#have to do the test again in the morning but well... fuck

[crimsonvictory]

The Bet

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8.2k

Tags: Simon Riley x Reader, Ghost x Reader

Warnings: mature, p-in-v sex, sexual tension, overstimulation

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It had all started with a bet. A stupid bet fueled by the desire to slice the Achilles' of one another. The rules were simple. First to make contact loses the bet. Easy enough, right?  

The first few days were no problem for you. Thinking of him was the least of your worries – at least, until you were alone with your own thoughts. The constant spiral of want pooling your thoughts and your panties. There were no rules on touching yourself, though. You spend the next twenty minutes getting your body to its well-known peak, almost over the precipice when there’s a heavy succession of pounding on your barracks door. Throwing your head back in exasperation, you adjust your sweatpants back around your hips before getting up and opening the door, glaring up at the very tall shadow blocking the hallway light. 

“You forget ‘bout sparring?” he asks, tone apparently bored due to having to come and get you. 

He’s sans mask and grease paint, a softer balaclava covering his features. His eyes bore into your own, gaze unwavering. 

“Shit, give me just a minute-” you start, but he’s already disappeared out of sight. 

Grabbing your gym bag, you throw it up over your shoulder with a huff. Stumbling into your gym shoes, you pad down the long hallway, adjusting your falling sock on the way. The gyms across the courtyard, so you push the rollbar on the door to start that way, relieved that the cool night air hits your flushed skin. The strap on your bag is digging into your shoulder on the way over. You adjust it a few times before you arrive. It’s later in the evening, not many in the vicinity. That’s how you like it. Either early in the morning or late at night – depending on your schedule. 

He’s already warming up in the ring, large hands wrapped in tape. You can’t help but watch the dip of the muscles along his back as he brings his chest close to the mat before pushing back up again. Dropping your bag on the bench next to his own, you pull your tape out and begin to wrap your wrists snugly. Doing an experimental roll on your right wrist, you test the flexibility of the tape, deeming it acceptable. Mimicking your left hand, you rewrap a few times until you feel it’s comfortable enough. 

Work related touching did not count for the bet. You both had to practice your sparring techniques, considering the two of you were anticipating an upcoming mission that was only two weeks out and Ghost did not deem you worthy of holding your own. You were damn determined to show him. Gaz had been helping you when both of you had free time. You had subtly improved in the past couple weeks, able to get Gaz pinned under your grip the last few tries of the night. 

There was no way in hell you would pin Ghost. He was way too fucking big for that. So, you had to use other techniques to bring him to his knees. Not that you would mind seeing him that way. 

“C’mon then, don’t have all night,” he barks out, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You step through the ropes, crouching so as not to disturb them. Straightening up, you step back to your corner of the mat. Despite sparring together numerous times over the past few weeks, you’re still intimidated by him. Ghost brings a whole different level to sparring. Broad shoulders rolling back and setting up in their comfortable fighting stance. You mimic, planting your feet squarely on the mat. 

“Show me what you’ve got bunny,” he says, balaclava contorting against his skin. 

Bastard’s smiling. 

You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart as you determine what would be the best starting point for breaking him down. Faking left, you quickly spin right, bringing your foot up and swinging out to contact his upper thigh. His large hand wraps around your foot, easily stopping it from making contact and knocking you off your balance. You land on your back with a thud, air hissing out of your lungs, making it hard to breathe. 

Taking a few seconds to regain yourself, you move just in time to miss Ghost’s open palm contacting your face. You position yourself quickly, squaring your feet and planting them solidly. While he’s recovering from his swing, you take this time to go for the back of his knee. Contacting a swift kick, you get him down. He stumbles forwards, attempting to right himself when you land another jab in-between his ribs with an open hand, thumb tucked under your four fingers. 

He huffs in annoyance, swatting blindly to try and grab you. You lash out and grab his arm, twisting up and back behind his head. You’re not able to hold for long due to the mere size and strength he musters. He taps the mat three times, signaling you won that round. You grin with pride. 

“Not bad,” he winces, rubbing his ribs right where you jabbed your pointer and middle fingers through. 

You roll your shoulders, adjusting before squatting back down in your fighting stance.  

“Not gonna go easy on ya’,” he clarifies, lurching forwards before his sentence is even finished. 

It nearly catches you off guard, but you can move faster than him. Spinning on your left foot, you are out of his reach and now must recover before he lunges again. He lands a kick to your shin, causing you to crouch in pain. Through gritted teeth, you quickly somersault to avoid another swift kick. He grabs you by the ankle, dragging you close to him. You wriggle in his grip, rolling once again to try and loosen his fingers. It’s no use, his grip is like a vice. You lean up, trying to pry his fingers off you. You take a halfhearted swipe at his arm, throwing your head back in frustration when it’s apparent he is not letting go. He takes your other leg in his left hand, twisting it up and off the mat. 

Gritting your teeth, you angrily tap the mat three times. He releases in an instant, your legs slamming to the mat with a thud. He gives you a moment, allowing you to pull your leg to your body and rub your ankle. There’s no doubt you will have bruises tomorrow. You huff in frustration, a light sheen of sweat on your skin now. Brushing your hair out of your eyes, you ready up again. 

It's your turn to start once again. You slide on your left knee, swiping at Ghost’s feet. Your shoes encounter his shins, but it barely affects him. He just side steps and readies his stance again. Trying not to get aggravated and let your emotions swallow your focus, you slide again, swiping at his shins and then kicking up into his hip. You’ve got to get him down. Remembering your training with Gaz, your main goal was to distract. Especially with a bigger target. You throw your arms up, deflecting a jab straight to your ribs. Throwing them back down, you knock his arm out of the way. Ghost’s tattooed arm. Ink splattering up and hiding under the cuff of his tee. You shake your head, honing your thoughts on winning this sparring match. You couldn’t be the one getting distracted. Biting your lip, you throw an open palm forward, you make steady contact with his sternum. It takes you by surprise. You look up at him in shock. He stumbles a bit – you take the opportunity. 

You strike again, and when he stumbles yet again, you swipe your foot under his feet, knocking him to the ground. What you weren’t expecting was Ghost to pull you down on top of him. You land on his chest with a thud. Both of you are breathing heavily. You feel sweat dripping down your back. 

“Not bad, bunny,” he huffs, hint of a laugh in his voice. 

You muster a halfhearted grin, trying your best not to acknowledge the position the two of you are in right now. Does he even know what he does to you? Ghost shifts under you, placing his foot firmly on the ground. This action lifts his hips upwards, bumping them against your own. You bite back the desperate noise clawing up the back of your throat. 

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks languidly, not a care in the world, what a prick. 

Your panties say otherwise. 

“No-“you bite out quickly, shoving your palms against his chest and pushing yourself into a sitting position.  

His gaze lazily follows your form, his eyes take a moment, almost as if they were swimming in honey. Pupils blown wide, nearly black with Desire? Want? You didn’t want to finish the thought, an uncertainty pooling in your belly. 

Taking a deep breath, you go to stand up, but his hand reaches out lightning fast, gripping onto the fat of your hip. 

“Where ya, goin?” he asks, a predatory smile in his voice. 

You can’t look away, almost entranced by his gaze. He’s fucking terrifying. Your breath hitches in your throat, almost choking you. Ghost was always an uncertainty; you never knew what cards he had within his deck. Unpredictability is what made him a valuable part of the team.  

He squeezes your hip once, a warning. Watching for your reaction. Touching was off the rules, but this was still a part of the sparring session, right? You feel a blush bloom wildly across your cheeks and down your chest, the heat from your desire pooling straight to your core. A soft shudder emerges from the moment. His thumb brushes back and forth over the skin peaking from under your training shirt. A sliver of vulnerability that has you desperately grabbing at what little restraint that you had left. 

A wild card was always hidden and used within the most vulnerable moment. And that’s what he was doing. You recognized it almost immediately. He was falling apart faster than you were and tried using it to his advantage. You internally curse yourself for almost falling under his spell. Losing this bet was off the fucking table. Gritting your teeth, you loosen his grip from your hip and stand up. 

“Not losing this bet is what I’m doing,” you huff, adjusting your hair back into the loose ponytail that had fallen down on your shoulder. 

He laughs then, a sound almost punched out of his chest. An odd, but melodic thing. 

“Damn,” he curses. “Almost had ya.” 

“I’m not that easy to break,” you huff, top lip curling up in frustration. 

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” he warns. 

— 

The next few days passed with no incident. In fact, Ghost was nowhere to be found. Guess he lived up to his callsign after all. You kept yourself busy – to the best of your ability. Studying up on the upcoming mission took up most of your time. Especially when you needed a distraction from the physical want that was etching itself in your body. You were being ridiculous, you knew that. Plenty of years had passed before you had even met Ghost, but there was something about him that you could not stay away.  

He was alluring in the way he presented himself. Using his body language to convey his point. He made you pay attention to him. Small, minute movements that almost had you second guessing if you had even seen them. A roll of the eyes, ticking of the jaw under his balaclava, the clenching and unclenching of his fists to hide his struggle with restraint. You became a master at reading him. 

He wasn’t one to let others close, but you had somehow managed to squeeze through. You didn’t take his bullshit, always confronting him and holding your ground. To be honest, you believed you intimidated him. A power play that always worked to your advantage. The two of you butted heads often, a sign of similar thinking. He was a solid partner to have in the field, but it was hard to think straight when said partner caused you to have unsolicited thoughts when you were at work. 

The temptation of what could be was the main culprit. You took pride in yourself, not making your way to bed with just anyone. They had to earn you. And you were damned sure to make Ghost beg for you. It would work. You could already see him unraveling at the seams. It wouldn’t be long now. But you were a little uncertain on how you would hold up.  

He had a way of unwantingly getting under your skin. Ghost knew how to push your buttons and for some ungodly reason, you liked it. Did he know how much you daydreamed of him? How his mouth felt…his hands…his… 

Another intrusive thought breaking knock had your head whipping upwards a little too quickly. A sharp crack popping the top of your neck. 

“Ow, fuck,” you wince, reaching up and rubbing the sore spot. 

Again, you make your way to the door, slowly opening it. To your surprise, it’s not Ghost. It’s Gaz. 

“You forget about sparring?” he asks, almost a complete mirror of your conversation with Ghost a couple of days ago. 

You shake your head quickly, the crick still there from moments earlier. Grabbing your shoes and gym bag, you follow Gaz down the hall. Unlike Ghost, he waits for you as you readjust the weight on your shoulder.  

“I’ve got a couple of new maneuvers we can try this evening. I don’t think Ghost will see them coming,” he grins, white of his teeth flashing at you. 

“Oh really?” you ask, eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise. 

He nods, excitedly talking with his hands, demonstrating the move as you make your way to the gym. It’s late in the evening, just how you like it. Gaz pulls his sweatshirt off from over his head, revealing a tight fitted task force issued shirt. You set your bag down, starting to tape up your hands as he flicks the rest of the lights on. 

What you weren’t expecting was the behemoth of a shadow to appear under the last flickering light. 

“Fuck!” you shout in surprise, dropping your roll of tape onto the floor. It lies forgotten. 

“L.T., respectfully what the fuck?” Gaz questions, also a little unsettled that he was just standing in the dark. 

He says nothing for a moment, silence stretching thin with discomfort. You shoot a glance over at Gaz and he shrugs his shoulders in confusion.  

“I’ll be takin’ over this sparring session,” he finally comments, breaking the thick silence. 

You immediately protest, harsh words flying from your lips before you can stop them. 

“Like hell you are! Gaz and I are doing just fine without you. You’re just pissed you couldn’t pin me Tuesday morning,” you huff, the feeling of frustration pulling your eyebrows together. 

Ghost crosses his arms.  The fabric of his t-shirt is stretched thin over the bulge of his muscles. He nonchalantly rolls his head to the side, a non-verbal “try me”.  You nearly scream in frustration. All the pent-up energy from your little bet is starting to eat at you. Whether you want to admit it or not. You couldn’t stand the constant yo-yoing of Ghost being gone and then suffocatingly all up in your space. He treated you like a child, unable to handle things on your own. You’ve proven yourself to be a valuable team member to everyone except him. 

“I’m sparring with Gaz,” you repeat, standing your ground. 

You stand defiant, chin raising upwards towards the ceiling. You weren’t backing down. He didn’t scare you. Ghost drops his arms in mock defeat, sauntering quietly closer to you. Your eyes flit to the ticking of his jaw. He’s frustrated with you. Good. Serves him right. His height takes him no time to fill up the space you were defending. Nearly blocking out the sight of Gaz with his broad shoulders. You grit your teeth, finally making eye contact with him. 

His pupils are blown, nearly taking up his entire iris. It makes your tummy flutter with want. You internally curse yourself, trying your best to stand your ground. Your resolve is failing.  

“Easy,” he warns, thick accent turning your insides to molten honey. 

Your breath catches, mind racing to respond to him in a way that won’t make you look like a lovestruck idiot. But then, an almost sinister thought pops into your head. One that could work either way – to your advantage or to your disadvantage. You decide to try it. Looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, you flutter them almost lovingly in his direction. 

“Pretty please L.T.?” you almost beg, dropping your voice into a sultry tone. 

He shifts almost immediately, your words having an extreme effect on his resolve. You can see it in the way his fists clench tightly against his sides. He’s physically restraining himself to not touch you. It makes you blush furiously, heat spreading rapidly across your cheeks. 

“Get on then,” he barks out, turning quickly on his heel and leaving the gym with a slam of the metal door. 

You turn back to Gaz, eyes wide in surprise. You really didn’t think that your idea would work. 

“What-?” Gaz starts to ask, but you dismiss his question with a halfhearted wave of your hand. 

Your sparring session goes quite well. Gaz is a great partner to work with. His new routine makes you finesse your limbs in a way that you had never tried before. The new techniques take some time to get the fluidity down, but by the end of your session, you’re dripping with sweat, exhaustion seeping into your overexerted muscles. You feel accomplished enough, ready to take a shower and call it a day. Gaz walks you back to your room. Congratulating you on your accomplishments and how easily you picked up his well-thought out maneuvers. The two of you make plans to go out this weekend before your mission the following week. 

-- 

Your limbs are trembling with exhaustion as you step into the shower. The hot water hitting your muscles makes you moan in relief.  Suds from your favorite body wash make the room smell pleasant and you move slowly to relish the delicious feeling from the water. You’re hesitant to step out, the cold air biting at your overheated skin. It’s late, you note as you brush your teeth and apply the steps of your skincare routine. Overworn pajamas caress your soft skin, and your damp hair frames your face as you make your last rounds to make sure everything is set up for the next day. This way, you can sleep in a little later. You’re not much of a morning person. 

-- 

You don’t remember falling asleep. Eyes blearily blinking open to the annoying drone of your alarm. You smack it haphazardly, snoozing for another couple of minutes. It’s Saturday. A slower day that you can appreciate. Today is mostly a paperwork day. Last couple of hours before your mission on Monday. Nerves set your body alight, twisting your stomach and making a lump appear in your throat. You do your best to keep yourself calm. An unpredictable environment is part of the job. You just have a hard time pre-adjusting to the fact. Once you’re in the field, you adapt rather quickly. However, this stupid bet with Ghost needs to either come to an end or be forgotten for the time being until the mission is over. You cannot afford to be distracted while out in the field. 

Your day goes by rather quickly. You spend most of the morning running and deciphering reports before dropping them off to Price later in the afternoon. On your way, you run into Gaz, who regrets informing you that your plans must be postponed, as he has training hours to make up for an upcoming performance review. It sours your mood a little, pulling a frown onto your features for a little while. You were looking forward to a distraction for the evening. 

Price is in his office talking with Ghost. You could tell his silhouette from any shadow within the facility. Not wanting to interrupt, you sneak up to the dropbox, laying your papers in the spot as quietly as possible. You can’t help but overhear their conversation, cursed by a lingering curiosity. 

“Don’t think she’s a good fit for this mission,” Ghost grumbles. 

His arms are crossed in annoyance, picking at the sleeve of his sweater almost nervously. But you know him. He’s not nervous. It’s out of boredom. 

“Sparrin’s not her strong suit. Barely got me down last week. She’s fuckin’ strugglin’,” he continues. 

Your body heats with anger, shame flushing hot down the back of your neck. You swallow your pride, nearly choking on it as you turn hotly on your heel and make your way back to your office. Packing up your things in a rush, you knock your laptop to the floor. It clatters loudly against the tile. 

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching down to pick it up and place it in your tote bag. 

Heavy sounding footsteps echo down the hallway. You know by the pacing of the gate that it’s Ghost. It only makes you angrier. You were trying to get out of here in a hurry before he saw how his words affected you. Panic surges in your limbs, making your fingers quiver. You try your best to swallow the lump that is forming in your throat at the thought of having to talk to him. He walks right past your office, not even looking at you. 

You could have screamed. With a huff, you slam your door shut and fumble with the key a few times before getting it successfully in the lock. Your room isn’t far from the office building, so you quickly cross the yard and walk down the hallway. The sounds of your footsteps echo and bounce, sounding out your anger. Unlocking the door, you throw your bag down on the end of your bunk, yanking your shoes off and throwing them down as well. You sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing your hair down in a self-soothing motion. 

The anger still swirling in your chest, you feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over. This was fucking ridiculous. You were acting like a spoiled child. Price had not said anything to you about the mission, nor anything about plans changing at the last minute. So, you don’t understand why you were getting so upset. Probably over the fact that you thought of Ghost highly, especially because of his status, but because of your personal feelings as well. Those, you needed to get ahold of before things turned sour. 

You couldn’t believe that he would go behind your back and say what he did to Price. The bet was getting the best of him and with your little stunt you pulled, you had no doubt that was what sparked him to even bring it to Price’s attention. You were a goal-driven individual, someone who took pride in their work and accomplishments. Someone talking behind your back on your performance is not something you would take lightly. 

So, you decided to do something about it. Walking over to your small fridge, you pulled out a bottle of liquid confidence (raspberry vodka) and took a big swig before slamming the door shut. You feel the warmth of the alcohol settle quickly in your tummy. Feeling this gave you the determination you needed to make your way down the hall, across the yard, and up the stairs to Ghost’s room. Never have you ever been to the Lieutenant’s corridors. You had no reason to be here, except for now. Taking a deep breath, you set your shoulders back and knock loudly on his door. 

The rattle of your knuckles against the metal echoes loudly in the hallway. Not a soul was there. You were starting to doubt yourself. What you didn’t think of was the fact that he might not even be here. This was stupid. A stupid, rookie mistake that you didn’t even begin to think through because you were upset. A sinking feeling pools in your stomach. 

Then, the door opens.  Revealing a slightly disheveled Ghost. You notice he’s still in work attire, tactical pants, steel toe boots, tight black shirt stretching deliciously across his broad chest. No grease paint, softer balaclava as opposed to the hard skull mask. 

You swallow, unable to look him in the eyes. You focus over his shoulder instead.  

“What?” he asks rather rudely, accent clipped, not in the mood for whatever you have brought him. 

Your upper lip pulls upwards in annoyance, the fire igniting in your belly once again. 

“Can we talk?” you ask. 

“Already are,” he deadpans. 

You huff at that, rolling your eyes. 

“Fucking forget it,” you say, turning on your heel and stepping to leave. 

Large fingers encircle your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble, attempting to stable your footing as he releases you just as quickly as he grabbed you. There are still rules to follow. He’s leaning up against the doorframe, looking as bored as ever as he crosses his arms over his chest. His gaze is unwavering, dark eyes watching you in a way that makes you borderline uncomfortable. Your heart is pounding steadily, you can hear the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh in your ears. 

“What’s the problem?” he asks nonchalantly. 

It takes all the courage you can muster, but you finally reply. 

“You,” your voice shakes, a wobbly sounding thing. 

It reminds you of when you were a younger girl, no confidence backing your statements. It makes you want to curl up into a ball. You feel tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You’re humiliated, sniffling as your lip trembles with emotion. He’s gotten the best of you. You’re so frustrated, pent-up desires digging hard into your insides, making it almost unbearable to be around him.  It’s hard to see him through the glassy tears in your eyes, but you notice his eyebrows shoot upwards towards his hairline. 

You’re making him uncomfortable. You can tell his demeanor changes. A furious flush of embarrassment spreads wildly across your face. Quickly twisting your head to the side, you use your hair to cover your face. A gentle touch on your wrist startles you. His grip is gentle, almost concerning. You can’t bear to look at him, shame turning your stomach sour. 

“Hey,” his voice is quiet, much quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. 

Almost as if it was reserved for someone special. You’re not special to him. At least, not in your own mind. He was your Lieutenant, and you, his inferior. This little game you decided to delve into wasn’t the best idea. It seemed fun at first, almost like a challenge, but now, you wanted to kick it under the dark recesses of the rug and never look at it again. You knew you didn’t have a chance with him, which is why you played the game. It didn’t have the chance to come to fruition. Unless? 

You take a chance and look up at him. His gaze has softened, usually dark eyes almost the color of honey.  

“Such a dense, little thing,” he tuts, hint of a smile in his voice. 

You frown at that, confusion apparent on your face. He steps closer to you, invading your personal bubble. Popping it with the irony of an invisible needle. Leaning down, his covered lips almost touch the shell of your ear when he speaks. 

“You don’t realize what you do to me.” 

A full shudder makes its way down your body, goosebumps prickling along your skin. You’re speechless, His confession clung to your thoughts like a persistent melody, haunting and insistent. It couldn’t be true, there was no way. You try finding the words, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. Ghost is still lingering by your ear, soft puffs of air tickling your skin. 

“You don’t mean that,” you whisper. 

“I do,” he answers almost instantly. 

You close your eyes, lip getting caught on your teeth. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders before taking a glance up at him. He’s back to his towering height, must’ve moved when your eyes were closed. Swirls of desire are present in his eyes. Gaze unwavering as he stands before you. 

“Do I need to prove it to ya?” he questions, stepping forwards before stopping himself and staying rooted in his spot.  

The bet. The stupid, stupid bet. He’s fighting the restraint, barely holding his resolve. Ghost’s nearly trembling before you. You hold the power in this situation. He’s offering you the reigns. You decide to take a leap of faith and go for it. 

A small smile appears on your face as you nod slowly. You watch as his eyes grow dark, almost predatory. Frozen in your spot, your heart starts to race. A chill of adrenaline runs down your spine, causing a shiver. Your eyes are locked on his unwavering gaze. Trying to analyze his every thought, every move that he might make. 

He steps forward then, taking up your space. It’s almost suffocating. You remind yourself to take a deep breath through your nose. His large fingers spread themselves over the fat of your hip, pulling you flush to his broad chest.  

Bet broken. 

You don’t know where to place your hands so you lay them across his chest, absentmindedly stroking the fabric of his black shirt. His fingers mimic your own, brushing the fabric of your shirt up to make contact with your skin. He’s burning hot with desire, his warmth leaching into your exposed skin. 

You look up at him, the blush furiously warming the skin on your face. He’s a lot more intimidating up close. Your eyes scan his face, noticing the soft spattering of freckles threatening to peak up over his balaclava. Freckles! His gaze has softened, eyes flitting around your face, taking you all in. 

You watch as his dark eyes flicker down to your lips and back up again. 

“You wanna kiss me, L.T.?” you whisper. 

He makes a soft noise at that. It crawls up his throat and makes its way out before he can stop it. You watch in awe as he quickly flips the black balaclava up and over his nose, folding it haphazardly across the bridge. There’s a small scar splitting his upper lip. He’s smiling, a crooked thing. Makes him human. Your stomach flutters with want. 

His large fingers caress your jaw, sweeping a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Ghost’s thumb brushes your lower lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it bounce back to its normal position. He makes another soft sound, one that makes your heart lurch. He leans down then, tilting your chin up to meet his lips. 

They’re surprisingly soft. You brush your lips together, testing the water. He tastes of chamomile and a hint of a long-forgotten cigarette. Your eyes flutter closed, and you relax, letting him take the lead. You follow blindly, stumbling alongside in the dark, letting touch take the forefront. Relaxing your lips, you let them fall open, allowing his tongue to slither its way into your mouth. Your hands are still on his chest, clutching the dark shirt between your fingers. 

His tongue dances with yours, an unfamiliar tango, but it works, nonetheless. You’re clumsy, a bit out of practice. He doesn’t seem to mind. It’s only when he pulls away that you realize that you’re both still out in the hallway. A soft sound of disappointment falls from your lips. Your turn. Ghost steps backwards, beckoning you into his room with crook of his fingers. You follow faithfully, keeping as close to him as you can. Once the door is shut, he’s on you in an instant. Pressing you up against the cool metal frame of the door. 

It feels good on your heated skin. You reach up on your tippy toes, looping your arms haphazardly around his neck. Ghost buries his face in yours, using his nose to tilt your chin up for better access. His lips brush against the thin skin of your pulse point before a sharp pinch causes a yelp to fall from your lips. Just as quickly as it was there, it’s gone, soothed by the swipe of a masterful tongue. Your breathing quickens, a familiar wetness pooling in your panties. You cross your legs, trying to relieve it with friction. 

He’s tugging at your shirt now, almost frantically. You help by untangling your arms from around his neck and lifting them over your head. Once your shirt is gone, you feel a bit vulnerable. You swallow, eyes down casting to the floor. You take a moment to look at your surroundings. It’s dim, the room lit by one small lamp. Military neat as well. No personal items on display. You don’t know Ghost at all. In the room with a stranger.  

His deep voice brings you out of your thoughts, refocusing your attention in front of you. Your shirt is still in his hands, arms resting at his sides. 

“You alright?” he asks, trained eyes watching your every move. 

You nod a little too quickly. He notices immediately. Your shirt is dropped to the floor, forgotten as he slowly steps backwards, sitting down on the edge of his bed. His legs spread, inviting you to fit perfectly inside. 

Stumbling forwards, you slowly step forwards until you’re in between his legs, locked in, no turning back now. He lured you in yet again and you didn’t even hesitate. His dark eyes watch your every move, slowly scanning up and down your body. They stop at the bruise blossoming along your hip. 

His eyebrows scrunch in curiosity, large hand darting out to investigate. You momentarily flinch at first contact, but he is as gentle as can be. 

“Where’d this come from?” he murmurs, eyes focused on the spot, almost as if he could erase it with sight alone. 

“Oh,” you awkwardly cough, adverting his gaze yet again. “Just from sparring...” you mumble. 

“I did this?” he asks incredulously.  

You can’t look him in the eye, gaze focused on the plain wall in front of you.  

“’M sorry...” he murmurs again, and to your surprise, you feel soft lips brush against your exposed skin. 

You shiver at the sudden contact, hands gently resting on his covered head. His touch is so gentle, as soft as the brush of a butterfly wing. Your eyes flutter closed again, relaxing your body against his own. He takes his time, lips exploring the exposed skin of your torso. You’re not used to him being so gentle with you, almost afraid that he might break you. 

You want him to. 

The heat radiating off his body lures you closer, a moth to the flame, desperate for warmth. You slide your hands down to his broad shoulders, squeezing them gently. The muscle is rigid under your touch. You feel a slight tremble, nervousness or restraint? 

“You’re not going to hurt me, L.T.,” you sigh. 

He huffs at that, the air from his lungs curling around your hip.  

“Already did, and y’ didn’t tell me,” he grumbles. 

It’s your turn to huff. You glance down at him, searching for his eyes. They’re closed, letting his hands commit you to memory. 

“L.T. Look at me.” 

His pretty eyes are on yours in an instant. The velvety circles of brown take your breath away. His gaze is intent, laser focused on your mouth. Something about the way that he follows orders immediately flips a switch inside of you. 

“You’re a good listener,” you murmur, almost to yourself. 

Nothing slides past Ghost though. 

“I can be,” he utters. 

You look at him then, really look at him. A smile threatens to pull the corner of your lip up.  

“Would you listen to me?” you question. 

His brows furrow again, not in confusion, but in consideration. His eyes dart around your frame for a minute before landing back on your face. 

“I don’ see why not, where do you want me?” 

Your stomach tugs at that. 

“On your knees.” 

-- 

A choked sound leaves his lips and he’s down before you in a flash, knees spread and hands resting comfortably on the tops of his large thighs. Oh, he’s pretty. Ghost waits patiently, almost in anticipation of your next command. Your thoughts are racing, a jumbled mess of what if’s and then if’s. You weren’t expecting the night to turn this way, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. The pool of wetness in your panties was growing noticeably larger, threatening to spill down your leg. 

“Do you like being on your knees?” you genuinely question. 

“Not opposed to it,” he answers coolly. 

Almost as if he’s been here before. You wonder how he keeps himself so calm. You’re nearly a blubbering mess, not used to being in control of anything. You take a step back, really soaking in the moment. The soft amber glow from the single lamp on his desk illuminates his figure, casting a soft glow on his body. He’s all hard ridges though, nothing soft about him, except the noises that crawl up his throat. 

“How far are you willing to move the balaclava?” you ask, not wanting to push. 

“Nose bridge,” he answers with a sigh. 

So, no moving that. You frown a little but respect his decision. Making your way back over to him, you place a hand on his shoulder.  

“Okay?” you ask. 

He nods, however his eyes are wide, almost like a frightened animal. You gently pet his shoulder, sliding your thumb up to his pulse point. Strong and steady. Ghost leans into your touch, aching for attention. 

“Good,” you murmur, stroking his pulse point with your thumb for a couple of moments. 

His eyes flutter closed, a sign of trust. He’d let you do anything to him. You step even closer, bringing your feet together so you can bend at the waist. Both of your hands cup his face, leaning down to place soft kisses around the corner of his mouth. Ghost smiles, a shudder running through his body. You place your lips on his own, sliding one of your hands to the nape of his neck. Swiping your tongue over his bottom lip, you ask for permission. 

He’s a little hesitant, so you tug at the back of the balaclava, which causes a gasp to fall from his lips. This allows you to slip your tongue inside, exploring the tresses of his mouth. A deep rumble comes up through his chest, a pleasant noise. You took him by surprise. The kiss ignites a fire in your belly, causing your knees to wobble. You drop onto your own, tilting is head down to prevent the kiss from breaking. His hands still rest on his thighs, as obedient as ever. 

A small laugh escapes your lips. 

“Touch me L.T.” 

His large hands slide to the small of your back as he leans forward. He guides you back onto the cool floor, placing his hands on either side of your head. They act as a cage, keeping you safe. One brushes your hair from your face, allowing it to fan out like a halo.  It follows the path down the side of your face, your neck, and down to the valley of your breasts. Your chest rises and falls, arching up into his touch.   

Ghost’s fingers trace the lace of your bra, fingers itching to dip below the fabric. You whine softly, eyes growing a little heavy with desire. His dart up at the sound of your whine, eyes shining with want. The look in his eyes is ravenous. He could devour you whole if you’d let him.  

“Ghost,” you whine his name softly. 

He shudders at the sound of his name, eyes never leaving your face. His touches so deliberate to drive you crazy. Your nipples stiff into little peaks, rubbing against the fabric of your bra. His fingers slide under the fabric, brushing the peak of one. You’re so sensitive, arching up into the attention he devotes to it. The rough pad of his fingers gives the friction that your body needs. You feel another wave of wetness pool into your panties. 

Ghost leans down then, pulling the fabric to the side and darting his tongue out to swipe across the bud. You moan, hand finding the back of his head to keep him there. While his tongue swirls around one, his fingers slide up and down your torso, squeezing the fat of your hip. You can’t keep still, body arching into his touch on its own accord. You want him closer closer closer. Any thoughts you were having were gone, replaced only by want of your Lieutenant. 

You lift your hips up, shimmying out of your pants, leaving you in just your underwear. Spreading your legs, you let him fit as close as he can to you. It’s not enough, you want more. Insatiable, you are. He switches to kissing down the valley of your chest, teasing around the hem of your panties. Frustration growing in your chest, you shift gears, giving him control again. 

“You want me to beg?” you ask breathlessly. 

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he laughs softly against your skin. 

Shame heats your face, but you’re desperate. You’re a lot louder than you expected to be. A loud noise falls from your lips, a mix between a whine and a moan. 

“Pretty please L.T.,” you beg, words reminding you of the other night with Gaz. 

Your hips arch up against his face, begging him to taste. He takes the bait; words affect him quicker than you thought they would. He’s nearly rippling with restraint, resolve crumbling. 

“Since y’ asked so nicely,” 

He hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the slide and flattens his tongue to swipe it up through your folds. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, throwing your head back in pleasure. 

Ghost switches between a swirl of figure eights through your folds and wrapping his lips around your clit. Of fucking course he’s good at this. He’s fucking exceptional. His tongue has your orgasm peaking in a matter of minutes. 

“L.T-” you warn, voice sultry with lust. 

He moans against your pussy, eyes rolling up in the back of his head. You can feel his length against your leg, growing more and more hard with each swipe of his tongue. Ghost dips his tongue into your entrance, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You gasp, breath punched from your lungs as waves of pleasure pool throughout your body. He doesn’t let up, eating you out like a man starved. 

Your juices paint his face, dripping down onto the floor. The smell of you fills his room, leaving a permanent reminder of what happened this evening. You feel his fingers brush your entrance, testing the waters and dipping two inside. They slide easily due to just how wet you are. You feel full, stretched by his thick fingers. Involuntarily, you clench down, feeling your toes curl in pressure. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he groans against your thigh, placing kisses and nips to the skin there. 

You can only whine, brain molded into putty from your first orgasm. Another one is approaching, you can tell by the burning sensation in your belly. Thighs shaking, you lean into your next orgasm, sobbing out in pleasure. You feel your eyes roll back into your head, nerves set align in ecstasy. Thick fingers curl against the spongey spot that has you seeing stars.  

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” you sob, body trembling with exhaustion. 

“There we go, that’a girl,” Ghost murmurs, voice rumbling within the barrel of his chest. 

The deep timbre of his voice has you clenching around his fingers. 

“You like when I praise you?” he questions, smirk in his voice. 

He stills his fingers, pulling a whine up your throat. 

“Y-Yes,” you gasp, grinding your hips in an attempt to relieve the friction. 

Ghost pulls his fingers out completely, lifting them up to his lips. He wraps them around the thick digits, nearly moaning at the taste of you. 

“Fuckin’ heavenly,” he groans, unbuckling his pants and shimmying them down his slender hips. 

They rest around his thighs, leaving him in only his underwear. His cock is straining against the fabric, threatening to escape at any moment. You watch him through hooded eyes, pleasure making you feel heavy. 

“So are you,” you murmur, eyes following his every move. 

He smirks at that, blush burning under the roll of his balaclava. It’s pretty on him. Ghost slides his hand down his torso, brushing his fingers over the band of his underwear. A shiver goes down his spine, delayed pleasure bound to escape at any moment. Your hand reaches up, beckoning him to come closer. He shimmies closer to you and you lean up on your elbows, a little wobbly from your previous orgasms.  

“C’mere,” you murmur, getting up on your knees. 

You dip your fingers into his waistband, brushing the velvety tip of his cock. He shudders at your touch, eyes fluttering closed. You wrap your fingers around his length, slowly starting to stroke up and down. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, large hand reaching out to rest on your shoulder. 

You’re not too experienced on this, but you try your best. Slowly having your fingers curl a little tighter as you move them up and down. He’s very big. And thick. Grumbles of pleasure rumble in his chest. You notice that his breathing changes, chest rapidly falling up and down with your ministrations. A pretty blush spreads across his pecs. You bite your lip, eyes trailing up to his face. 

His eyes are on yours in an instant, molten honey swirling with pleasure. A soft sound falls from his lips. You lean forward and kiss him, nibbling on his lip. Pushing him back on his knees, you settle yourself in his lap. Dipping your hips down you brush your folds over the head of his cock. He shudders, gripping your hips and continuing the motion. 

“You feel so good,” you whine, holding on to his broad shoulders. 

He pushes his face into your neck, biting at the soft point between it and your shoulder. You gasp, hand reaching up to his covered head. Ghost soothes the bite with his tongue, angling his hips before pushing inside your wet heat. 

“Ghost!” you gasp, the thick girth of his cock spreading you open. 

“Fuck, bunny,” he groans, voice full of restraint. 

You slowly sink down until your hips are flush. Both of your bodies trembling. You’re nearly babbling, pawing at his broad shoulders. His large hand pets your side, attempting to soothe you. 

“Relax,” he murmurs, placing soft kisses on the inside of your bicep. 

“You’re s-so big,” you gasp, involuntarily clenching around him. 

He shifts then, holding you close as he stands up. Ghost moves slowly, laying you gently on his bed, careful to keep you close. You’re engulfed in the smell of him, arching upwards onto the sheets before relaxing against him. He takes this moment to pull back slowly before pushing into your heat again. A moan rips out of your throat as you stretch your hips to accommodate his wide ones as he shimmies close. 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the stretch. A mix of pain and pleasure as he rolls his hips into your own. Ghost brushes your hair from your sweaty face, eyes trained on your own. 

“So beautiful. Taking me so well,” he murmurs. 

You moan, eyes never leaving his. Pleasure swells in your belly, rendering you nearly immobilized to the bed. All you can do is lay there and take it, which is exactly what Ghost wants for you. You reach up to rest your hands on his biceps, squeezing. 

“I'm-” you warn. 

“Come on bunny. Let go for me. Give me another.” he praises, soft voice music to your ears. 

His rough fingers find the pad of your clit, flicking it in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll up into your head, another orgasm punching a groan out of your lungs. Arching into his touch, you let your pleasure roll in waves. It’s overwhelming and the tears pooling in your eyes finally spill over. You’re sobbing, clenching around his thick length as it continues to punch your cervix. 

“G-Ghost, I swear-” you gasp out. 

He laughs then, a melodical thing that turns into a moan as you feel his hips falter. He’s close, rapid thrusts stuttering as he finally unloads into your cunt. It’s hot, painting your walls white as he finishes. You are completely spent, unable to move due to exhaustion. He’s careful not to put his full weight on you, pulling out slowly with a groan. 

“That was-” you start. 

“Well deserved,” he finishes. 

You laugh breathlessly, a smile breaking out on your face. He’s smiling too, already up and walking to the bathroom to get something to clean you off. The warm cloth feels good on your cooling skin. 

“You definitely lost,” you joke. 

“I beg to differ,” he quips.

[ss4nni]

yey thanks alot rock in the city you gave me the plague...🙂✌🏻

[fangswbenefits]

Suit Up

Summary: Miguel craves to mark you as his, but he’ll have to start slow… so he offers to build you a custom suit. For now.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Innocent and inexperienced reader. Pining. Sexual tension and frustration. Masturbation. Breeding kink.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1 (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one)

Miguel had decided he was going to build you a suit.

Not just a regular one, but an extension of his own.

He craved to have you for himself, and to have others know that. But he’d have to play his cards right. This level of obsession could easily scare someone off at first.

Especially you.

His sweet, sweet girl.

So he settled for this: building you a custom digital suit to match his.

Slowly, but surely you’d start to connect yourself to him more often.

Or so he hoped.

He found you in his lab early in the morning, sitting by the desk while taking your sweet time with a slice of watermelon.

“Good morning.”

As expected, you jolted in your seat, turning to face him.

A few droplets of juice dribbled down from your lips and chin, and eventually landing on your shirt.

You offered him a messy grin, bits of watermelon all over your teeth, but the absolute innocence of that action tore straight down to his cock.

“Oh! Miguel, hi! Sorry—” your voice came out slightly muffled, as you placed the half moon slice on a plate. “This watermelon is so sweet! Want a taste?”

His brow furrowed and he halted right in front of you. “There’s…” his voice trailed off, eyes fixed on your chin.

You immediately picked up on the implication and wiped the sugary liquid from your skin with a napkin, bringing a few fingers to your lips as well.

Miguel cursed inwardly and wondered if you were truly unaware of how suggestive all of this looked.

He slapped that thought away. No. You were too innocent for that. Your words and actions held no second meaning.

You were genuinely so fucking clueless that it only served to fuel his obsession with you.

His cock gave him a warning twitch.

He was all too familiar with those by now.

Would you be this messy while sucking him off? Would you not be able to keep it all in and eventually swallow?

He’d be fine with you not swallowing it all at first. After all, he did cum a lot. It would probably be overwhelming for someone as innocent and inexperienced as you.

“Miguel?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts at once. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for making a mess,” you said, hurriedly cleaning the desk.

There was no doubt you’d be the death of him.

Apologising for making a mess…

“Don’t worry about that,” he managed to say flatly. “I’m sure it tasted really good.”

You then smiled once more and let out a cock-twitching groan. “Oh, yes! But… why did you want me in here my casuals today?”

Right.

He moved to tap the hovering screens in front of him. “I was thinking you suit might need an upgrade.”

“What? But I built this one myself… what’s wrong with it?” you whined softly, sticking your bottom lip out.

His cock twitched again.

“I know, I know,” he reassured you with extreme ease. “But I’ve been working on a prototype of my digital suit and would like for you to test it out.”

A blatant lie.

He had just decided this the night before, after that post nut clarity had hit him hard.

How else would he mark you without you even realising?

You blinked a few times, having to tilt your head up to stare at him, and it was enough to flare his imagination.

“Really?” the excitement in your voice was palpable and he felt a sudden rush of satisfaction. “That… that would be an honour, Miguel!”

His fingers tapped through multiple files. “You’ve been helping me out a lot in the lab lately. It’s only fair that I show my appreciation.”

Your gaze wavered momentarily, broken by his genuine praise, and Miguel nearlt bit his lip from this sight alone.

“I do it willingly, Miguel. I love learning new things from you,” your eyes were back on his, and you were bearing a warm smile. “You’re a great teacher!”

He tried hard to tear his gaze away from your lips, and offered a mere nod.

You deserved more than a nod.

And your eagerness to learn from him made him feel swollen with pride. An ego booster.

It was quite addicting.

He’d teach you so much more if you’d let him. He’d teach you how to embrace your pleasure and use it for him only. Oh, how he’d enjoy teaching you how to suck his cock, or how to use your words to turn him on.

Fuck.

He would teach you all he knew.

You’d have all of him.

But he wanted you to want him the way he wanted you. No. He needed you to need him. To crave and yearn and feel the unfair ropes of despair tighten around you.

“I’ll just need your measurements,” he said, fetching a couple of measuring bands from a top shelf. “These will measure every tiny detail, so the fit is as suitable as possible.”

You nodded eagerly, lips slightly parted. He moved to grab each wrist, closing the metallic band around each wrist.

“Feet up,” he asked, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his true feelings.

You lifted one leg after the other, and he carefully clasped them around your ankles, the feel of your warm skin and proximity nearly having him bite his own lip.

“Wait, do I have be naked?”

The question caught him completely off guard and he straightened up at once. “What?”

Miguel felt more blood rushing downwards and was grateful his own suit was able to keep most of his strained erection from sight.

You broke into a nervous laugh. “Oh — I mean… you’re naked under your suit, right?”

He nodded. “Your suit becomes an extension of yourself and it should feel like a second layer of skin,” he added, extending one arm out, and allowed you to see the digital layer of fabric quickly retracting from the tips of his fingers all the way down his naked torso.

The reaction was immediate.

Your eyes landed on him for only a split second, before looking away.

For the second time that day, Miguel’s ego soared to incredibly dangerous heights.

You looked so innocent and sheepish, not daring to gaze at his incredible physique once again.

He wouldn’t hold that against you, though. You’d have plenty of time to gawk at his body once he managed to break into your mind, and make you his.

“It feels more comfortable this way,” he added reassuringly, as his suit promptly covered his exposed skin once again.

You turned to look at him again. “Oh! So I don’t actually have to be naked,” you giggled in relief.

“No,” Not for this, he wanted to add.

The height difference was starting to take a toll on his ability to focus. Having you sitting on that chair, perfectly levelled to engange in a more suggestive scenario, was enough to feel the blood boil in his veins.

He needed more.

He needed to touch you.

“Let’s boot the measuring analysis program,” Miguel took your hand in his and helped you on your feet. “I need you to stand still.”

He needed so much more than that from you, but he’d have to settle for silent agony for now.

You were visibly excited, barely able to contain yourself as a smile settled on your face, and he felt the sudden urge to praise you for being so eager and such a tease.

He tapped a few commands on his watch, and came to stand behind you, careful not to stand too close, or you’d notice his hard cock.

“Do you trust me?”

You shouldn’t…

You turned your head to the side to look into his crimson eyes, confusion twisting your face. “Of course I do, Miguel.”

… because he wouldn’t.

He rolled his fingers along the hem of your shirt, slowly rolling it upwards. His heart went into overdrive instantly and he could feel the first droplets of precum dripping down his cock.

You flinched once his knuckles brushed against your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, halting at once.

You nodded and giggled lighty. “That tickles.”

His sweet girl…

How was he supposed to endure burying himself inside you inch by inch when he couldn’t barely keep his composure now?

Once the shirt was resting under your breasts, he moved one hand to grip it gently from behind, effectively tightening the fabric flat over you. From where he stood, he could see your bra’s outline and how your breasts heaved with each breath you took.

This was driving him mad.

Your cleavage was so inviting and he had to take a step back, ensuring his erection wouldn’t accidentally brush against your ass.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take this off?” you asked.

You were so fucking sweet and innocent, and he wanted nothing more than to rip all of your clothes apart.

“Just let the program scan your body,” he said, voice strained and breath coming out in shallow pants. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied.

Such a good girl for him… his sweet girl…

He would want to ask that same question the day he got to teach you how to suck his cock.

You’d struggle at first.

But he’d be patient.

He’d probably need to come up with a serum to inject himself with to keep from exploding right away, and he couldn’t have that.

You would need proper guidance, wouldn’t you? How he’d love to have you on your knees, mouth dropped open and receptive.

His other hand was now pressed flat against your tummy and he nearly bucked his hips in response.

Careful, Miguel, he scolded himself.

Was this too much?

In reality, he didn’t need to be doing any of this for measurements, but he couldn’t help himself.

He needed you closer.

He needed to feel you shudder against his touch.

He needed you to need him.

You gasped softly once he started to moved his hand down ever so slightly, fingers nearly touching the waisgband of your pants.

“Ticklish?” he asked in a low voice.

You hummed, bucking your hips into him with a faint giggle, and he felt his cock into contact with your ass.

Oh, fuck.

He had to let go of you right away, flinching back.

You turned to eye him, worry plastered all of your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” he said right away, more precum droplets spilling out. “I think the analysis is complete,” he cleared his throat and turned his back to her, looking down to his bulge.

He wish he could set his cock free.

No.

He wish you would offer to set his cock free.

He wanted you to know and see how much his body craved yours.

“Miguel, are you okay?” you asked tenderly, moving to stand by his side, brushing his tense bicep. “We can finish this some other time.”

Was it really possible for someone to be this clueless? Was your inexperience that blinding? Hadn’t you felt his erection?

Against his will, he nodded.

He needed you gone right away.

He had to get off urgently.

“You’re overworking yourself again…”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

How he’d love to make you his and have you take care of him.

Your hand squeezed his muscles gently. “Is there anything I can do?”

Please, touch me… “No. I’ll just finish the suit and have you test it out soon.”

Your hand dropped.

Maybe if he asked you to let him fuck your hand, you’d let him. Maybe.

He’d settle for you watching him jerk off to you, at this point.

“Can I pick the colours?” you then beamed, glancing up at the orange screens. “Can I? Please?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” you chirped happily, swiping across the customisation menu on the screen.

Miguel paced quickly into a storage room to his left, groaning into the back of his hand.

In no time, he had the front part of his lower half of his suit vanish, cock springing free, fully coated with precum.

He let out a strained and breathy sigh of absolute relief.

“Ay, Miguel…” he muttered to himself, realising just how badly this obsession had gotten.

His cock twitched, sending strand of precum to dangle from the tip.

From this angle, he could see your back, shirt still nicely tucked under your breasts, revealing so much of your skin to him.

That would do.

For now.

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he set a slow pace at first, testing out his limit.

Dangerously close.

It was unfair that you were so close, yet so far. You were completely unaware of your effect on him.

Faint anger took over him.

You should be the one to bring him relief.

This was all on you… his sweet, innocent, inexperienced girl.

The pace quickened and he felt his fangs extending in anticipation.

You were bending over the desk, lifting your ass just enough for his mind to have imagining himself ramming into your from the back.

You’d love that position. Maybe not at first, but he’d teach you to enjoy thoroughly.

Being rawed and bred. You’d be a loving mother, wouldn’t you? You’d let him breed you over and over again, because you were just nice like that.

So eager to please.

He wished you’d bend over a little more, so he could fully immerse himself in his lust.

Feeling one fang dig into his lower lip, Miguel wondered how long it would take to draw blood, considering how hard it was for him to suppress his groans.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from you and his desire nearly pained him, because his hand would never be as tight as you, and it would never feel like you.

But he had to get rid of this now.

He had to complete your suit and mark you as his.

Everyone in Nueva York and across other universes would know you were his.

They would know not to cross you, for his wrath would be unmatched.

The sweet tingles of an orgasm soon engulfed him whole, and he threw his head back and fluttered his eyes shut, relying on his mind to keep your alive as he fucked himself for you.

Just you.

His sweet girl.

Just his.

He squeezed the first spurts of warm cum with his fingers, allowing himself go roll his hips in a broken rhythm.

The metallic taste of blood pooled in his tongue and he knew his fang has dug too deep, but he didn’t care.

He would break himself for you.

And you would, too.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Part 3

Masterlist

[usedpidemo]

Plaid (Newjeans Hanni)

Hanni Pham is just about the perfect student: consistently top of the class, perennial dean’s lister, well liked among her teachers and peers, an active participant for every co-curricular and extracurricular activity, and overall just a good person to be around.

And you? You’re the exact opposite. Slow, lazy, constantly in self-isolation—always cutting classes whenever you can, struggling with just about everything. You’re surprised you’re still even attending this university as is, despite the countless talks with your professors.

Which is why when she greets you a good morning as soon as you run into each other in the hallway, the books you’ve been carrying crumble like Jenga blocks. 

She immediately jumps into action, picking up your dropped books in record fashion to hand them back to you. The cute, irresistible smile etched on her lips is icing on the cake. 

“Here you go!”

Admittedly, you feel some type of way about Hanni. It’s conflicting, constantly changing. A little bit of jealousy because she’s the student you wished you were, but also a bit of allure because of how surprisingly attractive she is. You’ve never felt any kind of attraction towards anyone in college besides her. And she turns out to be an exchange student, and you’ve never seen anyone with the combination of cuteness and beauty before she came along.

You take a moment to look into her eyes. Those gentle, warm irises perfectly capture the kindness emanating from her—God, why is she so damn irresistible. It isn’t that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, but you’re merely apathetic and neutral with her. Outside of the same brief rote exchanges—good morning, what’s your lunch, what are you doing after class later—you and Hanni have been, for the most part, worlds apart. 

The universe is doing its part to bring you two together, because you can feel it. Tension so thin, you can cut it with a knife. 

She never lets up. 

She wants to know you.

“I-uh, thanks,” you say, suddenly averting her gaze to your locker instead as you snatch your books back, then in the other direction. Anywhere but her eyes. 

Fuck. She keeps staring, leaning her head forward with a lively smile, her hands behind her back, waiting for you to continue. She talks with childlike passion and energy, “We have an exam in accounting later, did you study for it?”

“N-no,” you say, almost stuttering through the simplest of responses, as though your tongue is wrapped up in itself. It should be embarrassing for you to act this awkwardly in front of a sweet girl like Hanni. Mentally punching yourself to be better. It never happens. “Not exactly, I kinda forgot.”

More like you willingly neglected your studies for a nightlong gaming session. It’s an addiction.

Her eyes widen with amusement, as if she sees through the lie. Does she? You don’t know. Maybe she does. There’s so many layers to her that you never bothered to uncover. That’s the price for your negligence and decision to be a lone-wolf. 

Hanni reaches her hand into the pocket of her dress shirt and presents a folded up sheet of paper. “Then this with you. Just make sure to hide it underneath the test paper, got it?”

From bewilderment to amazement—your face goes through every emotion, unsure of what would perfectly suit the situation. She doesn’t know you well enough to casually entrust you with a cheat sheet, yet she’s perfectly fine handing it to you over her presumed friends, which includes members of the student council. 

Initially, you hesitate, but she’s steadfast in her position, as if you receiving this paper is doing her a favor. You ultimately fold and accept it from her. She grins as you tuck the sheet away in your coat.

“See you later!” she says, before walking past you to her next class. You slowly turn around, watch her leave and rejoin with her friends, one of whom is the student council head. Alone with nothing but your thoughts, you put the strange encounter aside and get moving again.

—————

The next time you see Hanni again is during world history class, right before lunch. Your rather senile professor, who doesn’t give a shit that half the class is either fast asleep, on the verge of, or doing everything else apart from listening to his monotonous lecture, drones on about Napoleon’s European conquest for the second week in a row. Even the patient student that you are, you’ve grown tiresome of it, especially with the dreadful pacing. You’re way behind schedule. At the very least, he seems to be paid well, so there’s a little silver lining.

Looking at her, you wonder if the gods were in a good mood on the day they made her. She’s as enthusiastic about the topic as if it's her first time hearing it. Listening to every single word intently, taking down notes furiously, taking pictures of the presentation even though she has it projected on her laptop because why the fuck not—she was born to be the teacher’s pet. Compare that to half of the class: even the supposed top student in the class is barely struggling to stay awake, clinging to the edges of her seat out of fear she could collapse from sheer boredom. It’s a miracle, really, that there’s at least one student showing this much interest.

The notion creeps up in your mind: Hanni’s right over there, without a care except for the lecture at hand. Your phone rests on the edge of your chair. Her smile, her shine—you want to keep more than just a mental image of her. Something to actively remind you that someone like her exists. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t matter when no one’s looking, especially not her. Only you. 

Little by little your hand crawls toward the phone. Then the moral compass inside you resists. You don’t know this girl—not in the slightest. Just because of a simple kind act doesn’t mean you’re completely smitten over her. Most importantly, you remember one important point about Hanni: she’s not from here. She’s an exchange student with a one year contract set to expire in—wait for it—two weeks. The semester ends before then, and it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be gone from your life just as quickly as she entered it once the page turns.

Right as the inner conflict inside your head reaches a fever pitch, the bell rings. On one side, you’re celebrating this moral victory; on the other, you’re punching a mental wall for not pulling the trigger. Before the professor even realizes the alarm already sounded off, all the students have filed out of the room in quick succession. 

You briefly consider searching for Hanni in the sea of students making their way around the halls, but seeing that she’s disappeared into the crowd, you decide to let her go. Perhaps the logical side of your brain might be telling you the truth: that she will be a mere afterthought to you after today.

But then there’s the unshakeable, unceasing part of you that refuses to give in. Even as you eat lunch at the corner of the cafeteria, you’re still trying to single out Hanni to no avail. A hopeless situation gradually growing worse with each passing hour. 

A not so subtle tap on your shoulder. Look to your side and there’s your angel, appearing at your hour of need. Hanni.

“Hey! Still have the cheat sheet I gave you earlier?” she asks. A few meters behind her is the student council president, Minji, and her secretary, Danielle, engaged in their own conversation, presumably accompanying their friend.

You scramble to find the folded piece of paper somewhere in your bag, forgetting that you’ve tucked the sheet away deep in your coat. Panicked, you jump from your seat to search within your clothes, still unable to detect its tiny presence hiding in your jacket. “Shit—”

“I can give you another copy if you lost it—”

“I’m sure it’s in here somewhere!” you interject, tonally desperate, repeatedly swiping your fingers on the same pockets with no success. 

Eventually, you frisk the deepest pockets of your coat, feeling something rough on the edge of your fingertips. Reeling it out, you present a folded piece of paper in front of her. It should be a small win, but it’s an embarrassing loss, especially right in front of Hanni.

“Good to know you still have it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. You’re certain she was trying to suppress her chuckle the entire time, and based on her toothy smile, it’s not very difficult to jump to that conclusion. “Even if you didn’t lose it, I still would have given you another copy if you wanted it.”

“Hanni.” You turn to face her, a complete juxtaposition from her jolly, outgoing personality. Your expression looks stern in searching for answers. “Why are you like this? We barely know each other.”

Surprised by your sudden change in attitude, she takes a step back, pausing to contemplate her answer. Her usually bright demeanor gradually changes to reflect yours. Her smile remains, except it's hiding a little gloom, a little concern. “I just wanted to be kind to you. I saw you were struggling in some of the classes we shared and thought you needed some help. It’s only right to do the right thing, you know?”

In that moment, you regret showing a bit of attitude. Hand to your chest, as guilt occupies your heart and mind. “Oh.” You pause, stare back into those wanting eyes. “I-I guess you were really being kind to me, huh?”

“I don’t make fake answer sheets, let alone give them to people I dislike.” She leans forward, causing you to stagger back, bumping your thighs against the cafeteria stool. “And I like you.”

Your mouth gradually opens, trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Only air and silent noises come out. You genuinely have no idea how to respond to this sudden revelation. It’s not like you’re a popular name among the student body, let alone the ladies; if anything, you were mostly a ghost, only coming into light when needed—and in most cases, when the professors would ask you questions about the topic at hand. 

Blinking rapidly, you needed to do a double take. “Say that again?”

“I like you.” She repeats it for you. Twice. With increasing emphasis on those three words to drive the statement home. “I. Like. You.”

Let that sink in. You still don’t know what to say. “I—”

“We can talk about this later in the afternoon. Meet me at Room 204, okay? I’m in a rush and I just wanted to briefly check on you.” You watch her tone revert back to its beaming, bubbly self with each sentence. Before you even have an opportunity to say anything back, she rejoins her friends and walks away again, waving at you while shouting, “Remember what I told you about the cheat sheet!”

—————

Aside from accounting, where you followed Hanni’s advice down to the letter, the rest of the afternoon kept your thoughts mostly preoccupied with Hanni’s departing words. The two classes you shared with her during that period were opportunities to stare at her, watch her from a distance. Three simple words, and yet there’s layers upon layers to uncover. What did she mean when she said them? You barely interacted for most of the semester, yet she still considers you likable. During those long, painful hours of waiting, your curiosity and anticipation slowly built up.

And then, the bell rings at the top of the seventeenth hour. Time to find out.

While students file out in every direction, celebrating their regained freedom, you make your way through Room 204. Peeking from the outside, you see no one inside, not even Hanni. It looks about the same as when you left it—messy. You’re anxious, hesitant, cautious. There’s a part of you that believes she’s merely playing you in front of her friends, and that she might stand you up as a joke. And you have no reason to believe she genuinely likes you, apart from that one simple act of kindness from earlier.  

For the next few minutes, in those crucial moments of waiting, all your thoughts and presumptions begin waging war inside your head. You have one foot on the door, with the other looking to go home. It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up; you can write an entire thesis report going over each terrible experience and the feeling of bitterness and pining that followed. At the very least, should push come to shove, this wouldn’t be the worst of them—not even bottom five.

So you pace back and forth in front of the designated room, look at your phone, followed by your watch. Again and again. Minutes, stretching to hours, into days, into a slow eternity. You’re starting to lose hope.

Which is why when she comes across you in the hallway, you feel like a kid finding love for the first time all over again. You’re not even trying to hide your excitement. The stunned and relieved expression etched on your lips, the growing shade of red across your face, the hitch in your arms as they reach out to her because you couldn’t believe she would follow through on her word—

And when she flashes her toothy smile, her mouth speaking words you end up missing—you just want to take her by the hand and run away with her.

She ends up calling your name. Twice, thrice, a dozen times—you’re not exactly sure, but you can definitely lose yourself to the sight of Hanni’s presence over and over. With a hand held on the door, she’s telling you to join her inside, saying she has something important to share with you. At least that’s the very gist of it.

At her request, you leave your bag on one of the vacant seats; you end up sharing the same chair. The tension is palpable. Hanni paces back and forth in front of the desk, quietly ruminating, hiding her concerned look away from your eyes. A wakeup call for you that this is a serious matter. You have a lot of unanswered questions, but seeing the gravity of the moment, you conclude that it’s better to keep them to yourself a little while longer—at least once all the heavy air has been cleared. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move.

“I just want to say,” she suddenly says, still turned away from you, long streaks of dark hair covering her eyes. What they can’t hide is the frown on her lips. “I’m going to miss this place. All the profs, all the activities, but most importantly, all the people. Including you.”

“Me?” You’re not surprised at that statement; you’ve assumed she wasn’t going to be here for the long haul, considering she’s an exchange student. What does confuse you, is how she specifically singled you out from everyone else. You barely know each other. At best, you only teamed up for two group projects, which she mostly did the carrying for. For you, the bar has been set very, very low. “How come me?”

Hanni finally faces you, using everything in her willpower not to cry. Her usually lively eyes twinkle with tears waiting to be shed, but she refuses. Not even the warmest of her smiles can hide the somber and pained expression she has looking at you. “Most of the boys here are—excuse my language—a bunch of fucking jackasses and perverts.”

Not exactly wrong; if you weren’t part of an athletics club or hanging out at bars after class, you were likely to be one of their victims. You know this because you are numb to their asshole behavior. The girls would usually retreat in a subtle manner once they knew their presence, which wasn’t difficult to pinpoint.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “You’re right. I hate their guts too—”

“But you’ve been kind to me from the moment I introduced myself, you know?” Hanni begins to walk toward you, rendering you even more frozen in place. “Even our brief good mornings meant quite a lot. It made me feel welcome.”

You didn’t really think much of it, unaware that it would have this profound of an impact in someone else’s life. And why would you—it’s a habit you’ve been taught since when you were seven. For a moment, you’d think she was being very melodramatic, as if she were practicing theater.

“And—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “Let’s be honest; I know you like me too.”

When she drops those final words, your eyes pop. Wide. Enough to stretch through your forehead and fly up. It leaves you completely paralyzed. A whole truth bomb dropped just like that. She cusps your hands with hers; you freely allow her. Whether it's from utter shock or the desire to hold her like this for so long, you don’t know, but you definitely want to let this moment linger.

“I-I—” 

You can feel her hot breath against yours, her face inching closer, your bodies almost entangling into something passionate and warm. There’s nothing stopping you both from finally bridging the gap that’s been separating you for the longest time. Hanni, the charming, popular girl that everyone either wants to be friends with or to be her, seemingly knows you like a book read from left to right. More importantly, she likes you. Tells it straight to your face. 

Her arms snake around your neck, leaving you even more suffocated. No longer in her grasp, you find your hands pressed around tiny, fit waist. Her glinting eyes encourage you to let those innermost desires run wild. The suppressed thoughts you’ve been hiding slowly pull you under their influence. You shouldn’t be doing this, yet they’re right there: those sweet, puckery, inviting lips, waiting to be marked, yours and yours alone.

Instead, you end up in a tight embrace. It’s not as romantic as you envisioned. If anything, it’s bittersweet. Deep down, this is her way of saying goodbye, and you’re only realizing what this is really all about. An opportunity to bid farewell on amicable terms. It’s almost cruel that your first substantial interaction outside of school-related activities has to be like this.

You hold on to her tighter. She does the same. You’re unwilling to let go. She doesn’t want to, either.

Resting her head on your shoulder, Hanni whispers in your ear the most calming and soothing tone, “I’m going to miss you.” 

You don’t believe you’ve earned the right to say those words back. So the only thing you can do is hold on to her the best you can—for dear life.

Outside, the setting sun is gradually fading away, and so does the natural light it brings. You can stay here, from dusk to dawn, comfortable in this position if she wants to. 

She opens her mouth again, and she continues to hum and speak melodies in your ear. “I have one thing I want to do before saying goodbye. Can you help me?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, you nod, saying, “Anything for you.”

Hanni breaks the bear hug then leads you along with her to the desk. With the other hand, she lifts it back to her waist, placing herself in a new and unexpected position: her back arched against the table, with one knee bent beside yours. Her eyes glinting with utter desire, she couldn’t be any more obvious. 

Before the realization fully dawns on you, she does the unthinkable. 

A simple irresistible kiss, pulling you down by the collar of your coat. Next thing you know, you have Hanni’s back crooked further against the edge of the desk, your lip-lock turning more and more passionate. Nothing overly dramatic and sentimental—only passionate love making.

She wants it. Deep down, you want it too.

“I can’t—” you mutter, drawing your breath, pulling your lips away. But not your hands. It’s in Hanni’s custody now. Your coat halfway down your arms, she sneakily tosses it aside. “Not here.”

Surprised by your sudden change of heart, she leans forward, her fingers now pulling at the hem of your sleeves. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean—look around, Hanni. We’re in a goddamn classroom.” 

If only you could throw your arms around in protest to prove a point, but even that wouldn’t save you now.

“This is what I wanted from the start.” Hanni pulls you back in, her eyes hypnotic and irresistible, shining like gold. “You wanted this, too. Don’t play.”

“Hanni—”

She stops you right in your tracks with an impulsive peck on the lips. Curling them through the kiss to form a smile, she murmurs, “Don’t think, just do.”

And you do just that. Kiss her, make out with her as if your life depended on it.

Hanni’s lips taste like they’re meant for you. Sweet like honey. Divine. Heavenly. If it were possible, you’d want to choke on your own breath holding onto them for dear life. Not to mention the hums coming out of her mouth, those subdued mewls that she releases whenever you bite on her bottom lip—you can’t help but sink back in whenever you consider the thought of letting go.

There’s no reason not to; you have this pretty little thing, Hanni Pham, all to yourself. Even your body knows how rare of an opportunity this is. With one hand quietly slipping between her pencil skirt, you navigate your way to the depths of her heat without breaking the kiss. In a flash, she throws her head back, snapping her mouth wide at the new sensation. All that cool, calm expression, gone in an instant.

“Fuck—”

“God, Hanni. You’re so wet.” 

She grabs your wrist—that mischievous hand newly buried in her pussy—and urges you further, “Keep doing that. That felt so good.”

And God, does everything about finger fucking her feel incredible. The satisfying squelch of her cunt as your digits press against her warmth, the continuous twisting of her features as she crumbles from the pleasure, leaving her neck exposed for your lips to newly conquer, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing all over Hanni’s body. Seeing her, this usually larger than life figure, fall under your spell pushes you even further. 

Like Hanni, you’re still young; there’s only pleasure and the thrill of moving too fast and reckless. One day you’ll end up regretting this, ruminating over memories that could ultimately end you before you even started, but you’d rather take this memento than leave with nothing at all. 

You’re both already past the point of no return. Hanni’s underwear hangs casually between her ankles while they’re wrapped around your waist, her neck filled with bite marks and deep shades of red that no piece of fabric can hide. Her dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white camisole desperately seeking to be removed, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s made the crucial decision not to wear a bra today.

Fuck, that bulging ache in your pants is so agitating—both physically and mentally. 

“Wait,” you say, suddenly turning around and locking the door quickly, letting her panties fall freely to the floor. It proves to be a little struggle when you unknowingly use your slick-coated hand over your dry one. 

“Should have done that first,” she playfully chides, chuckling at you.

Returning to her with your drenched fingers pointed in the direction of her pussy, you respond, “Should have chosen anywhere but the classroom.”

“You’re saying you’d rather do this during our Christmas party?” Hanni lifts an eyebrow, taunting.

“Only if they allowed it.”

“And all those cheat sheets I handed you, all that for nothing?”

“Shut up. Didn’t need them, anyway.”

Hanni can’t help but burst into boisterous laughter. There’s no use locking that door now.

Even with the little time spent together, there’s clearly magic between you, the signs of what should have been a beautiful relationship. If only you both knew that. But now’s not the time to go over what ifs—only what’s next.

She stops you right as you ready yourself, grabbing the top button of your shirt. Using only her expressive eyes for approval, you steadily watch on till they’re completely undone. You’re left with the job of removing your undershirt and helping her toss your clothes aside. On the other hand, you’re in no rush to undress her completely; she’s a perfect mess as is with her unbuttoned uniform, her panties somewhere between your feet, and her taut nipples poking through the fabric. 

And Hanni wants it that way. You’ve barely entertained the idea of running your fingers through her skirt when she interrupts your train of thought. 

“You haven’t done it yet,” she says looking at your greedy, grubby hands, directing them with hers underneath her garment. “Make me cum. Please.”

As if you had any other intention. Maybe with something better, but that’s usually saved later—and for good reason.

You’re trying so hard not to curse through gritted teeth. Fuck. This. Damned. Skirt. Admittedly, it’s cute and perfectly suits Hanni; it adds to the appeal of seeing this usually meek, well behaved student asking for something more than naughty—it’s downright criminal—but you need to see what makes her really tick. Hanni’s clicking her tongue, growing more frustrated by the second than you are, anxiously waiting for you to come through. Carefully, you push a finger into her, then another, moving in delicate and systemic motion.

Then, it all clicks in perfect harmony:

She releases this pent-up moan from the depths of her chest, as though it were a heave of relief. The initial plunge from earlier makes plunging between her slick folds so much easier. You take a moment to let the satisfying sound sink in: the wet slop of her cunt as it reflexes against your fingers, unable to keep yourself from moaning with delight before you slowly draw back, then in again. 

From there, everything takes care of itself.

Hanni dissolves into a whimpering mess, under the hypnotic spell of your fingers fucking her pussy in tempered, intricate strokes, effortlessly and handily. Body shaking, desk quivering under the pressure of her weight, her hands struggling to find reprieve from the overwhelming sensations thundering all over her. She can barely breathe, let alone find the words to speak. Only quick curses. Each and every word so gratifying to hear.

“Fuck—fuck—its—its—so—good—more—”

You don’t give her any breathing room. In the brief moments when you lax, with your fingers either motionless deep within her cunt or pull back, leaving marks on her inner thighs with her own slick, you’re all over her, gently fondling her and kissing her. Half her uniform’s sleeve has fallen down her shoulder, giving you more of her body for you to claim as your own. With every little touch and thing you do, you continue to set her nerves ablaze with nothing to quench her lust.

It’s no wonder she’s such a teacher’s pet; she loves to follow along without any resistance or objection. A fact proven when you lift her undershirt to expose her taut nipples, and your free hand impulsively takes them. You give her left tit a twist, and from her needy lips comes a sharp whine. 

“Do it again,” she says, panting, nodding her head wildly, visibly overwhelmed. She doesn’t know what hit her, but it feels fucking amazing.

Of course, you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if she hadn’t asked. Hanni’s body, all yours for the taking. Not everyone can say they fucked the top girl in the class in the classroom of all places.

And you let your body do all the talking. No amount of words nor their depth can adequately describe the sensation of tasting and feeling her figure. First your free fingers, then your tongue—they make their mark on her chest while your other digits crawl to a lazy pace inside her cunt. Not that she minds—she’s too engrossed in the blissful sensation to remotely care. Her hands find their way around your neck and back, scratching and digging away at your skin in an attempt to pull you even closer.

It aches—but not as much as the ache in Hanni’s core. As you inch her closer to climax, you can feel her tremble, propping her head on your shoulder now as her outlet, whimpering, crying, mewling. “Almost—” she mumbles, before she’s caught up again in the sea of her own pleasure. Knowing this, the rest of your body moves like it’s second nature. Faster and deeper, you continue your endless assault on her body, until—

Suddenly, Hanni freezes up, moans over your ear as a moment of silent calm follows. In the succeeding moments, you both remain clung together as her orgasm hits. And by god, it hits her like lightning. Sharp and brutal. Fingers stuck deep in her core as she gushes, quivers all over them. It lingers, leaves you both incapacitated.

Minutes that could easily stretch into hours, stuck on a desk, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated bliss. Eventually, she lifts up her head and lets out a deep breath of relief. Her hands remain entangled with your hair as she pulls herself back. A scope down gives you a short but telling extent of the damage: copious amounts of slick dripping on the edge of the table, down to the floor. You’re a little terrified of what your fingers will look like.

Through half-lidded eyes, Hanni flashes you a smile as she slowly realizes the mess she has become. Cheeks flustered with embarrassment, she quickly pushes down her undershirt, but they can’t hide her nipples’ rigidness. You’re both grinning at each other like mischievous pranksters. Something tells you that despite everything, it’s not enough. The fire in her eyes and the confidence in her laugh says it all: she’s looking for more trouble, and one way or another, you’re gonna be her accomplice.

Before you can even utter a word, you both hear a knock on the door. Through the casted silhouette, you recognize that it’s a janitor. Spent energy be damned, you’re brought back to reality. You quickly turn to Hanni in a state of alarm, “Shit. I told you not told to do this in the classroom—”

Reaching out her hand, she replies, “It’s gonna be fine! Give me my bag and I’ll get us out of this.” 

You immediately rush Hanni her bag, and while you hastily put yourself back in one piece, she grabs a pack of tissues to clear all evidence of your little escapade. In no time, you’ve somehow returned the place in nearly the same position you found it. Only one difference: her panties are left on the floor, and she hasn’t bothered to pick them up.

“Wait, your underwear—” you tell her as you pick them off the floor. She’s already on the edge of the classroom, opening up one of the windows to escape. It’s not a suicide jump; only someone with brittle bones could possibly break their legs doing the drop, and there’s really no other choice: run away with her or find yourself at the dean’s office on your first day back after the holidays.

“Keep it if you want.” Hanni shoots you a playful wink and a cheeky grin as she lifts one leg over the open window. “We don’t have much time, so unless you wanna explain yourself to the profs—”

“I’m already in trouble regardless,” you reply as you join her on the way out. You didn’t need to think about what to do. “Got eight missed phone calls from my fam. I’m fucked regardless. Might as well make the most of our time while we’re here.”

—————

A/N: Happy new year! I never thought I’d write something for NewJeans, but never say never. Hanni was easily the scene stealer for me at the Asia Artist Awards, she and the other members constantly waved at us from beginning to end, and they were killer performers! I can see why she’s so adored; she’s both talented and adorable. It’s been difficult getting back into writing after one month away, so this definitely is a feel-out attempt, but I hope it’s still good anyway. Here’s to the coming year and hopefully more to come. Thanks for reading!

P.S. I sincerely want to take this moment to apologize for my slow production. As previously mentioned, I got hit with a severe case of the flu, which kept me down for almost two weeks. Since recovering, I’ve been experiencing weird cases of brain fog, where sometimes my mind ‘isn’t there’ and it feels like my body’s been moving on autopilot. I’ve been getting healthier since then, but the so-called absentmindedness still remains. I’ve tried writing a few times since then, and it honestly feels like I’ve forgotten how to write. Hell, this fic was supposed to be out on Christmas day and I’ve struggled to put it together! It’s been very rough. I don’t wanna make promises because I’ll just end up breaking them, so I’ll just say that I’m trying my damned hardest to get back to that level I had been moving before my momentum stalled. I always want to deliver the best possible fic for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for being patient with me as always <3

[k1ngpin42]

POV: 𝘼𝙗𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧r- (mini fic)

Warnings: Dating, public 18+, dominant Abby, fingering

You, Abby, Mel, Manny and Whitney are sitting at a table in the WLF base. You and Abby aren’t allowed to be paired together on patrols anymore after Mel snitched about the time she caught you two fucking while on duty. To be fair, though, the door of the room you two were in had been locked from the outside, it wasn’t your fault Mel didn’t knock. 

Anyway, not being able to see her throughout the day was fucking with you. Images of what you two would do the night and morning before you’d go on patrol, things you two used to do at any available moment on away missions. Against the wall when the other soldiers turned their back, on the floor, against an old car,  on the table where you and the others would plan routes around seraphite camps, one time you even fucked while in a room full of clickers. (It was the most terrifying orgasm you had ever experienced if you’re being honest with yourself. Still amazing though.)

She sits down and the tension is immediate, you’d let her take you right here and now if she asked.

“Hey love, how were your assignments today?” She asks. Fuck. You didn’t know what was up with you today cause you were fucking wet at the site of her.

“What? Oh, yeah, it was alright…” You say, eyes scanning her body. You hear the others talk indistinctly and your gaze immediately drops to her hands.

“Did you really have to invite the game nerd?” You hear Mel whisper. You roll your eyes.

“Whitney’s my friend, Mel, don’t be a dick.” You tell her bluntly, and Whitney looks up at this. Mel looks at her with a guilty expression.

“Whitney I didn’t mean….”

“Oh it’s okay Mel. I can just sit by myself like I usually do.”

“Nonsense, you’re with us.” Manny reassures.

Once this drama clears up, Abby and Mel start telling the others stories about their mission today. Various jokes and exaggerations. None of this was relevant to you, though, cause for the love of everything holy, you couldn’t focus.

You watched as she enhanced her story with hand movements, her laugh was a melody in your ears, her voice a chorus. The veins on her hands were still prominent, she must have had to beat up some form of enemy, usually runners. Or maybe she had been lifting something heavy.

A smile smile pressed your lips at the thought of that. The thought of her big arms straining, she would groan slightly before the metal crate behind a door would move and she’d let out another satisfied sigh. Fuck. Those arms, those hands, you needed them inside you, on you, you didn’t care which. 

“He grabs the EMPTY gun and points it at the woman. She’s got a fuckin club or something and he says….well, something in Spanish.” Abby explains to the group who have been intently listening, making you feel slightly bad for zoning out.

“ Estás acabado, cabron. You are finished, asshole.” 

“Haha…nice.” Abby replies, taking a bite of her food. She looks over at you, who is still too focused on the way the vein on her right hand is more prominent than on her left. When she notices this, she smirks. That same cocky fucking smirk when she knows that, once again, she’s read you like a book.

“Hey so, that new training manual you read, what was it again?” She asks you as she slips a hand on your thigh. You’re wearing baggy blue jeans and even with them on you feel heat trickle down your spine.

“Oh the one about long guns? Well…the main premise is about rounds.” She moves her hand so it’s cupping your cunt through the fabric. 

“I-“ You clear your throat. “Each gun has a unique gear that allows the rounds to move more fl-“ Abby cautiously unzips the jeans. “Fluidly.” You explain. She starts teasing your pussy with her index fingers and painting your clit with slick.

“Have you tested it out on a gun? The upgrade?” Abby asks, watching you with an amused expression as she increases the pace.

“Wh-at…oh um, yeah.” You stumble over your words.

“Ah well you can come improve my weapon, do you know how many times this gun has been stepped on? I’m surprised I can put new rounds in at all.” Manny laughs. Your eyelids flutter as she puts her two middle fingers inside you and circles your clit with her thumb. She does all this with her left hand, not even taking her eyes off of the group, she doesn’t have to. 

How does this not make her uncomfortable? How does the fact that our whole friend group will watch you cum work for her in any way?

“Only if you gi-mm~” You stifle your moan with your hand.

“You okay?” Mel asks you. You nod.

“Just tired, I was gonna say, only if you give me a….ah~ a good gun too since he always hogs them all.”

“I do not.” He laughs. 

Fuck, Abby’s hands rubbing you feels fucking insatiable but you need to be alone with her, you can’t stand how embarrassing this feels. You want her to fuck you till you can’t breathe, not tease you in front of people you have to interact with on the regular.

“I might go to bed early.” You say, attempting to push Abbys hands away. She grabs your arm tightly and gives you a warning look.

“Aw don’t be silly, we’ll go when you’re finished.” She pauses. “…Eating.” Abby adds, increasing her pace as well as the pressure on your clit. Fuck, you could scream at how good it feels. You want to scream. 

“Who were you with today baby?” Abby asks. Fuck you could kick her right now. She’s clearly doing this on purpose to hear you make a fool of yourself in front of her your friends. It won’t work, you try to convince yourself.

“Um, I don’t know, it was me, two guys and a girl. The girl was dating one of the guys so me and the other guy did most of the patrolling while they probably, I don’t even know, did each other or something.” You explain, enjoying the feeling of her thick, warm fingers. Fuuuuuuck.

Mel looked guilty again. She always did, maybe this is just her resting face?

“I’m sorry that you and Abby can’t go on patrols anymore.” Mel utters, quietly. You roll your eyes but before you can even think to be annoyed at her, Abby pushes just the right place and you let out a gush of satisfied air.

“Agh~ all good.” You say, keeping your composure fairly well. Abby rewards this by easing up slightly and you instinctively buck your hips forward. 

“Do you prefer hot places or cold?” Abby asked, and at this point you’re forcing your eyes open. 

“What?” You ask, bitterly. Fuck you’re painfully close, you’re so gonna hit her when this is over. 

“Abby…” You whisper to her, her smirk widens, cocky prick.

“Did you say something baby?” You sigh and poke at some of the food on your plate. 

“Hot. I don’t like the cold or the rain, snow’s the only…f….um, exception.” You breathe out. Abby can tell by the look on your face that you’re cumming and she tilts her head, admiring you.

“I prefer the heat too. It’s always hot in Mexico.” Manny says, his voice just a murmer as you see colours through your eyelids. Holy fuck, you’d give anything to let out a loud moan right now. 

“I’m actually pretty tired too, I think we’re gonna turn in early.” Abby explains to the others. Mel nods and Manny looks mildly disappointed, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Have a good night.” Whitney says with a warm smile. You nod and Abby helps pull you up. You bite back a wince at how sensitive it feels to have your legs together and you hurry with Abby out of the hall.

“Abigail fucking Anderson.” You warn, simply. She smiles, kissing you playfully on the cheek.

“Yeah?” She asks. You punch her arm lightly. 

“Do you like making a fool of me? All our friends saw-“

“Did you like it?” She asks, that seductive and almost arrogant smirk still evident on her pretty fucking face. You roll your eyes. She kisses your neck and leans in to your ear.

“I bet you were thinking about it. My hands, my fingers, I was just giving you what you want.” 

“Yeah but…I mean at dinner? That’s just torture.” 

“Aw.” She says with fake sympathy. “Want me to make it up to you?”

°..·°¯°·._.· 🎀 >.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°🎀 >-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯

[arminsumi]

PRIEST GETO

GETO すぐる + fem!reader

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains 18+ content, smut/erotica, religious themes, sacrilegious themes, solo m*sturbation, unprotected sex, creampies, virgin!Geto, not proofread

Priest!Geto has just one conversation with you, and immediately thinks to himself, "You're gonna be the reason I go to hell."

Priest!Geto's narrow eyes catch on your curves and he feels something click in his brain, then he quickly looks away as if singed by his sinful desires.

Priest!Geto is so taken aback when you outright tell him that you're sexually attracted to him. "Oh... well... I'm sorry I can't reciprocate the feeling... you know why." he tries to sound indifferent, but there's a heat rising up his neck.

Priest!Geto has to hook a finger on his clerical collar to tug at it when he sees you sitting in the pews. Your presence is so strong to him.

Priest!Geto is violently shaken up when you accidentally touch him. You once sat next to him, pressing your thigh to his more muscular thigh, and he could barely think, his brain malfunctioned like he was simply a 19 yr old college boy in need of pussy. You're so soft, you're so soft, you're so fucking soft and perfect he hates it with his soul. He just wants to know what it feels like to sink his pure fingers into the flesh of a creature as sinful as you.

Priest!Geto tries so hard not to think unholy thoughts of you, he clutches his rosary tight in his veiny hands and kneels at his bed every night, praying... but then you enter his mind like a beautiful little parasite and then he feels his cock sitting upright; stiff and leaky and begging for something soft to lay inside. He tells himself "Just once can't hurt..." and jerks himself nervously to the idea of you taking his cock in your sinning hands... sinning mouth... slutty sinning pussy... aw, he cums so hard he shakes and can't catch his breath. His cum is so thick, spurting out his curved cock, decorating his lower abdomen and trail of hair down there.

Priest!Geto inhales sharply when you stand too close next to him, like the proximity offends his whole body; his hands are folded neatly over his crotch as he tries to conceal the outline of his cock as it starts pronouncing itself through his pants.

Priest!Geto loathes the days you don't visit the church or come to enjoy lunch with your friend. He sits there, bored by dull conversations that he shouldn't be bored by, and pokes at his meal... the only thing that's appetizing to him is you, your company, your disrespectful flirting, your unexpected little remarks.

Priest!Geto to you is a steadfast believer, calm and unaffected by your provocations. But you see cracks in his demeanor; how he shifts uncomfortably when you talk to him in that soft voice, how he has to clear his throat before responding, how he zones out after you say something suggestive as if he's contemplating pouncing on you and sticking his tongue in your mouth.

Priest!Geto goes straight into denial about aching for your lips around his cock, even though he's having wet dreams about it. Some mornings he wakes from a dream of you sucking on his thick cock, and he looks up at the ceiling and groans... because he came against his thigh in his sleep... a gooey sticky sinful mess.

Priest!Geto is convinced that God sent you to him to test his discipline... and he knows he's fucked. He hates tying his hands behind his back. Do you know how badly those hands want to nest in your hair and pull on it while he stuffs you up?

Priest!Geto slowly feels his discipline weakening the more he's exposed to you and your charms.

Priest!Geto freezes up when you kiss him one day when you're alone together. "We can't do that..." he's breathlessly talking, hands grabbing your arms to pry you off of him... oh god how is he breathless over one kiss? His hands start shaking when you kiss him again. "F-fuck... we really can't do this..." he's moaning in no time, even whimpering and closing his eyes, letting himself get engulfed in dirty pleasure while you explore his body with your lips.

Priest!Geto whimpers from oversensitivity when he sinks his fat cock into you, telling himself that losing his virginity to a slut like you is forgivable... oh and his animalistic thrusts? Those are forgivable too. And the way he looks at you, like he's consumed by lust? That's also forgivable.

Priest!Geto crawls back to you for more after that, but at the same time pushes you away. He's a conflicted man. But when he's balls deep draining himself in your pussy, calling you a "bad girl" and a "sinner", he's a simple man.

Priest!Geto moans "sin for me, darling..." while cumming so deep inside that not a single drop of his sticky seed drips out. He leaves your pussy a sloppy, gushing mess.

Priest!Geto feels a rush, a dizzying and lustful rush, when you look at him during mass now; your little wink and lick of your lips makes him stutter throughout the passage he's reciting.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[jacaerysgf]

Not a one time thing

r.q: being friends with benefits, with jace where you both end up drunk at a party and end up having sx and the next day you guys laugh it off and forget abt it. but jace starts to crave you more and first you’re hesitant about it, but then you guys agree on friends with benefits. now you guys js randomly whenever you’re stressed or in the mood and calling eachother in the middle of the night. jace starts to catch feelings and like fights the urge to say ily while they’re doing it. and then they js like end up together idk. but you’re like my fav jace writer rn

w.c: 1k

c.w: slight nsfw, sweet jace, mutual pining, fwb to lovers, cute little drabble, not proofread, written with f!reader in mind but is basically gn!reader

You thought your slip up with Jace would be a one time thing, that after the two of you walk out of the party laughing about it that that would be it. Yet not even two nights later you’re staring down at a “are you up?” text from him. You don’t answer him, texting him back in the morning and saying you had been asleep and asking him what he needed, he had said it was nothing and he ‘figured it out’ but that just left you way too curious.

Yet when he shows up at your house at two am with his puppy dog eyes and a rock between his legs you let him push you on the couch and let him have you once again. When you wake up and he’s making breakfast in your kitchen shirtless you decide to lay down some ground rules to quell the pounding of your heart.

Strictly friends with benefits. No feelings attached. exclusively one another, definitely a rule in place just to avoid stds, no other reason. Arrangement must be broken off is one of you begins to like someone else.

Sounds easy enough. Its a good stress reliever for you, whenever you have a test or your studying is not going as well as expected you give him a ring and he’s quick to show up to take your mind off of it and you do the same for him. It works well, at least for you, but Jace seems to be struggling a lot more then you are.

You can’t tell he is of course. He is good at hiding it, but it begins to grow more and more daunting as he’s thrusting into you, staring at your with heart eyes that you can’t see since your eyes are closed, his thumb rubs affectionally on your jaw as he watches you climax, it’s gotten to the point he has no care for his own pleasure, he gets his fill from watching your eyes rolls in the back of your head.

Four times. It was a new record for him. Four times he almost told you that he loved you. He watches you as you scroll through your phone, oblivious to the internal battle he’s having. You are so beautiful. You haven’t even bothered to put back on any of your clothes, he admires you fully, he had no clue how long he was until you look at him with a raised brow, “You like what you see big guy?”

He loves you.

He simply reaches over and places a kiss on your lips before he lays back down. “What’s that for?” Because i love you. “To shut you up.” You roll your eyes and smack him on the chest. “Says you while staring at my bare chest you perv.”

He thinks he can keep it in for awhile, let his feelings pass. Yet he ends up blowing up. You have been spending a lot more time with cregan. Cregan fucking stark his best friend yet he has never wanted to murder a man more. Why are you walking around and smiling with him? Why did you fucking bail on him one night to hang out with cregan?

“Is this over?”

You turn to him confused, setting down the pizza you had ordered for the two of you down on the table and shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

His posture is rigid, he’s fiddling around with his fingers, he would normally be shirtless but you take notice of the fact he’s wearing a plain white shirt. “Are we over?”

“No? Why would,” You attempt to put it in the words, we seems to intimate despite the fact that's how he worded it, “our arrangement,, end? You like someone?”

“What about cregan? You like him don’t you?” You tilt your head at him and let out a confused laugh. “You mean your best friend cregan? what the fuck are you on about?”

“You said our arrangement ends if one of us starts to like someone else.” “Yes i did, so what you think i like cregan?” “Yes.” This is what breaks you and you laugh, you cover your face in your hands as you turn away and you laugh. “what the are you talking about? No i don’t like cregan. Why would it matter if i did?”

“Because i love you.” You freeze. You turn around quickly to stare at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“I love you. I don’t want to be some stupid arrangement. I want there to be us, we. Together.”

You gulp, you feel your feelings you’ve kept locked down bubbling up to the surface. You have to be rational, he is clearly not thinking straight you know him. “Jace. This is coming from you being jealous you shouldn’t say stuff like that. Hey ill stop hanging out with cregan without you-”

“No. I’m in love with you. This is not because I’m fucking jealous, sure maybe i am but i am so madly in love with you everyday i have to stop myself from professing my love to you from the highest mountain. If I'm saying this because I'm jealous then why do i feel the urge to tell you i love you while you’re withering underneath me. I love you.”

He had made his way over to you. He stands in front of you looking like a kicked puppy. “If you don’t feel the same we should end this. Never speak again, maybe that would kill me but i can’t just keep ignoring how i feel for you any longer.” He tenses in your silence, “Please answer me.”

“I never wanted to get into this arrangement with you because i knew one day i would crack. I ignored your calls and texts because i was so nervous to begin this dangerous game with you because i am so madly in love with you Jace.”

He rushes to cup your cheeks and he pulls you into a kiss. You can feel him grinning against your lips and he must feel the way you’re smiling back.

“Does boyfriend Jace fuck anything different than friend Jace?”

“You’re about to find out.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

[luveline]

Jade omg i love coworker james so much!! I was hoping i could request them taking the elevator up to their office together and it breaking down and them being stuck together!! Super cliche but i think it could be really cute and fun and that you’d write it so well!

You decide today is the day you stop pretending to forget something in your car. James has been nice lately. He does still hide your mug everyday, and he acts like an idiot at your desks. Just yesterday he made a parachute for one of his little figurines and made it land in your lunch. But he keeps saving you when you’re in trouble, and he might think he has to do it but it’s not true. 

If something goes wrong, James is the one who helps you out. Maybe it’s proximity, but maybe he’s just not the jerk you pegged him to be. 

So you’re being brave. You get out of your car, to James’ surprise, and you give him a teeny tiny smile. “Morning,” you say, making your way to the office steps, and following closely behind him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking back. He holds open the door for you without further comment. 

You walk in through the building’s lobby and past the main receptionist to the twin elevators. There’s a downstairs to the building, the lab, where the company conducts their water safety testing, and an upstairs where you and James and your colleagues work. He hits the elevator button on the right, you both wait for it to come down. 

“Did you see about that movie?” you ask. 

“I did!” He laughs at himself generously. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” 

“Crazy, if you gave me like, two more seconds before you interrupted, I would’ve specified.” You catch yourself scowling and soften your expression. “You know, the movie you told me about with the aliens that can hear you from ten miles away.” 

“Oh. What was I supposed to see about it?” 

You should’ve waited in the car. The elevator descends and the doors open. James waits for you to go in first before he follows, and you let him click your floor number as you lean against the mirror. 

You elect to wait in silence as the elevator chugs up, and up, and.

It stops short with a horrible sharp sound you’ve never heard it make. 

James looks at you, then the control panel. The doors don’t open. “That’s fucked,” he says hotly. 

“We stopped too early, right?” 

“No, no way.” He clicks the open door button, waiting approximately half a second before he starts to spam it. 

“Wait, what if you mess it up?” 

“Mess it up? It’s stuck.” 

You glare at him. “It’s not stuck.” 

“It’s stuck.” James slams his hand into the emergency button and waits with a frown for it to ring. “Hello?” he asks. 

“James, it’s still ringing.” 

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he says. 

You hide your smile. You’d been unnerved by the sound, sure, but the elevator isn’t creaking or whining, it’s just stopped. There’s an inkling of worry growing in your chest. You’re perhaps a smidge too tired to panic. It’s barely 8AM. 

And James’ reaction is wildly comical. He glares at the control panel and rings the emergency button again, and again. Nobody answers. After a few long seconds of this, the control panel goes dark, backlit numbers fading. 

The overhead light blinks out. 

It’s quite dark without it. 

“What the fuck?” James asks. Surprisingly, he sounds less panicked than before. “The electrics gone. A power cut?” 

“It’s really dark,” you say unhelpfully. 

“If only I had one of my darling Smiskis to light up the lift.” James takes his phone from his pocket and turns on the torch, your eyes aching but then thankful for the added illumination. You can see his face again, the tug of a brow too handsome to be meant for grumpiness, and the confused pout of his lips. He has a lovely face, with sweet eyes, dark brown hair framing it, and the aura around him when he’s smiling is lovely too.  He’s a little less lovely when he frowns, but not by much. “I’m gonna shout,” he warns you. 

You and James spend that first half an hour believing the lift to be a short problem. Then another half an hour on the phone to Remus and then your boss, who assures you both that the maintenance team will fix it within the hour. “Within the hour?” James says to you where you’ve sat cross-legged on the floor. “Within the hour? How long do they think we’ve been in here?” 

“Maybe we can call the fire brigade to come and save us?” you suggest quietly. You and James are in very close quarters. His shouting has hurt your head. 

“They might have to. Why does nobody know what’s wrong with the lift? Are they really that complicated?”

James sits down beside you dejectedly. The lift is snug, but there’s room for him to sit further away that he doesn’t use. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Fine.” 

You open your bag in your lap and unveil your thermos. It comes with a cup as the lip. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

James tips his head back against the wall. “Yes,” he says, “okay. You never finished telling me about the alien movie anyways. What’s the news?” 

You smother a smile. “I’m not telling you. You should’ve listened to me the first time.” 

For some reason, you don’t argue once in the two hours you spend stuck. Not after the initial bickering. You drink your hot chocolate and you end up sitting together watching the trailer for the movie on your phone, and neither of you move away after. That is, until the elevator flicks back on and the doors are being pried open —you spring apart, caught red handed enjoying each other's company. 

[lecl3rcw]

KEEPING UP WITH THE LECLERCS | Leclerc brothers x sister! reader

—————————————

Pairings: Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo Leclerc x sister! reader (model reader)

Summary: As Arthur and Y/N are on live together, Arthur accidentally spills his guts on Y/N crush on this mystery man, who is this man? And what will her brothers’s reaction be.

Warnings: I’m using meeya dugied’s photos as a reference! But reader has no faceclaim!

Author’s note: WHOO it’s been a while, hope you guys have been well, I just wanted to say Thankyou for being so patient with me, I’ve had a lot going on in my life but just know your requests are in the process of being finalized! I’m the meantime, this is just a little short fic for everyone!

____________________________________________

“Do you think the chicken came first or the egg?”

“….Shut up Arthur”

The boy narrowed his eyes at his twin, the two youngest leclercs were on Y/N’s Instagram live because they were so bored and since then it’s been a blur.

“Y/N who is your favorite brother out of the 3, Lorenzo for sure” she reads out the question and answers it without hesitation.

“Girllll whats up your ass today, did Jo-” before he could say more, the girl quickly covers his mouth, “Shut the fuck up Arthur! I swear I’m never telling you anything again!” She says, pushing his face out of the frame.

“Ouch! See guys this is what happens when you’ve had the fattest crush on this dude named J-” She interrupted him once more.

“Ok everybody! That’s it for this live, Thankyou so much for keeping us entertained and I hope you all have an amazing day! Love you” she says quickly before turning the live off.

“You’re actually such a cunt Arthur” she says as she pushes him again.

“What? It’s not like I said his name” he responds standing up

“it’s not your place Hoe” she responds standing up.

“Whatever girl, talk to the fucking hand” he says raising his hand in the most sassy way possible before walking off.

What in the sassy men apocalypse, she shook it off and just allayed down on the couch, before she got a text.

She rolls her eyes again, “I’m so sick of them” she scoffs.

She smiled at the replies her tweet got, the f1 fanbase has got to be the most creative one yet to exist. Tired from scrolling, she shuts her phone down and decides to rest her eyes. However, her peace only lasted for 20 minutes as her phone rang for a Group FaceTime call. She lets out a loud groan but answers it.

“So Y/N, Tell us who this man” Lorenzo asks.

“Again, no hi, no hello” she responds.

“Y/N I swear!” Charles interrupts her.

“Oh my god, for fucks sake, it’s Jo-” Arthur starts but is immediately interrupted,

“STOP, fine, I’ll text it to you” she says before shooting the groupchat a text.

“Oh Y/N, you know that never ends well” Charles says.

“Says you? Let me ask all your ex girlfriends” she responds in a very snarky way, Charles looked taken aback.

“Ok damn girl, calm down no need to get all violent🙄” he says visibly rolling his eyes.

“Sorry Charlie, i didn’t mean that, if Alexandra and Charlotte are there tell them i love them and that they’re way better than their mans, anyways bye goodnight, have a good trip” she says.

“You too Chérie, hope your photo shoot goes well tomorrow!” Charles says before hanging up, Lorenzo adds to that with “and goodluck with J-”

“OK GOODBYE” she says hanging up, she lets out a sigh and puts her hand on her face. She gets up and does her skincare routine, and goes to sleep.

The next morning, her flight to Milan was very early so she was at the airport by 6.

She hugs Arthur, “Bye tur tur, hope your race testing goes well” he hugs back tight, “you too Y/n/n”

She hugs her mom tightly, “Love you Maman” she squeezes her, Pascale reciprocating the action. “I love you, text me when you land” her mom says, and the young girl nods. She waved one last goodbye to her mom and her brother before boarding the flight.

She makes a quick post on her Instagram before shutting her phone off for her flight.

y/n.leclerc

y/n.leclerc june with my fav people ever🫶🏻 p.s. Alexandra is the best photographer

tagged charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotollotaleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, carla.brocker, charlottedipietro, pascale_leclerc

Liked by bengals, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,000,000 others

arthur_leclerc WHATS 4+4😝

^y/n.leclerc ATEEEEEEE

^charles_leclerc girllll more like -8

^y/n.leclerc I’m gonna beat your ass.

alexandrasaintmleux my chérie😍

^y/n.leclerc THE LITERAL LOVE OF MY LIFE😍

bellahadid let’s get married

^y/n.leclerc I’m gonna bite you☺️

leclercupdates NOT THE BENGALS LIKING

^wags4life LIKE ARIANA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE?

y/n’swhore SHES LITERALLY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON EVER😞

What the girl didn’t expect was to get a text from one of the most popular teams ever.

Bengals Hello! We would like to host a partnership with you, we wanted to invite you to one of our games as an honorary guest, you can bring up to 6 people.

……

[twistedchatterbox]

You feel a lot like love

summary: lovesick boys & living in their head rent-free... you have no idea what you do to them, or maybe you do. ft.Riddle, Leona, Azul, (Vil, Idia, and more later if this does well) tags: crushing, pre-established relationship & established relationship, off camera date/confessions, GN reader(you/your), lovesick boys 4 u, marriage mention, Azul gets insecure but the thought of you makes it better, no beta we overblot like men

wordcount: 1200+ | Masterlist & Taglist

• Riddle Roshearts

“Attention!” Riddle’s head snapped upwards, unaware that he had zoned out; thankfully so was the professor, who was calling out some other unfortunate student. As the red haired dormwarden went through the stages of shock, simply stunned and unable to process the realisation that he was not paying attention in class. However he quickly enough settled back into the regular plane of consciousness, taking note of his surroundings and re-checking his notes, eyes widening when he spots “[Name] Rosehearts”. Oh. Riddle gulped a silent, empty breath, staring at the string of words for what felt like the longest two seconds of his life. Oh, oh how was he supposed to confess to you? As his thoughts once again abandoned the class, deciding that you have become his favourite subject, Riddle silently agreed with his subconscious to give up on paying attention in class for one day; instead focusing on you. The smitten, heart adorned dormwarden slipped out a red notebook, a journal, opening an empty page, he started to write his heart and see if he could come up with a good confession, a well-phrased way to ask you out. He could beg his beating heart to stop running laps in his ribcage, yet his mind could not be further from it as he thought of you, his other half. The dorm of heartslabyul has never known greater paranoia. Ace was fully abiding by the rules, Cater has never been faster, Trey was mentally going through the list of possible scenarios. Why? It was quiet. Too quiet. Riddle was not around, he had ghosted Trey and Cater- even after they tried to report on rule breakers; something was clearly wrong, or at least upside down and slightly to the left. Deuce was studying diligently and holding his breath, almost as if Riddle was peering over his shoulder, hell that would at least prove the dormwarden was there! This, to the heartslabyul dorm, was the cruellest joke on earth. And then Riddle came back to the dorm, for the first time ever dressed in a more.. casual look. No way in hell was on campus, judging by the soft red cardigan and absence of the NRC uniform jacket, the button up replaced by a regular black shirt with a loose, circle collar that allowed his collarbone and neck to breathe. If anyone was to be honest, this did not look like Riddle at first glance. And then at second glance all hell silently broke loose, Trey’s glasses comically cracked, Cater dropped his phone, Deuce aced a test; Riddle was placing a kiss on your wrist, leading you slowly by the arm like a gentleman. He was on a date. Unmistakably so if the red roses you held as a bouquet were anything to go by. And once again, Riddle could not care or even try to pay attention to his surroundings; as if he would want to look elsewhere while he had you to focus on.

• Leona Kingscholar

“Wakey wa– Oh fuck n-o, never mind.” Ruggie closed the door back before he even properly opened it. Leona barely huffed, rolling over to better cover your body with his; like a weighted blanket, the rumbling in his chest far too relaxing for you to stir awake. ..And yet, he couldn’t fall back asleep. Far too awake to keep his eyes closed, yet not enough to get out of bed; alone with his thoughts as he idly held your sleeping form. Sometimes he wondered if these types of mornings would end, or if he could wake up with you for the rest of his days, and he wishes he could smack himself upside down on the head for these loud what-ifs. As if he could sleep it off, feelings like these never really worked like that; it only used to make him angry, frustrated and madly irritable in the past, but now he felt scared at the possibilities those thoughts encapsulated. The ones that were possible were worse, making him wish. Wish.. it felt ridiculous to say such a word for someone so seemingly void of even the faintest hint of sunshine, Leona was not cheerful, surely not. But he was hopeful, then not; it stayed like that for a long while, until you decided to take these matters into your own hands, your considerably smaller, slender hands, soft compared to his own. He, unaware of his own, took your hands in his idle ones, feeling your palms and fingers. Leona closed his eyes as he nuzzled onto the crown of your head, comforted by the scent of your hair. In the back of his mind, his hands memorised the feel of your fingers, wondering what kind of ring you’d like best. The grumpy lion beastman mentally laughed as his morning pondering comes full circle, thinking about how you had his heart in your gentle hands.He smiled at the thought. He could be hopeful.

• Azul Ashengrotto “Takoyaki!-” Azul’s eyes widened, looking at the idle pool of ink at the base of his quill. He clicked his tongue, expression shaping up to one of frustration, and near-disgust. Lifting up his hand, he made sure that the sleeves of his uniform were not ruined, carefully taking off the stained glove and leaving the office in oddly collected fashion. The feeling was.. off, making Floyd look down to try seeing his expression, albeit unsuccessful. Azul knew the eel twin would quickly put it together, putting more effort into his steps, walking faster with hopes of not running into you. He would cry if you discovered the power you held over him and his heart. The mere possibility had him gulp in hopes of swallowing his nerves, twisting the doorknob and locking himself in his room as the ever familiar and forever disgusting feeling of tears stung his eyes once again, and Azul half haphazardly hid himself under his blankets, ignoring all noise, blocking out his own thoughts, or at least trying to. And yet, the image of you in his mind is the exact thing that brings him comfort; he lays wondering what you’d think if he made a fool of himself in front of you, only to feel conflicted when he fails to imagine a negative reaction, he knows you wouldn’t berate him for a slip up. You never even call him out when he acts out of character, going as far as to cover up for him when he messes up big time, and you never ask for anything other than his time for it when you do. “Fair enough”, it was his response the first time, now he finds himself internally craving, damn-near begging for more; haa.. He would laugh had it been anyone else’s suffering, but he’s not sure if he can even feign dislike of the situation, only ever hoping for more chances to keep this silent arrangement going. He has always been quite greedy, capitalising your affection, time, attention. And forever caught off guard by you, it seems. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when his phone notifies him with a custom ring-tone, the one he set for you. Scrambling to grab his phone swiftly and reply fast, all he sees is “I’m going over to your dorm room. Floyd said something was up with you, are you ok?” -And before he can even start typing you send another; “I’m bringing some of your favourites do you want anything” Oh you really are simply wonderful. Azul knows he means every word, replying to your messages “Just you”.

[saerins]

𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.1k | content: fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of jealousy/insecurities

notes: of course when i’m back i write for sae … who else is possible of holding me hostage like this ? :’)

summary: he’s stupid and stubborn and bad at being a boyfriend. you make him want to be better though. always.

itoshi sae has a bad habit.

he’s not used to relationships, or the notion of having to care for someone in a certain romantic way that tests his own boundaries. this much is apparent in the way he’s only ever had one relationship before you and it was over before he started, because he’d chosen career over his ex.

and no, the situation right now with you isn’t like that. even so, it’s tough; when you feel down for no particular reason and sae doesn’t know how to handle it. and sometimes he’s tired too and you catch him at the wrong timing and you both end up sulking the entire night.

you won’t lie—you have a bad habit too. you can’t really bring yourself to express exactly how you feel. it’s difficult to open up just like that, especially when you aren’t used to it. but sae’s especially confused with how to handle these situations, like right now.

right now; when you’re sobbing in front of him and he’s feeling frustrated. when you can’t really handle the heat well—he’s a world-renowned soccer player, one of the world eleven. and next to him, no one even knows you. not when you have a non-disclosure agreement and have to keep everything super private.

it’s funny how you thought it’d be simple. then again, you didn’t factor in all the external disturbances. it tests your patience whenever sae makes the headlines when he’s out for a simple lunch with friends and makes it to the front page with a dating rumor with a top model. it’s tough for you to hold it in when you see people shipping him with someone you can only wish to be.

insecurity just hits you sometimes.

“is it really that hard to just assure me, sae?”

that includes now, when you’ve just had a shitty day and he’s so so tired from all the events he’s had to go to now, having to parade around with that top model, all to promote a brand’s upcoming fragrance line. emotions run high, neither of you have the capacity to deal with this right now.

“look, i’m so fucking tired, can we just deal with this in the morning?”

some pessimistic part of you is telling you he’ll just brush it off in the morning—all the jealousy, the frustration. you don’t even think you can last staying mad at him for that long.

“what’s the problem with talking about it now?”

“i don’t want to talk about it now, could you just let it go for the night?”

both of your voices get higher and higher, just a hair’s breadth away from actual shouting. that’s when sae reels himself in, averting his gaze.

and there goes sae’s bad habit; grabbing his keys and walking out of your shared apartment, no umbrella even though it’s raining outside and he’ll get soaked just trying to walk to the car.

you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stay safe because you’re all out of energy tonight. everything has been sucked dry into your anxiety, and you’re spent. now what can you even do besides curl up on the couch, wondering if you’re too much?

when your phone lights up, you catch the wallpaper—a picture of sae looking off camera while he presses a kiss on your head.

it just makes you feel worse.

he’s tired. his efforts are spent. on soccer, not you. but still. it’s exhausting. couldn’t you have just waited for a few more fucking hours?

he’s tired. so fucking tired.

“hey.”

it’s a lame greeting, but that’s all he can manage right now. shidou’s in his doorway, a cock in his brow and a very annoyed look on his face.

“oi, i got a girl here—”

“don’t care, i’ll just crash on the couch,” sae cuts him off, trudging through the door and settling himself on the leather black couch, the familiarity sinking in. he used to live here with shidou before he got together with you after all.

shidou mumbles something like suit yourself before he leaves his old roommate be, mulling over the remains of his relationship with you.

sae opens his phone, the picture of you at the beach that he snapped glaring at him in this dim light. he swallows the lump in his throat—he doesn’t know how to feel. part of him knows that you feel like shit each time he does this; you’ve made it known over at least three different occasions now. but his head’s throbbing way too much and his muscles are way too sore and all he really wanted was just to come home to you, to the peacefulness he always loves.

is he really the asshole here?

a notification pops up on his phone an hour later. sae’s first train of thought is to wonder if it’s you. but it’s nothing important. it’s just oliver going over the next training’s details. the same old thing. but then sae looks up at the date and he curses inwardly.

it’s your second year anniversary. two years since you’d dated this fickle, troublesome guy.

sae’s head ducks between his palms, elbows resting on his thighs, as he considers the weight of his words.

this morning he woke up without even so much as a greeting for you; all he knew was he’d be late for practice if he didn’t leave in exactly five minutes. he’d rushed out the door and only responded to your morning greeting with a grunt. sae didn’t spare you any time for the rest of the day either, when you’d attempted to ask him out for dinner. he left you on read before ultimately tossing his phone to the side. when he came back home you’d given him a kiss and he barely reacted, too tired to give you anything even when you showed him the big dinner spread you’d cooked.

now he’s here—in an apartment at the other end of the city that’s no longer his while he left you alone in your shared apartment, leaving the argument unresolved and letting you stew in your own thoughts.

sae lets the time fly right by, staring at the ceiling while he contemplates everything. but the answer is plain and simple to him: you.

he’s tired and he’s hopelessly invested in soccer and he shouldn’t have time for anything else in his life but he wants you. he doesn’t know nearly half the right things to do in whatever situations, but the thought that he could really possibly lose you this time is enough to overwhelm him—sae grabs his car keys and leaves just as shidou and his girl leaves the room.

“oi, made up already?” he shouts after him through his front door.

sae rolls his eyes and ignores him; all he needed was some time to himself anyway. he’s glad shidou wasn’t there to poison his head with anything (or more like, he wasn’t there to convince him to drink his guts off).

ten minutes later he’s in his car and speeding back to the apartment, back to you. because no, it’s not too hard for him to assure you—it’s what he should have done. just because he’s used to being the center of dating rumours doesn’t mean you are. just because he knows it’s nothing doesn’t mean you don’t get insecure because of them.

after all, he remembers what he told you that night he asked you to be his. that he’ll make sure you’re happy. being happy all the time isn’t realistic, but at the very least, sae should’ve known better than to keep leaving you alone with your thoughts.

he speeds through the familiar city roads, however fast he’s going just doesn’t seem fast enough. but he still makes it safely back to your shared apartment within twenty minutes, and hopefully still fast enough to make sure you’re not completely disappointed in him.

it’s still raining and the living room lights are still on and he can faintly make out where you’re pacing the room through the blinds. sae feels like a creep staring at you from his car, but his heart’s pounding loudly in his ears and he can’t help but think he’s seen that sleek black car parked next to his somewhere before.

keys out the ignition, rain pattering lightly on his head, he gets out only to meet who he knows has been there for you since day one.

“done running already?” the hostility of your best friend irks him, but he can’t say he didn’t earn it. “that’s faster than i thought.”

“reo.”

your visitor rakes his hand through his purple hair, sighing and rolling his eyes. thanks to sae’s busy schedule, he hasn’t really had time to hang out with any of your friends, and probably hence their usual animosity towards him. though, well, nagi seems to be more indifferent than anything.

“if you’re here to break up with her, don’t worry, i’ll take care of her,” reo tells him, an air of indifference surrounding him. three guesses who you go to whenever you feel upset about your relationship.

sae clenches his fists, reminding himself that reo’s your best friend and punching him would do more harm than good. “i won’t,” is all sae says before he pushes past him, already done with whatever this conversation is.

reo scoffs, “for a guy who loves her, you do a shit job of showing it.”

and although sae shuts the lobby doors right after, reo’s words stay ingrained in his head. it’s not like sae doesn’t know it, but fuck if he knows what to do about it. but when he opens the front door and is greeted by the sight of your red puffy eyes, he forgets everything. forgets the frustration and the anger and the stupid excuses in his head—they’re all secondary when it comes to you anyway.

his feet take him straight to you, pulling you against his chest and holding you tight.

“i’m sorry,” he says, and that’s the easiest it’s ever come out.

from your lack of response, sae finds himself hoping for the best, hoping that he didn’t just lose you because of his stupid impulses. but then he feels your arms wrap around his waist and he hears himself breathing a sigh of relief.

“you’re an ass, you know that?” you sniffle, and it’s kind of hard to breathe when he’s pressing against you that much but you’re more relieved than anything that you don’t really care.

sae chuckles, weakly, the tension leaving his shoulders. “i know.” he can feel you pouting without even having to look at you.

“i should really leave you,” you whine, though your actions betray your words, holding him even tighter.

“then why do you put up with me?” it’s a funny thing, how he can be afraid to lose you yet he can tell that you’re not someone who gives up so easily.

that’s exactly why he has to prove that you didn’t choose the wrong person to be with.

“i guess i’m just stupid too.”

you’re not. sae’s going to make sure no one else thinks you’re stupid for staying with him. it’s enough having your best friend think that, but that’s fine, sae’ll prove him wrong soon enough. it sucks that he’s only good for soccer, but at the rate you’re going? you’ll teach him how to be a good boyfriend. he’s two years in and learning slowly but he’ll get there.

you’re the only one who can get him there.

“no,” sae says, all of a sudden, and you pull away, confused.

“no what?”

“what you asked earlier… it isn’t too hard. i’ll work on it.”

oh, must be right before he left, when you’d asked if it was hard for him to just assure you sometimes. to be honest, you didn’t think he’d even listened. but sae is sae and he’s stubborn and stupid and a little bit of an ass, but he still listens to everything you say.

you try not to break out into a smile—you don’t want to show him how whipped you really are. “i’ll hold you to your word, then.”

sae smiles, ruffling the top of your head before slowly pulling you in again. “so… don’t leave me, okay?”

it sinks in what he’s saying. you didn’t think you’d ever hear sae say those kinds of words. but it’s unfair, really, because how can you say no when he’s like this?

“you already know i won’t.”

and somehow, you’re right. sae knows you won’t. doesn’t mean he’ll get caught lacking though.

“good then.”

because he plans on keeping you forever.

[fangswbenefits]

Double-edged Sword

Summary: Miguel knows he has to let you go before you can be his. But it’s not that simple. Especially when you keep on testing his limits…

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 2.2k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. F*ngering.

Part 1 (if you're just starting out) - Previous part

By the time Miguel rose from his slumber, he was met with a pair of curious eyes glaring at him.

"You snore."

A sleepy yawn worked its way out of his throat as he lifted his wrist to assess the time. It was still fairly early in the morning, and he allowed himself to relax against your soft pillows.

You were on your side, both hands tucked under your head, and your trademark sweet smile curling your lips.

"Did you sleep well?"

Miguel nodded, mustering the will to sit up against the bed rest. He soon realised he had fallen asleep on top of the comforter with just a blanket covering him, whereas you were nicely tucked inside your bedsheets.

A distinct barrier between you two.

He looked down at you through sleepy eyes, wishing he could plant a soft kiss to your temple.

You looked so peaceful and it brought a sense of calmness to him as well.

"I was thinking of meeting Tom today.." you began, as you flopped onto your back. "Think you can get someone to cover for me? Just for a while?"

And just like that, Miguel's stomach turned uncomfortably. "Today? Already?"

Your head turned to him. "Why? Do you think I should wait? Do we have something important today?"

"Maybe you should wait a little longer," he said with a sigh. "Take some time to figure out the best approach."

"I've been waiting for months... I just... I really need this," you whispered, now facing away from him.

In reality, Miguel knew there wasn't much he could say to deter you from this. He couldn't really blame you from wanting to set things right with someone who meant so much to you.

He would have given everything to be able to get that opportunity with Gabriella.

However, the less rational side of him was seething with jealousy. After all, you had revealed you had feelings for him.

But what truly fueled his escalating jealousy was what had happened last night. The kiss, him touching himself in front of you, and you touching yourself in front of him. Intimacy had engulfed you both so unexpectedly, that he wondered if it had been a mistake.

He dreaded that thought, so he promptly pushed it away.

"Sure. Take your time."

You then shifted to sit next to him, your shirt briefly clinging to your breasts, letting him know you were braless.

Of course.

He groaned inwardly at the sight of the small protuberances on each nipple.

And you caught him staring, arching a brow in amusement. "Want to see them again?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. The last thing he needed now was a raging boner.

But it seemed that you were hellbent on torturing him, so when you got on your knees, briefly crawling to him, and finally settling on his lap, he knew he was fucked.

You were wearing nothing but a shirt and sleeping shorts, and when you looped your arms around his neck, he instinctively closed his eyes, bracing himself for yet another erection.

He had expected you to lean in for a kiss, but you remained still, eyeing him with utmost interest.

"This place can be so isolating," you sighed.

Miguel gripped your hips, adjusting you back to prevent having you seating on his crotch.

"Nueva York is overflowing with spiders, yet you still feel so lonely, you know?"

He did know.

It was lonely at the top.

While many spiders had relationships of their own and managed to build their lives around them, Miguel had nearly forgotten how used to being alone he had gotten.

"So you feel lonely here?"

You seemed unsure. "I have you to keep me company, though I figure that doesn't really count. you were forced to babysit me when I forgot got here."

"I wasn't forced to do anything," he corrected, slightly frowning. "I saw the potential in you and wanted to harness that."

Your fingers were absentmindedly caressing the nape of his neck. "I feel really comfortable around you."

That caught him slightly off guard.

"I never thought I'd be able to reveal that secret to anyone... you whispered, shifting to sit on his growing erection. "And last night.."

The not knowing was killing him. On one hand, he was scared to find out that it had been nothing but a hear of the moment thing, but he yearned for more than that... and that part of him needed to kn more.

"Was is because of loneliness, then?"

You pressed your lips tightly together.

"Well, I suppose loneliness gets the best of us, eventually," he sighed, trying his best to seem as casual as possible. "Sometimes, using your hand just doesn't quite do it."

At this, you widened your eyes, before averting your gaze. "It wasn't because I felt lonely... I... I just... you're really attractive and.."

Miguel decided that was enough.

He brought his hand to the back of hour neck and pulled you closer until your lips grazed along his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You swallowed, pressing yourself down on him. "Do you always get this.. excited so easily?"

He gripped your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to have your eyes meet his. "Only for you."

It was a simple confession mixed with desire, but it was enough to startle you.

Fuck.

You leaned back as if snapped from a daydream. "Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Miguel took a deep breath. "I mean that, and you can feel it," he proved his point with a roll of his hips.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open.

His sweet girl was so, so responsive...

Instinctively, you tried to match the sway of his hips, but it felt clumsy and Miguel brought both hands to your hips, gripping them tightly.

Your breaths were coming out shaky as he guided you on his clothed cock, guiding you on how to move your body alongside his.

"Does that feel good?" he asked seductively.

"Yes..." you gasped. "I... I'm.."

Miguel felt the first beads of precum drip from his tip. "You're what?"

Your hands came to grip his shoulders, and you took a deep breath before one of them slid down to your

body.

Miguel immediately knew what you meant, but he intended on having things go differently this time.

" can do that for you... he offered, gripping your wrist gently, as your fingers prepared to slide inside your shorts.

You bit your lip, eyes still squeezed shut. "You have to...”

"I want to," he said firmly.

Nodding, you brought your hand up to his shoulder again, and he took the chance to gently slip his fingers past the waistband.

You immediately shuddered and leaned to rest your face against his neck.

He trailed down carefully and his cock twitched once he reached your clit.

"Is this okay?"

You moaned in response, wrapping your arms around him.

Your clit was already swollen and Miguel felt his fangs threatening to drop once he began to slowly roll the pad of his finger around it.

It didn't take long until he felt your wetness seeping through the layers of fabric and staining his suit.

"Please... Miguel..." you groaned, now jerking your hips against his touch.

He began to drag your wetness along your folds to coat your clit with it. You were soaked for him, your body already working on preparing you to take his COCk.

But he would have to be gentle.

He would have you riding his fingers first.

"Please what, sweet girl?" he cooed, planting a kiss to your temple."

You answered by trying to have his finger slide down to your entrance.

So eager...

"Can you take one finger?"

You halted your hips and took a few seconds to nod.

"I can take it..."

He could cum just from your shaky voice and how much you craved him.

As one finger reached your opening, he felt you tense up lightly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, tracing the sensitive spot. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't stop..."

He pressed yet another kiss on your flushed skin, and slipped the tip of one finger inside, feeling you immediately squeeze around him.

Miguel realised that if he were to be your first, he would be utterly fucked. The way you gripped his fingers with your walls nearly tipped him over the edge. He couldn't imagine how ridiculously good it'd feel to have his cock inside you instead.

"Try to relax.."

And you did try.

Until his thumb pressed down on your clit.

Your hips immediately bucked into him, encasing his finger inside you until he was buried knuckle-deep.

"Easy..." he growled, his fangs emerging right away from the overload of sensation.

He doubted you'd be able to take another thick finger of his, so he settled for having just one sliding in and out, drawing the sweetest gasps from you.

"You're doing so well.." he praised.

You rolled your hips instinctively, fucking yourself on his finger as best as inexperience allowed you.

"Take... take your... suit..." you pleaded, clawing at his chest with one hand.

The digital layer vanished down to his waist. He didn't want set his cock free or he would cum in an instant.

Then, he saw you roll up your shirt with trembling fingers, exposing your breasts.

He nearly came rigth there and then.

But nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to do.

You desperately brought your pierced nipples to graze against his bare chest, slowly raising your before sinking down around his finger.

Miguel was now certain that you would be the death of him.

He felt your wetness dribbling down his hand, but kept a steady pressure on your pulsing clit. With each undulation of your body, he was able to feel the cool metal of your piercings digging into his skin, and couldn't fight back the growl that emerged from deep within him.

As expected, he was embarrassingly close, and needed to do something about it.

"Lift your hips."

You groaned in response, stilling for a moment.

"Wait….. why?"

"I'm close.."

You slowly clenched around his finger, and his hand came to grip your hip tight.

"Too close..

The beginning of a pout settled on your face, but you did as requested, finally putting a stop to the near excruciating pleasure he was feeling.

Now he could focus on you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to anchor your with each flick of his finger and with each sway of your hips.

"Are you okay?"

You didn't answer, but he could tell from your erratic breathing that you were nearing your peak. Your whimpers increased in intensity, as you clumsily rode his finger, chasing after your bliss.

The sound of his watch beeping broke the rhythm for a second, but Miguel ignored it.

As long as no canon event was involve, he wouldn't shift his attention from you.

It beeped again.

But you were so close.

"I... I think I'm.."

He didn't need your words, your body language spoke to him in ways he didn't know he craved.

The movement you started convulsing against him and tightening your grip around his neck, he knew you were coming undone. Your walls clenched around his finger as the orgasm tore through your body.

Another beep, which Miguel ignored again.

Miguel allowed himself to enjoy your tightness, realising you would need far more preparation than this if you were to take his cock.

Your legs were shaking slightly, as he kept pressing the pad of his thumb against your pulsing clit.

But what really made his cock twitch was the way you kept mumbling his name in between sobs, eventually slumping against his chest.

He slowly withdrew his finger, earning a deep sigh from you.

<CANON EVENT IMMINENT: ANOMALY DETECTED>

Miguel's heart nearly burst out of his chest from the unexpected announcement, and you jolted into him, still descending from your peak.

Instant bones killer.

Much against his will, he brought himself to suit up and carefully set you aside on your bed with a kiss pressed to your forehead, before jumping to his feet, quickly clicking through his watch.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled hurriedly, glazing at you as he neared the bedroom window.

You were a panting mess, but quickly tried to gather yourself. "Don't apologise. Just go."

He hopped onto the window sill and took a deep breath, throwing you a final glance. "TIl find you once I'm done."

"You don't have to... I have to do this on my own."

He nodded. "Don't deactivate your mic."

Your straightened your shirt before sitting on mattress. "Miguel... it'll be fine."

"Do as I say."

You eventually nodded.

He hated having to part from you, but his duty came first, and he couldn't step away from it.

Not even for his sweet girl.

"Lyla, summon squad 12, and give me the readings on the anomaly."

Before swinging into the cool morning air of Nueva York, Miguel saw you crossing your legs and stare at him with those sweet eyes that he was so addicted to.

But he would be there for you again.

He would find you.

And he would make sure your devotion would he his.

Not Tom's.

Once Miguel was done with the canon disruption, he threw himself into a portal to get to you.

Your mic wasn't working, and your bio readings weren't available, and he could only assume you had switched off your watch.

Luckily, he had checked Tom's file before deleting it as you had requested.

He knew exactly where to go.

The sun had began to set on the horizon, engulfing the city in shades of orange that helped mask his movements across the innumerous rooftops. He refrained from using his web often, as the laser-like flashes would draw too much attention.

So he took it to jumping and clawing his way up the steep walls of the building opposite to where he lived on all fours, already being able to pick up some interference coming from your mic.

You were close.

"... you want me to leave."

Miguel reached the metal railing of an emergency exit, and balanced himself on it, feeling his heart stammering against his chest.

"You're so good at that, so go ahead."

From there, he was able to spot you in his apartments, near a window. He caugjt a glimpse of Tom and immediately decided he hated him.

He was scowling deeply at you, arms crossed, and words sharp as knives.

How dare he?

His claws were digging into the railing, and Miguel felt droplets of venom spill from his fangs.

This Tom individual wasn't even attractive to begin with, so he figured your previous attraction to him had to based on something else.

"You hurt me! You cannot do this and expect me to pretend nothing happened."

Clearly not based on personality.

Your voice was so low, Miguel was barely able to make it through the mic. "Tom... it was also hard for me..."

Miguel was visibly seething at this pint, wishing he could just drag you out of there. You deserved better than someome who didn't bother listening to you.

"Please leave."

There was a long pause and Miguel held his breath, not wanting to miss out on your reply.

"Don't do this..." you whispered, and he could hear the sadness in your words.

It was itching him to put an end to it.

But...

Deep down, Miguel knew you needed this. Closure. Even if things didn't go as you had hoped, you had tried your best to remedy this situation.

His heart hadn't wanted you to go visit Tom, but his mind spoke differently. He had to let you go to him, to have you as his.

A double-edged sword.

"You left me for months. Ignored me for months. You don't get to do this without a decent explanation," the idiot went on, further angering Miguel. "And since you don't want to tell me the truth, I want you gone."

This time, you cleared your throat and stormed out of the room, not exchanging another word.

Miguel considered dealing with Tom in his own way, but you came first.

He plunged from the rooftop and into a deserted alley, pacing quickly to meet you as you exited through the door, zipping up the hoodie that hid your suit underneath.

Miguel called after you, but you didn't turn to face him.

"I don't want to talk, Miguel."

Not wanting to be spotted by some passer-by, he urged you to walk into another alley.

"I heard some of it," he said softly once you were both out of sight.

You pressed your back against the wall, looking absolutely defeated. It was almost criminal that someone like you had to ever feel this way.

"You did what you could," he went on, placing one hand on your shoulder. "Maybe one day he'll understand."

Miguel didn't want him to be near you ever again, but he had to comfort you somehow.

You lowered your gaze and fixed it on a small puddle of water at your feet. "I deserve this."

"You do not."

"I don't want your pity."

He shook his head. "You won't have it."

In fact, he was willing to give you his heart if you'd take it. But he wouldn't dare say that out loud. Not in this moment.

He waited for your to make a move, but you remained quiet.

"Let's go back to Nueva York," he suggested, placing one hand on your shoulder.

You sobbed softly, and he saw a couple of teardrops drip from your face.

He just couldn't bear seeing you like this, so he took a step closer and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

"Thank you... thank you, thank you..." you kept on repeating in between sniffles.

He held you tightly in absolute adoration and devotion. "I'm here for you."

"You're a great friend, Miguel..."

Friend.

That word made his heart sink violently.

"Just as a friend?"

There it was... his obsession for you creeping in.

You pulled away from his grip, teary eyes narrowing at him. "Oh... with benefits?"

That was somehow even worse.

Your face twisted into something else as you patted your face dry. "What do you want from me, Miguel?"

Anything.

Everything.

"Anything you're willing to give me," he said truthfully.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so straightforward, but he was merely answering your question. He didn't want to lie, and didn't want to go back to having to hide how he truly felt.

"I don't know if I can give you much more than this."

Your words lingered in the air after hitting him hard and he felt as though his body had been plunged into freezing water.

"Why?"

Your gaze wavered and you began chewing your lip. "Because I don't know if I'm ready for anything serious..."

Miguel straightened to his full height. "Anything you can give me... I'll take it."

He sounded desperate, and deep down he knew that it was probably working against him. Being intimate with you only could only satisfy him for so long if nothing was to come of it.

As much as his body yearned for you touch, his heart was seeking something that wasn’t skin-deep.

"Can I ask for something?"

Anything.

Everything.

He would give it all to you.

You cleared your throat. "I need time."

He could definitely work with that.

However...

"Do you... like being with me?" Miguel carefully asked. "And I'm not talking about being with me like earlier today." Your fluttering orgasm was proof enough.

Your eyes widened and he could tell you had not expected his bluntness. "Of course I do... I... just need time."

He pressed his lips together into a fine line. In truth, he didn't want to be just friends with you. He didn't crave that level of human connection. He needed much more than that from you.

"You only want me as a friend."

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded more like an accusation.

Was he being fair with you? Was he being fair with himself? These questions kept on looping inside his head, but his emotions had a stronger hold on him.

"I trust you," you said in a whisper. "I don't trust people easily."

That did ease some of the uneasiness within him, but he still wanted more. The grip of his obsession for you was tightening around him viciously, and it was getting harder for him to keep it at bay.

"Maybe I want more than that."

"Miguel..."

He leaned in, bending his head just enough for his lips to almost meet yours, searching for the comfort of your warmth.

He could feel you slipping through his fingers again.

You turned your head lightly and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek instead.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the dreadful feeling that you were parting from him suddenly overcame him.

"Maybe you should go back..." you said after parting from him. "I'll stay here for a little while..."

"Because of Tom?" he could feel the poison dripping from his words.

You shook your head vehemently. "Because of me."

Part 7

Masterlist

[stevie-petey]

episode four: the sauna test

Steve pushes at Dustin’s feet to help him move further, but he’s quickly berated. “Not my feet, dumbass. Push my ass!” “What?” You and Steve exclaim at the same time.  “Touch my butt, I don’t care!” Dustin’s screeching voice is muffled from the walls of the vent. Looking at you one last time, Steve sighs heavily and places his hands on your brother’s butt and starts to shove him deeper into the air duct. He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, shoving the butt of the brother of the girl he’s in love with. You stand next to Robin, mortified of what you’re currently witnessing, endlessly ashamed of the two boys. 

Summary: dustin has some brotherly concern for you (dont tell anyone though), steve is offended you dont think he can fight, nancy gets upset during therapy hour, robin encourages child endangerment, erica becomes your hero, and you lose your lunch on hawkins makeshift tower of terror (aka sketchy russian elevators)

Rating: general, swearing

Warnings: swearing, use of y/n, fem!reader

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello my loves ! had a busy may wrapping up finals, move out, and adjusting back to life at home. i finally had the time to write this, and while im still iffy with some parts, im just excited to finally be at the elevator scene tbh. ive been DYING to write her. enjoy !!

-

Dustin stands outside your room the next morning, fist hovering over the door, unsure if he should knock. It’s early and he can’t get the panic he saw in your eyes last night out of his head. He hasn’t seen you that consumed with anxiety since you guys were kids and your parents began to fight. 

He feels horrible for putting you in that position last night, at odds with him, Robin, and Steve. 

Especially Steve. 

Dustin hadn’t meant to start a fight between you and the teen. Contrary to popular belief, he actually does want the two of you together, but now he’s worried he’s somehow caused a rift in your relationship.

Sighing, your brother allows his knuckles to rap against your door. When he doesn’t hear anything, he slowly opens it and pokes his head in. You’re asleep in your bed, blankets strewn everywhere, and Dustin knows he’s fucked up because you almost never sleep in this late. 

Now he’s worried he’s going to have to force you into a code blue.

Dustin lets himself into your room and stands before your bed. Then, because he’s your brother and finds it hard to express his worries for you in a normal way, he pokes your cheek with his finger. “Wake up.”

You stir at the touch but remain asleep. Dustin groans and starts repeatedly poking you. “Dude, get up.” He now starts poking your nose, your forehead and eyebrows, anywhere his finger can reach.

Finally the onslaught of pokes to your face is enough to wake you up. You raise your hand and slap Dustin away as you scrunch your face in displeasure. “Why do you always insist on waking me up this way?”

“It’s fun for me.”

You slap at your brother again and take a moment to stretch. Your body is exhausted, you got home late last night after your drive with Jonathan. Once the two of you had been done discussing your relationship problems, you both decided to just drive around Hawkins and simmer in your limited time together. For those few hours, only the two of you existed.

Yawning, you blink your eyes open at Dustin. “Is there a reason you’re waking me up before my alarm is supposed to go off?”

Dustin’s smug smile falls. He coughs and starts to fidget with his fingers. “Oh, I was just–well. Last night… Do you wanna talk about it?”

The implications of your brother’s words cause you to fully wake up. “Is this your poor attempt at commencing a code blue?”

“Well, do we need a code blue?”

You roll over and throw your blankets over your head, blocking out the world. “I already talked about my feelings last night with Jonathan, please give me at least twenty-four hours to recover.”

Dustin flicks your ear that pokes out from under the blankets at the mention of Jonathan. “Why were you with that guy last night?”

“Stop touching my face!” You yell at the kid, annoyed. “And because he’s my best friend. We both had shitty nights so we drove around and cried together.”

Your brother pauses. “Did you actually cry together?”

“No,” you now uncover your face and sigh. “Only I cried, but it was therapeutic nonetheless.”

Dustin drops his head, remembering how upset you’d been standing in the hallway last night with the others. “I’m sorry about last night, Y/N.”

“Hey, no.” You sit up now and force him to look at you. “No apologizing. I understand.”

Your friends have all gone their separate ways this summer and I know you’re so fixated on the Russians because you’re lonely. I understand, and I’m here for you.

It goes unsaid, but Dustin knows that you have him all figured out, though it doesn’t ease the guilt he feels for dragging you into all of this in the first place. “You don’t have to join me at Scoops today, Y/N.”

“I know, but I will anyway after my shift.” I have to keep you safe.

“We both know you’re only going to make sure I don’t burn the place down.” You worry too much.

“Oh, don’t think I won’t call Steve once this conversation is done to make sure he keeps an eye on you.” I know, but it’s my job and I love you.

“You’re the worst.” I love you, too.

You ruffle Dustin’s hair with a fond smile. It’s an intricate thing, the hidden language that can only be found between siblings. All that goes unsaid becomes masked behind teasing and taunts, but you both hear what’s underneath. 

When Dustin leaves your room to go to the mall, you roll over in bed and reach for the phone that rests on top of your desk. Your fingers press the numbers that have become ingrained within your brain from countless nights of dialing. The line rings only one time before Steve’s tired voice answers. 

“Hello?”

You smile hearing his voice, despite the distance that seems to have now formed between you. “Hi, honey.”

There’s rustling on the other end of the line and you know Steve still lays in his own bed only ten minutes from your own. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” you quickly reassure him, wincing when you realize you don’t normally call him so early. “Sorry, I was just calling to ask if you’d keep an eye on Dustin today? With the Russians and everything, I have work today and can’t be there–”

“Of course I’ll keep an eye on your brother, Y/N.” Steve gently interrupts your anxious rambling. 

“Thank you,” you say softly with a laugh, embarrassed. 

“Are we…” Steve hesitates, unsure how to find the right words. “Are we okay? I know things were–uh, weird. Last night. And that I was a dick and I just, I’m really sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

You close your eyes and exhale slowly, knowing that there’s more that Steve wants to say but is too afraid to tell you. Too ashamed to say that he’s embarrassed as well for allowing his pride to cloud his judgment, and you’re too exhausted to try and remind him again that you love him despite it all. “We’re okay, Steve. I promise.”

He takes a moment to respond, he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s never been good at this. Finally, he settles on what he’s able to give you. It seems that’s all he’s been able to do lately. “I’ll miss you today, angel.”

“I’ll miss you too, honey.” The name slips from your tongue in a languid manner, the warmth that accompanies the word still wraps itself around your body and reminds you of the love you feel for the boy. You hope he can feel the warmth too, you hope it descends down the landline and wraps around him as well. “I’ll see you after work.”

– 

Your day only gets worse from there.

After only an hour or so of sadly sorting through books at work without a customer in sight, you hear a frail scream come from Mrs. Waters’ office. You run towards the woman in a heartbeat, panic stricken and afraid of what you’ll find. 

Mrs. Waters is sitting tiredly in her office with her head in her hands when you run in. The usually upbeat woman is hunched over with despair and you’re quick to rush over to her with worry. “Mrs. Waters, is everything okay?”

She rubs at her temples and it’s then that you realize her telephone is in her hand. Without bothering to look, she clumsily places it back on the wall and looks up at you with sad, tired eyes. “I’m fine, dear. I–I just had a fright, that’s all.”

“What happened?” You pull a chair to sit next to the woman and grab her wrinkled, yet soft, hands. 

“Oh, I’m old.” Mrs. Waters smiles at you sadly. There are tears in her eyes as she takes a deep breath to try and steady her nerves. “My, you would think I’d be used to phone calls from the hospital.”

“The hospital?” 

Hearing the panic in your voice, your boss grabs the hands you have placed on top of her’s and squeezes with reassurance. “It wasn’t for me, dear.”

You’re still anxious for the woman in front of you. “Who then?”

“They called me for an old friend,” Mrs. Waters clutches at her chest with a certain fear that you’ve never seen within the woman. “She’s in the hospital because some young journalist found her eating fertilizer in her home last night. She’s always been… troubled.”

You gasp and pull away from your boss and your mind reels with this new information. Jonathan’s voice echoes within the walls of your mind, of his story of the woman he and Nancy had found last night after investigating the rats. 

Mrs. Waters frowns at your unexpected reaction and notices the fear on your face. “Dear, I’m sure my friend will be alright–”

“What…” your voice shakes, and you clear your throat. “What’s your friend’s name, Mrs. Waters?”

The old woman sighs, sensing there’s something more to your worry, but her heart hurts for her friend and she’s seen more in her almost seventy years than she’s ever wanted to. “Her name is Doris Driscoll.”

–

You’re sent home early after your conversation with Mrs. Waters. She had been too worried for her friend and saw how shaken up by it you seemed to be as well, so she patted your arm and dismissed you. 

“There’s no point keeping the store open today, Y/N. Go home to that cute boy of yours while I go visit an old friend.”

You had tried arguing with her, but even you knew it was no use. 

Biking to Starcourt, now more than ever worried about your job, you feel your birthday looming over you and the worries of Nancy’s involvement with rats and old women eating fertilizer mixed with Jonathan’s fears. 

This was supposed to be a good summer. 

Your head spins as you walk into the backdoor of Scoops Ahoy, finding Robin, Steve, and Dustin all circled around the table as they discuss how to enter the Russian storage room. 

“What? I sneak up behind, knock him out, and I take his keycard.” Steve is explaining when you walk in. He has his leg propped against the seat next to him as he twirls his sailor’s hat in his hand. “It’s easy.”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?” Dustin blinks at the teen, having little faith in his confidence.

You make your way towards the group and lift Steve’s propped leg up so that you can sit before placing the leg across your lap. Feeling your touch, he looks up with surprise to see you, having expected your shift to end later in the day. “Y/N?”

“You’re not going near any Russian men with guns, Steve.” You say to him in lieu of a greeting.

Steve deflates in his seat. “That’s why I’d be sneaking.”

Dustin shares a look with you, the two of you remembering all the times Steve has tried, and failed, to win a fight. Clearing his throat, your brother crosses his arms and winks at you before turning to the teen. “Alright, please tell us this, and be honest. Have you ever actually… won a fight?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, that was one time–”

“Twice, honey.” You interrupt him with a smile, enjoying this conversation maybe a little too much. “Jonathan, remember him?”

“Listen, that doesn’t count.”

“Oh, but it does.” You pinch Steve’s shin. “He kicked your ass, I was there.”

He winces and moves his legs off of you. “He didn’t kick my ass–”

“You got a fat lip, crooked nose, swollen eye.” Dustin adds on, leaning against your chair now as the two of you gang up on Steve. 

“He even pinned you at one point. I distinctly remember thinking he was going to kill you.” You say, smirking.

Steve scoffs. “Oh, you did not have any concern for me then–”

You hit his shoulder. “Yes I did! I’ve always been worried about you–”

“Can you guys not make everything about your weird relationship for like, three seconds, please?” Dustin whines as you and Steve start to bicker about something else entirely.

As the three of you argue, Robin seems to get an idea and runs out of the room. Noticing her sudden absence, you turn to Steve and frown. “What’s Robin up to?”

He stands up and sees her snatching money from the tip jar before running off. Steve calls after her, but she doesn’t slow down as she runs out of the shop. “What are you doing?”

“I need cash!” She says, as if that explains everything.

“Isn’t half of the tip money Steve’s?” You ask, now standing next to him by the register alongside Dustin.

“I’ll pay your boyfriend back later, Y/N.” Robin continues to walk towards the shop’s exit. “I’m going to find us a way into that room, a safe way, just like I promised you.”

You’re oddly touched that she remembered your insistence on keeping everyone safe. With a smile, you call across to her, “thank you!”

Robin blushes and forces herself to look away from you so that she can direct her attention to Steve. “In the meantime, sling ice cream, behave, and don’t get beat up. I’ll be back in a jiff!” 

As you and Steve watch Robin leave, the two of you turn and catch Dustin licking at one of the ice cream scoops. You whack him with the back of your hand and cringe at him. “Dude, what the hell?”

Dustin flinches away from you as Steve snatches the scoop from the boy with his own disgusted look. “Not my scooper, man.”

“Why are you like this?” You ask your brother with disappointment in your voice, to which he huffs at. 

“I’m a curious person.” You scoff at Dustin and he rolls his eyes at you before making his way out from behind the ice cream counter. “If I’m going to be judged, then I’m going to the arcade while we wait for whatever Robin has planned.”

He’s gone without another word, leaving you alone with Steve.

It’s still early in the day and there’s only a few customers in Scoops Ahoy, so it’s just you and Steve. It’s the first time you’ve been alone together since last night, when you’d been standing in front of him, begging him to listen to you, and all he could do was watch you silently with pain in his own eyes. 

As if coming to this realization himself, Steve coughs and rocks back and forth awkwardly. He knows you told him this morning that everything was okay between you two, but things still feel off. Despite your best efforts, he can tell that you’re still struggling to seem okay with the whole Russian debacle. You’re still frail looking, unsure and anxious, and Steve hates that he’s the reason why. 

Hesitantly, he reaches for your hand. “Care to, uh. Join me in the backroom?”

You raise your eyebrows at his question. “Are you propositioning me, Harrington?”

“No!” His eyes widen in fear and his voice squeaks, which only embarasses him more. He clears his throat and tries to swallow down his dread. “I mean, not like that. I figured we could, you know… talk.”

Now it’s your turn to fill with dread. He’s seen through you, despite your best efforts to try and appease everyone. Squeezing his hand, you nod at Steve and allow him to guide you into the backroom. 

Steve pulls a chair out from the table and sits down, and before you can process what’s happening, he pulls you down and into his lap. You throw your arms around his neck to steady yourself at the sudden movement, which only makes Steve’s proud smile widen. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

“Sure did, angel.”

You laugh and shake your head at him, tightening your arms around his neck and settling into his lap. He rests his hands on your thighs and stares at you with such warmth, such patience, content to simply have you here with him. Despite the uncertainty that seems to now loom over the two of you, there’s still a certainty within it. There’s still a trust that accompanies the hesitancy, and it’s this trust that caresses your cheek and coaxes you to speak. 

“I don’t like what we’re doing, Steve.” You confess to him, making your words as plain as possible so that nothing gets misconstrued; too often your words have gotten lost in translation.

Steve nods slightly, his eyes never leave yours, and he listens. “I get that, I do, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad about standing your ground. It’s just… I wanted to go along with Dustin, pretend for a few days that I’m not some moron who couldn’t get into college, you know?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you fix a piece of Steve’s hair that has fallen out of his sailor’s hat and sigh. “But there’s more to this than just my stupid need to protect everyone.”

“Did something else happen?” 

You hesitate, unsure if what’s been on your mind holds any real weight, or if you’re just being paranoid now after everything you’ve been through these last few years. Biting your lip, you decide that it’s Steve you’re telling this to. Paranoid or not, he’ll listen and try to help you piece it all together as well. He always does. “A few days ago I saw Billy stumbling on the side of the road. He was… bleeding.”

Steve’s eyes harden at the teen’s name and instinctively his grip on you tightens. “Did he do anything to you?”

“No,” you breathe out sharply, remembering how disoriented Billy had been. He was in no condition to cause you any harm, which in itself frightened you. “There was something off about him, Steve. I–I can’t explain it, but a day before I saw Billy, I had been with Will and he was almost similar to Billy, I guess? He just–he was frozen, staring off into space, until I got his attention again.”

“Why do I feel like there’s something else you’re not telling me?”

You sigh. “Because there is. There’s always something else in the fucking town.” Anger begins to rise within you and you force yourself to swallow it down. Now isn’t the time for the anger that always simmers just below the surface, waiting. “I talked to Jonathan last night. He’s been with Nancy investigating rabid rats and an old woman who was caught eating her fertilizer.”

“Christ,” Steve exhales with bewilderment.

“And now Russians in Hawkins? What are the odds of this all happening within the same week?”

“Do you…” Looking around, Steve lowers his voice. “Do you think it’s happening again?”

“I don’t think so, El told us she closed the gate, but… I can’t explain any of this, either.” You feel helpless, and you hate it. There’s something you’re missing, there’s something connecting it all, and yet you’re going in circles. 

It all can’t just be a coincidence, and it’s a horrible, maddening feeling. 

And Steve tries to absolve you from it. “We’ll figure it out, together. You and me, even if you want to kill me by the time we’re done, I promise you that I’ll help you–” The phone starts to ring, cutting Steve off, and he sighs. Patting your thighs, he silently asks you to get up so that he can answer it.

Lazily walking over to the ringing phone, Steve picks it up with slight annoyance. “Scoops Ahoy, this is Steve.” There’s a feminine voice on the other line, which he frowns at, before handing the phone to you. “It’s for you?”

Surprised, you stand up and take the phone, unsure who would be calling for you at the ice cream shop. “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s me. Um, hi.” 

“Nancy?”

“I–uh, I called your job and this older lady told me you’d be at Scoops Ahoy? I needed someone to talk to, and I–I just,” She clears her throat, and it’s only now that you notice the exhaustion in her voice and how thick it sounds from dried up tears. “You know what? This is weird, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry–”

“Hey, no.” You fumble with the telephone cord and desperately wish you were with Nancy right now. After what Jonathan told you last night, you feel horrible for the girl, and from the sound of it, she needs someone there for her right now. “Talk to me, Nance. What happened?”

You hear her inhale a shaky breath, always the first to try and disguise any upset and hurt she may be feeling for the sake of others. She takes another deep breath, exhales slowly, and then begins to talk. “Jonathan and I had a fight.”

She tells you everything, from Mrs. Driscoll and the rats to Tom firing them for falsely identifying as reporters. It’s everything Jonathan told you last night, all his worst fears come true, except Nancy also tells you what he told her this morning. How condescending he had been, how he had reminded her of how poor he is, how he belittled her need to figure everything out herself. 

“He kept defending all those assholes, Y/N.” More tears lace within Nancy’s voice. “He wouldn’t listen to me. He just kept repeating over and over again about how he needed the job, as if it wasn’t the single more humiliating thing I’ve ever had to endure.”

There’s so much you want to say, but you’re afraid it will only come out wrong. “I can’t imagine what you had to go through, Nance. I know those men were horrible to you, but you understand where Jonathan is coming from, right?”

“I mean, I thought I did, but,” she sniffs, her voice is soft and defeated. “I’m not so sure anymore. It feels like we can’t understand each other, like we’re physically incapable of seeing eye to eye. I know he has to provide for his family, I–I love that he takes care of them, that he always does what’s right, and yet it infuriates me sometimes.”

You can’t help but chuckle at what Nancy has said. She sounds so much like Jonathan in this moment, reminiscent of him telling you that her ambition is what he loves about her, and here she is saying his integrity is what she loves about him. “God, you two and your pride; you sound just like Jonathan. He said practically the same thing about you last night–”

“Jonathan talked to you about this?” Nancy’s voice becomes cold, defensive, and you know you’ve just said the wrong thing.

“Well, I mean,” you frantically try to alleviate the situation. “He only wanted advice, that’s all.”

Nancy scoffs, and you feel your heart drop. “So he can tell you all about how he feels, but bottles it up when it comes to his girlfriend?”

Well, fuck. 

“He was scared and overwhelmed.” You try to keep your voice neutral, not wanting the girl to assume you’re on anyone’s side. “It’s a difficult situation, and he came to me for help just like you are right now.”

Jealousy claws at Nancy suddenly, it clashes against the hurt within her. Jonathan went to you, as he’s always done, he sought solace in you for the emotions within him that he still has yet to share with her. It reminds her, then, just how little she knows about him still. How many years stretch between you and Nancy when it comes to Jonathan. 

“I’m sure you know all about how he feels,” she says bitterly, unable to stop herself. “The two of you understand one another.”

You sense that there’s something important with what she’s just said. The words were said with a history behind them, an insecurity that you cannot compensate for, and you feel defenseless against Nancy. “He was hurt, and so are you–”

“God, I should’ve known you’d take his side! I mean, you two always do this. I’m such an idiot.”

Panic begins to surround you. “Nancy, I’m not taking anyone’s side, just please listen to me–”

The line goes dead as Nancy hangs up. 

Numb, you place the phone back on the wall and stare blankly at it. The pressure of tears presses against your eyes and you try to steady your breathing. You’ve hurt Nancy, you’ve caused a rift between you that threatens to collapse into a chasm, and you don’t know what to do.

Steve sees that you’re fighting back tears and he tugs you against his chest. His embrace soothes you, but when he asks what happened, all you can do is shake your head, too overwhelmed to speak. There’s too much to explain, a history between you and Jonathan that you know Steve accepts, and yet now you’re terrified you’ll somehow hurt him like you’ve hurt Nancy. 

“I’m sorry, angel.”

Neither of you are sure what Steve is apologizing for, but it’s enough for now. 

So much for an easy summer.

– 

“It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder’s Office.” Robin places a giant sheet of paper onto the table. On it are lines and shapes all drawn in blue with an intricate layout. You lean in close to inspect it as Robin continues explaining. “Starcourt Mall, the complete blueprints.” 

Dustin praises her idea and you hesitantly agree; you would’ve never thought of asking for the mall’s blueprints. “You’ve got my attention.”

She smiles and starts to explain her plan. “This is us, Scoops,” her fingers trace over the paper as she guides you and the boys through the blueprint. “And this is where we want to get.”

“I don’t really see a way in.” Steve points out, now sitting at the table with an arm wrapped around you. 

“There’s not,” Robin casts the top blueprint aside and reveals another one underneath. It’s similar in design, although this one lacks more shapes and is mostly lines. “If you’re talking exclusively about doors.”

You squint at the drawings, trying to figure out what they remind you of. “Are those…”

“Air ducts!” Dustin finishes for you, impressed with Robin’s idea.

“Safe, practical, and wouldn’t involve guns.” Turning to the girl, you nod at her and wink. “Buckley, you really keep your promises.”

Robin bows playfully. “Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room, and these air ducts,” she grabs a marker from the whiteboard and circles Scoops on the blueprints before drawing a winding line down to the hidden vault and circling it as well. “Lead all the way here.”

The four of you all look up at the vent above you, and while the idea seems like the safest option, you can’t help but wonder how horribly wrong it could go as well. You’ve never had the best luck, not when it comes to Hawkins, and the air ducts seem almost too easy of a solution to trust. 

Steve finds a screwdriver in one of the shop’s drawers and takes apart the air vent with Dustin’s help. You stand next to Robin and watch with slight weariness, unsure where to go from here. Once Steve has removed the vent, he shines a flashlight inside and winces. 

“I don’t know, guys. It’s a tight fit.”

“I can do it,” you step forward. “Can’t be that bad, right?”

Steve looks down at you from the ladder. “This feels like a trap.”

“Move, Harrington.” Once he’s off the ladder, you climb up yourself. When you look into the vent, your heart drops. It is a tight fit, there’s no way you’ll be able to crawl through it. Defeated, you climb down the ladder. “Well, shit.”

“I’ll fit.” Dustin now speaks up.

“No you will not.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “No collar bones, remember?” 

“Excuse me?” Robin has never been more confused in her life.

Steve begins to explain Dustin’s medical condition while you continue arguing with your brother. “I’m not letting you do this!”

“You got the healthy genes while I got the rare genetic condition, Y/N.” Dustin starts to climb up the ladder as you tug at his shirt to try and stop him. “Let me abuse it!”

“But–”

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll handle this, Y/N.”

You step back, hoping that he’ll talk some sense into your brother, but to your horror he only makes things worse. Dustin starts to climb into the vent with Steve below him, but he gets stuck about halfway in. “Steve, push me!”

The teen looks at you, unsure what the right call here is. “Do I…?”

“Yeah, just push the kid.” You rub your eyes, tired. “He’s already almost in the damn air duct anyways.” 

Steve pushes at Dustin’s feet to help him move further, but he’s quickly berated. “Not my feet, dumbass. Push my ass!”

“What?” You and Steve exclaim at the same time. 

“Touch my butt, I don’t care!” Dustin’s screeching voice is muffled from the walls of the vent.

Looking at you one last time, Steve sighs heavily and places his hands on your brother’s butt and starts to shove him deeper into the air duct. He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, shoving the butt of the brother of the girl he’s in love with. You stand next to Robin, mortified of what you’re currently witnessing, endlessly ashamed of the two boys. 

The two boys argue, Dustin commanding Steve to push him harder as the teen tries his best to shove the kid, and Robin leans over to you. “Remind me, why are you into Harrington again?”

All you can do is sigh at her question, having no good answer as you watch Steve now manhandle Dustin and scream back insults at him. 

They look ridiculous. 

“Ahoy, sailors!” Someone rings the register’s bell impatiently. “All hands on deck!”

You and Robin turn to find Erica standing at the register as she repeatedly rings the bell and demands her daily free samples. You’re about to respond to her when you see Robin raise her eyebrows; it’s clear she’s thought of something. 

“Would… Erica fit in the vent?”

Your hand snatches at Robin’s arm as you pull her away from the shop’s window. “Absolutely not. We’re not getting Erica involved!”

“C’mon, Y/N. She’s small, she could easily fit–”

“She’s ten.” She’s too young. You’ve always regretted that Dustin and the party were twelve when everything began. 

You’ll be damned if you ruin another child’s life. 

But Robin doesn’t know any of this, and she ignores you as she runs to the register and recruits Erica before you can stop her. Within a minute you have a very curious Erica Sinclair climbing the ladder up to the vent as she shines a flashlight through it. 

You stand below her, helpless. 

“Yeah, I don’t know.” She climbs down after a few minutes of studying the vent’s dimensions. 

“You don’t know if you can fit?” Dustin asks. 

Erica leans against the table and studies the four of you with distaste. “Oh, I can fit. I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” Robin teases her, but you only feel sympathy for the girl. 

You step towards Erica, trying one last time to reason with her. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can back down now, no one will blame you. In fact, I will give you all my allowance if you say no.”

Dustin elbows you roughly to get you to shut up, he knows what you’re trying to do. You glare at him and rub your now tender shoulder. When you look towards Steve and Robin for backup, both teens send you pleading glances similar to the ones from last night.

Once again, you’re the odd man out. 

None of this is what you want.

“I don’t have phobias,” Erica informs Robin. Then, she turns to you, “and no one tells me what to do.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Okay, well. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I still haven’t heard what’s in this for Erica.”

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting in a booth with the others as Steve slides Erica a freshly made sundae. 

“More fudge, please.” She requests, pleased she’s won.

Steve looks at you, already fed up with the kid, and you feel no sympathy for him. “Go on, get the girl her bribery fudge. This is what you wanted.”

He cringes at the sarcasm in your voice and knows you’re once again pissed at him. Defeated, he hangs his head low and leaves to get Erica more fudge without another word. Once he’s gone, Robin opens up her blueprints and shows the girl the air ducts. “You see this? This is the route you’re going to take.”

You sit there quietly as Dustin and Robin talk to Erica. After they’ve explained the entire plan, she mentions that this all sounds like child endangerment. You let out an exhausted chuckle. “It does, doesn’t it? Isn’t that just hilarious to think about?”

Robin tries to reassure both you and Erica. “We’ll be in radio contact with you the whole time–” 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Erica waves a finger in Robin’s face, unamused. “Child. Endangerment.”

“It’s a shame only you can see that.” You drop your head onto the table, entirely over the situation. “I mean, how can only the ten year old see how insane this is, huh?”

Dustin throws a straw at you and shushes you, annoyed with your theatrics. Clearing his throat, he turns to Erica. “We think these Russians want to do harm to our country.”

“Unconfirmed, actually.” You retort. With every passing minute, it becomes more and more evident that this really is happening, and there’s no way you can back out now; someone sane has to be there to protect everyone. Dustin and the others all seem deluded by the idea of fame and adventure, but all you want to do is keep your loved ones safe. 

“Shut up,” Dustin shoves you further away from him as he tries to win over Erica’s agreement. “Great harm. Don’t you love your country?”

“You can’t spell ‘America’ without ‘Erica’.” She takes a sip from her drink, now listening.

You lift your head up from the table and share a baffled look with Dustin, both of you going through how to spell America in your heads. Amazingly, Erica is right. You really can’t spell the word without her name. 

“Incredible,” you whisper, in complete disbelief. 

Dustin shakes his head. “Uh, yeah. Oddly, that’s–uh, totally true… So, don’t do this for us. Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man, for America – Erica.”

After your brother’s speech, Erica puts down her drink and mocks him, still not entirely sold on the whole child endangerment idea. Instead, she goes on a whole spiel about how she loves capitalism and paying people for their services while you sit there, head pounding with a headache. 

“And it seems to me,” Erica concludes with a smile, “my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So, you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many. I’m talking free ice cream for life.”

Robin and Dustin mirror exasperated expressions on their faces, but honestly? You get a kick out of Erica recognizing her worth; she’s brilliant. Without saying anything, you lift your hand up for Erica to high five, which she happily accepts. 

“To child endangerment!” You cheer, your voice oozing sarcasm, and Erica follows suit as Robin and Dustin both slump in their seats. 

– 

It’s your idea to prep Erica for whatever she may find after crawling through the ducts. You shoved a helmet on her head and forced knee pads onto the girl, which she adamantly protested against. 

“This is excessive, even for you.”

You held up money, which promptly shut her up. “Wear the protection and do exactly as I say, or lose $5.”

After she took the money, you then held out your switchblade for her to take as well. “And use this if anything happens, alright?”

Erica had stared at you, slightly surprised. “Why do you carry knives on you?”

“Ask questions later.”

Now you’re anxiously waiting on the mall’s rooftop once more with Dustin, Steve, and Robin as you radio Erica for updates.

“You nerds in position or what?” Her voice drones through the walkie’s speaker.

“Yeah, we’re in position.” Robin confirms. The three of you have been scouting the shipment deck for the last thirty minutes, making sure all the possible Russian guards were gone. “It’s all quiet up here, so you’ve got the green light.”

You take the walkie from Robin. “But be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Be careful and green light, roger that. Commence Operation Child Endangerment.”

Robin snatches the walkie back and cringes at what Erica has said. “Can we maybe not call it that?” 

“That's exactly what’s happening here.” You say with a snort. 

“Thanks for the help, Y/N.”

You give Robin a thumbs up. “Anytime.”

Erica announces that she’s in the air ducts and you feel the familiar burden of fear creep through you as she now goes quiet. Steve’s hand finds yours and he attempts to ease your discomfort as you all wait. “Erica will be fine, Y/N.”

“Yeah, totally!” Robin tries to reassure you as well, though she looks nervous too.

The minutes drag by at an agonizingly slow pace. The three of you hold your breath, waiting for Erica’s assurance that she’s safe and okay, and you pray to whatever god that’s up there to listen and keep her safe. 

If anything happens to her, it would only be your fault for not having learned your lesson sooner. 

“Alright, nerds.” You let out a breath of relief when Erica radios again, and you can feel Steve exhale as well. He’d been worried, too. “I’m there.”

“Do you see anything?” Robin asks, voice alight with excitement now. 

“Yeah, I see those boring boxes you’re so excited about.” 

“Any guards?”

Erica pauses a moment, presumably scanning for any signs of danger, before responding. “Negative.”

You breathe out again with relief. At the very least, Erica is in a safe enough location. 

However, Robin isn’t done asking questions yet. “Booby traps?”

“If I could see them, they’d be pretty shit traps, wouldn’t they?”

You grab the radio again from Robin. “Erica, have I told you that you’re my favorite child?”

“You haven’t, but I know I am,” there’s a bang over the other end of the walkie, then a loud thud followed by a grunt, before her voice comes through again. “I’m in.” Then, not even a minute later, the door to the vault begins to lift up, revealing a smug looking Erica on the other side. 

You all stare at her in awe, and she snaps her fingers at you. “Free ice cream for life.”

Steve lets out a surprised laugh and a smile crosses your face as well. Even though you’re still entirely against what’s happening, you can’t believe that the plan worked. You guys successfully broke into a Russian vault. 

That beats Demodogs any day. 

You, Steve, Robin, and Dustin climb down from the roof to get to Erica as fast as you can. When you finally join her, you risk her fury and pull her into your arms for a hug. “You’re so much braver than I was at ten.”

Erica shoves you off of her. “That doesn’t at all surprise me.” 

While you make sure she’s okay, Dustin and the others investigate the room. There’s boxes everywhere with tape all over them. Lifting one up onto a table, Steve turns to you. “Can I borrow that switchblade, Y/N?”

“She’s got it,” you point to Erica. “Talk to the kid.”

Steve frowns, having unexpected this, and, being scared of the girl, he laughs nervously. “Uh, Erica? Can I have that switchblade now?”

She rolls his eyes at him and digs through her pockets to retrieve it. “Aren’t you the man in the relationship? Why don’t you have your own pair of knives?”

You cover your mouth to try and stifle the laugh that escapes you, but it’s no use. Steve hears it and sticks his middle finger up at you before finally opening the box. Cutting through the tape, he opens the box’s flaps to find a metal storage container within them.

When Steve reaches his hand inside the box, you stop him. “Please, be careful.”

“I got this, angel.” However, he slows his movements and carefully grabs at the container’s handle. Slowly, he turns it, and it lets out a terrifying hiss as air escapes it. Removing the lid, more air comes crawling out and reveals four individual cylinders.

“Definitely not delicious noodles and sensible shoes.” You breathe out, and Steve hums in agreement.

“That’s a weird way of saying ‘you were right, Dustin’.” Your brother snarks, and you hit his shoulder to shut him up.

Meanwhile, Steve waves his hand at the four of you, motioning you to back up. “Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.”

Robin and Erica don’t hesitate to listen, but you and Dustin remain where you are. There’s a silent agreement between the two of you to not abandon Steve, he needs you. When he sees that you both haven’t listened, Steve pleads with you. “Just step back, please? I’m doing this for you guys, this could be dangerous.”

“No.” You and Dustin say at the same time. 

Steve tries to argue again, but you remain firm in your stance. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

His words falter at the sincerity in your voice, and he wishes it was just the two of you alone right now so that he could stroke your cheek and kiss away your concerns. He’s filled with warmth by your care for him, but just like you would never put him in danger, Steve would never put you in any danger either. 

He loves you with everything within him, he just wishes he could tell you this. 

“If you die, I die.” Dustin proudly declares, breaking Steve out of his thoughts. 

You stare at your brother, as does Steve, and together the two of you awkwardly pat the kid’s shoulder to acknowledge his sentiment. With a cough, you add, “Hendersons with Harrington.”

Steve clears his throat, overwhelmed and slightly off put by the bizarre support. “Okay, I guess.” He grabs at one of the cylinders and twists slowly, and when it unlocks, he lifts and reveals a bubbling green liquid. “What the hell?”

Robin asks what the substance is and you feel like you’ve lost your mind. You have no idea what the fuck is happening anymore. “God I hope it’s scary Kool-Aid”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, you feel rumbling beneath your feet. 

Immediately, you know you’ve fucked up.

Dustin looks up at you in alarm. “Was that just me, or did the room move?”

“Booby traps,” Erica whispers, looking scared as well.

A mechanical whirring sound infiltrates your ears as the room starts to shake again, and every part of your body screams at you to run. Something is very, very wrong. Grabbing Dustin’s hand, you start to head towards the door. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Let’s go!” Robin follows you, not needing to be told twice, and grabs one of the vials of liquid as she does so. 

“Which one is the button, Erica?” Dustin asks, fingers hovering over the control panel’s buttons after pressing one failed.

“Just press the damn button, nerd.”

You turn to her, panic rising. “He is, but nothing’s happening.”

“Press ‘open door’.”

Dustin presses the button again but still, nothing happens. Frantic to escape the room now, you shove him aside and try yourself. Your fingers press roughly against it, but still the doors won’t budge. 

Steve joins, sliding next to you as he starts to try pressing the buttons. “Here, press the other button.”

You slap his hand. You’re overwhelmed and scared and anxious and he’s five seconds away from losing an eye. “I already did that!”

Dustin starts to argue with Steve now and they push you back, repeatedly hitting whatever they can touch, as Robin and Erica shout their own useless and unneeded advice that is helping absolutely no one. You stand behind the boys, hands pressed against your head as you start to hyperventilate with panic.

Then, walls come slamming down on all sides of the room, effectively kick starting your panic attack. The lights begin to flicker as the room suddenly drops. Your stomach lurches into your throat as you’re thrown downward, and instinctively you grab for Dustin in your panic as Steve grabs for you. 

Everyone screams as you plunge into the darkness.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[ncroissant]

this is based on @lordragamuffin's amazing fanart of bloody doppelgänger francis and real francis!!! minors please dni!!

imagine doppelgänger francis absolutely terrorizing the real francis.

he’d be so jealous, watching the way you handled your boyfriend. he’d quite literally be watching you two fuck every night, outside your balcony.

yeah, world domination was cool, but human sex looked too fun for him to pass up the opportunity.

sometimes you’d leave francis home alone when you worked overnights at the security office, while your boyfriend slept alone in his all too tight shirts.

for the past week, only when you were away, francis felt something, or someone, groping at his chest. but he was always almost half-asleep when he felt slender fingers swirling around his nipples.

he’d twitch and squirm in his sleep, huffing out moans whenever he felt something pinching and tugging at his nubs.

he thought he was going crazy.

and every morning, when he woke up from his nightly grope session, he’d always have an embarrassingly large mess in his pants. his dick was still hard, cum splattered in his boxers.

the next week, francis started having dreams about it. no face could be imagined for whoever was fondling with his chest, but he could feel the same fingers on him every night.

he thought he was just horny, missing you on the nights you weren’t there. but even when you were there, he’d feel so guilty, praying to the dream gods that he’d have a wet dream about the mystery groper, playing with his perky nipples.

then finally, one fateful night, he woke up to finally see fingers stuffed under his shirt. he was still disoriented, squirming under the cold fingers of the mystery groper.

“w-who, haah, are you…?” francis panted, throwing his head back with his tongue lulled out. the fingers were moving too fast for him to protest, nails slightly scrapping the tips.

there was no response. the only noise that filled the room were the whimpers and moans from francis. he was so needy, drool sliding out of his mouth at the immense pleasure he felt. he couldn’t even fathom how good he felt from how just his nipples.

“mmngh! c-can you, aghnn, tell me, please?” he was so polite, even while some stranger was pulling at his stupidly perky nipples, testing if any milk work come out.

doppelgänger francis would just silently chuckle at his copy’s desperation. he’d flick one bud, while rubbing the other with his thumb. whatever made his copy twitch, he’d do it over and over again to see him squirm.

humans are so stupid, he thought.

he looked down to see the mess that was brewing between francis’ legs, before finally giving francis a clue. “why not…you let me replace you, hm?”

francis tried to hide the moans that were spilling out of his lips at the revelation, but his mind was so hazy for him to even refute. “n-nggGH!” he mewled when doppel squeezed both nipples at the tips.

“i’ll play with you like this every night, then i pretend to be you in the day, hm?” doppel proposed, shivers rolling down francis’ spine. the heat of doppel’s breath brushed against his ears making them tingle.

“t-that’s, ungh, not…” francis was grinding against the fabric of his underwear, completely out of it. he was so close. just a few more flicks would send this poor boy over the edge.

“c’mon, they won’t even notice. i can play with these pretty things like this,” he flicked at francis’ buds, pressing kisses against his flushed neck. “such pretty tits, hm?” he chuckled, cupping his chest.

that comment sent francis over the moon. his heart was nearly thumping out of his chest and cum splattered on the inside of his pants.

“guess i trained you well. they’re bigger than before,” doppel didn’t waiver when francis came, continuing to torment his pink nubs. they were throbbing, sensitive to the touch.

francis’ drool dropped to his chin, his eyes rolled back all the way. “n-no, i jus’...hnghh, c-came. ‘s too soon, ngh…” he moaned, cheek smushed against the pillow.

“maybe give me the answer i wanna hear, ‘n i’ll let you have a little break, yeah?” doppel growled, sucking hickies lower down his neck.

francis’ breath hitched, shaking his head. “d-don’t, eek! d-don’t leave marks, they’ll see, mngh, them!” he pleaded.

doppel smirked, rolling his fingertips over francis’ nipples soothingly. it was slow, too slow. “ooohhngh…y-you can, hn, take over f’me…” francis cutely agreed, biting his lower lip.

“yeah? ‘n i’ll play with you every night, right?” doppel grinned widely, sucking on francis’ earlobe.

francis’ eyes were squeezed shut, flushed from the neck down. “m-mhm! p-please…” francis begged, trying to puff his chest out for more friction.

“alright. you said it yourself, so don’t go crying to me when you can’t take it anymore,” doppel chuckled darkly, tugging francis’ nipples with a squeeze.

“haaaAANGH!”

[lolokouhm]

thinking about Megumi, who opens his eyes instantly when his alarm goes off in the morning, but turns it off even faster when he sees you - your head and chest laying heavy on his torso, hair falling out from your messy bun, sleeping like a baby. and apparently drooling a little.

thinking about Megumi, who stiffens, suddenly feeling a huge sense of responsibility for your quality sleep. he really hopes his heart doesn’t beat too loud, especially when it seems to have grown twice in size since you started staying in his apartment more and more often. he didn’t think it’d be as amazing - to wake up next to you (or under you, or inside of you) in his bedroom, a place not many others have seen or even been to. once, just once, he let drunk Itadori sleep there and that was a complete disaster. Megumi likes to keep it simple, quiet and calm, and for some reason his friends are like hurricanes and they just come in, bring on a complete disaster and leave without cleaning up after themselves. you too have brought some chaos into his life - with your pink toothbrush, a concerning amount of face masks and serums you squirrelled away in the drawer in his bathroom and some random pieces of lingerie that get him flustered every time he takes them out of the laundry machine. A warm smile crawls on his face - he hides his arms back under the black sheets and lets them travel gently down your body. he has no idea how you ended up in this position, but feels more than happy to be able to make you feel this good and relaxed. the room is cold, but you are not and Megumi thrives on that feeling.

thinking about Megumi, who gulps as his hands suddenly lose the cotton surface of his T-shirt on you and they end up on your bare skin. you apparently forgot to put on the panties, but that’s more than understandable - that’s the Fushiguro effect for you. and well, you like being a tease. you’re testing him now, not fully aware of that fact, as Megumi closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. it’s quite contradicting - his imagination starts to go a little wild, long, slender fingers brushing against you, barely even, as he’s trying to ignore the growing bulge in his boxers at the same time. unfortunately for Megumi, you’re starting to wiggle, and with the feeling of your lower parts pressing on his morning wood… shit. luckily for you, he’s a gentleman - he’s not going to do anything improper, especially when you’re sleeping. he's not an animal. at least, most of the time.

thinking about Megumi, who's slowly but steadily losing his fight as keeps on caressing your skin, hands sliding to you inner thighs. he closes his eyes - it's unfair. your skin can't be just skin - it's velvet. touching you feels as if he was touching some God-made material, shipped straight from heaven. if he asked you about it you'd probably say something about that overpriced cinnamon body lotion you were so excited to buy, but he wouldn't believe you. he doesn't know what answer would be satisfying, but that just makes him smile again. he's already had his own answer to that.

thinking about Megumi, who groans quietly when you move up his body, hiding your face right into his neck. your wet lips nuzzle the skin right next to his aorta and he can feel the blood pulsing against you. yeah, he's gonna be late, but fuck it. he'll call in sick. this whole situation is, after all, a serious life hazard - if you bit him right there, he could die. Megumi chuckles and closes his eyes with a sleepy grin. if the death has to come one day, he prays it'll look like that. pretty, sleepy, half-naked.

and a little bit drooly.

masterlist ❤️

[sluttywonwoo]

they wanna (fuck)

pairing: joshua hong x f reader x vernon chwe

summary: your boyfriend joshua wants to explore something new with you… and his best friend

warnings: swearing, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: threesome/cuckolding adjacent, oral (f receiving), protected and unprotected sex, choking

word count: 3.2k

your boyfriend grew up an only child. he’s not the best at sharing. which is why it surprised you more than a little bit when he suggested letting one of his best friends fuck you.

it wasn’t like you were opposed to the idea, you just didn’t think he was serious. you thought it might be a test. but it wasn’t.

“why vernon?” you’d asked.

“he’s got a thing for you,” joshua said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

“and he told you this?”

“nah, just caught him looking at your ass a bunch of times.”

“and have you asked him about this?”

“i was going to bring it up the next time i see him.”

“oh my god, he doesn’t even know?”

joshua scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “well, of course i’d bring it up to you first! it’s your vagina!”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“look, do you want to fuck him or not?”

-

you did want to fuck vernon. it wasn’t like it was a fantasy of yours or even something you’d dwelled on beyond a passing thought, but the man was certainly easy on the eyes and the way he carried himself made you wonder about… things how big it was.

joshua didn’t tell you exactly how the conversation went down. he just told you that vernon was “extremely down” for it, and that they planned for a time when all three of you were free.

“but why do you want me to fuck one of your friends?”

his cheeks turned pink. “um, it’s kind of a possessive thing, i think.”

“what? how does that work?”

“i just think it’d be hot to watch someone fuck you knowing that i get to have you all the time. i’m letting them have a taste but they’ll never get to experience you the same way i will… never get to make you feel the way i do.”

it was your turn to be flustered.

joshua peeked at your reaction. “is that… bad?” he asked nervously.

you shook your head. “no, not bad at all.”

he breathed a sigh of relief. “okay, good. good.”

-

when the day actually rolled around, you could tell joshua was having second thoughts. he kept himself busy all morning, cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, organizing and reorganizing your shared record collection (they’re chronological now)…

“we don’t have to do this,” you reminded him.

“i know. i want to, though,” he assured you. “i’m just nervous about what it will be like to see you with someone else…” he trailed off but you knew what he was implying. he was afraid his jealousy would get the better of him.

you rubbed his back comfortingly as you listened. “well, we can stop at any time.”

he nodded and took your hand, squeezing it once. “the same goes for you, you know.”

you checked the clock. “shouldn’t he be here by now?”

“have you ever known vernon to be on time?”

“fair enough.”

he gets there around fifteen minutes later, looking just as nervous as your boyfriend. maybe even more so. but once joshua goes over the arrangement again and everyone starts taking their clothes off, they both seem a lot more relaxed.

“you can kiss her, you know,” joshua murmurs from his side of the room, apparently dissatisfied with the pace of things. “as long as you don’t leave any marks.”

“is that ok?” vernon asks you.

“yeah, kiss me,” you encourage, pulling him by the shoulders until his nose is just inches from yours.

he closes his eyes and leans in, meeting you halfway. it’s a weird feeling, kissing someone who isn’t your boyfriend, but it isn’t bad. embers of excitement from the unfamiliarity of it all are quick to spark between you, quelling the anxiety and igniting something carnal inside you both. vernon’s the first to use tongue, much to your surprise. a startled moan leaves your lips as he slips his tongue between them.

you’re not sure how much time passes before he pulls away but when he does you’re taken aback by his appearance. your boyfriend’s best friend, always so reserved and quiet, looks like a completely different person.

vernon’s always been handsome of course, but you’ve never looked at him like you’re looking at him now.

he looks almost vampiric, pale skin glowing in the dim light of the table lamps lit on your nightstands. his cheeks are flushed pink with heat and his lips are a little swollen from kissing you so deeply.

“can i touch you too?” he asks, breathless.

“yes, please,” you gasp, “please touch me.”

his hand slides down between your bodies to where your legs are already spread for him. you’d be embarrassed about how eager you are for another man in front of your boyfriend if he wasn’t currently watching the two of you while he palmed himself over his boxers.

everyone had just undressed to their underwear so no one’s naked yet but vernon appears to be intent on changing that for you. he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to both him and joshua as he pushes a finger inside of you.

your grab on to him for stability, head falling slack against his shoulder.

“add another one, she likes the stretch,” joshua advises.

vernon stiffens a bit— you can’t tell whether it’s from annoyance at being told what to do instead of being allowed to figure it out himself, or if it’s because he had forgotten your boyfriend was still there altogether, but he does what he’s told nonetheless.

the effect is immediate. you moan, maybe a little too loud, and try to muffle yourself in vernon’s shoulder. your first instinct is to bite him, because that’s what you do with joshua when things start feeling intense, but you don’t know him like that. you don’t know if it’s something he’s into. still, your grip around his bicep tightens as he continues to finger you, nails threatening to dig into his skin.

“you can mark me up,” he tells you with a smirk, like he can read your mind. “i don’t mind.”

you take him at his word, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. he moans at the feeling and it’s only then that you realize you could be touching him too. you reach for him but before you can get your hand on him he leans back to look at joshua.

“can i eat her out?”

your boyfriend considers his friend’s request for a moment before answering.

“yes, but she can’t suck you off.”

you wilt a bit but you know joshua didn’t make that rule to punish you. he was already sharing so much of you by exploring this kink that you can’t blame him for wanting to keep part of you for himself. you’re honestly surprised he’s letting vernon go down on you in the first place.

vernon tsks. “i don’t care about that, i just want to taste her. lay back for me, baby.”

you do, but not before scooting up the bed so that vernon can comfortably lay on his stomach between your legs. joshua comes to your side and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“how’re you doing, baby?”

“good,” you say through a hazy smile.

“yeah? his fingers feel good?”

“mhm…”

“i bet his mouth will too.”

you can see how hard joshua is through his boxers, can see the small dark spot where precum had seeped through the fabric. you’re relieved to know he’s enjoying it just as much as you are— maybe more. you long to touch him too. you try to, but he steps just out of reach. is no one going to let you jerk them off tonight?

you’re distracted by vernon again before you can protest.

“let’s get these off of you,” he murmurs, tugging at the elastic of your panties.

you lift up so he can slide them down your legs. he gets them off in record time and shoulders himself between your thighs, kissing his way up to your pussy. first your knee, then your inner thigh, then the crux of your hip.

“not too much now,” joshua warns from his corner.

you roll your eyes. “shua…”

“what! i’m just reminding him not to get too comfortable!”

“that’s fair,” vernon interjects. “sorry.”

joshua mumbles something else but neither you or his best friend catch it because vernon had already buried his face in your cunt.

“oh, fuck,” you gasp, hands flying to his hair.

he’s eager for it, that much is clear. he only sucks on your clit for a couple of seconds before going straight to tongue-fucking you, as if that had been his goal this whole time. you figure he must feel like he has something to prove— or he just really likes eating pussy.

it’s good. he’s good. too good. he’s not better at it than joshua, but he is about to make you cum in a few seconds flat which is a problem because you never cum that fast with your boyfriend.

it’s probably a mixture of vernon’s aggressive technique and how hot you find this whole arrangement to be but you still don’t want it to make joshua feel some type of way so you try your best to hold off a little longer.

you conjure up sad thoughts, try thinking about all the chores you need to do, all the things you’ve heard men do when they try and stave off an orgasm but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“already, baby?” joshua muses, drawing your attention to him again.

he’s degrading you like he normally would in bed but you can tell he’s at least a little pissed off from the way his eyes are wider than usual.

“is he that good?”

you shake your head adamantly, fumbling for words. “n-no! i mean he’s good but uh, i don’t-”

between your legs, you can feel vernon smirking against you. you want to smack him but you can’t feel your arms anymore.

joshua scoffs in disbelief and tongues his cheek as you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. always the gentleman, though, he leans down and offers you his hand for you to anchor yourself as you cum.

"you're not a very good liar, angel," is all he says as you give up on fighting it and let it hit you. you squeeze his hand hard, back arching off the mattress, pushing your hips further into vernon's face.

vernon doesn't stop until your body goes slack and joshua doesn't let go of your hand until vernon stops.

they let you catch your breath before either of them speaks again. vernon is still grinning as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. he's dripping with you but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, going as far as to lick the remnants of you from his fingers as if he hadn't just had his head between your thighs less than a minute ago.

"she tastes so fucking good," he murmurs.

"i know," your boyfriend mutters.

"lucky bastard."

joshua turns his attention to you, expression softening when he sees how dazed you look. “you okay, baby?”

you nod with a smile. “mhm.”

“do you want to keep going? do you need a break?”

“wanna keep going,” you say as you prop yourself up on your elbows and look between the two of them. “if you guys do, obviously.”

“fuck yeah,” vernon exhales, making you and your boyfriend laugh.

“you brought condoms, right?” joshua asks.

you and joshua don’t use condoms anymore so you didn’t have any on hand. the two of you debated picking some up beforehand but joshua wasn’t sure what size to get so he just told vernon to bring some himself. problem solved.

“uh yeah,” vernon answers, grabbing his jeans off the floor and fishing a handful of them from one of the pockets. “i didn’t know how many to bring,” he says sheepishly.

“if we don’t use them all today, we can save them for another time,” you assure him.

joshua and vernon react at the same time. “another time?!”

“like if this goes well, right?”

joshua pretends to be annoyed but you can see the little smile that he tries to hide behind his hand, secretly pleased that you're enjoying this as much as he is.

vernon's quick to get the condom on and his boxers off, ripping the packet open with his teeth and rolling the latex down to the base of his cock.

he isn't longer than joshua but he is thicker. he's really thick, actually. your mouth waters at the sight and you clench around nothing, feeling even more hollow than you had when he first took his fingers out of you.

"she's got a bit of a size kink," joshua informs his friend, following your gaze to his dick.

"that's not true!" you protest.

"it's a little true," joshua insists.

vernon just grins. he clearly doesn't care about the truth, whatever it is. he's just happy to know you like what you see.

"josh, what position do you want me in?" vernon asks.

joshua doesn't even have to think about it. "either from behind or tabletop. regular missionary is too intimate."

you have to agree. even though it feels incredible, you wouldn't want to experience that with anyone but joshua.

"do you have a preference?" vernon asks you.

"let's do tabletop," you decide. "i want to see you."

"i was hoping you would say that," he admits. "we can switch positions later on if you want."

"you think you'll last that long?" you tease, reaching out to stroke him once or twice just to see him react.

vernon hisses and jerks away from you, cock twitching against his stomach. "good point," he grits out, "we'll cross that bridge if we get to it."

he gets up off the bed and walks around to the foot of it, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling until you're flush with his hips.

"damn dude," joshua says under his breath.

vernon ignores your boyfriend's comment even though he's blushing, choosing to put his full focus on you instead. you're already squirming beneath him, desperate to feel him for the first time.

"are you ready?"

"yes."

"are you sure?"

"god, vernon, if you don't put it in alr-"

the threat works. he pushes himself inside of you in one go, face scrunching up as he fists the sheets beside your head to steel himself.

"god damn it," he chokes out, legs trembling. it sounds suspiciously like a sob but you're too busy trying to adjust to his size to call him on it. "fuck, how do you feel so good?"

"it's insane, right?" joshua gloats. "she's perfect."

"it's not fair..." vernon whines, mostly to himself.

"how does he feel, baby?" joshua asks you, coming close and petting your hair again. he then wipes the tears from the corners of your eyes and then presses the same fingers against your mouth, the salt stinging your swollen lips.

"he f-feels good." your answer comes out muffled against his hand but it seems to satisfy your boyfriend and your lover nonetheless.

he feels better than just good, he feels fucking incredible. the stretch is so intense you feel like you're about to be split in half but you aren't able to articulate that with how overwhelmed you are.

vernon gathers himself eventually but it takes several deep breaths and what sounds like a prayer for strength before he continues.

"can i move?" he asks you, the request bordering on begging.

"yeah, please. please fuck me."

he gives a couple of experimental thrusts before building up to a steady rhythm, each one feeling better than the last. you're so wet that the glide of him inside of you is almost too easy but there's still a bit of resistance due to how thick he is.

"how do you like it?" he grunts, "fast, slow?"

"th-this is good," you say.

"rub her clit," joshua adds.

"i was getting to that," vernon mutters.

he slows down and snakes a hand between your legs, feeling around for it until he feels you tighten up around him.

"there we go," he whispers gently, repeating the pattern he remembers you liking the most.

"you're so fucking pretty, baby," you hear joshua say, making you reach out for him in search of his hand. he gives it to you immediately, squeezing affectionately and encouraging you to do the same. you always held hands during sex. it was a way you were able to anchor yourself to him, squeezing his palm whenever something felt particularly intense. it was comforting to have that translate here as well.

"i love you," he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

a profession of love while another man is inside of you is a little strange, all things considered, but it still makes you melt.

"i love you too," you reply, before remembering the aforementioned other man inside of you. "sorry, is this turning you off?"

he doesn't even look fazed by it. "nah, it's fine. she got so fucking tight when you told her you loved her."

joshua smirks. "wanna know what else makes her tight?"

"what?"

your boyfriend lets go of your hand, promising to come back, and rounds the bed to whisper something in his best friend's ear. vernon's eyes get wide and his hips stop moving.

"for real?"

joshua just nods as he takes his place by your side again, offering you an innocent smile that you don't buy at all.

vernon exhales harshly and shakes his head like he has to psych himself up for whatever he's about to do or say, which makes sense when he leans forward and wraps a hand around your throat.

you gasp in surprise but clench around him almost immediately, just like joshua said you would. he only applies a little bit of pressure but it's enough to have the desired effect.

vernon curses and stutters forward, eliciting what sounds like a whimper as he struggles to get his other hand back between your legs.

"told you."

"i'm not going to last," vernon stammers, looking away from his best friend in embarrassment.

"you can cum whenever you want."

"but sh-she hasn't yet..."

"i'll take care of that, don't worry," joshua assures him. "you made her cum on your face already, remember?"

"but i, i... fuck," his voice breaks off into a whine, the rest of the sentence dissolving on his tongue. it's like he can't stop fucking you, can't even slow down, even though he doesn't want to cum yet.

"come on, give it to me," you sigh out.

he gives in finally, practically collapsing on top of you as he cums into the condom. he weakly thrusts himself through it, kissing you to swallow the noises he's making.

he's still twitching inside of you when he catches his breath.

"sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes. "i didn't mean to-"

"baby, it's fine," you tell him earnestly. "we wanted you to feel good."

he pouts but nods like he understands and pulls out with a groan.

"and like i said," joshua interjects, patting his friend on the back as he trades places with him and notches the head of his cock inside of you. when he took his underwear off, you have no idea, but you can't bring yourself to care when he bottoms out and offers you his hand one last time. "i'll take care of the rest."