agnes’ irritated voice.

“Did you know that it is a universally acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Came Rio’s voice. You heard the sound of pizza in a box. “Hungry?”

You sat up instantly, making space for Agnes on the couch, grinning when Rio came in.

“Hey, trouble,” she winked, taking a seat in the armchair, her blazer set aside and sitting in a comfy position, one leg perched on her knee, elbows resting comfortably on the armrests.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

Agnes came with two beers and a bottle of cranberry juice for you. You accepted it with a slight smile towards her, still annoyed by before.

Soon, she started telling Rio cop stories like she used to do for you and him.

“So she’s a rookie, granted, but I say to her, ‘Has the suspect been seen in the last 24 hours?’” Agnes narrates, a laugh in her tone. “And she says, ‘Only on TikTok.’ And then I say, ‘Well, did you learn anything?’ And she says, ‘That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.’”

You had taken a seat on the carpet in front of Rio, your back resting against her leg as she used her free hand to toy with the soft strands of your hair. You heard her chuckle and glanced up right when she smiled. You liked that expression. And when you heard Agnes laughing you liked it even more.

“Anyway…I have a lead in the case,” Agnes said.

“Oh do you? A lead which who gave you?” You raised a brow.

“Take it easy, trouble,” the FBI agent smiled. “That’s not why I came over,” Rio said. But she paused, before nodding. “But go ahead,”

“There was a car wreck, about an hour before time of death,” she stated.

“Where?” Rio asked.

“Eastview.”

“Eastview? See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield,”

She smirked. “Hey, I travel. I’m worldly,”

Rio chuckled. “Where have you traveled?“

You felt the answer on the tip of your tongue, but strangely you couldn’t tell past last year when you’d gone for a summer camp past Eastview.

Sensing the sudden shift in focus, Rio brought you both back. “Okay, so what about the car wreck?”

“Bloodstain in the back seat,” she stated, an odd look in her eye.

“You think that’s how they moved her?”

“Front two airbags deployed,”

“Maybe two perps?”

“Maybe,”

Rio squinted. “But you don’t like it,”

“My gut tells me they’re related,” Agnes shook her head, “But I can’t shake this feeling I’m seeing it wrong,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause. An uncomfortable, odd pause.

“No,”

“Are you hiding evidence?” She raised a brow.

“No,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re only lying to yourself—“ before she could finish, there was a loud clatter from upstairs. You moved to go investigate with her, but she shook her head.

“Stay here,” she scowled. “I don’t want you getting hurt in case the guy’s armed, that more paperwork for me,”

“Oh how thoughtful,” you rolled your eyes.

As she went upstairs to investigate, you sat on the couch again, patting it for Rio. “Wanna sit?”

She chuckled. “Sure thing,”

You turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, letting it play on a low volume, resting your body against hers. You lay your head in her lap eventually, letting her hand gently rub your arm soothingly.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Nena,” she said. “How’re the voices?”

“Loud,” you mumbled, shifting your knees up to your chest a little, an arm wrapping around them.

They got steadily louder as she spoke, making you wince and squirm slightly.

“Easy,” she warned.

“They’re so fucking loud…” you hissed, irritated. The objects in the room began to rattle slightly.

“You’re still Y/n,” she said softly. “But not this version,”

“The fuck do you mean?” You asked, irritated.

“I mean that she kept you trapped,”

“Who? Mom? Yeah no shit,”

She chuckled but shook her head. “No, not her. You remember her name,”

Flashes of something went through your mind—you saw everything in black and white at first. You felt the world tilt and bend, felt nausea rise at the back of your throat.

“She’s kept you in this prison,” she said softly. “She’s just kept you like this—docile, dormant…”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Mom said the voices are just some psychological thing—“

“Listen to the voices,” Rio urged. “Hear them closely,”

Another flash of something—an empty street, crying boys, a woman in red with hair the colour of…scarlet.

“Wanda—“ you choked out, gasping. The voices slowed from a cacophony to different voices, familiar voices from your past.

All screaming into your ears one thing: Snap out of it.

“That’s right, nena,” she whispered. “Keep trying,”

Your eyes went dark, black throughout the whites and irises, smoky black magic curling at your fingertips. You looked around you at the still-bending reality.

“What’s real?” You gasped out, feeling the magic pulse with your blood. You felt complete for the first time in three years.

“She’s kept you imprisoned for three years, locking away your ability,” Rio said. “You’re not just angry at Agatha for these centuries of hurt, you’re angry at Wanda for making you feel…”

“Powerless,” you completed. “I’ve been feeling powerless because of her,”

She nodded, a sly smile on her face. “You wanna try something with me?”

You nodded, grinning somewhat evilly. “Sure,”

“First, I’m gonna have to project on your mom’s mind, wanna help with that?”

You nodded, devious smile on your face. “I thought you’d never ask,”

Her smile matched yours instantly. “That’s my girl,”

You saw Agnes entering the room with a random boy, making you frown in utter confusion, before you used your power to help Rio get in her head. While you did so, you felt clearer on your own powers.

You were just like Mami.

Dark magic, soul magic. The kind where you could stop a person’s breathing and pluck the very thing that made them human right from their system. The kind where you could change your face to anyone who’d had a beating heart at will. The kind where you could shake the devil’s hand while playing with the angels.

Life and Death, you were the balance.

You felt time ticking by slowly but surely, you headed up to your room in a daze. You saw it clearly now—you understood just how senile you and your mother had been acting the past few days.

“Sleep,” you heard Rio’s voice in your head.

You did.

The next morning you woke up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, the day was warm. You squirmed out from under the covers, noticing yourself in the mirror. You smirked a little. You looked visibly warmer, as if lifting the spell had breathed some extra life into you. Ironic.

Just to check if last night was real, you moved your fingers like your mother had taught you, lifting a pencil and placing it down simply. You grinned with clear, childlike excitement.

“I’m back, baby,” you smirked.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, angry scream from downstairs.

You nearly fell as you ran down, knife in hand already. It lowered instantly as you saw Agatha in the room.

Naked.

Your own scream matched hers as you covered your eyes with your hands. “Mom get some fucking clothes on, you disgusting woman!”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I assume she got you out, too?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled.

“What’s up your ass this morning?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that the first thing I see upon being fully conscious is my mother standing in the living room stark-staring NAKED?”

Before you could comprehend her fast reply, she had dashed out of the house, making you groan in annoyance. You ran out after her, but not before you pulled on a jacket to hide your face with.

“Mom, mama, mother, please—“ you pleaded, looking through her rather than at her, trying to fix how awkward this was.

“Oh! Whoa!” You heard Herb exclaim. “What? What is going on? Hey, Miss Agnes, you—you feeling okay today?”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “How long have I been here?”

“Uh… What?” You saw him put his hand up to cover…things from his vision.

“How long have I been living in this cesspool of a town?” She asked none to politely.

“You don’t remember?” He asked, baffled.

“Yet you remember and retain the same attitude as ‘Agnes’,” you scoffed.

“Catch me up,” she scowled, ignoring you.

“About three years,” he nodded.

“Three years?” She exclaimed. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she realised. “Wanda,”

“We try not to say her name,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “Because you’re cowards, because you’re sheep. What have I been doing all this time?”

“Being bitchy to really nice people, for starters,” you rolled your eyes.

Herb chuckled but continued just as nervously. "Well, you’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit too casual with your boundaries…"

Triggered, she snapped, "Call me “nosy,” I’ll cut out your tongue."

"How polite," you grumbled.

"Yeah...you haven’t been yourself the past few days," he admitted. "Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug. Now that's normal for Y/n, obviously, but you? Nah,"

"So…So what? I’ve just been spouting nonsense and you’ve just been humoring me?" She scowled.

"I mean, folks been trying to help out, you know, stopping by and bringing you groceries and checking up on you," he explained, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Oh, I get it," Agatha chuckled sarcastically, her eyes on Dottie and her husband, who were trying to get their daughter back inside frantically. "Librarian. Chief of police," Her eyes landed on Norm, who jogged backwards upon meeting her gaze. "Oh! Jeweler,"

As she spoke, Herb tried covering her up with his jacket--a futile thing, really, since she threw it off her body instantly.

"This is where hope goes to die," she sneered.

"You know, um...besides the fact that you’re, um…" he gestured at her with his head. "You seem pretty lucid for a change. Aggressive, even. Powerful."

"Oh god, please don't feed into her ego," you begged, irritated.

"What did you say?" She asked softly, eyes drifting to him.

"I said, “Powerful,” but look, Agnes, if…"

"It’s Agatha,"

"Agnes' more annoying, bitchy counterpart," you interjected, earning a smack upside your head.

"Okay. Agatha. Yeah," he nodded, awkwardly. "Can you put on some clothes?" She groaned angrily and stalked off into the house, with you following in embarrassment. "‘Cause you… ‘Cause you’re naked..."

You stormed after her in anger, slamming the door shut behind you. "Mom, we need to talk--"

"No. No!" You heard her exclaim as you noticed how her hands were devoid of one very, very familiar thing. Her purple.

You shook your head. Inside, you were a mess of emotions. You were shocked, scared, angry, confused, and exhausted all in one. You hated this. Hated how she still didn't give you the time of day, how she constantly went after the same thing over and over again. Like always. You grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Mom stop!" You exclaimed, holding her back.

"Did she take yours, too?" She cut you off, her hand yanking away from your grip.

"No, I can, unfortunately, still see the dead, feel the dead, and control...hm...oh yeah, the dead," you rolled your eyes. "But that's not the point! The point is--and she's gone."

Agatha had gone back down to her basement, which, in Wanda's hex, was a whole witchy lair. Now it was just the laundry room. The pentagram was gone, your special little 'quiet corner' with barricade runes was gone, the comforting scent of incense and magic was overpowered by the smell of washing machine grease and Tide Pods.

You saw a bunny hop out from under the washing machine, and Agatha was quick to lift him up and cuddle him close. "I got mugged, mister. She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances,"

Her gaze landed on you. "We gotta get back on top,"

You rolled your eyes. "So much for a normal suspension,"

From upstairs, you both heard a loud thudding noise, and immediately, you ran up and yanked open the coat closet door to see...a boy? With duct tape on his mouth and legs?

"MOM!" You exclaimed, horrified. "Come ON! Have some basic human sense!"

Nonchalantly she shrugged, "So that arrest was maybe more of a kidnapping,"

"You think, lady?!"

"Keep it civil, little miss," she warned, before pointing at the boy. "But if you’re real and not a figment of my imprisoned mind, then that means…"

The door burst open, splintering and completely broken off its hinges, making you duck and cover your head, grabbing Señor Scratchy, and holding him tight to keep him safe. You placed him under the hallways table, keeping him away from the broken glass and wood. Agatha got blown back by the force of the impact, falling in a heap on the floor.

“Shit. Mom!” Your exclaimed, about to help, but she put a hand out to stop you.

“Don’t!” She snapped, making your features darken, as you stopped.

You saw a figure clad in black, a familiar woman, and your heart leapt at the sight of her. She flew at your mother before she stood with her knife poised at the base of Agatha’s collarbone, the woman pinned with the force of it, where her pulse beat steadily against the skin.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio giggled diabolically.

“I hate you,” Agatha snarled.

“Just like you do everyone you love,” you scoffed, shrugging. “Hi, Mami,”

“Hey nena,” she replied, eyes fixed on your mother. “How long has it been, Agatha?” Rio asked, pushing harsher against her grip.

“Not sure,” she groaned, you could sense her seething.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold, you hid behind all that dark magic, but then you lost it, and now…” she chuckled darkly, the tip of her knife kissing the skin of her collarbone, making Agatha wince. “Touch. You’re vulnerable,”

She eased, “Only physically,”

In moments, she grabbed Rio’s head, slammed it into a wall, making you wince as the knife clattered to the side. You winced as Agatha gripped the blade against Rio’s blow, the blood in the xarpet smelling metallic and nauseating.

“Do you remember pain?” Rio gasped. “It kind of tickles, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling dryly, Agatha panted, “Coochie coochie coo,”

After a good minute of them struggling like cats, with Agatha pinning Rio down by the throat, you made a slight attempt to help.

You grabbed your mother by the shoulders and held them apart, angry.

“Will you two hopeless lesbians just cut it out?!” You asked, your palms pressed against each of their chests. “This is fucking infuriating!”

“Stay out of this, Y/n,” Agatha snarled, her eyes on Rio.

“It’s best for you, nena,” added Rio.

“Well how about we be a normal family and perhaps go for dinner instead of you trying to kill each other!”

“You can’t kill me,” your mom hissed at Rio. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed,”

“Maybe I can’t kill you,” Rio said, angrily, blowing her back into the cabinet. “But I can make you wish you were dead,”

Agatha groaned, sitting up. “Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “This isn’t what you want. Me without power,”

You shrugged at Rio, mumbling, “Maybe it’s better if she didn’t have any power, selfish bitch,”

Agatha laughed, glaring at you just a little. “This is undignified,” she looked at Rio. “Don’t you want me at my best?” She stood, you noticed her her voice droppin to that horrible, infuriating, manipulative whisper. “Admit it. You prefer me—“

“Horizontal?” Rio interrupted. After a pause, she added “In a grave?”

“Formidable,” Agatha corrected.

“So take my power,” she shrugged.

Your mother chuckled humourlessly, nodding at her. “That’s cute. But you know that would kill me. Just…let me get my purple back. And then come find me,”

“I am not the only one that wants to see you dead,” Rio scoffed. “Wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown.”

Disconcerted, Agatha tried to lighten the statement, saying, “There are no new options?”

“I could just sit back and watch,” Rio shrugged.

Slowly, like a cat prowling to its prey, she approached her, voice but a whisper. “Come on. You love it. The anticipation…”

“Okay, Agatha,” Rio conceded, looking down and shaking her head with a chuckle. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.”

“Who, specifically?” She and you asked in unison.

“Mmm! The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio said. Noticing your panicked expression, she added, “Not you, nena. Just your mother,”

Turning back to agatha she shrugged. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown. After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh! It really warms the heart,”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

Pulling her close all of a sudden, Rio spoke in a low voice, full of conviction. “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you,”

She lifted the hand from which blood was dripping and in one long, clean swipe of her tongue, healed it.

You made a face with disgust. “Mami, ew,” you muttered. “You’re so gay, my god,”

Rio laughed, shooting Agatha a look, squeezing your cheeks with one hand gently and quickly before she whispered, “I’ll see you sometime soon, nena.”

As she went to the doorway, she glanced at Agatha, shrugging, “Te veo,” before leaving.

You both stood there in silence for a good moment, before you asked awkwardly, “So…what do we do about the door?”

She looked at you, baffled, her chin held delicately between her thumb and forefinger in thought. “The door?”

“Yeah, she blew it off its hinges,”

“Do you see the state of my sitting room?”

You glanced around at the catastrophic sight. She had a point.

“Yeah, I’m grabbing myself some breakfast, it is far too early for me to deal with…this,” you shrugged, going to the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Agatha didn’t respond, clearly thinking about Rio’s appearance. With a frustrated groan, she was about to stomp away, when she heard some indistinct mumbling from her closet.

Yanking it open, with you behind her, cereal bowl in hand and munching on Lucky Charms, she sighed at the sight of the boy with his mouth and limbs taped up.

“Oh, right, you,”

@eletricheart , @misty-melody , @mmemalwa , @skittlebum , @lexietargaryen , @natashasmuse , @angelbeingatitspurest , @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lizziescutiepie , @rosierogie , @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143 , @babybeeelle

hello my bao buns! sorry for the delay, i hope you liked this one! let me know what you think <3

love, jaya

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agathario x reader #mom agatha #mom rio #agathario X teen!reader

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nadvs · 1 year ago

Text

watch and learn (part nine)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

He’s used to feeling anger. It’s familiar to him, like a song he’s heard a million times.

But there’s something weaved in with the anger he’s feeling right now. A painful, sinking hopelessness. It’s almost debilitating.

Rafe typically looks away when he sees you and Blake together, but this time he can’t. It’s like he wants to aggravate himself.

As he sits in the sand, you’re out in the distance, far into the dark blue water, part of two silhouettes closed in a kiss.

You told him sadness isn’t weakness. That’s a fucking joke. If it wasn’t weakness, why does his heartbeat feel unsteady? He’s the very definition of weakness right now.

Rafe pats Sam on the back, mumbling that he’s heading home.

“What, already?” Sam asks, who’s been focused on flirting with Liv the entire time. “You still coming tonight?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, although he’s not even sure if he’ll be attending the frat party tonight. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he faces Blake.

His legs are heavy when he drives back to the dorm. He’s glad he didn’t carpool with anyone.

Rafe needs to get his shit together. He doesn’t want a commitment. He can’t do that. But he doesn’t want you to have one, either. With anyone.

What you have is so good. Why the fuck are you ruining it?

He scoffs to himself. It’s because you’re looking for someone who can commit. And… maybe he could figure out how to do the boyfriend stuff.

Stupid. He’s in disbelief that his mind went there. You don’t even want him like that. You’re friends that fuck. Or you were.

When you wade back onto the shore with Blake, you notice that Rafe is missing. You ask Sam about it, who simply tells you he left in a rush. You settle onto the sand with the rest of your friends, lightheaded and dazed.

About an hour later, you head home. Rafe’s in his room and hears your door open. He considers knocking. But soon after, your door closes again.

He paces for a few minutes, wondering if you went to shower. Or maybe you rushed back to Blake to go spend more time with him.

He desperately hopes it’s the former. He strips down and wraps a towel around his hips, heading towards the co-ed showers.

As you lather body wash over your arms, wondering if Blake felt the same way about the missing spark in your kiss, you hear your name muttered over the rumbling of the shower, echoing through the tiled corridor. You recognize his voice immediately.

“Rafe?” you say with a laugh. As confused as you are, you’re just as relieved to hear him.

You pull the slide lock open, slowly swinging open the shower stall door, eyes landing on his cheerless face. Your smile fades.

Rafe finds both pain and pleasure in that look of concern on your face that took him prisoner long ago. He knows you only care for him as a friend. You fucking love throwing that word around.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Rafe feels angry. He’s jealous. He’s lost. He’s drowning and this will give him one last breath before he goes under.

He barges into the shower, cupping your face with firm hands and kissing you hard. He’s terrified you’ll shove him off and tell him you’re with someone now.

“One last time,” he mumbles when he pulls back an inch away from you, begging that you’ll want him enough or at least find the pity to do this before you turn into someone else’s girlfriend.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion. One last time? Why does he want to stop doing this? He said he wanted to keep hooking up with you just the other night.

Nonetheless, you agree. You’re falling for him and continuing this is self-destruction. Whatever his reason, you agree. Even if it hurts, you agree.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His shoulders lose all tension once your soft hands drag up his arms, curving around the planes of his muscles, landing at the sides of his neck.

Touching him is a thrill every single time. This charge of excitement is what your kiss with Blake was missing. Rafe is everything you want. You finally admit it to yourself.

On paper, this doesn’t make sense. You should be head over heels for Blake. He’s a good guy who actually wants to date you. But Rafe, with all of his temper and his arrogance and his repulsion for commitment, is who you want.

Thankfully, the rest of the showers stalls are empty, but you pull back to shut the door behind Rafe and avoid the risk of anyone seeing you.

He lazily bunches his towel onto a free hook and presses up behind you, his mouth on your wet shoulder, hot water drizzling on his back. His hands roam over your chest, down your body, between your legs.

He’s touching you like he has seconds left before he has to stop.

You feel his cock hardening against your back. If this is the last time, you need to taste him, have him every possible way you can.

You turn and sink to your knees, gripping him at his base, putting him in your mouth. He’s still partly soft, delicate against the inside of your cheek.

Rafe shudders under your touch, watching you on your knees, wisps of steam surrounding you. His cock grows in your mouth as you run your tongue over him.

You look up at him like he taught you to the night in the backseat of his car, your heart pounding.

“Those pretty eyes,” he says over the drumming of the shower. “Fuck.”

He drags a hand over your hair, savoring the way your lips close around him. His cock twitches in your mouth as his softness is replaced by tight rigidity.

You pull away, pumping his length in a tight fist, your saliva covering him.

“You always get hard so fast for me,” you praise, eyes tracking the water falling down the ridges of his toned body.

Rafe knows he’s a goner when he thinks about the fact that he wants to only get hard for you.

You put him in your mouth again and start to slowly bob back and forth, slightly gagging every time you take all of him in. He has to press his other hand against the hard plastic door to steady himself as your hot, smooth tongue circles his cock.

His eyes are locked on you. His grip tightens at the roots of your hair as he bucks his hips forward and you open your mouth wider to invite him to control the pace.

Rafe’s takes his hand off the door to hold your head as he starts to rock, slowly fucking your mouth, keeping his locked eyes on yours the entire time.

When you start to massage his balls, he groans, feeling himself getting close. He pulls out, cupping your face to beckon you to stand. You’re on your feet and he kisses you again, softer and slower this time.

As you kiss, you hear a door open down the corridor. He clenches his jaw in frustration. He doesn’t want to be quiet. He wants to hear you moan, and he wants to be the only one to hear it.

“Let’s go,” he huffs quietly.

You don’t have time to think. You turn the shower off and wrap yourselves in your towels and rush to your dorm room. The towels drop the second the door shuts, hands roaming over each other’s wet bodies, lips joining in deep kisses.

He guides you to lie in your bed. This is where it all started. That first night, it was all emotionless and instructional. Now he understands your body like nobody ever has before.

Rafe hovers over you on his knees and dips to kiss your breasts. You stifle a moan as his tongue circles your nipple.

“Louder,” he orders. You trap your bottom lip behind your teeth as you smile, obeying him and moaning as loud as you want to.

He trails kisses down your stomach, over your pelvis, across your thighs and finally puts his mouth between your legs. His wet lips lock around your clit and you tremble, hands finding his hair.

He can’t imagine how the fuck he’ll ever be able to do this to another girl. She won’t taste like you or sound like you.

Rafe runs his tongue over folds, his face getting wet with your arousal. You bunch your fingers into his soft hair, enjoying the sight of his mouth pressed up against you.

His eyes meet yours and it’s such a beautiful sight that you feel envious of all the others who’ll get to see him like this now that you’ve taught him how to please a girl.

When he slowly pushes a finger into you, you start to writhe and shudder, tightening around him. He adds a second, curling up into you as he continues to suck and lap at your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for him to lead you into an orgasm. You tumble into it with hard pulses, arching your back and squeezing your thighs around him.

Once you come down, he kisses your pussy, thinking that it’s not fair that he didn’t get to do this more times.

He comes up to kiss you, your taste on both your tongues. His cock is swollen as he grinds up against you, the feeling of your bareness with his intoxicating.

“I wanna do it raw,” Rafe says, voice ragged and desperate. “Please?”

You nod without a second thought, wanting to feel him completely. He rubs you, spreading your wetness over his palm.

You watch him stroke himself, his fist moving quickly, covering himself with your arousal. His chest is heaving now as he looks down at you and your awestruck, open mouth.

He’ll miss seeing you like this, all blissful and hungry for him.

Rafe leans down to kiss you again as he guides himself into you, both of moaning into each other’s mouths.

You’re warm and soft and wet and tight around him, giving him a rush of ecstasy before he even cums.

“My perfect girl,” he rasps, his temple against yours. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

You told him not to say shit he doesn’t mean.

He’s following your advice.

As he pushes in and out of you, his hand trails up your forearm and he laces his fingers through yours. The gesture is fucking romantic that you’re almost angry at him for doing it.

You allow yourself to live in this short-lived fantasy, letting Rafe say goodbye to you with his body.

He’s so overcome with passion that he squeezes your hand too hard, making you wince.

“Rafe,” you whisper, “that hurts.”

He tenses and stops moving immediately, blue eyes frantically searching your face for an answer.

“My hand,” you say.

“Shit,” he says. He loosens his grip, gently curling his hand around your fingers. He can’t endure seeing you in pain. Especially if he’s the one who gave it to you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say with a breathy laugh. You thought he hated holding hands. “Keep going.”

Rafe resumes his thrusts, shifting to rub your sensitive clit and meeting your lips with his again.

The pressure of him filling you, the sensation of his thumb dragging circles over you, the way he’s kissing you sends another familiar rush of pleasure through you.

You start to breathe even faster as your walls start to clench around his cock. You whimper as your body warms with the promise of another orgasm.

“Again, baby?” he grumbles in an amused tone. He loves that he can do this to you. “You deserve it.”

Rafe’s words send you over the edge again, your entire body trembling. The way you clench around his cock makes his blood hot, thrusting into you harder and harder.

“You’ll be thinking about me, won’t you?” he says. “Wishing it was me?”

He doesn’t have to say it outright. You’ll be thinking about him the next time you’re tangled up with another man like this. You know you will and it kills you to admit to yourself.

“Yes,” you impulsively answer. The words between you are so sensitive and heavy that you kiss him to stop the conversation from carrying on.

Rafe continues to pound into you, hitting so deliciously deep every time, loving how your pussy swallows him. He’s panting at this point, body slick with sweat, thighs burning as he frantically rocks in and out of you.

“Taking it so fucking good,” he grunts. “Fuck, I’m…”

When he finishes inside you, hips stuttering against yours, every muscle in his body tenses, the wave overtaking him.

He has to keep himself from collapsing on you, shifting and slowly pulling out. You lie on your side with your back to him. It’s too much to look at him after sharing something so intimate, knowing it’s the last time.

You can feel his cum inside you, the lack of him so damn painful. It’s over. You’re crashing now.

“A-plus?” Rafe mumbles against your shoulder.

“A-plus,” you say, hoping your tone doesn’t give away how somber you feel. “You officially know how to please a girl.”

You say it mainly to remind yourself of the situation you have with him. To hear it out loud that this is all a purely physical arrangement.

Rafe shuts his eyes, plummeting from the high you just gave him. He can’t say anything to that. You couldn’t be more clear that you have no feelings for him.

“Why’d you say this was the last time?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Rafe’s not about to tell you the truth and put himself through the process of getting rejected by you. Especially after he saw you kissing another man just hours ago.

The spite and sorrow return, washing over him again.

“We said we’d do this ‘til we’re satisfied,” he says. “I’m satisfied.”

You hate that his words hurt as much as they do.

You’re about to remind him of what he said at the party a few nights ago, about how he wants to keep fucking around with you. But what’s the point in convincing him to keep doing this when you already know it’s best to end it?

“It was fun while it lasted,” you say indifferently. You’re not even close to satisfied, but you’re not going to beg him. “You can go if you want.”

Another touch from him would be too much. You need to end this now.

Rafe’s weight shifts behind you as he gets out of your bed. You gave him the easy way out. And this is Rafe. Of course he’s going to take it.

Your door shuts behind him and you let out a shaky exhale as you lie in bed, hating that hot tears prick at your eyes.

You weren’t supposed to develop feelings. You lost.

Rafe tells himself he won’t care when he sees you with Blake. He’ll act like it doesn’t fuck with his head until it no longer does. He’ll go to tonight’s party and find a girl and sleep around like he wanted to before he met you.

As you get ready a couple of hours after Rafe left, you’re pretty sure going to the frat party is a shitty idea considering you still feel so heavy-hearted. But it’s better than staying in your room, wallowing in your sadness.

You don’t really want to face Blake in case he tries anything, but the sooner you let him know you only want to be friends, the better. It’s best to rip the bandaid off.

You meet Liv at the house, purposely avoiding Blake and Rafe before you’ve had a drink. A couple of sips in, though, Blake and Sam approach you two, offering you a joint.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Liv jokes, taking a puff. She offers it to you and you take one pull. Then another. And one more.

The boys challenge you to a game of beer pong and you and Liv follow them to the dining room. You catch Rafe’s gaze. He’s with another girl. Of course he is.

He’s is in the living room, a few minutes into a conversation with someone who approached him, when he sees you. You’re right next to Blake while you set up a game of beer pong. It’s infuriating him all over again.

He realizes there’s a gap in conversation. She must have said something he ignored. He tries to put his focus back onto her, but how can he when the girl he’d do anything for is just across the room, giving another guy the attention he’s dying for?

As you play with Blake against Sam and Liv, you land a ball in a cup. Blake cheers and puts an arm around your waist.

“Nice one,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You know you’ll have to break it to him soon. Leading him on any longer wouldn’t be fair.

The game carries on, the fog of your high thickening. You keep glancing over at Rafe, who’s looking down at her with that smug smile you know so well. He was just inside you hours ago, raw, and he’s already hitting on someone else.

Sam and Liv end up winning the round, and now that you’re tipsy and stoned, the music is too loud, the air is too humid.

You take a deep breath and look up at Blake, needing a break from everything. You lean in, making sure not to touch him.

“Could we go to your room?” you ask. “I need to sit down.”

“Yeah,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you through the crowd and up the stairs.

Rafe sees you and his chest tightens. It was fun. That’s all you said. It was so much fucking more than that to him, but to you, it was fun.

You’re not shy anymore. Thanks to him. That’s probably why you’re comfortable going upstairs and hooking up with Blake so soon.

He told himself he would act like he doesn’t care. It’s taking everything in him to follow through.

When you settle onto the edge of Blake’s bed, he sits next to you. You can smell his cologne and immediately think of how much more you like Rafe’s.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“I think I smoked too much,” you reply.

“Shit, that’s not fun.” He puts his hand on yours. “Can I help? Do you want some water or something?”

You swallow hard, taking advantage of the courage you have from the substances you drank and inhaled.

“Blake,” you say quietly. You look down at your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I… want to be honest with you. I think we’d be better off as friends. I’m really sorry if you want more.”

Tension immediately grows between you. After a moment, he replies.

“It’s all good. I think you’re right.”

Maybe he’s saying it just to save face. Or maybe he can sense that your conversations are rigid more often than not and affection between you feels like it’s missing something. Either way, you’re relieved he’s taking it with grace. It’s what you expected from him.

“You deserve a great girl,” you tell him sincerely. Blake looks down and nods.

“If it’s him you want, I hope he gets his shit together for you.”

Blake doesn’t have to say his name. It’s obvious. It’s embarrassing that you’re so transparent, but you try to push away the discomfort.

You meet his eyes and can only offer him a disappointed smile. You hope Rafe can get his shit together, too. But you saw him with another girl downstairs and you know his heart isn’t yours.

Like he said, he’s satisfied. He’s done with you.

Since you sat down, the world has started spinning even harder. You’re not even at the peak of the high yet.

“Is it okay if I lie here on my own for a while?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Blake says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He leaves, surely grateful he doesn’t have to stay with a girl who just rejected him. You breathe through the scary whirling sensation flooding you.

You lean back on the bed and lie down, anxiety gripping you. You know you just have to ride the high out, but your heart is racing.

You close your eyes, taking calculated breaths, trying to keep the fear at bay.

You hear taps at the door a few minutes later and turn your head to see Liv come in. She offers to walk you to your dorm, but the mere thought of even just sitting up when you’re feeling so sick makes you even dizzier.

“I think I just need to stay like this for a while,” you tell her. “I’ll find you, okay? Go have fun.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Text me if you need me,” Liv says.

Eventually, you still feel woozy, but you’re able to sit up. You’ll definitely need help getting home. You’ll find Liv, get home and crawl into bed.

Rafe blew off the girl he was talking to and has been drowning his feelings in booze. When he sees Blake downstairs, he notices you’re nowhere near him.

His eyes search around for you, but you’re not here.

Then he sees you coming down the stairs, slow with every step, holding the bannister with two hands. Any animosity he held for you dissolves when he sees how disheartened you look.

The vision of you like this sobers him up. You were upstairs and Blake just left you to keep partying? He cuts through the crowd and meets you at the bottom of the staircase.

When Rafe approaches you, your anxiety loses some of its power. What you shared earlier today was such a beautiful experience that you almost forget you’re never going to touch him again.

“Hey,” Rafe says over the loud music. “You okay?”

“Partied too hard,” you say tiredly. Your body still feels a bit numb, your head swimming, your inhibitions squandered. You’re afraid of what you might say to him with less of a filter.

He wants to know what kind of partying you’re talking about. If you actually went all the way with Blake. As if knowing will make any difference.

“What’d you do up there?” he asks. You scowl. Is he seriously still jealous of Blake?

“Why do you care?” you ask. “Where’s the girl you were talking to?”

“I don’t want her.”

“Onto the next one, then,” you say bitterly. “I need to go home.” You step to the side to pass him. Your knees wobble and he grips your forearms, keeping you steady.

“I’ll take you, baby.” You realize that’s the first time he called you that outside of sex.

His sense of protectiveness over you is almost overwhelming to him. He realizes he hasn’t ever cared about someone this much before.

“Liv’ll walk with me,” you tell him. You search for your friend in the crowd to see her in a corner, lips locked with Sam’s.

You consider taking Rafe up on his offer. Liv’s busy. Her dorm is on the other side of campus. Rafe is your next-door neighbor. It’s logical that he takes you home.

But your desire to do it not based on logic. You want to spend time with him and live in the fantasy a little longer.

Another wave of dizziness hits you and you look down with a pinched forehead and a shallow frown.

“Hey, what is it?” Rafe asks softly. You love and hate these few and far between displays of sweetness of his because as nice as they are, they never last.

“Dizzy,” you say. His hands are still wrapped around your forearms.

Guilt seeps into his bones, angry that you were upstairs like this by yourself. Especially if you and Blake hooked up and he just left you to sit in discomfort. Rafe would never leave you like this. He’d stay with you.

“Everything okay?” Blake appears behind Rafe. Weeks of pent-up rage twist deep in his gut. He’s been avoiding him all night for this reason.

“You just left her alone up there?” Rafe snaps.

“What?” Blake says.

“Is that how you’re going to treat her?” Rafe says through gritted teeth.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Blake snaps.

Rafe’s hands lose contact with you, his blood boiling as he turns to look at Blake, his chest aggressively pushing up to his.

“You’re a fucking joke,” Rafe starts to shout.

“Back up before you do something you regret, Cameron,” Blake replies. Rafe steps even closer, fists clenched.

“Back up,” Blake warns again. He looks to you and asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

This is the final straw for Rafe. How dare he pretend like he gives a shit about you?

He shoves Blake hard, finally giving into his rage for everything. For taking you. For leaving you upstairs. For being better than him.

Blake’s nostrils flare and he steps forward, hands bunching around Rafe’s collar.

“Get out,” Blake mutters. “Go. You’re done here.”

You’re in shock. You pull at Rafe’s hand, trying to deescalate the best you can while you’re still feeling so disoriented.

“Let’s go,” you urge. Rafe’s face is a mix of anger and confusion and regret. You can’t tell if he seriously just got kicked out of his frat over you.

In shock, Rafe lets you pull him out of the house into the quiet night air. It’s the blind leading the blind at this point, your muscles weak as you step out on the sidewalk.

Your dorm is just shy of a ten minute walk away, but you’re not sure you can do it if someone’s not watching out for you.

Rafe’s hands are in his hair as he paces out into the street.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice shaky. “Fuck. Fuck.”

You cross your arms as the cool breeze hits you and watch him through worried eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” you try to console him.

“No, it won’t.” He’s reeling. The brotherhood has a code of conduct. Violating it is a big deal. He fucks up once and he’s done. And on top of all that, he lost you.

“You guys’ll talk it out when you’re sobered up,” you say.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Rafe shouts. His volume startles you and he notices you jolt and it makes him feel a hundred times shittier.

You watch each other in silence for a moment before you speak again.

“I’m not going to stand here and let you yell at me,” you say to him. You turn and head towards your dorm, albeit slowly.

Rafe sighs, watching you walk away from him, knowing he should get used to the feeling. He rushes to catch up to you, reaching you as you pace down the sidewalk. He grips your forearm in case you get weak again.

“Wait,” he mutters impatiently. “Wait, I’m…”

“Why the fuck are you mad at me?” you say, staring ahead, refusing to look at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“Don’t say that word,” Rafe says. “I can’t stand that word.”

It stings. He can’t even see you as a friend now that he’s satisfied with you?

“If we’re not friends, then why get so pissed off at him for leaving me upstairs? If you don’t care about me, why did you do that?” you challenge.

Rafe feels drunk, heavy, and afraid of it coming out wrong.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” he says.

“You left me today,” you say with a pissed off laugh.

His rage and jealousy are clouding his judgement. Deep down, he feels like shit for the way he left you in your bed, but all he can see is red right now.

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend,” Rafe snaps. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I told him to, Rafe!” you shout. Embarrassment floods his body. Shit. “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever fucking met.”

Rafe almost laughs. If he’s confusing to you, you couldn’t imagine living with his brain. It’s constantly tugging him in ten different directions.

You cross the street, arms still crossed, trying not to cry.

“What’s so confusing?” he asks. He can’t stand that you’ve kept your eyes off of him this whole time. “Look at me.”

You stop under a streetlamp on the campus pathway, glaring up at him. He hates how sad you look.

“You’re mean, then you’re nice,” you say. “You don’t want to do couple shit, then you call me your girl. You say you’re satisfied and done with me, then you try to fight Blake for leaving me upstairs. I don’t fucking get you.”

“I never said I was done with you,” Rafe replies.

You scoff. Of course he’s going to pick apart your words and move past the actual subject. All this man does is avoid his feelings. You turn to keep walking, but he steps in front of you.

“I don’t want to be done with you,” he says.

A dangerous feeling of hope blooms in your chest.

“We said it was the last time,” you remind him. “You got what you wanted from me.”

“I…” Rafe looks down and shakes his head. “No. I want more.”

“What… kind of more?” you say, tone softening.

He rakes a hand through his hair and exhales. He’s on not sure he’s ever felt this scared before.

“What kind of more?” you repeat.

“More than just… fucking around,” he finally says. He winces like he’s bracing for the impact of your words.

“I thought you said you don’t want to be tied down,” you say.

“Yeah, ‘cause I think college is supposed to be fun,” he says. “But… being with you would be fun. Being with you is the most fun I’ve...”

Rafe looks down again, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Are you with him?” he says quietly.

“Rafe,” you say with a huff. He just doesn’t see it. “Did I stay with him or did I leave with you?”

He lets the words sink in for a moment. You chose him. Damn. You actually chose him.

“I saw you kiss him,” he says, possibly in a subconscious way to sabotage everything.

You freeze. That must be why he left the beach so suddenly. He saw you with Blake and he couldn’t take it.

“But you didn’t see me telling him that I’m not interested in him like that,” you reply.

A weight lifts off his chest, giving him space to breathe better. Rafe realizes he’s already too deep. If you’re going to break his heart, you might as well break it all the way. At least that way he’ll be sure.

“Do you… do you want me?” he stammers. “As a - a boyfriend? Do you want that?”

He’s never looked so vulnerable to you before. Not even when you walked in on his father berating him. This is a new expression. One he’s been hiding from you.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you say, a smile curling on your lips, your body going numb.

He awkwardly shuffles in his spot, nervously pushing his hair back again.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Yeah?” Rafe echoes.

“Of course,” you laugh. The fact that you seem so sure makes his heart warm in a way he’s never felt before.

“You’re not just saying that?” he asks.

It hits you like an unexpected storm, like the sudden raindrops on the night on the boat, that maybe Rafe doesn’t think he’s as great as he pretends to be. That it’s all an act, that he feels like he’s not worth loving and he hides it behind ego and coldness.

“Rafe,” you laugh. “No, I’m not just saying that.” You close the distance between you, brushing his bangs off his face, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones.

He looks like he’s still scared that you’re being insincere.

“What if I fuck it up?” he says. “I don’t know how to...” Be a boyfriend.

“We both know you can learn,” you reassure him.

Rafe finally lets himself believe that you really do like him, smiling, dimples caving into his cheeks. The way his eyes light up might just break your heart in the best way.

He doesn’t know if you turned him into someone else, or if he was always this person. But he wants it all. The dates, the affection, the commitment. He wants it all if it’s with you.

Rafe kisses you and this time, he allows himself to feel all the vulnerability he repressed before. You’re doing the same thing.

He doesn’t want to stop tasting your lips and feeling your nose nudge against his as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper.

After you somehow manage to pull yourselves off of each other, Rafe’s fingers lace between yours as you walk the rest of the way back to your dorm.

He knows he left things back at the house in shambles. He knows he probably lost his place in the frat and his future living in the house. He knows his temper fucked him over like it usually does.

But for once in his life, he has someone looking at him like he’s not a complete disappointment.

(part ten)

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#yall… this is 6k+ words..#buckle in #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader

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caramelcal · 2 years ago

Text

you'll always be my girl - t. nott

summary: theodore nott was your brother's best friend, and had been the boy of your dreams since you first lay eyes on him. everyone knew that. so it's a surprise when you suddenly get a boyfriend, and theodore is determined to show you why he's the better choice. always has been and always will be.

warnings: all characters are of age. smut, cheating. all that fun stuff. theo is reader's brother's best friend. reader pined for YEARS but it faded away when she got with her boyfriend. she's a bit of a pushover. virgin!reader. dom!theo. sub!reader. modern au. lots of swearing. arguing. praise kink. overstimulation. dirty talk.

note: this prob isn't great, i don't write smut often idk

"Mate move! Move! He's behind that wall." Theodore shouted, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tapped the keys on his controller trying to be revived faster.

"Fuck! I can't find him," Lorenzo had replied, a similar tone to Theodore's as their eyes were both glued to the screen in front of them.

It was only the two of them at Lorenzo's tonight, something that wasn't overly uncommon for the two of them to do. Despite being close with the rest of their group, Theodore and Lorenzo spent the most time together just the two of them. Theodore practically lived at the Berkshire's house half the time nowadays, finding it much warmer than his own.

Honestly, it was more shocking if he wasn't at the Berkshires.

"Over there! Shit!" Lorenzo cursed, the loud, violent tapping of buttons ensuing at a more alarming rate from the two of them.

"Where's his-"

"Theo! Theo! The-" A red alert came over the screen, letting the two boys know that they had lost the game. They both put their controllers down, Lorenzo using the palms of his hands to rub his eyes in frustration, and Theodore throwing his head back with a groan.

"We really ought to get better at this mode, or we need to just stick to doubles," Theodore said, looking over at his friend who chuckled with a nod.

Mr and Mrs Berkshire were both out for the night, away on holiday, or business or whatever, Lorenzo didn't tell Theodore all the details. Theodore didn't particularly care anyway, it didn't make a big difference to him.

Lorenzo's parents were lovely to him, always greeting him pleasantly, always happy to see him, and telling him he was welcome at any time. They had even unofficially allocated one of the spare bedrooms in their house to Theo, who was eternally grateful for the escape it gave him.

"Enzo, I'm home!" Theo's attention was directed towards the door, where he heard someone kicking off their shoes by the door before walking towards the living room.

Y/n Berkshire. Lorenzo's younger sister. He was honestly surprised he hadn't noticed earlier that you weren't there. Even though you normally tucked yourself in the small library in the house, he had been here for hours and hadn't heard a peep from you.

Sure, you were normally quiet, but normally you at least said hello.

While growing up with Lorenzo, Y/n was never normally far behind. You had adored your brother when you were younger, and even as you both got older you remained close. Theodore on the other hand, had elicited a different sort of adoration from the younger girl. One that brought a blush to your face every time he spoke to you, or even looked in your direction.

It had been that way for years, and honestly, Theodore couldn't remember a time when you had been able to look him in the eye for longer than five seconds before getting too shy and looking away.

Footsteps echoed towards the living room, and the second you came into view, Theodore's eyebrows furrowed. Your body was covered in a silk dress, your hair styled perfectly and makeup on your face. You looked fancy, and Theodore could not imagine what you possibly could have been doing to require such an appearance.

There certainly weren't any parties on, if there had been, Lorenzo and Theodore would have been the first ones to know.

"How was your date?" Lorenzo didn't even look back at his sister as you sat down on the other couch, a sigh of relief as you sunk back into the comfortable material.

A date? The question had Theodore baffled. You had been on a date? With who? It certainly made the appearance seem more logical, you looked pretty. You had made that effort for a boy.

"It was good," You nodded your head, not looking over at your brother either as you grabbed the book that sat on the coffee table, flipping it open to the page you had dogeared earlier on that day so you could continue reading.

"You were on a date? With who?" Theodore asked.

"Oh, hi Teddy," You looked up from your book, sending a small smile to your brother's best friend, only just noticing him, "Adrian Pucey, he's in your year."

Teddy. The name you had called him since you started to talk. Everyone had called him Teddy when he was growing up, including Enzo, his parents and yours, but you were the only one that didn't grow out of it.

"It's Theo, y/n/n," Lorenzo had corrected you, as he always did, knowing how much Theodore despised the nickname now that he was older. What he'd never tell your brother though, was that he didn't mind it when you did it. It felt natural coming from your lips. He couldn't ever imagine you calling him Theo, or, god forbid, Theodore.

"Yeah, sorry," You mumbled, picking at the edge of your dress as you looked down at your lap, the book held in your other hand, a finger on the page you stopped reading on so you could keep your place now that you had straightened out the fold.

"Why are you going on a date with Adrian Pucey, he's…"

Theodore wasn't sure what to call him. Annoying? Arrogant? Not good enough for you?

"My boyfriend?"

"Your boyfriend?" Theodore echoed, his eyes almost bulging out of his head and jaw almost falling onto the floor. His tone was incredulous as if you having a boyfriend was completely out of the question.

"Well, that's new," Lorenzo murmured under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear, but loud enough for Theodore.

His tone let Theodore know that he, too, was not too happy about the arrangement. Adrian wasn't 'boyfriend material' and certainly not good enough for you. He was sleazy, and an average quidditch player at best.

"Yeah, is it so unbelievable that I could get a boyfriend?" Your tone -despite your word choice seeming a little sassy- was soft. Your eyes battered between the two boys, eyebrows furrowed as you sat forward.

Silence ensued between the three of you, your eyes still battering between the two boys, both of which didn't know what to say. It wasn't surprising that you could get a boyfriend, but your choice was certainly questionable. Frankly, they were too astonished to speak.

While Lorenzo had known you were spending more time with Adrian, he was hoping that it would fizzle away before labels got attached. He barely gave it any thought, thinking you wouldn't take a boy like Pucey so seriously. Oh, how he was wrong.

"I'm gonna head upstairs," You said quietly, sulking off the couch and quietly walking away, feeling a little ashamed that they seemed so surprised that you had managed to get your first boyfriend.

Theodore's eyes followed you, staying stuck to where you disappeared upstairs as Lorenzo broke the silence, breathing out some air, "Never expected that. Well, at least we know she's not pining over you anymore."

"Yeah, I guess."

…

It was less than a week later when Theodore was heading to quidditch practice, his bag slung over his shoulder, broom in his hand. He ruffled his hair with his free hand, breathing out some air as he prepared himself for what he could guess was going to be a pretty gruelling practice.

Granted, he could give himself some leeway, being the captain and all, but that didn't set a good example. They had a big game coming up in a few days and they needed to do well. There was little space for error, and Theo would make sure everyone was ready.

Hearing faint talking as he walked up to the locker room was odd, considering he was normally the first or second one there. He must've been running a few minutes late.

"-how you managed it, mate, I mean, between her being Berkshire's untouchable little sister and everyone thinking she liked Nott, you can understand why everyone's a bit surprised."

Theodore's hand halted its movement, not pushing the door open just yet as he listened in. They were talking about you.

"She just needed to know who the better boy was, didn't she?" He heard a muffled Pucey reply, "I certainly showed her."

The familiar feeling of anger began to bubble in Theodore's chest as he registered the words that came out of Pucey's words, and the laughter that followed them. Walking in, his hardened blue eyes immediately caught onto Pucey's, a silent warning.

Yet, all the smug cunt did in reply was smirk. That certainly didn't help the feeling of red, hot, anger that exploded in Theo's chest. Quidditch practice was going to be hell for him, Theo would make sure.

"Wait up!" An hour and a half later, the anger still hadn't faded from Theodore's system. His shoulders were uptight, his hand holding onto his broom with a deathly amount of force. It was a surprise the wood hadn't snapped yet.

Your light footsteps struggled to catch up with the thundering pace that Theodore kept. His eyes cast over to you beside him as you finally caught up, his hair still wet from his shower after quidditch practice.

"Can I talk to you?" You asked, looking at Theodore awkwardly. You never normally felt awkward around him, but from the way he was looking right now, you could tell he was mad, but that didn't mean you could let what happened slide.

"Mhm," He hummed in response, his eyes staying straight forward as he waited for you to speak.

"So Adrian was speaking to me and he said that you were going extra hard on him at practice. I understand that you and my brother aren't happy that we're dating but-"

"You came here to stick up for your little boyfriend?" Suddenly, Theodore had stopped walking, turning around so he was facing you. His eyes stared into yours, the anger in his voice rising.

He towered over you, making you crane your neck up to look at him, a drip of water from his wet hair falling onto your forehead. You cleared your throat lightly, not used to Theodore being in such a mood. Even if he was annoyed, he didn't normally talk to you like that.

"I- uh, yeah, kind of. I just don't think it's fair that you're punishing him. It was my choice to date him, he didn't make me."

"Listen, y/n/n, if Pucey had a problem with me, then he can come to talk to me, not send his girlfriend to sort out his issues like a fucking pussy," Theodore spat out Adrian's name like it was a disease on his tongue, his jaw clenching at the mere thought of you taking Pucey's side over his.

If you had any sense, you'd know to mind your own business. You had grown up with Theodore, you had known him for your whole life. Adrian had been your boyfriend for all of a few weeks and you were already choosing him over Theo? That was what wasn't fair, not a few more laps at training.

He saw the frown that made its way onto your face, and if he wasn't so angry at you and Adrian, then he would've crumbled. He knew you were sensitive, much more than most people, and the last thing he wanted to do normally was make you upset. Yet, if you wanted comfort then you could go to Adrian, especially after you tried to stick up for him.

Turning on his heels, Theodore began to walk away again, but it seemed you were a little more determined than normal.

"Come on Theo, you know it's not fair!"

That just about tips him over the edge. This was so unlike you, and it was all because of Adrian. You always went by what Lorenzo and Theodore said, but today you chose to stand up to Theo. You chose Adrian over Theodore and refused to let it go and now you were calling him Theo?

You had been reprimanded for over a year about still using the nickname, and a few weeks into having a boyfriend you suddenly dropped the name of endearment? That was enough.

"What was that?" Theodore stopped in his tracks the second the words had come out of your mouth, barely managing to get the words out between his gritted teeth. He looked over his shoulder at you, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"You know it's unfair."

"You have no idea what's unfair, y/n."

"I know making Adri do double the number of laps as everyone else is unfair! I know knocking into him with double the power as everyone else is unfair, Theo! You're his captain, you need to be fair!"

"Stop that." His tone was reprimanding, like telling you off for doing something unspeakable. He didn't like this one bit, you talking back to him. It felt like something had been shifted and he wanted it all to go back to the way it was.

It was your turn to let out clipped, sarcastic words. Something you would have never dreamed of doing to him; the boy you had pined over for years. Yet, all you could see was an immature, childish boy, not the guy you had liked for as long as you could remember, "Stop what, Theodore?"

"Stop calling me that."

You knew exactly what he was getting at. You always had an inkling that he enjoyed the nickname you refused to drop, given that he, himself, never told you off for it. You also knew he didn't like change, and that the idea of him and Lorenzo not being your number-one priority anymore bugged him. He hated that you had a new boy in your life.

"What? Stop calling you your name?" You replied, raising an eyebrow at him as he clenched his jaw again, letting out a dark chuckle as he started to walk away.

"Just fuck off, y/n."

You didn't bother to follow him.

…

You and the girls were bustling about in your room, doing all sorts of things. Some were getting changed, some were doing their makeup and some, along with you, were doing their hair. It was a Halloween party that practically half of Hogwarts was going to, and luckily for you, the house was only a few minutes walk away from yours.

Lorenzo and his friends were getting ready too, but you had chosen to keep your girls in your room, completely separated from them. Frankly, it was too much tension, and drama, and you didn't want that to stomp on your excitement for the party.

"Hey, y/n, do you have any snacks? I'm starving," One of the girls piped up, stopping doing her makeup to look at you in the mirror. You nodded your head with a smile, telling her you'd be right back as you headed down to the kitchen.

There was noise coming from the tv as you walked by the living room, letting you know that some of Lorenzo's friends were probably in there, taking a mental note to avoid. You wished that he had gotten the vibe to keep his friends in his room, but your brother was clueless sometimes.

He even seemed to be clueless about the fact that you and Theodore had been ignoring one another for the last three weeks, acting as if the other didn't even exist. With your arms full of all types of snacks, you left the kitchen, making your way back up the stairs.

Your eyes are on the snacks in your hand, making sure that none of them are going to fall as you walk, only to be halted by something being in your way. You had walked into someone.

"Oh, sor-" You cut yourself off as you looked up, making eye contact with intense blue eyes staring down at you. You narrowed your eyes.

"Y/n," He had acknowledged you for the first time, but not being nearly happy about it, his mouth in a thin, straight line, and his voice apathetic.

You mirrored his tone and body language, "Theodore."

He remained looking down at you, your pretty eyes looked up at him in disdain, a constant reminder of how you guys had last interacted with one another. He was still slightly mad, more irritated than anything, about the situation, and it was clear you weren't over it either.

It was so unlike you, and he hated that. While he wanted you to stick up for yourself more regularly, he hated that it only seemed to be him that you were being resistant to. It frustrated him to no end, that your relationship after so many years had changed so much in the blink of an eye.

He missed the way you looked at him with your doe-like eyes, so hopeful and kind and soft. Now, they were narrowed, almost as if a threat for him to say something. He hated that it was like you were trying to test his patience.

His mouth opened slightly, just about to speak to you, only to not get the chance, your bedroom door opening, "Y/n, c'mon! I'm hungry!"

In an instant, your eyes are no longer looking at him, but down towards the snacks that lay in a disorganised bundle in your arms, brushing by the taller boy towards your room. You spare no attention towards him, not a word nor a glance, leaving him alone in the hallway as you continue getting ready in your room.

It doesn't feel too long after that when you are all ready, all of you bundling down the stairs ready to go to the party. You know all the boys are now in the living room, and you would have happily walked by without entertaining him, but you knew you couldn't.

"Enzo, can I have some of the money mum and dad left?" You say, coming into the room. The boys are all ready too, but you know they won't leave until the party had already started for forty-five minutes at least, too busy playing video games and not wanting to be around for the awkward start most parties have.

You adjust the wings that are on your back as you walk towards your brother, white boot heels hitting off the wooden floor, the girls falling shortly behind you.

Theodore's eyes flicker up to you casually, but when he catches sight of you his jaw almost falls off, the modest girl you are, with the shortest skirt on he's ever seen. If you turn around, he knows he's almost guaranteed to see the curve of your ass, driving his mind haywire.

You adjust your bright-coloured corset and wings once more. It's obvious that you're supposed to be a fairy, but Theodore knows you're no Tinkerbell. You're perhaps the sluttiest, most tempting fairy he's ever seen. His mind races.

Lorenzo scratched the back of his neck, "Kitchen."

You nodded your head, heading off to the kitchen as all the boys quiet down. Lorenzo looked down at his phone, as the girls all follow you out of the room, "Mate…"

"What?" Lorenzo replied as Theodore sat beside him, all the other boys engaging in small talk again.

"Are you letting your sister go wearing that? Surely you can't," Theodore's trying to keep calm, but his mind is practically begging Lorenzo to make you change. The thought of someone else seeing the curves of your naked thighs and the curve of your arse makes Theo want to die.

"Nah mate, it's not ideal, to be honest, but her mates are just…they call you all sorts and start screaming if you say anything," Lorenzo finally looked up at his best friend, and Theodore can tell that Lorenzo isn't very happy with the predicament either, "and y/n/n just doesn't listen anymore, so there's no point."

There was a point though, to Theodore anyway. He didn't care what your friends thought, or about this new attitude you had adopted since you started dating Adrian.

You're back in the living room soon enough, coming to say bye, but Theodore is quick to walk over to you, not looking very impressed. He speaks lowly, "You should go change."

"What? Why? Do I look bad?" You smooth down your skirt a little, looking up at him with your usual wide eyes, a crack in this new attitude you've been showing lately.

"No," He's quick to shut down any doubt you have about your appearance, "It's just a bit inappropriate."

"Oh, don't be a prude, Theodore," One of your friends overhears, piping up in your support.

"Go change," He paid little mind to your friends, looking down at your eyes and repeating his previous order.

"Girl, you look so hot, don't let him cramp your style," Another one of your friends joins in to support you, a hand on your shoulder as she began to steer you out, "now let's go before he has anything else to say."

The second he saw you being steered out the door and towards the party, he just knows that this night is going to be one of frustration.

His prediction was correct. Only an hour and a half later he was ready to get out of there, the strongest alcohol he could find in a glass with his hand wrapped around it. Purple strobe lights, people laughing, and loud music all seem to fade into the background as his eyes focus on you. He could tell Pucey was trying to rile him up, and it was working.

His hands have been all over your body: while dancing, while sitting down, just every second of this party, and Theodore loathed it. He hated that Pucey's dirty, sleazy hands were on your soft skin, exactly where they didn't belong.

He tried to ignore it, his eyes closing as he downed the rest of his drink, slamming it down on the table. He didn't know where any of his friends were, and honestly, didn't care. He didn't want to talk to anyone or be with anyone but you right now.

He hated that he was thinking about you like this. Lorenzo's baby sister. It was supposed to be the other way around, you were supposed to be the one obsessing over him, so why couldn't he get you out of his head? Why have you been the only thing consuming his thoughts for weeks?

"Hey there, love," A girl sat down beside Theodore, a thing he loved at parties normally. The attention was something that had him feeling smug, but he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. His eyes focused on you as he hears your giggle echo through the room as Pucey whispered something in your ear.

Nothing Pucey could say would ever be funny enough to elicit such a beautiful sound. It felt illegal that he was allowed to hear your laugh, never mind be the reason for it.

"You seem tense, Theo," The girl puts her lips slowly closer and closer to Theodore's neck, her voice quieter and slower as she teased her lips against his neck, lightly grazing it, "Let me help you."

The song that blasts through the speakers had Pucey pulling you up to dance, twirling you around in his arms until his hands thread through to hold your waist. You're facing away from Theodore, completely naive to the blue eyes that follow your every move.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier to meet Theodore's cold gaze, a smirk coming to his lips as he looked down at you, then moving away slightly, only to bring a hand down on your arse.

That has Theodore on his feet immediately, hearing the yelp that you let out as he stormed towards Pucey, ripping him away from you and getting right in his face. He was taller than Adrian, towering over him too as he gets right up in his face, "Don't fucking lay a hand on her again!"

"Theo!"

"She's my girlfriend mate, I'll do what I want." Pucey only fuelled the fire of rage that burned in Theodore's chest. You seem frozen, unsure of what to do as you try and catch the attention of either boy, wanting this nightmare to end.

"Yeah, we'll fucking see about that," Before you could even react, Theodore's fist is making contact with Adrian's nose, and Adrian stumbled back for a few steps before his legs gave way underneath him and he was on the floor.

A gasp emitted from your throat in shock and horror, looking at Adrian as he groaned, holding his nose, red staining the skin. A hand grabbed your wrist, much softer than you had expected from the same fist that had just floored your boyfriend, and dragged you away.

"Theo-"

"We're going home, y/n."

The next thing you know is that you're at the front steps of your home, wanting to say something, anything. Yet, any time you took a breath of air before speaking, Theodore was sending you a look that had you shutting your mouth straight away. Something was daring in his eyes, something a lot more threatening than normal.

His grip gave you little opportunity to wriggle free, his other hand banging open the door, his foot harshly hitting it shut behind you before you are trailing after him up the stairs. He barely gave your feet any chance to keep up with him before you were in his room.

He only let go once you were in the middle of his room, the door shut behind you both. The room is dark, and you both are heaving out a breath. You can just about see Theodore's shoulders sag a little, his voice quieter as he spoke, "I don't like what the boy is doing to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dressing like this," He stepped towards you, his fingertips grabbing the edge of your skirt as he continued, "acting like a slut, that's not you baby, you're normally so good."

Your stomach is filled with butterflies as he looked down at your eyes, soft for the first time in weeks, "I am good, I-"

"You think tempting me like this is good, baby? Wearing this outfit and dancing with another man's hands all over your body," Your stomach flipped at the pet name once more, your heart feeling as if it's going to race out of your chest.

Your throat feels blocked up as you watch every slight move he takes, feeling as if this moment is surreal; as if you're dreaming. His voice turned soft as he spoke again, "Where'd my good girl go?"

His hand caressed the side of your face softly, the pad of his thumb swiping over your soft skin and guiding your somewhat messy hair away from your face so he can see you more clearly. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, hoping that one day Theodore would reciprocate your feelings.

The feeling of his hands on you was so euphoric that no amount of dreaming could have ever made you feel like this. This was real.

"I-" You couldn't speak, your brain feeling as if it was going to overload.

You knew this was wrong. Theodore was your brother's best friend, you had grown up with him. He was off limits. You had a boyfriend. So why couldn't you find it in yourself to pull away from his grasp?

You felt as if you were getting pulled closer to his body. The temptation is so bad that no amount of self-control could save you now. You were a goner, you had always been when it came to Theodore.

Since you had been young, you knew that you would do anything for him. Anything so that he could give you this sort of attention, and make you feel like a princess. Your rational thoughts and morals should be pulling you away, but your heart aches for him, it always has.

"You gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be, angel?" He asked, almost as if he was trying to aid you in finding your words. You could only nod your head.

Suddenly, the familiar scent of cologne and cigarette smoke overtook your senses, his lips crashing against yours in a soft, but desperate kiss. His hands reached around you to pick you up, your hands going into his soft hair, grabbing onto the strands with your fingers as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Swiping his tongue across your lips, you opened your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss as he took steps towards the bed, lowering you down onto the bed. His lips are still connected to you, and you can feel your lungs begging for oxygen, but you don't want to pull away.

Theodore does first, his blue eyes meeting yours as you slowly manage to open your eyes, your lips parted as you breathe in, trying to fill your lungs with the oxygen they had been deprived of. You follow his eyes as he slowly kisses down your neck, then down the valley of your breasts, his hands pulling down the corset, and you're quick to aid him in pulling it off.

The feeling of his lips grazing over your stomach has you hitching in a breath, watching as his head slowly lowers down your body. Then, his head is nestled between your thighs, kissing the soft skin that isn't hidden by your skirt. The hair on his head tickles them, the skin so sensitive, so unused to being given this much attention feeling so good.

With a racing heart, you watch as Theodore pulled up slightly, wanting desperately for him to touch you where you needed him the most. You ached, a feeling in you that you had never experienced before. You knew that Theodore often evoked feelings in you that you never experienced with anyone else, but this was new.

"You sure about this, baby?" You nodded your head in immediate response, but that didn't please Theo. With a light swat to the inside of your thighs, he looked at your eyes with a slightly more serious expression, "Use your words."

"Yes," The word spilt from your lips breathily, "Please."

Theodore, with a satisfied smile, came up to your face, leaning over you and softly attaching your lips to his. It feels just as surreal as the first time, and it makes your heart race just the same.

With his mouth still attached to yours, you feel his fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, just over your clit, making you hitch a breath. His fingers move the light fabric to the side, his fingers teasing against your hole.

"So wet for me, baby," The praise isn't taken lightly by you, soaking up every inch of approval he gives you.

Slowly, he adds a second finger, his thumb pressing down on your clit as his fingers curl into you, making you let out a breathy moan into the kiss that he eagerly swallows.

Your back arches off of the mattress, and as good as it feels you need more. You need him, "Theo…"

The blue of his eyes meets your gaze as you whine. You can't help it, you're desperate for more, to feel him inside of you. To take care of you and this pressure you can feel building in your stomach.

You mumble something out, a feeble attempt at getting him to speed up the process without verbally admitting that you're desperate for him. He doesn't take the hint though, not that you ever expected him to. He was torturous, tempting you and teetering towards what you wanted, but keeping you on the edge.

"Please."

It's a whisper as you let out another moan, your fist clenching his hair in your hand, grabbing onto any part of him that you can keep from pulling away.

A ghost of a smirk came across his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, "Please what, baby?"

You could tell from the familiar look in his eyes that he knew exactly what you wanted, his fingers curling up once more as they stretched lightly, stretching you out. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt slight tears pricking at your eyes. It just felt so good.

"Please," A broken whisper escaped your lips once more as you let out another moan, his thumb roughly coming down on your clit as you tried to bring your hips up, feeling a knot form in your stomach. It was so unfamiliar and had you heaving for a breath as you grabbed fistfuls of Theo's sheets.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a pinch against your clit, you came undone with a strangled moan. Your face was tilted back, mouth open and eyes closed, your hips bucking up to chase your high. You looked unreal, and Theo couldn't get enough.

When he removed his hands from you, he was coated in your bliss, your eyes softly opening, half-lidded, looking as Theodore brought his fingers up to his lips, his tongue transferring the taste of you, sweet and blissful, into his mouth. Your cheeks were tainted red when you realised what he had done, shifting about on the mattress and casting your eyes down.

Yet, you don't get much of a chance when a strong hand reaches for under your jaw, pulling him back up to meet his eyes, "Don't go all shy on me now, angel."

He could see the slight fuzz in your eyes as you stare at him, and he loved it. He liked how, simply with his fingers, he already had you dazed. His hands were soon pulling down his trousers with ease, and lifting his shirt off with one hand, leaving him in only his boxers.

You could see the outline of his bulge, and it had you gulping. You didn't know how the hell you were going to be able to fit that. He was so much bigger than you had imagined, or expected.

"Don't worry baby, we'll take it slow," He was quick to reassure you, a smug smile on his lips as he brings his mouth down to your collarbone, lightly nipping the skin as he sucked. It was definitely going to leave a mark, but that's what he wanted. He wanted Pucey to see it the next time he saw you, trying to assert some dominance on the situation.

Once he pulled his boxers down, he was soon lining up his tip with your entrance, lightly brushing it against your walls. He couldn't help himself when he asked, "Has Adrian ever-"

He began, but you were quick to shake your head vigorously, giving him a sense of satisfaction. He watched as your eyes screwed shut, soft breaths falling from your lips as he asked, much softer, "Is this your first baby?"

Unwilling to admit it out loud, you hesitantly nod your head, confirming Theodore's suspicions. He only just managed to conceal his grunt of satisfaction at being the first one to see you this way. To be the one to ruin you.

"Don't worry," His head is just beside your ear, a hand coming to gently brush the hair away from your face so not a single change or twitch in your face could go unrecognised by him. He wanted to see everything, every reaction you had as he ruined you, as he made your face twist in a type of pleasure that was entirely unfamiliar to you.

Slowly, he began to push into your tight entrance, the feeling of your walls squeezing him making him want to release already, grunting. He can hear your breathy moans of pain and pleasure as he struggled to go slowly, watching as he disappeared inch by inch inside of you.

All he wanted to do was slam into you, to hear as you screamed in pleasure, but he controlled himself, gripping the sheets with his hands to remain his discipline. You feel tiny in comparison to him.

When he finally bottomed out inside of you, you let out a strangled breath, not used to this feeling of being penetrated like this.

"You feel like heaven, sweetheart," The praise fell from his lips as he grunted once more, one of his hands coming to hold the side of your neck.

"'m so full," You partially cried out, tears leaking from your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling. It felt so good, overwhelmingly so, that you couldn't help the water that leaked out of your eyes.

His mouth came to softly kiss the tears away, your hands coming up to wrap around his back to hold him close to you. You wanted him as close as humanely possible as you slowly became accustomed to the feeling of him inside you.

"You're doing so well, baby," The praise is murmured against your cheek, his eyes closed in pleasure, "Let me know when I can move."

It isn't long before you're giving him the green light and he rocks his hips back and then forward, going slower to start with and soaking up your moans and whimpers with his mouth. His thumb pressed against your clit as he began to go faster, making your moans get louder and you become more desperate.

His hips snapped against yours and you sob into his lips, your nails scratching down his back. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your body and worshipping it all. He knew he could sit and caress each part of your skin and never get bored, feeling intoxicated by the softness of it.

You were like a drug, something he shouldn't touch, something that was supposed to be off-limits, but far too tempting to leave alone. He knew that from now on, he'd never be able to let go of you, never be able to keep his hands to himself.

Your moans were melodic to him, something that he could never get over hearing. He had never had sex like this with anyone before, always quick fucks to satisfy his needs, but this was different. He felt like the barrier was broken, that you guys were connecting on a different level. Something you could never go back from. He would never let you.

The look of your parted lips, mascara running down your cheeks with your tears and your hair messy was a sight that no man but him deserved to see. He could tell you were getting close, he was too, your walls clenching around him as your moans got higher in pitch and louder.

The tears roll down harder, pouring out of your eyes as you barely manage to get your words out, "Teddy- please."

The return of the nickname has him going harder, abusing your g-spot as he hit off it time and time again, igniting a flame in his stomach as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

"There she is," He whispered to you, his lips still against your forehead, "There's my good girl."

You came not long after that, walls convulsing as you came around his cock, moans loud as he found himself not far behind, quickly pulling out as he came over your skirt and bare chest, both of you panting and moaning, lost in the sound and feeling of one another.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x berkshire!reader #theodore nott x virgin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #bfb!theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x berkshire!reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott x virgin!reader #theo nott x sub!reader #dom!theo nott x sub!reader #dom!theodore nott x sub!reader #theodore nott x sub!reader #theo nott x crybaby!reader #theodore nott x crybaby!reader

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xomakara · 6 months ago

Text

It's You

SUMMARY | You're a publicist secretly in love with your famous client, San, but his manager thinks you should cook up a story about him and his co-star to generate buzz for their upcoming movie. This involves arranging dates and photo ops for the two of them, but you can't help but notice he seems more interested in you.

PAIRINGS | San x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, actor!San, publicist!Reader, slight angst

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), handjob, oral sex (male giving/female receiving), slight dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration, couch sex, office sex

LENGTH | 3,300 words

TAGLIST | ---

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE | I finally managed to finish this fic that has been sitting in my WIP folder for months. I feel like this one is a bit lackluster compared to my other stuff but I hope you all love and enjoy this. Love you ❤️

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

"Do you think this is a good idea?" San’s voice cuts through the sterile air of your office, low and gravelly. You glance up from the stack of papers on your desk, meeting his piercing gaze.

"It’s not just a good idea," you say, forcing yourself to sound confident, even though your heart is pounding. "It’s necessary."

San leans forward, resting his elbows on your desk, his face inches from yours. The faint scent of cedarwood and spice invades your senses, making it hard to focus.

"Necessary?" he repeats, his mouth quirking into a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "For who? The movie? Or for you?"

You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"For both," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "The studio wants buzz, San. They want people talking about you and Jiae. This is how we generate that."

"Buzz," he mutters, running a hand through his tousled hair. His smile fades, replaced by a tense line of frustration. "Yeah, because nothing says 'authentic' like fake dates and staged photo ops."

You bite your lip, glancing down at the script in front of you. The words blur together as your mind races. You know this is the right move. It’s your job, after all—to manage his public image, to protect his career. But when you look back up at him, his expression stops you cold. There’s something raw in his gaze, something that feels... personal.

"San," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know this isn’t ideal, but—"

"Ideal?" he interrupts, leaning closer. "Is it ideal for me to pretend I’m head over heels for someone I can’t stand just so people will buy tickets to a movie? Or is it ideal for you to sit here and tell me how to live my life?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to remind him that this is what fame entails, but the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only person in the room like you’re the one he’s really upset with—makes it impossible to form words.

"San," you start again, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

"Forget it," he says, standing abruptly. He runs a hand through his hair again, pacing across the small space of your office. "I don’t need this right now. I’ll do whatever you want, okay? Just... stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. Your pulse quickens as you realize how close you still are and how vulnerable the moment feels.

San stops pacing, turning to face you. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to leave without another word. But then his eyes lock onto yours, and something shifts.

"Like you care," he murmurs, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

The room falls silent, the tension between you thickening like smoke. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, you feel the heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks burning under his scrutiny.

San watches you, his expression unreadable. And then, just as suddenly as it began, he turns on his heel and walks out of the office, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

The truth is, you do care. More than you should, more than you ever intended to.

Ever since San became your client, you’ve been fighting a losing battle against your feelings. His charm, his intensity, the way he somehow manages to balance chaos and control—it’s intoxicating. And every time he looks at you like that, like you’re more than just his publicist, it’s harder to remember why this is a terrible idea.

But it is a terrible idea. You know that better than anyone. Falling for your client? No. You can’t let that happen.

So instead, you throw yourself into planning the fake romance. Dates at trendy restaurants, walks through crowded parks, intimate interviews where he and Jiae can “accidentally” let slip details about their “relationship.” And yet, despite your best efforts, things keep slipping. Like the way San keeps finding excuses to touch you during meetings or the way his eyes linger on you a little too long when he thinks no one’s looking.

Jiae notices, of course. She’s sharp, and perceptive, and she doesn’t miss much. During one of your strategy sessions, she leans back in her chair, appraising you with a knowing smirk.

"This isn’t going to work," she says casually, flipping through your prepared itinerary.

You blink, momentarily thrown. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, please," she laughs, tossing the papers aside. "He’s not interested in me, and you know it."

Your stomach drops. "That’s not—"

"Save it," she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. "Look, I get it, eonnie. You’re his publicist. You’re supposed to be impartial, professional, blah blah blah. But let’s be real here—the chemistry between us is about as convincing as a cardboard cutout."

You stare at her, unsure of how to respond. Part of you wants to deny it, to insist that everything will go according to plan. But deep down, you know she’s right. San’s energy shifts whenever you’re around, his focus zeroing in on you in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.

"So what do you suggest?" you ask, your voice tight.

Jiae grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "I suggest you stop pretending you don’t see it. Because trust me, eonnie, he’s into you."

Before you can muster a rebuttal, she stands, smoothing out her dress. "Have fun with that," she says with a wink, breezing out of the room before you can recover.

Alone again, you sink into your chair, letting her words sink in. He’s into you. Of course, he is. How could he not be? You’re the one who’s always there, the one who knows him better than anyone else. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. If anything, it makes it worse.

Because now you have to figure out how to handle this. Do you continue with the fake romance, pushing your feelings aside in the name of professionalism? Or do you confront San, and risk everything by admitting how you feel?

The thought of either option makes your head spin. But as you sit there, replaying the conversation with Jiae, something stirs in your chest. A flicker of defiance, maybe, or just plain curiosity. What would happen if you gave in? If you let yourself explore this connection, even just for a moment?

Just as you’re about to push yourself up from the chair, the door swings open again. San steps inside, his presence instantly filling the room. He closes the door behind him, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.

"We need to talk," he says simply, his voice steady but charged with something unspoken.

You nod, standing slowly. "About the—"

"Not about the movie," he interrupts, taking a step toward you. "About us."

"Us?" you echo faintly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. San’s gaze softens, his expression shifting from intense to something almost tender.

"Yeah," he murmurs, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, grazing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. "Us."

Your breath catches in your throat as San’s hand slides from your hair to your jaw, his touch warm and firm. The room seems to shrink around you, the world outside forgotten. All that exists is this moment—this man—and the undeniable pull between you.

“San…” you whisper, a plea and a question all at once. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you feel it burning in your chest: permission, understanding, something more than just this fragile connection.

His eyes darken, and for a split second, you think he’ll step back, and put some distance between you. But then his other hand cups your face, tilting it up toward his. His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers, the same one reverberating through you.

“I’ve been trying not to do this,” he admits softly, his voice rough with emotion. “Trying to stay professional, to keep things… clean. But I can’t anymore.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly it feels like it might burst out of your chest. “San, we can’t… This isn’t—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, his voice low and urgent. “I know what we’re supposed to be doing. I know how this looks. But none of it matters when I’m standing here looking at you.”

He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your lips, and you wonder if you should pull away, remind him of the consequences, of the boundaries you’ve both spent years erecting. But then his lips brush against yours, gentle at first, testing, seeking permission.

And you give it.

The kiss starts slow, like two people afraid of breaking something too precious. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. San groans into your mouth, his hands tightening on your face as his tongue sweeps inside, claiming you. The sound vibrates through your body, setting every nerve on fire.

You grip his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world tilts dangerously. His taste floods your senses—warm, spicy, entirely intoxicating. You didn’t realize how much you needed this until now, until his lips were on yours, his body pressed against yours, solid and unyielding.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” San murmurs against your mouth, pulling back just enough to nuzzle your neck. He sucks a mark onto your collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly, and you gasp, arching into him.

“San…” you manage, your voice shaky. “We shouldn’t—”

“Screw shouldn’t,” he growls, punctuating the words with another bite. His hands slide down your sides, skimming over your waist before settling on your hips. He tugs you flush against him, and you feel the proof of his desire pressing into your stomach.

You shudder, your brain short-circuiting as heat pools between your thighs. God, he felt incredible even fully clothed. The thought of getting him out of those clothes sends a bolt of desire straight to your core.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes are wild, and desperate, like he’s daring you to put an end to this madness.

But you don’t. You can’t. Not when your body is screaming for more, not when your heart is already halfway to falling for him. Instead, you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your neck, silently begging him to keep going.

San takes the invitation, his lips trailing lower, down the slope of your neck, over your shoulder. He pushes your blazer off your shoulders, letting it pool at your elbows before continuing his assault on your skin. His teeth nip at the exposed flesh above your bra, his tongue soothing the sting with languid swipes.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust. He drags his lips back up to yours, kissing you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. His hands roam under your blouse, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You suck in a sharp breath as his fingers find the clasp of your bra. With a practiced flick, it releases, and your breasts spill free. San groans, cupping them in his hands, his thumbs grazing your hardened nipples.

“So perfect,” he whispers, lowering his head to take one into his mouth. He alternates between sucking and nibbling, his tongue laving circles around your sensitive peak. You clutch at his shoulders, your legs threatening to give out under the onslaught of sensation.

“San… please…” you beg, your voice barely audible over the roaring in your ears. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, only that you need more.

He pulls back long enough to yank your blouse over your head, tossing it aside without a second glance. Then his lips are on yours again, devouring you as his hands explore your body with unrestrained hunger.

“Touch me,” he demands, grabbing your hand and guiding it to the button of his jeans. His eyes bore into yours, intense and pleading. “Don’t stop this time.”

A thrill shoots through you as you fumble with the button, your fingers clumsy with anticipation. When the zipper finally gives, you slip your hand inside, finding him hard and ready for you. He gasps, his hips jerking into your touch as you stroke him firmly.

“God, yes…” he groans, his head falling back as he struggles to maintain control. But you can see the strain in his expression, the way his jaw clenched as he fights to hold himself together.

You want to break him. You want to see him unravel completely, to watch the walls he’s built around himself crumble. So you tighten your grip, quickening the pace as your other hand teases the waistband of his boxers.

“Take them off,” you command, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

San complies immediately, kicking off his shoes and shimmying out of his jeans and boxers in one swift motion. He stands before you completely exposed, every inch of him breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Now you,” he says, his tone commanding yet laced with vulnerability. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up the insides of your thighs. “Let me see all of you.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then his fingers hook into the waistband of your skirt, and you lift your hips to let him strip you bare. When you’re fully undressed, he drops to his knees and presses a reverent kiss to the inside of your thigh, his breath hot against your skin.

“San…” you groan, your legs trembling as his mouth moves closer to your aching core.

“Shh,” he soothes, his voice muffled against your damp curls. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his tongue is on you, parting your folds and delving deep. You cry out, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crash over you. He laps at you greedily, his fingers probing and teasing until you’re writhing beneath him, consumed by a blinding sensation.

“San, please…” you beg again, your voice raw with need. “I can’t… I can’t wait…”

He doesn’t make you. Instead, he rises to his feet, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch. He sets you down gently, positioning himself between your thighs. His eyes lock onto yours as he lines himself up, poised to enter you.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice steady despite the tension coiled in his body. “Keep your eyes on me.”

And then he thrusts into you, filling you. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your bodies connect for the first time. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“San…” you murmur, your voice breaking as the reality of the situation crashes down on you.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his hips snapping forward with purpose. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

You nod frantically, your thoughts fragmented, your body too far gone to form coherent words. “Yes… San… please…”

He smiles, a wicked glint in his eye. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and then he drives into you harder, faster, his movements confident and sure. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding as if he’s trying to devour every ounce of hesitation you might still be holding onto.

You gasp into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. There’s no space between you now, no room for anything but the heat that’s been simmering between you for so long. This isn't your first time, but it feels different, important—not a quick and casual fuck, but something more, something special. This moment has been a long time coming; you both know it, feel it in the way your bodies seem made for each other, the way you slot together perfectly, as though every inch of you was designed with this connection in mind.

There will be time later for sweet nothings, gentle caresses, and murmured promises. Right now, neither of you has the patience for romance.

"Fuck," you moan, tilting your head to let him better access, his lips a trail of fire across your skin. You don't have to pretend this is perfect, that this feeling between the two of you was always meant to be—instead, you hold on for dear life as he takes you higher than you've ever been, the coil of pressure building inside you hotter and tighter than before.

"I've got you, sweetheart," San murmurs against the curve of your throat, the tone in his voice low enough that your entire body quakes at the sound. "Let me take care of you like a good girl."

When his hand falls to where you are both joined, his touch against your already sensitive nerves makes you yelp, a sudden jolt of electricity surging through your spine. San chuckles at the reaction, a rich and dark sound that rumbles against your ear. "So beautiful like this, baby, such a mess for me."

"San..." you whine, his name like a prayer tumbling from your lips as you teeter on the precipice. "Please, please don't stop, don't fucking stop--"

And he doesn't. He's relentless as his thumb draws small, tight circles over your center, the sound of your whimpers urging him to go faster and harder, until you are crying out, shuddering with pleasure.

"That's it," he says, his voice ragged now, raw and honest. "Let me hear you."

His pace shifts again, this time erratic, desperate. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he drives into you. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin. “Wanted you… all this time.”

His admission sends a jolt of electricity through you, amplifying the already dizzying pleasure. You clutch at him, your body arching instinctively as you chase that elusive peak. “San… I—I think I’m going to—”

“Yes,” he growls, his thrusts becoming even more frantic. “Come for me. Right now.”

It’s too much, too fast, too good. Your vision blurs, your muscles tightening as you spiral over the edge, your release crashing over you in waves. You cry out his name, over and over, your body convulsing around him as you ride out the aftershocks.

He follows soon after, his movements faltering as he finds his release. For a moment, he’s still, his entire weight pressing you into the counter as he catches his breath. Then, slowly, he withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and spent.

In a matter of minutes, his world has been upended, and somehow, yours along with it. San runs his hand through his hair, his expression an intoxicating mix of awe and disbelief.

"How did we get here?" he asks softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, still a little breathless.

He nods, silent for a long moment, and you worry that the spell is broken, the real world threatening to intrude upon this fantasy you'd constructed for yourself. And then, slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he raises an eyebrow. "Want to do it again?"

You laugh, relief rushing through your veins like a drug. "Let's go home first," you suggest, trailing a hand down his chest. "Where we can be more... thorough."

"Fair point," San murmurs, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. "If I can only love one girl in this life, then it's you. It's you, baby."

#illusionnet #cromernet #kvanity #other side outlaws network #ksmutsociety #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez stories #ateez fanfics #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez san #san #choi san #san smut #ateez choi san #choi san x reader

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hotluncheddie · 5 months ago

Text

My @steddieexchange for @lulalulens !! :) <3

wc: 3k | rated: E | tags: hurt/comfort, confessions, Christmas fluff, fingering, handjob, they both need a hug and they both get one

₊✩‧₊

It’s Dustin that causes it. Not on purpose, but he’s the catalyst. The uh, what did Robin say about movie plots? Oh, yeah, he was the inciting incident.

The glasses had a red tint to the lens that reminded Dustin of Cyclops, and Daredevil - something he was sure Eddie would find cool. He held them up in the air as he ran through the store back to Steve. Was sure Eddie would like that they were from the thrift, that they had story - were like an artefact.

And Steve agreed, was exited by Dustin’s excitement. Exited to see Eddie’s face when he opened them.

Always exited to watch Eddie smile.

(He didn’t tell Dustin that, since they were still figuring things out. Keeping being together on the low until, well, Steve wasn’t sure. Only Robin and Wayne knew, and that was enough, for now.)

So Steve smiled, agreed that it was a good choice, but also rolled his eyes, calling them both dorks for thinking looking like a comic guy was cool. But when Christmas Eve came around and the party gathered in the trailer to make it easier on Max’s still recovering body and Eddie’s still recovering reputation, Steve was exited. He shifted in his spot on the couch next to Eddie to watch his face, which was grinning as Dustin handed him the brightly wrapped box. Steve’s arm draped over the back of the couch twitched and his resolve quickly folded, he let his fingers find a wisp of curls to hold, to connect them.

Eddie opens the case with a laugh, agreeing with Dustins references. ‘I’ll wear these on my first magazine cover.’ He declares, standing and slipping them on. ‘What do you think Mikey? Metal?’ He asks in front of them all, posing with his hand on his hips. Mikes cheeks go slightly pink as he nods and Eddie sends a wink to Steve.

But then Steve notices Eddie’s smile fade slightly as his eyes scan the room, his breathing change. Eddie, with hands clenching his hips so tight his fingers go white, looks up at the untarnished ceiling of the new Munson trailer, and squeezes his eyes shut.

‘Now, not that I don’t love you all, but Wayne allowed me one Christmas smoke and I’m hankering.’ Eddie says woodenly, clapping too loudly in the sudden, cautious, quiet, and turns for the door.

Steve watched him slip quickly into his shoes and bring his hand up to remove the glasses, a tremor in his fingers.

The door slams shut a moment later.

He didn’t even put on a coat.

Steve’s hand comes to Dustin’s shoulder as he gets up from the couch, trying to tell him it’s alright, trying to tell him not to follow. Lucas pipes up about cigarettes smelling nasty, pulling Dustin into an argument about whether his present for Max is better than Dustin’s present for Suzy. Smart kid.

Steve grabs his and Eddie’s coats, pulling his own boots on and zipping up.

‘I’m just gonna, uh.’ he mumbles, half out the door and looking to Robin. He raised his eyebrows, she nods.

The yellow light from the trailer window cast elongated patches across the frozen ground, too cold now to snow but the flurry they had a few days ago still stubbornly remains in patches, glittering faintly in the light.

Steve find him, hunched over the front of the bimmer, shadowed by the thicket of bare branches that offer the only corner of privacy from neighbouring unis.

He approaches slow, Eddie’s shoulders are rising and falling a little too rapidly, white clouds of icy breath billowing out into the star laden sky. The glasses gripped in his hand, knuckles white.

A rogue patch of icy snow crunches under foot. ‘I know you loved it when I called you hot stuff last week, but this is taking it a little far don’t you think?’ He asks softly, draping Eddie’s coat over his shoulders in slow catalogued movements.

He rests his hand there, between Eddie’s shoulder blades. The rise and fall of his breathing is staggered, and shaking. He rubs circles between the two points of bone, hoping it’s soothing, trying to time it with Eddie’s breaths and is thankful as they slow somewhat, becoming deeper, less ragged.

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No s’fine. M’fine.’ He mumbles, rubbing his nose.

‘C’mon, don’t be like that man.’ Steve says softly, his heart clenching as Eddie’s lip wobbles.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly. ‘It was, it was like I was back there.’ He whispers.

‘Oh, Ed’s.’

Eddie rises finally, tugging at his sweater collar like the stretched material is too tight, sucking in great slow lungfuls of icy air.

Steve prise the glasses out of Eddie’s stiff fingers, slipping them into his pocket and manoeuvring Eddie properly into his coat. He goes willingly, pliant as the adrenaline leaves his body, hollowing him out.

‘I, I don’t.’ he sniffs, eyes brimming with tears.

‘Shh, You’re okay.’ Steve hushes, pulling Eddie into his arms. Hand on the back of his head as he buries his face in Steve’s neck. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers, rocking them gently, his collar slowly growing damp.

They stay until Steve’s ears go numb. Until Robin and the kids need to get home. Until Eddie’s face is blotchy and red, but no more tears fill his lash line.

The party files out and into Steve’s car while Eddie slips back into the trailer, mumbling quiet goodbyes and closing the door behind him.

‘Dustin finally took the hint that it’s none of his business why you left, and that no one thinks he caused it.’ Steve says, tossing his keys onto Eddie’s cluttered nightstand. ‘All it took was Rob, Erica and Mike all agreeing on it. My opinion didn’t do shit, obviously.’ He smirks over at Eddie, shucking off his jeans.

Eddie grunts, just a soft puff of air from his chest. Eye staring up blankly at the ceiling, chewing on a lollipop stick. (Another of Wayne’s ‘we need to quit smoking’ ideas. It helps.)

‘But can you call him, tomorrow?’ Steve asks, pulling his socks up and taking off his polo.

Eddie blinks over at him finally. ‘Yeah, ‘cause. Wasn’t his fault.’ He murmurs, his eyes raking over Steve. All of him soft and fragile in the lamplight: he always looks smaller somehow, without his jacket and jeans, plaid pyjama pants and worn sweatshirt softening all his edges, reminding Steve how fragile he really is.

He steps over, pulling the stick away from Eddie’s lips, dropping it in the waste basket.

‘Come here, please?’ Eddie holds his hand out.

Steve smiles at him, dropping down onto the bed and pulling the quilt up over them both. He shoves at the pillows and leans his head against the wall, pulling Eddie down onto his chest and wrapping him up in his arms.

Eddie nuzzles in, cheek against Steve’s undershirt, hot breath ghosting over his nipple. Steve combs his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

‘I really thought I was okay, that I was over it.’ He whispers.

Steve hums, resting his cheek on Eddie’s head.

Eddie swirls a pattern across Steve’s skin with his finger. ‘I, I remember, when the bats, you know’ and his throat clicks on a swallow, ‘remember looking up at the sky and the, the lightning was red. Like, it was like the whole world was made up of these big, red, fucking gashes through the grey. Everything, everything, hot and wet and bleeding.’

‘Eddie.’ Steve’s voice cracks.

Eddie sniffs. ’Sorry, that’s, God. Depressing as shit huh?’ His hand splays out, long fingers stretched across Steve’s pec. He clenches his fist.

‘Hush.’ Steve chastises gently, squeezing Eddie tighter. ‘You know I don't mind. I mean, I still get nightmares, and I didn’t even, I wasn’t. You.’ His throat tightens. Eddie was in the hospital, for months.

‘Stevie.’

Eddie’s fingers are on his cheek, stroking gently beneath his eye. Steve breaths deeply through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

’S’okay, you got me, we’re here. You got me.’ Eddie murmurs gently. Steve swallowing back a noise, blinking away the sting at his eyes.

Eddie pulls at him, at the neck of his t-shirt, at his jaw. ‘C’mere, huh? C’mere.’

Steve opens his mouth, moving lower down the bed and sliding his thigh over Eddies. Focuses on the warmth and softness of his lips, the pressure of them against his own.

Eddie pulls him closer, over and up so he’s straddling him. Their mouths still connected, teeth scraping against lips, sliding together in a way thats hot and wet and makes Steve’s whole mouth tingle.

‘Can I? I I need. Let me, please.’ Eddie goes for Steve’s shirt, his waistband, pulling and gripping the fabric in his palms.

Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s, he can feel his heart beat in his ears. ‘We don’t.’ he swallows. ‘We, are you sure Eddie? It’s, you’re, you were upset.’ he lays his fingers against Eddie’s neck, pulse fluttering under his fingertips.

Eddie grasps Steve’s hand, pulling it up to kiss at his knuckles. ‘I want to feel like I have control over something in my life Steve. I want this, with you. Let me want this.’ Eddie’s eyes are dark and wide and Steve cant help but fall right in.

Their hands move until they’re both naked and panting against each other again. Steve grinds his hips down as Eddie whispers in his mouth. ’Come on, we, we got control over fucking nothin. Let’s have this. We have this.’ His fingers pulling at Steve’s hair.

Fumbling around on the floor by the mattress corner Steve finds their lube. Taking a second to bite his lips and grind his hips again as Eddie sucks wet kisses across his neck.

Eddie’s hand retightens, this time at the back of his neck once Steve is close again. ‘Please.’ He speaks into Eddie’s mouth. ‘Fingers.’

Calloused fingertips tap gently at Steves bottom lips and he swirls his tongue around them, hollowing his cheeks as the hand on the back of his neck squeezes and he feels tension seep out all along his spine. His whole body going pliant and gooey.

‘A little more.’ says Eddie, pulling his fingers out. Steve uncaps the lube and squeezes some on, having to blink hard in order to refocus his eyes.

Eddie circles his rim and Steve licks into his mouth as a finger slips inside. They’re fully hard against each other and Steve doesn’t know which sensation to move towards most.

‘Let me in, baby let me in.’ Eddie whispers, demanding, pleading.

‘You have me, I’m here.’ Steve moans, a second finger slipping inside and stretching him out. His skin hot and prickling as he wraps his hand around them both. Eddie whimpering into his neck.

He feels the scared little monster of want and possessive need raise inside him. The fire in his belly morphing into something hungry and dangerous.

‘Don’t, you, I want you to tell me. Always tell me, when you’re not okay.’ He says, whining slightly, eyes squeezes shut. ‘No, no bullshit okay? I want, let me help.’ Because, because even if he can’t fix it, he can still do something, still be enough to help a little.

‘Steve.’ Eddie’s voice is wet. His hand comes up to cradle his cheek. ‘Stevie, baby, look at me.’

Steve opens his eyes, the moisture on his lashes sticking them together. His chest rising and falling rapidly.

‘I love you.’ Eddie says.

Steve gasps, hand squeezing them both reflexively, making them groan. Eddies fingers twitch inside of him and his skin feels too tight, his mind too foggy to process anything other than the beat of his heart in his ears.

‘You love me?’ He gasps. ‘You love me.’

‘I love you.’ Eddie goes back to kissing his neck, sucking a bruise and crooking his fingers just so.

Steve laughs, delirious. ‘You love me’ and he starts moving his hand in earnest, the glide slick with their combined pre.

He grinds himself down as Eddie adds another finger, clenching his teeth at the stretch, and feeling the familiar heat spread through him.

‘Eddie, baby, m’close.’ he gasps.

Eddie speeds up, pumping his fingers inside him, grinding his hips up into Steve’s hand. A needy string of ‘ah ah ah’s’ is all he can manage as his vision tunnels. His thumb swiping over their sensitive heads before gripping them tighter, moving his hand faster.

Steve doesn't know who spills over his fist first, but Eddies fingers were working relentlessly inside him, scissoring and pressing until he couldn't hold on any more, the spool of him unraveling itself completely as he came all over them both.

Panting, he looks down at Eddie below him. His hair splayed out, haloing his flushed cheeks and bitten red lips. Steve marvels at him, watches Eddie drag his clean hand across his face, combing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

‘Hey’ he says, voice soft and wobbly.

Eddie smiles up at him, cheeky, reaching up and spreading some of the cum into Steve’s skin where it splattered up as high as his chest hair. Steve giggles, feeling loose and happy.

‘Hey’ he says again, and Eddies eyes flick to his.

‘I love you.’ He whispers.

Eddie beams softly as him, his eyes shining.

Steve leans down, kissing him, not caring about the mess between them as he splays his hands across Eddie’s chest, sinking into him and he swears their hearts beat in time.

They kiss until he can feel Eddie falling asleep beneath him, his mouth moving slower and weaker until its just Steve pressing their lips together, feather light.

‘Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.’ He says, nipping at Eddie’s lip and laughing at the low growl he receives. ‘One sec, kay?’

Eddie squeezes him, mumbling out and huffy little ‘one’ just to be annoying before he lets Steve up. He goes to the bathroom to wash his hands and comes back with something to wipe them both off with.

Eddie is completely pliant as Steve swipes over his chest and crotch, lifting his hand to get between his sticky fingers. The only tell that he isn't fully asleep is the singular cracked eyelid that allows him to follow each of Steve’s movements.

He tosses the cloth into the dirty clothes pile, which isn't his favourite of Eddies organisation choices but right now he doesn’t really care about anything other than crawling under the sheets and wrapping Eddie up in his arms.

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Steve wakes in that slow rolling way that happens when he knows theres nothing needed of him, when his body and mind relaxes enough to let him sleep until he doesn't need to anymore.

He stretches and flips onto his front, shoulders popping deliciously and he just breathes there, eyes closed, until the smell of coffee permeates his reprieve.

pulling Eddies discarded sweatshirt on and a clean pair of boxers he shuffles into the kitchen, knuckling his eyes and yawning until his jaw clicks. Something in the back of him mind marvels that he can wander into the kitchen without the use of his sight and make it there just fine. Another part wonders, vaguely, how his hair looks, but those thoughts are quickly trounces by the chair he falls into and the steaming mug that Wayne places before him.

‘Merry Christmas kid.’

Steve smiles up at him, the first sip of coffee making him shiver.

‘Didn’t know hair could do that, must be a Christmas miracle.’ Wayne mumbles from behind his own coffee cup in his gruff, deadpan way.

Steve just scowls at him, taking another sip before he combs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. He feels the strands fling right back up to where they had been and shrugs.

‘My present to you. Be grateful.’ He says.

Wayne grunts, his eyes sparkling, and he stands to start cracking eggs into the heated up skillet. But not before ruffling Steves hair.

‘Ed, get off the damn phone and come get this bread toastin’.’

Eddie’s leaning against the wall with his back to them, phone cord tangled around his fingers. He’s back in his pyjama pants from last night and Steve realises with a burning stab that he’s also in the polo he discarded on the floor yesterday.

‘Yes. No. Dustin I gotta go, Wayne’s calling. Yeah, we’ll swing by tomorrow okay? Me and Steve sure, yes, okay. I know Dustin, I know. You’re fine. Okay, see you tomorrow. Bye, yes, bye.’ Eddie finally hangs up the phone, sounding exasperated but when he turns he’s already smiling.

Steve catches Eddie’s hand as he shuffles back into the kitchen, kissing the back of it and preening as Eddie kisses the top of his head.

‘Happy Christmas love.’ Eddie mumbles into his hair.

Steve sighs, happiness swelling in him.

‘Dustin wants us over tomorrow, he got new D&D stuff he wants me to see and he specifically requested your presence.’ Eddie says and starts putting bread in the toaster.

‘Bet if he knew you said it like that he’s get all weird, he only ever says nice stuff about me when I’m not there.’

‘He’s obsessed with you Stevie, that can make a person act weird.’ Eddie refills his coffee. ‘He’s fine though, now, by the way.’

Steve nods.

‘Speakin’ of weird, after that first time you took Ed to the drive in he came back with a real bug up his ass, wouldn't stop talking about-‘

Wayne is stopped abruptly by Eddies hand across his mouth.

‘Okay old man, enough with that.’ Eddie says, voice an octave higher than normal.

Steve grins as Eddie peaks over to him through his hair. Grins harder as they start to bicker, continuing to make breakfast in the tiny kitchen.

He’s definitely planning on asking Eddie about that later. But for now, he enjoys the comforting warmth that spreads through him. The feeling of home. Of being loved.

₊✩‧₊

sorry this is posting after the holidays but its done! we did it! hope u all enjoy!

Tag list: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @hickeysgodcomplex

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair @wheneverfeasible @hbyrde36

@bookworm0690

#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie winter exchange #steddiewinterexchange #steddie winter exchange 2024 #my fic #:)#ive not posted in so long omg sorry if anyone ive tagged is not interested i feel like i dunno what's going on on here anymore lmao

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whitecompri · 3 months ago

Note

can we have more dad hedgies please 😭

i dont really have an idea i just want something either really cute or angsty 😞🙏

Daddy Playtime

Check Out: Daddy Daycare

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader.

Genre: Comedy

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Light Swearing

Synopsis: The hedgehogs have to spend more time with their daughters, but this time, they hope it will be more peaceful.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I was in doubt before if I would do a continuation for the first part, so thank you for asking, it gave me motivation to write this part.

Sonic

He had already survived an entire day with his daughter, so spending a few more minutes playing with the little one wouldn’t be that bad. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

Sonic sat on the floor in his daughter’s room, his only job being to spend some quality time with her while you cleaned the house and took care of daily chores.

“So, kiddo, what are we gonna do?” He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees, watching curiously as she searched through the drawers.

“Found it!” She exclaimed, approaching the older blue hedgehog with a pink box.

“What’s that?” Sonic raised an eyebrow.

“Makeup! We’re playing beauty salon today!” She opened the box, revealing various shades of makeup, tons of different lipsticks, and multiple brushes for every type of application.

Sonic’s smile faded as he stared in shock at the box.

“...You don’t wanna play something else? I dunno, Monopoly?” He shrank into himself, hoping the idea would convince her. Holding his breath, he waited for her response.

“Nah.” His ears drooped to the sides, already growing worried about what she was about to do to his handsome face.

“Painting my face? Ahhh, I don’t know, kiddo, I’m more of a ‘speed and action’ guy than a ‘beauty salon’ guy…” He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the door as if planning a secret escape.

“It’ll be fun.” His daughter grinned mischievously.

She sat in front of him, rummaging through the box, looking for a specific lipstick color.

“Do you want a color, Dad?”

“Blue?”

“It has to be a different color, or it won’t show up.”

“I’d rather it not show up.”

“Dad!” She pouted, lifting a lipstick she had chosen. “Orange should suit you.”

The little hedgehog reached out, grabbing his cheek to hold him in place. Sonic shut his eyes from the tight grip.

Frowning in deep concentration, she started applying the lipstick with a slightly shaky hand. Sonic even held his breath, fearing what she was doing. Her hand accidentally strayed downward, immediately making him panic.

“Oops… But it’s okay, I’ll just put a bit more here to cover it up.”

“This stuff washes out with water, right?”

“It’s waterproof lipstick.”

“What?” He flinched in horror.

“Dad, stay still! You made me mess up again!” She pulled him back into place, focusing on her work.

“Are we done?”

“No, now we need eyeshadow and glitter.” She turned to the box, grabbing a tiny jar of glitter and an eyeshadow brush.

She loaded the brush with shimmering silver eyeshadow, then turned to him.

“Close your eyes, Dad.” He shut them tightly as she started rubbing the brush over his eyelids, layering on the makeup. He coughed lightly at the amount of powder she applied.

Once she was satisfied, she grabbed the jar of multicolored glitter, sprinkling it over his quills bit by bit. And finally, she picked up a mascara tube, twisting it open and carefully applying it to his eyelashes.

At last, what felt like an eternity for Sonic ended within a few minutes.

“All done, Dad! You look beautiful!” She stood up, admiring her work.

“I’m already naturally handsome…” He stood up too, walking over to the mirror. When his eyes met his reflection, he jumped back.

“I’ve got more mascara on than Rouge now…”

The orange lipstick was completely smudged and uneven, making his muzzle look more like a circus clown’s mouth. The silver eyeshadow on his eyelids was ridiculously overdone, reaching almost up to his forehead. His eyelashes were so long they nearly bothered him when he blinked. And to top it all off, his quills sparkled under the light from the absurd amount of glitter.

“Did you like it, Dad? I think I’ll be a makeup artist when I grow up!”

“Yeah… Maybe a circus will hire you to do the clowns’ makeup.”

The little hedgehog playfully punched his arm.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open.

“Sonic, dinner is almost rea—” Your eyes widened at the scene. “What happened here?”

Sonic shrugged, flashing a lopsided grin.

“I think I’m ready to compete for Miss Universe.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at the state he was in.

“Hey, I heard that laugh… You’re totally crushing on my new look, aren’t you?” He smirked, his silver eyeshadow gleaming even more as his glitter-covered quills shimmered.

Shadow

After the incidents with his Chaos Emerald, Shadow decided to hide it in better places where only he could find it—he wanted to avoid being teleported against his will.

So now, instead of chasing his daughter all over the city trying to stop her from playing with Chaos Control, he was sitting on the rug in her room, surrounded by toys.

She grabbed another box from the corner of the room, bringing it closer. Opening it, she pulled out several dolls. Shadow crossed his arms, watching. He wasn’t the type to play like this, but you needed some peace and quiet to clean the house, and since he was free at the moment, he took the opportunity to spend some time with his little girl.

He just didn’t know how quickly things were about to spiral out of control.

“Here, Daddy, you’re gonna have these.” She grabbed a doll, a toy car, and a dinosaur, placing them in his hands. Shadow raised an eyebrow, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do with them.

Shadow held the doll, staring at its plastic face with narrowed eyes. He meticulously examined the toy, trying to see if it did anything interesting, but it was just a regular doll.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Now what?”

But then, he froze, completely motionless, as his daughter brought a tiara to him and placed it on his head.

“There, Daddy, now you’re the queen.” He furrowed his brow.

“Queen?”

“Yeah, you’re the queen now. Take your dinosaur and put it in this farm here.” She pointed to a fenced area with other animals.

Shadow looked at the plastic dinosaur, thinking for a moment. That dinosaur was obviously a carnivore.

“If I put it there, it’s going to eat all the farm animals.” He tried to engage in the game. She pouted, looking at the animals thoughtfully.

“Well, it needs to eat somehow, right? You can leave it there.” Shadow, somewhat surprised, complied, placing the toy in the designated area.

“Daddy, now there’s going to be a party here. You need to get your Barbie ready for the ball.”

He looked at the doll in his hands, confused about how exactly he was supposed to do that.

He watched as she grabbed a toy brush and started combing her doll’s hair. Shadow ran a hand over his own quills, wondering if he really had to go through with this.

Then, he reached for the small brush and awkwardly began brushing his doll’s hair, doing it quickly and clumsily.

“Daddy, now you have to say that Barbie is going to the ball.”

Shadow looked at her, completely bewildered.

“I’d rather not...”

“Please, Daddy.”

Shadow sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“...Barbie is going to the ball.” He closed his eyes as his daughter giggled—at this point, she was probably doing it on purpose.

“Oh no, Daddy, too bad! You got arrested.”

His eyes shot open, focusing on his daughter, who was now holding a police car, placing it right in front of his doll.

“...What?” He raised an eyebrow.

The little hedgehog took the doll from his hands and put it inside a box, which was apparently supposed to be a prison. Shadow remained still for a few moments, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Daddy, your dinosaur invaded the prison and saved you!”

“What kind of game is this, anyway?” He asked, crossing his arms as he watched her place the doll on top of the dinosaur, making them both escape the imaginary prison.

At that moment, her bedroom door slowly opened, drawing both of their attention to it.

Your eyes immediately landed on Shadow—with the tiara still on his head. You raised an eyebrow at him. The hedgehog’s eyes widened in realization, remembering he was still wearing it. Before anyone could blink, his hand shot up, snatching the tiara off his head and placing it on the floor.

“Daddy, you can’t take off your crown! You’re the queen!” His daughter protested.

You chuckled.

“Queen, huh?” You leaned against the doorframe, teasing the black hedgehog.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on for a while now, too.”

“But Daddy, the queen is going to get arrested again if she doesn’t wear the tiara!”

Shadow let out a deep, defeated sigh. He grabbed the tiara, placed it back on his head, and crossed his arms—completely resigned.

Silver

After almost witnessing the complete destruction of his living room, Silver felt much happier and more comfortable being back to spending some relaxed quality time with his daughter.

He sat on the floor, placing colored pencils and sheets of paper around him. The little hedgehog approached, bringing markers and paints.

“Here, Daddy, you’re going to use these pens.” She grabbed a few markers and handed them to him.

“Thanks, sweetheart!” He accepted the markers, picking up a sheet of paper to start drawing.

For him, it was a peaceful and fun activity—perfect for spending time together.

Silver scribbled and sketched, drawing a simple landscape with mountains, some trees, and the sun shining above. He smiled to himself at the result, excited to see what his daughter had created.

“Look at my drawing, Daddy!” She turned the paper toward him. The hedgehog looked eagerly, curious about what she had drawn—until he froze, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of the image.

He placed a hand on his chin, scratching it thoughtfully.

“Uh... What is this?” He pointed at a dark blue figure, a scribble that was hard to decipher.

“A squid with a sword!”

Silver nodded as if he understood.

“And this one?”

“A bee dragon.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out how something that looked like a yellow-painted rat could be a bee dragon—but he quickly gave up trying to rationalize it.

“Well, it looks great, sweetheart. Keep it up.” He ruffled her quills playfully.

“I’m going to use the paints now, Daddy.” She turned to grab the paints. “Hmm, I’m missing a color.” She looked at her desk, spotting the paint she needed.

Using her psychokinesis, the small paint jar started floating toward them. However, just as it passed over Silver’s head, the jar tipped over, spilling paint all over his quills.

Silver flinched and froze as he felt the cold paint land on his head. But once he realized it was just paint, he relaxed. The hedgehog grabbed a clean piece of paper, instinctively trying to wipe it off.

“Daddy, wiping it will only make it worse. It’s already all over your quills.” The little one stood up, looking at the mess of paint now covering his head.

“It’s okay, I can wash it later. Actually, since I’m already messy, why don’t we just get even messier?” He reached for another jar of paint, dipping a brush deep into the colorful liquid.

“Good idea, Daddy! We can make lots of paintings this way!” She copied him, grabbing some brushes and mixing colors together.

Getting into the spirit of the game, Silver poured some paint onto a piece of paper, spreading it around with his hands. The little hedgehog giggled at the sight and grabbed another color, mixing it with what he had already spread.

Within minutes, the once-organized room was covered in sheets of paper painted in every way imaginable. The atmosphere was filled with cheerful laughter.

Silver and his daughter stood side by side, both covered in paint, proudly admiring their work.

“Daddy, our masterpiece looks amazing!” she said proudly.

“It really does. Great job, sweetheart.” He crossed his arms, his quills puffing up in satisfaction.

The door beside them slowly began to open.

“Looks like you two had fun in here.” You observed them with a small smile. Then, your eyes scanned the colorful mess covering the floor, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes, Mommy! First, we drew, and then we made a masterpiece.” The little one giggled, hugging Silver’s leg. He gently placed a hand on her head.

“I’ll clean everything up, don’t worry.” The hedgehog reassured you about the mess.

“It’s alright. Keep having fun. I love the masterpiece my two artists created.”

Silver scratched the back of his head at your words, letting out a small chuckle.

“Daddy, can we make another masterpiece?”

“Of course we can, sweetheart.” He immediately grabbed fresh sheets of paper, ready to start another round of creative fun with his daughter.

Scourge

He sat down with difficulty on the tiny pink children's chair at his daughters' play table, watching as the two little troublemakers approached him. Scourge had spent the entire day trying to escape them, but it hadn't worked. In the end, he had no choice but to spend time with them while you rested.

The green hedgehog crossed his arms, watching as the older one flashed a mischievous grin at him, while the green-furred younger one, still sucking on her pacifier and toddling unsteadily, carried a gray box.

"A’right, what’s the deal? Spit it out, kid."

“Dad, we want to paint your nails.”

Scourge’s eyes widened in shock.

"Pfft, yeah, like I’m really gonna sit here n’ let ya paint me up like some kinda princess." He laughed, adjusting his sunglasses on his head.

“If you don’t let us, I’m gonna tell Mom that you didn’t want to spend time with us!” She crossed her arms, staring him down challengingly.

The threat made Scourge’s eyes momentarily widen before he muttered something under his breath.

"Tch… aight, fine." He sighed, placing his hands on the table.

The older one giggled excitedly, pulling up a stool for herself, placing the box on the table, and then lifting her little sister into an empty chair.

She picked out a few colors and lined them up in front of her father. The youngest simply watched with her big blue eyes. She reached for his hand, holding it firmly as she grabbed a bright hot pink nail polish and began carefully applying it.

Scourge’s ears drooped back.

"This is freakin’ humiliatin’…"

“Dad, hold still, or I’ll mess it up.”

He sighed.

"Y’all ain’t got a better color? Green, black, purple, somethin’ that don’t make me look like a damn cupcake?" He propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand.

“I have those, but I want hot pink.”

"Y’all are havin’ a real good time watchin’ yer old man suffer, huh?" Scourge huffed, but he had to admit, his daughter was surprisingly skilled at painting nails, despite the strong smell of nail polish irritating his nose.

A few minutes later, she finished painting both of his hands. Scourge scowled at his pink nails before shifting his focus to his older daughter, who was now setting up tiny teacups and a plastic teapot on the table. She placed a few stuffed animals on the remaining chairs.

The green hedgehog watched curiously as she worked. Then she picked up the teapot and ran out of the room, returning shortly with it full—probably with something to drink.

Scourge crossed his arms, observing with interest as she arranged everything. But his eyes widened when she placed a folded piece of paper in the center of the table with bold, messy handwriting that read "Gang Meeting."

She then took her seat.

"The hell is this?" Scourge glanced at her, confused.

“Tea party!” she answered cheerfully.

"Wait—since when did tea parties turn into gang meetin’s?" he asked incredulously.

“We need to talk and decide what to do about the gang on the other street…” His daughter gave him a serious look.

"A’right, this gang stuff’s gettin’ a little outta hand now."

She grabbed the teapot and poured some of the liquid into all the teacups.

"Yo, what the hell did ya put in here?" He picked up his tiny cup, squinting at the liquid inside.

“I took one of your energy drinks, Dad.”

Scourge’s eyes widened in horror. He immediately lunged forward, snatching the cups away before they could take a sip.

"Since when did y’all get old enough for this kinda junk?" He narrowed his eyes, pouring the liquid back into the teapot and keeping it far away from them.

“Dad, you’re the boss of the gang. Shouldn’t we give them a little scare?” She crossed her arms.

"What kinda nonsense y’all talkin’ ‘bout now?" He raised an eyebrow. The youngest cooed softly, locking eyes with her father.

“See? Even my sister agrees we need to teach them a lesson. I say we throw rotten eggs at their leader’s house!”

Scourge blinked once, then twice, before a slow smirk crept onto his face.

"…Y’know what? That actually don’t sound half bad. A’right, lemme hear the details." He leaned back in his tiny chair, now fully invested, taking a sip from his cup before refilling it with more energy drink.

At that moment, the bedroom door slowly creaked open.

Your eyes landed inside, and you raised an eyebrow at the scene before you.

There sat Scourge—way too relaxed in a chair that was far too small for him—his nails painted bright pink as he delicately held a tiny teacup, pinky raised, sipping the liquid inside. His youngest daughter, still sucking on her pacifier, focused entirely on him, while the older one chatted excitedly.

“…What are you all up to in here?” You crossed your arms.

Scourge wobbled in his seat, nearly toppling over, and choked on his drink, coughing as he pounded a fist against his chest.

“It’s okay, Mommy! Daddy was just playing tea party with us!” the older one said innocently.

Scourge cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket collar.

"Yeah, yeah, that’s it—just havin’ a lil’ tea party with these tiny monsters." A single bead of sweat rolled down his face.

Your eyes flicked down to his hands.

“Nice nails. The color suits you…” you teased.

Scourge stood up and sauntered over to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close.

"Babe, I just got my pride stomped on by my own kids… don’t ya think I deserve a lil’ somethin’ for my troubles?" He rested his forehead against yours.

“Of course. Your compensation will be washing the dishes after dinner.”

He groaned in frustration but quickly leaned in and stole a brief kiss from your lips.

“Ugh, Dad,” the older one gagged. “You could’ve done that somewhere else.”

"Aw, c’mon, what’s the big deal? I can’t even show yer mom a lil’ love?"

She folded her arms with a huff.

"An’ y’all better get used to it, ‘cause I’m gonna kiss yer mom whenever the hell I want. An’ if ya whine too much, no more sneakin’ cookies from the pantry."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the look of utter betrayal on your daughter’s face while the younger one giggled softly.

#sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #silver x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #scourge x reader #scourge the hedgehog x reader

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