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thebestofoneshots · 11 months

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touches | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 12.8 k (yeah, I don't even know how this happened, but damn do I love the final result)

Warnings: smut, teasing, dry hump*ng, finger fucking, hand job, masturbati*n, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, he literally can't take his eyes off you. His big, sexy destrous hands make you quiver.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of touch, this fic tells the story of Remus being absolutely head over heels for you and his obsession with a particular picture of you in a sundress. A picture, that unleashes his most lecherous, and debaucherous self.

Mutual Pinning, Idiots in Love, smut with a plot

sights is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You had had crushes before, but whatever this thing you had going on for Remus Lupin was something else entirely. Enticing, addicting, almost like a drug, no, not almost, Remus Lupin was most definitely like a drug to you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, you could actually tell he was coming in your direction just from the sheer scent that would hit you before his beautiful face did, and you would instantly perk up, and try to act as natural as possible when he passed by. It didn’t help that every single time he saw you he would smile so brightly, you felt like your entire world was being illuminated. He’d then walk closer to you, greet you, and place an arm over your shoulders, especially if you had to go to the same place, and most of the time you were going to the same place, the library.

You would sit across each other and no matter how much fucking attention you tried to pay to whatever book you were reading, or to whatever it was you were trying to study, you’d continuously get distracted by him. By the way he flipped the pages of his book, by the way he shifted on the chair, by the way he fucking breathed. You weren’t sure it was a crush anymore, since it started feeling like a bIoody obsession instead.

There was something about the way his rich brown eyes looked at you that made you feel so fucking high, you might have as well held the record of the person with the most feet above the ground while flying a broom.

The absolute worst part was the dreams you were having, it all started one time you were all chilling in the common room and for some reason you ended up with your feet over his lap, you didn’t even remember how it happened, but you certainly did remember how it had felt. The sly wolf had placed his stupid hot hands over your legs, and as he was talking to everyone, he started gently –and absentmindedly you assumed– rubbing small circles over your knees. And then his hand had traveled a bit upwards, just above your knee, nothing indecent really, just a stupid friendly hand, a friendly hand that was so big, and strong and dextrous that you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Even days after it happened you were still thinking about the ghost of his hands ever so present in your head. But it wasn’t until exactly one and a half weeks later, that you solidified your obsession. You had a dream in which the exact same thing happened, except this time the rest of your friends weren’t there, and Remus' hand continued to travel upwards, and upwards, until it reached the place where you had wanted it the most.

And he had done so many filthy and nasty things in your dream that when you woke up you weren’t only blushing for what had happened, but your panties had been so ruined that you had to change them before anyone noticed what had happened. Next time you saw Remus you were so fucking mortified you couldn’t even look at him in the eye.

Remus Lupin wasn’t much better either. He had thought of you as beautiful from the day he met you, stunning even, but that had been that. You were all just kids and all just friends. In fact, he thought James was weird for having a crush on 12-year-old Lily. Who has a crush when you’re 12?, he’d thought, girls are dumb and entitled.

Yeah, perhaps Remus didn’t have a crush on you from the very beginning like James had fallen for Lily, and he might have even thought he didn’t even like girls at some point, especially when he took into account his misadventures with Sirius and other boys in 5th year. But one day you were all having dinner, and then you bit into the juiciest plum he had ever seen, some of the sugary liquid spilling down from your lips as you took the fruit away from them, and something fucking snapped in Remus.

You noticed he was staring, and gave him a bright smile “This one’s insanely good, wanna bite?” you’d asked him as you pushed the deep red fruit towards his face. On the inside, it was a lighter hue of red, and Remus swallowed when he noticed the bite marks on the side of its skin, your bite marks. ”I promise you’d like it,” you said as you dangled the fruit over his face. The boy did eventually lean in and gave the fruit a bite, his nose accidentally brushing against your hand. You blinked a couple of times when he peered through his lashes at you mid-bite, really trying to swallow the nasty thoughts that came into your head.

Remus didn’t so much as manage to do that, after the bite he pulled back, placing a napkin over his mouth to clean up the sugary wetness left by the fruit, and nodded, yeah, it had been a bIoody tasty fruit “Delicious.”

“Told you,” you’d responded with a smile and gave it another bite, moaning just a little at the flavour. If Remus Lupin’s pants were already making him uncomfortable, the way you fucking ate that fruit all the way ‘till the end, could have been his elegy.

“Dеad for lusting over his friend” he imagined his grave would say, feeling miserable over having such nasty thoughts of you. When you crossed the table to tell James something about a prank, Remus didn’t think much of it, he just sank a little deeper onto the chair and placed his robes over his lap to try and mask what was actually going on. He tried imagining Dumbledore naked, and it seemed to have worked at least a little bit, but after you were done you placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned over to him with a soft smile on your face.

“I’m going to the library to go over some charms, you coming?” you asked him.

He barely managed to muster a tight-lipped smile and shook his head “I’m… I’m not feeling too good, I’ll be going to the dorms,” he somehow managed to say.

“Oh, all right,” you smiled, letting your hand draw from shoulder to shoulder, brushing just for a second over the skin of the back of his neck, and that just made another shiver run down his spine, “I’ll see you around then!” You said just before melting into the crowds of students as you left. Remus had to stay on his seat for a good 15 minutes after that.

"Moony, you’re not coming?" James asked him as he stood up and started walking with the boys.

Sirius burst out into a devilish smile “Oh he is cumming, all right!" the boy said. James didn’t get the joke, but Remus groaned and let his head fall on the table. Sirius knew now. BIoody fantastic!

Next thing Remus knew, he was getting the most random boners whenever you were around, and he felt like absolute shit. Especially since you weren’t doing anything that should be causing those kinds of reactions on him. Or at least you weren’t doing them to get him turned on. Leaning down to pick up a pencil that had fallen to the ground and flashing him with the short shorts you wore under your skirt as the two of you walked towards the library shouldn’t have gotten his cock to twitch and yet he had to lie to you and tell you to get ahead of the two since “he had forgotten something”.

He also shouldn’t have gotten a boner when you pressed yourself against him in a hug to wish him a happy birthday, or when you gave him a small kiss on the cheek after he won the Wizards’ Chess contest. To be fair, you weren’t even sure where you’d mustered up the courage for that one, since you had turned so red you had fled the place before you even noticed the small tent on his pants.

He shouldn’t have gotten one when Bins had you cross over the classroom and used you as a teacher’s assistant to write down things on the board. But he could’ve sworn your shirt was shorter that day, nothing more than a few inches, but there was definitely a lot more skin to see.

The one time he had a boner in the library because he dropped his parchment and leaned in to get it, realizing that for some reason you hadn’t worn your usual shorts and instead under your skirt he could actually see your knickers, was the time he thought it was acceptable. Especially when he did a double-take after he noticed the lacy pattern on your black underwear. Regardless it did nothing to make him not feel like a perv, even less when you leaned down on the table and gave him a rather concerned look “You okay Rem?” you asked “Did you find your parchment?”

He coughed a couple of times, thankfully the parchment had fallen a bit away from his grasp, and he somehow pointed at it. You nodded in comprehension and extended your leg to kick the parchment towards him, flashing him even more in the process. He had to avert his gaze as soon as your eyes turned back to him “thanks,” he said, voice strained, both of you were back over the table in a second.

You frowned “Sure you’re okay?” you asked again, leaning in closer with your extended hand just inches away from his face, but you pulled your hand away from him when you realized the apprehensive way he was staring at you. He was thankful, he was sure he might have cum in his pants had you actually placed your hand over his cheek the way you sometimes did.

Lily had come and get you from the library and he had just stayed there, face hidden under his arms as he cursed himself for being a perv. Then he felt a hand over his leg and almost jumped from his seat, realizing it was just Sirius.

The blue-eyed boy was looking at his friend with a knowing smile, Remus pulled back just a little “I’ve seen what’s been happening to you.”

“You haven’t seen shit,” Remus responded defensively which just got a laugh from Sirius.

“Moony, if you think I haven’t seen the way you shift in your seat whenever she’s around, or the way you subtly place your bag over your lap in class sometimes, or the way you stayed down the table for a little longer than you would in any normal situation, then–”

“–Shut it, shut it, shut it,” he said as he attempted to place his hands over Sirius, the other boy just laughed again.

“I’m here to give you advice,” the other boy said calmly as he grabbed Remus’ wrists to stop them from accidentally hitting him.

Remus eyed him suspiciously “What advice?”

“Wank it off,” Sirius said with a shrug.

Remus deadpanned “I’m not gonna,” he started and then added in a hushed tone “wank it off!”

“It’s the only solution I see, that or you tell her you have the hots for her.”

“That’s not happening either.”

“Could do it for you,” the boy shrugged again. “Seduce her and bring her onto your bed.”

“Sirius, you’re most definitely not going to seduce my crush.”

“But it’s painful to see you like this,” the other boy said, pointing at the bulge in Remus’ pants that was only now starting to subside.

“Well then don’t look!” Remus said pointedly, pulled a book from the table and started reading it. Sirius knew it was useless to say anything after that, but he also knew he had somewhat been successful, the idea had already been planted in his friend’s head.

And really, it’s not that Remus wanted to think about it, but when he got another boner over you just walking past him, he knew he had to find a solution to his problem. And, in the end, the solution found him instead. You were just walking away from the library when something dropped from your bag, “hey wait you…” he leaned over to pass it on to you, but he noticed then that it was a picture of you. You were wearing a sundress, a milkmaid sundress, pale yellow with small pink flowers, and you were smiling towards the camera as you moved and looked back at the castle behind you. He realized quickly it was Bayern, the castle you told him you had gone to visit on your last summer vacation that had a rather complicated German name he hadn’t cared to memorize.

And while the castle was definitely an impressive feat of architecture, it was half as impressive as you in that sundress. You had shown him several pictures of your trip, but you had never shown him that one, he almost felt like he had been robbed of something from not being able to see you in that dress before.

“You said something?” You asked, turning around to look at him. He quickly pocketed the small picture and shook his head, pulling the pencil he had been holding on his other hand.

“Just dropped this,” he said with a tight-lipped smile, trying not to let the guilt consume him.

“All right, see you at dinner,” you said as you turned around with a shrug and started walking away from the library.

He could feel the soft edges of the small photograph in his pockets with his hand still inside it, he was aching to get to see you in that bIoody sundress again, so after giving it some thought, that being exactly four seconds, he decided he’d have to skip class that day. Consequences be damned, he had to get to his room.

In what could easily be considered record time, Remus was already in the common room, running up the stairs and opening the door to his shared room, he walked inside and looked around, trying to make sure there was no one in there. Score, room was empty, even the bathroom. While he started walking to the bed, he started having second thoughts. “You can’t do this” a little voice in his head said “It’s wrong, you’re betraying her trust”.

Remus tried to shove those thoughts away as he continued feeling the edges of the photograph still safely tucked inside his pocket. He flipped his fingers over one of them and heard the small thump of the paper muffled by the fabric of his pants. Is it really wrong if I…? He wondered. It’s not like you had given him the picture… it's not like you had trusted him with it and he was about to do something heinous with it. In fact, he had stumbled into the picture, it had been all an accident, a coincidence, so if it were to actually wank it off with it, he wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, would he?

He approached his bed, he’d made a decision, he was sure, a few steps towards it and he was taking another step back, still fidgeting with his hand on the pliant photograph paper. And then he remembered the stash. He leaned under Peter’s bed –where they all kept their shit– and went straight for one of the playwizzard magazines. He started staring at the pictures of the beautiful nude witches, with their huge assets and their surprisingly hot movements. He sat down on his bed and continued staring, making sure to use a spell to lock the door as he started unzipping his pants.

But the witches were doing fucking nothing, nothing compared to what you did with 4 layers of clothing, nothing compared to his reaction to seeing you in that sundress. “Fuck!” he whispered-screamed frustrated as he threw the magazine to the floor, it falling back into place under Peter’s bed. He let himself fall on it and stared at the ceiling. The fucking photo he knew was still in his pocket weighing like led, he imagined you moving around in it, he remembered how the dress hugged your perfect soft curves from the seconds glimpse he’d gotten at it and… he felt the rush of bIood flowing downward.

“Just this once,” he said to himself as if he really thought he’d be able to stop afterwards “Just this once,” he repeated as he shut the curtains around his bed, out of shame rather than a bigger need of privacy, “just this once…” he repeated as he pulled the picture from his pocket, the back was facing him, there was a small legend on it, written in elegant cursive handwriting, your handwriting. He brushed his finger over it as he read “Neuschwanstein, Summer 1976”. So that was the name of the castle, he thought as he moved his other hand to his trousers.

He didn’t turn the picture, not yet, he hoped his imagination would be enough, he hoped that if he didn’t actually look at the picture while doing it, he’d have the moral high ground. He also knew that that was all bullshit from his own head trying to justify his actions. He started rubbing his hand over his trousers, feeling how hard the thought of you had made him. The nude witches from the magazine hadn’t done half that, it had been you.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he started rubbing, not taking himself out. Not yet, he had to engrave that picture of you deep in his brain before starting, as if it hadn’t been done the moment he spotted it on the floor of the library.

He continued to rub until he was panting and he stood up, kneeling on the bed instead of sitting down, undoing his button and pulling both his pants and briefs down in a surprisingly swift motion. He was so hard, there was already a bit of precum coming from him. He took a deep breath and placed his hands around himself, he gulped when he did, and then reached forward, flicking his finger over his tip, spreading some of the warm liquid over it, but it wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up and spit on it, using that as a lubricant as he started to move his hand up and down along his shaft. Slow at first, trying to remember the way you looked, but the more he pumped, the foggier his brain got, it was like he couldn’t hold the picture of you in his brain.

On the spur of the moment, he made a decision he thought he wouldn’t be doing that day, he really, really thought he had an ounce of self restraint until he gave up, and flipped the picture. “Fuck,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw you, he was fucking thankful the pictures couldn’t talk like portraits did. He continued to pump himself, panting as he started to thrust into his own hand instead. There was something about the movement of his hips that made it more real. He swallowed thickly as he stared at you, your dress rising ever so slightly as you twirled to see the castle behind you. It wasn’t even more than what he had seen when your skirt rode up, or what he had seen that day at the library but it was doing things to him regardless.

He grabbed a pillow and placed it in front of him, settling the picture over it carefully, still staring at your beautiful smile as he continued to thrust “so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered in between pants, she’s so bIoody stunning, how is it even possible?

His mind was filled with praises when he finally came, but he was so erratic, so sexdrunk that he didn’t even manage to catch his cum in his hand like he usually did, instead it spilled past his hands and onto the pillow he had placed in front of him, onto the photo.

When Remus managed to regain a little bit of himself and he noticed what had happened he panicked “What have I done?” he wondered as he pulled the picture up and attempted to clean the sticky hot liquid with the sleeves of his sweater –it was like he had forgotten he was a wizard altogether– but instead of helping it only spread out even more, now being all over your chest. And that, that sent another rush down his body, his gaze darkened as he stared, lips parted, not believing what was going on.

He looked down, the twitch on his cock hadn’t been his imagination, it had actually fucking happened “What the bIoody fuck!” he whispered as he went to pat himself again, he would be sore as fuck later that day, but he didn’t give a bIoody damn about it. Completely forgetting his initial worry, he went at it again, when he was done, he came even harder, over the picture again, but this time, it had been intentional. Something about ruining that dress made his brain tick. When he was done, he just let himself fall on the bed, face down, not caring to adjust his pants, only turning his pillow around so he wouldn’t be sleeping directly over his cum.

As he laid down face looking to the side, he pulled the picture from the side and stared at it, he was fucking spent, and yet he felt his cock twitch yet again as he saw your figure covered in his seed. You were fucking stunning in that dress. He fell asleep like that. Pillow with cum underneath, half-naked, and with your cum filled picture standing right next to his face.

When he woke up again, it was because he heard someone trying to open the door. He jolted awake, pulled his pants up and used his wand to clean the bottom of his pillow and some of his shirts, some of it was sticky, while other bits were just staining the sheets with a cloudy white stain. He pocketed the picture, the one he didn’t care to clean, and walked towards the door.

“Remus?” Sirius asked when he opened the door “Why weren’t you in class today?”

“I was feeling off,” Remus lied, standing right in front of Sirius and blocking his view of the bed. It was clean, really, but he had forgotten to undraw the curtains “Had a headache.”

“But we’re pretty far from that time of the month,” Sirius said casually, then he spotted the edge of the magazine under Peter’s bed, and Remus’ bed too, the one his friend had been so adamant to clock out of his view and he smiled “Should’ve told me,” he said with a smirk and pointed at the magazine “I’ve got better ones.”

Remus gasped “No I didn’t… I didn’t use that,” he shut his own mouth and cursed under his breath when he realized what he had involuntarily admitted to doing.

“No problem,” Sirius said with a smile “I was starting to worry about you and your obsessive little crush.” Remus gave him a reproachful look, Sirius just ignored it “She’s in the common room, you know? She was worried about you.”

“She was?”

“Said she was waiting for you at dinner,” Sirius responded with a shrug. Remus looked at his friend surprised and turned to the clock on the wall “It’s that fucking late?”

Sirius nodded, and smiled as he saw Remus walk past him and towards the door again “Go get her lover boy,” he said as he waved Remus goodbye with a smile.

That day, since you hadn’t seen him, you’d brought him food over, and the two of you had some snacks by the fire, you had leaned into him a little, craving his warmth since the night had gotten cold, even if it was already spring. He thought he’d be giving you your photograph back that day, but he just couldn’t, not while it was still stained with his cum, so the picture stayed. Safely in his pocket as you waved goodbye and walked up to your room with a soft smile on your face.

The picture had almost become part of his routine, whenever he was feeling too uneasy around you, or turned on for that matter, he sneaked to a private place in the castle and took matters into his own hands. At first, he was shameful for it, cheeks burning as he stared at you, but the more he did it, the less shame he felt.

Eventually though, he heard you talking to Marlene about having lost a photograph that you really liked, and that you would straight up kiss anyone who found it because you had to give it back to your mom, who said she’d get you a duplicate if you really wanted it.

Remus felt terrible, he’d been using the picture to wank while you had been looking for it because you had to give it back? That night, he shut his curtains, used muffliato all over and he did it one last time –technically a couple of them– and fell asleep staring at the picture, trying to memorize it completely, especially the dried blotches of cum and how they looked over you. Fucking pervert, he thought as he finally used his wand to clean it up, leaving it like brand new.

The next day, he approached you on your way to the library, “Hey little witch,” he said as he approached you.

You loved it when he called you names, it made you feel special. You turned around trying not to grin, which was almost your automatic reaction to hearing his voice “Hey Rem,” you responded with a smile.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he bit his bottom lip.

You gave him a surprised look and approached him “You do?” He nodded. “What is it?”

“I found something you were looking for,” he said as he pulled the picture from his pocket.

“Remus!” you said, not bothering to hide your excitement “You found my picture,” you smiled “I was worried it’d end up in the wrong hands…”

Remus averted your gaze, yeah like mine, he thought, but then turned to you with a smile, he decided to tease you “And where is my reward?” he asked with a cocky smile, you looked at him puzzled. “Didn’t you say you’d kiss whoever found it?”

You gave him a smile, not sure whether he was joking or not, but decided to oblige him, pulling him down by placing a hand on his shoulder and standing on your toes just a little before placing the smallest little peck to his cheeks “Thank you, my hero!” you said with a smile as you pulled away, a slight sarcastic tint to it.

All thought he’d asked for it, he was not expecting for you to actually go through with it. He coughed a bit and smiled, pointing at the picture as he tried to regain composure “the dress,” he said, “it looks really nice, you should wear it more often.”

And those words were all you needed for him to say, you knew you had a Hogsmade outing on the weekend, so no matter what, you’d have to find that dress. You had been rummaging through your bottomless trunk for at least an hour when Marlene finally turned to you, looking at the mess of scattered clothes all around, and noting your distressed little expression.

“What’s wrong darling, you lost something?” she asked.

“Sort of,” you said, “I’m looking for my dress.”

“Your dress? Which dress?” she asked.

You pulled the picture and handed it over to her. She took in her hands and gave you a low whistle “You look stunning, luv. Who do we want to impress?”

Your head snapped towards her with a small gasp “Impress!?”

Marlene just smiled “Come on,” she said, “you wouldn’t be looking for it so frantically if it wasn’t for the fact that you wanted to garner someone’s attention.” She sat on your bed and stared at you, head tilted “Is it Remus?” You flushed. “It is Remus!” she added excitedly.

You shook your head as you sighed, not bothering to hide it from her and nodded “he found the photo, he said the dress looked good on me.”

“Bet he did,” she said, diverted and leaned in closer to notice the slightly worn edges of the picture, she turned it around a couple of times before noticing a small rip. She shuddered and let the picture fall on the bed. Looking at you and the photo and then back at you with shock “How long did he have it?”

You shrugged in response, still dipping your head inside your trunk and pulling piece after piece of clothing “Not sure, he said he found it and brought it over.”

Marlene looked at you suspiciously, not daring to take the picture again, were you that naive? “How long was it lost?”

“‘Bout three weeks or so, I think…” you said as if it didn’t matter now that you knew where the picture was “fuck, it’s nowhere!” you whined as you continued to throw pieces of clothing behind you.

“Honey I think he…” she shut herself. And looked back at the pic, not taking in her hands again. She frowned, trying to decide whether to tell you or not.

“hmm?” you said, turning to her.

“I think you’ll look stunning in it,” she said, opting not to tell you “Come on, let me help,” she said as she stood up and walked beside you, helping you dig through the trunk until you found it. It was better if you didn’t know what he had been doing with that picture. All though, knowing you like she did, you might have been turned on by the idea anyway.

She was the one who found it, she stood with it and helped you carefully hang it on the bed as she used a steamer spell to get rid of the wrinkles. All the while you were using some levitating spells to put all the clothes back on the trunk. You’d told her you’d make sure to clean it up later.

The boys were already at “The Three Broomsticks” since they had promised to get in ahead of you to find a table. And you had promised Lily you’d go to the hair stylist with her. You weren’t there to get anything done, but somehow she convinced you to let them style your hair in a nice way. She thought a bit of extra magic would look really nice with your dress “So you can woe Remus.” she’d said. As Remus needed anything other than your sole existence to be wooed.

When you were both done, her red locks were perfectly done up and cut, your own hair styled in a way that you looked just like a princess, the two of you finally walked towards the spot you always shared with the boys. Marlene, and Mary were already there. Marlene was talking about Quidditch with James and they were waiting for you to ask you some things before the next match in a couple of weeks while Remus and Sirius were talking about something else.

Sirius was the one who spotted you come in through the door, and him being Sirius, whistled shamelessly, garnering the attention of every single person in the table, and even some from other people around them “Look at them go, you look stunning girls!”

Remus was about to reprimand Sirius for his crassness when he turned to see you. And when he noticed exactly what you were wearing, his mouth went dry, a rush of bIood going straight down his body. He never expected to actually see you in that dress in real life. To him, it was like a dream, a fantasy, but now it was real, and it made him grow pale, and hold his breath as you walked towards them and he saw the fabric ripple around you as you walked. Is that a– the dress has a leg slit?, he thought as he stared, swallowing hard and trying to snap himself out of the trance.

Marlene noticed, of course, she noticed. And she tried to hide a snicker, by drinking some water but ended up coughing instead. Remus, who had been sitting next to her, didn’t even notice, so she hit him lightly “asshole,” she said. He turned to her rather confused. “I almost choked?”

“Oh… really? Didn’t notice… want me to get you a napkin?” He asked politely, his eyes turning to her only briefly before going to you and then back and forth.

Marlene rolled her eyes “No need, ooze at your little witch instead.” She made sure to use the nickname he had given you in a rather mocking manner.

He snapped his head towards her now, paying full attention “I wasn’t– I mean I…”

Marlene just shook her head and stood up, a wicked little smile appearing on her lips as she grabbed your shoulders “Take my spot, will you?” She said with a smile “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, that way we don’t move everyone when I’m back.”

“You sure?” you asked, catching the fact that she had been sitting next to Remus.

“Positive,” she added with a smile as she basically pushed you next to Remus and took off. You turned to her with a reproachful stance but took a deep breath and turned your head back around, rising in your seat just a little bit as you tried to accommodate the dress. The slit and the harsh way in which she had pushed you inside the booth caused one side of the dress to dip behind your leg, exposing it completely.

Remus noticed, and his gaze lingered just for a little bit before turning towards the front, glaring holes at the napkin holder as he tried to both think of a naked Dumbledore to cool down and etch the curve of your legs in his brain for later use.

Sirius, the other person at the table who knew what was going on, was a nice enough friend to hand Remus a glass of cold water. When Marlene came back, she had brought over some Butterbeer for everyone, and Lily had stood up to ask for some snacks at the counter. Marlene had sat an awful lot closer to you than she needed when she came back, with one sole purpose, to press you into Remus.

“Sorry,” You said, looking up at him when the girl laughed and you ended up shoulder to shoulder.

He looked down at you, staring with the softness he always used on you and smiled “No problem darling.”

Marlene smiled, and when she saw Frank and Alice she called them over “Sit with us guys,” she said with a wicked smile. Alice gave her a look, knowing she was up to something just by looking at her expression. So even if she originally planned a date with just Frank, she decided to pull him along.

“I’ll go get a chair,” the boy said as he approached the table.

“Don’t be silly, we all fit in here,” Sirius said when he figured out what Marlene was doing, “I’ll just sit on Prongs’ lap,” He said before the two of them accommodated, allowing Lily and to move over and subsequently for Mary to do the same, successfully making enough space for Alice to sit in there.

Remus was throwing pleading looks at his friend when Mary spoke “Careful Lils, Sirius might steal your man.”

She chuckled, “he can keep him for all I care,” she joked, James pouted in response.

“I guess I can sit on Frank’s…” Alice started.

“Don’t be ridiculous luv!” Marlene said “You’re our guest,” she said, “(Y/N) can sit on Remus’ lap.” You threw her a look, and she just gave you an expectant smile.

“Well as long as it doesn’t bother you,” you said, turning to Remus who swallowed but shook his head. Sirius was holding his need to laugh when you kind of stood up and placed yourself over Remus’ lap. And he wanted to laugh because Remus’ face was just priceless. He had his eyes shut tight, and he might have also been holding his breath. Sirius just honestly hoped you didn’t find one of those surprises that Remus often had when you were around.

“So, what were you planning guys?” Lily asked as everyone started to get comfortable. Remus had placed his hands on the table, close enough to yours so they were brushing against each other, it made you feel butterflies.

“We were just going to have dinner and then walk around a little bit. Alice wanted to restock on her strawberry gum before going back too.”

“Yeah, we didn’t have any strong plans, what about you guys?” Alice added.

“Well Zonko’s is our mandatory spot, but we went there earlier,” Sirius responded as he pulled one of the breads from the center and split it in two, “Want some?” he asked looking at you and you nodded and handed it over, then he turned back to Alice.

You took a bit of your bread to bring it over to your mouth and turned back to them “Lils and I went to the hair salon.”

“So that’s why you both look so stunning,” Alice said, by then, Frank who had stood up earlier had brought back two other butterbeers, one for himself and the other for his fiancé.

You then turned to Remus, who you realized was grabbing onto the edge of the table “Are you okay?” you asked him, concerned. Freaking Marlene, she didn’t even consider Remus might be uncomfortable, you thought.

The boy looked at you, focusing like he had been thinking of something else and nodded “Yeah sorry, don’t know what to do with my hands,” he admitted, pulling them slightly from where they were brushing against yours.

You looked at him, and grabbed his hands in yours, pulling them towards your lap, not quite wrapping them around your waist, but almost “You can put them there, I don’t mind.”

Remus gulped but nodded. He could barely stop thinking at the way you felt pressed against him. Your legs on top of his were already enough to drive him crazy, but now his hands on top of your legs? He had to grab the butterbeer and bring it up to his lips to cool himself down again, drinking about half the bottle in one go.

You pulled another piece of bread to your mouth and realised he had been staring at your hands, mistakenly, you assumed it was because he was hungry, you grabbed another bit and hovered it just about his mouth “Want some?”

Remus just leaned in and took the piece you offered him munching on it as he tried to concentrate on the flavour. Other than the fact that he was struggling not to make it obvious how turned on he was, he thought the domesticity you were showing was overly nice.

But then you leaned in to grab another piece of bread from the far side of the table, and the smell of your hair got all the way to him, and then he looked at your soft smooth looking back that was a lot more exposed than normally and he fucked up.

When you leaned back in your place, you felt it. You almost gasped. But then realised that it must have been your imagination. Surely there was no way you leaning onto the table like that would garner such a reaction from him. Right?

Regardless, you were too curious to just let it slip by, so you repeated your action. This time you noticed his breath catch on his throat as he emitted the quietest little gasp you’d ever heard. And so when you went back to your spot, you just grabbed your bread and started munching on it as you tried to keep a straight, not completely surprised face.

You thought about not moving at all for a while, so Remus could sort out whatever was going on by himself. Really, it would have been the merciful thing to do. To freeze in your place, let him cool down and pretend it never happened. Unfortunately for him –or perhaps fortunately– you had never been merciful, not when you were playing quidditch, not when you were destroying your opponent in magic chess and you certainly wouldn’t start then.

Besides, if he really had been turned on by you and not by some other external factor, then you doing what you were about to do might have been all the proof you needed to know if Remus actually liked you back.

At first, you didn’t want to make it obvious. And pretended you hadn’t noticed his reaction to you, which had him relax, if ever so slightly. But then you leaned in again, this time to Lily, and you made a small little gesture with your hand to have her lean into you too, telling her something silly about the homework. Leaning back toward Remus and then repeating the same action while pretending you had forgotten to say something.

When you went back to your place, you pressed yourself against the boy a little harder, smiling when you realised that it must definitely have been you the one causing such a reaction in Moony. Your resolve only solidified when you felt his hands – which were still lying atop of your tights, ball into tight fists, his whole body tightening under you, in fact.

Still, the boy hadn’t noticed you were doing it on purpose and he hoped to the heavens you hadn’t noticed what was going on with him. The possibility that you thought what you were feeling was keys or something else in his pockets was at least comforting.

You smiled, almost wickedly as you thought of yet another excuse to roll your hips atop of his, “Please stop moving,” he whispered in your ears after he grabbed your arms and forced you to lean closer to him.

“Am I too heavy? Sorry…” You said aiming to stand up but going back down a second later, pretending it had been accidental. Remus cursed under his breath, feeling like shit for being so turned on over you… just existing.

“No, you– you were just squeezing my tight.” He said, voice rougher than usual.

You revelled in the reactions you were getting from him. “Oh sorry,” you said and rolled your hips to the side, his breath hitched in his throat, “This better?”

“I-“ he started, not quite being able to emit a full sentence.

You held a smile and tolled your hips to the other side “And this?” you asked, still in an innocent tone.

“fuck…”

You bit your lip to not smile, turning your body to him and leaning on one of his legs instead, placing your hand on his cheek “Are you okay?” you asked, fake concern laced in your words, he was too far gone to notice.

“Yeah, sorry I just, I feel like I should… Perhaps I can…”

“Want me to stand up?” You asked with a small pout “If I’m making you uncomfortable the just–”

“–No!” he said a little too suddenly, “I’m fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine.” At least with your ass pressed only to only one of his tights, he was starting to relax again. Even if the slit of your dress had repeated its action from earlier and had your leg a lot more exposed than before. He noticed, and you noticed he noticed.

And so, doing the boldest thing you had ever done in your life, you spread your legs open just a wee bit more, letting the slit fall further behind and letting your leg show just a tad more. Remus swallowed thickly as he stared “discreetly”, which just made your mouth dry.

You then turned back to the front, since Peter had arrived with the food, fish and chips and some other casual dishes. You moved yourself again, this time facing the front and pressing your ass straight to his crotch. You didn’t care for pretending anymore, you wanted to see how far you could push him, so you rolled your hips against him once. Leaned down for a fry and then rolled them again, two times this time.

Remus’ breath was heavy, he was looking at you in shock, at this point he was so hard there was no way you hadn’t noticed. He saw you lean forwards, your movement different from the first time you’d done it, you were perking your ass against him, and when you leaned back you rolled your hips three times, basically grinding onto him as you did.

That’s when he realised, and the next time you leaned for a chip, he pulled his hands from your lap and wrapped them around your hips tightly before pulling you back onto him, harshly, making sure to press you against him in a way that made you gasp in shock, he leaned onto your ear “Thought I wouldn’t notice little witch?” he whispered.

Your mouth went dry, you weren’t sure anything anyone had ever told you made you feel that turned on in your life. Still, you decided to continue playing your own little game “Whatever do you mean Rem?” you asked innocently, turning your head to him, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

He chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips before pushing you down onto him again “Stop pretending, or this won’t stop till I’ve had my fill.”

Your eyes shone at the idea, you tried to roll your hips against his again but his grip was way too tight “Is that… a promise?”

Remus chuckled again before forcing your hips to roll against him again, pulling his head in a bit of an angle so he could whisper in your ear without anyone realising it, “It was a threat, but you can call it whatever you like sweetheart.”

You smiled wickedly “Then I still have no clue what you mean,” you replied with another of those innocent smiles of yours, while you pulled the dress a little bit higher.

Remus held back a groan as he looked at you, teasing him like you didn’t know any better. Like you didn’t know how many dreams of railing you in that dress he’d had in the past couple of weeks.

In the middle of your little rendezvous, Sirius noticed something was going on, it was in the way Remus was regarding you really, same stare the wolf used often, fucking famished. “Hey Moons! Didn’t you say you had to go to the castle early for that potions project of yours?” he asked, eyeing Marlene.

“Right, same one you’ve been working on, isn’t it darling? You should go together,” she said, turning to you.

Remus shot a small little sneaky smile at Padfoot and nodded “You’re right,” Remus said calmly “Both of you,” he said giving each of them a look, and then turned to you, “shall we go?”

You gulped, eyes as dark as his own “Yeah, we should.”

Frank, Marlene and Peter got off from the booth so you could both get out, you were the first one up and Remus followed, placing himself behind you so no one could see the tent in his pants, but also because he enjoyed pressing himself onto you a little too much.

You pulled your wallet and took out a couple of bills, “Remus’ is on me,” you said with a smile.

Sirius snickered when he thought, Well, he certainly will be. Which was rather similar to what Remus thought as his eyes darkened.

“If I help you with your homework will you also be paying for my butterbeer?” James teased.

You smiled “How many butterbeers do you owe me then Prongs?”

He gasped at your bold little response and you waved at everyone with a smile. Remus had placed his hand on your neck, Thumb brushing against your spine as he turned the both of you around and prompted you to move forward. Once outside you saw a small little alleyway that seemed just dark enough for the two of you “Remus, look–“

“Not there,” he said, “too dark.”

You turned to him a little surprised. “What? You want to do it out in the open then?”

He leaned over “Little witch, I haven’t been dreaming of you in that fucking dress for weeks so we end up fucking in a dark little corner where I won’t be able to see it properly.”

The shiver those words sent down your spine was unprecedented, that was until you realised exactly what he had said. Weeks? That must be a mistake. “Does that mean you had the photo for…”

“Yes, weeks,” he confirmed, not even caring to hide it anymore. “It’s clean now, don’t worry,” he added.

“What do you mean it’s…” the words died out in your mouth, you knew exactly what he meant “Remus!” you admonished, half shocked, half complaining, but totally turned on.

“Got a problem?! Don’t leave you’re fucking photos laying in the ground for anyone else to see.” He said, the fact that he was using such crass language, something he tended to avoid around you was proof enough of how out of control he was at the moment “Coud end in the wrong hands.”

You looked around “Where are you taking me?” you asked when you noticed you were walking towards the forest.

“To a place almost as beautiful as you,” he said simply. Your bIood rushed to your cheeks. Fucking Remus John Lupin, he had you and he had you bad, “you do trust me, right?” he added leaning into your ears.

This was definitely revenge for what you had done to him back at the pub. You somehow managed to nod and he smiled. The two of you walked along the forest for a couple of minutes, until you saw some light, the darkness and trees opened into a small circle, there were small floating pollen spores that you could only see when the sun hit them right, and the shadows the tall trees cast on the ground made the entire place look like it was something out of a fairy tale. Even the air… it smelled of magic. Perhaps the fairies would fly away scared after the two invaded their home, terrified of the debauchery that was about to occur… or perhaps they'd see the two of you together, looking so merry, that they would dance and party along with you, from their small little nooks hidden inside the roots of the trees.

The beauty of the place made you almost forget why you were there all together. Almost. Remus had brought you closer to him, wrapping his fingers around your waist and pressing himself onto you. He was still hard. It hadn’t been a long walk but you assumed that… Well, perhaps you didn’t know shit about male anatomy, let alone werewolf anatomy. You pressed your hips against him and he stifled a moan.

You turned around and placed your hand on his cheek again, echoing the action you had done at the pub, but this time using it to bring him down for a kiss. First, it was just a small little one on the side of his mouth, but as you were pulling away he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you back in.

It started slow, he started slow. Like he was savouring every inch of your lips before pressing his tongue against them, you let your own part, and the two of them started dancing against each other. You tried to deepen the kiss, to make it faster, but Remus was slow and steady and demanding. He was not about to let you rush him through this.

No, Remus Lupin had dreamed of this moment for way too fucking long to let you be fast and desperate about it. “Remus I…” you whined.

“Shhhh little witch…” he coed “We need to take our time, make sure you’re ready–“

“I am ready,” you said as you pulled his hand from your neck and dragged it towards your core, when his fingers brushed over your wet panties he could not stop the curse that slipped through his mouth.

“So fucking wet already. And just for the kissing–”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s been like that since the pub.”

Remus chuckled, diverted at your boldness before he stared at you, at the dress again. Half of him wanted to rip it apart to see all of you, but the other one, the one that had made him fuck himself into his own hands so many times, wanted you to keep it on. He wanted to fuck you in that dress until it was filled with grass and dirt and cum. He wanted to fucking ruin you. You weren’t making it easy for him to hold back either.

You noticed the way he was staring and placed your hand on the back of the dress, starting to unzip it when he placed his hands over yours and dragged them away from it, pulling the zipper back up and whispering in your ear “Keep it on.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command.

“What? But… you won’t be able to– Will it be enough?”

Remus looked at you in disbelief, raising his eyebrows as he nodded towards the tent in his pants “More than fucking enough.” He pulled you back in towards him, gliding his hands down your tights and sliding one of them through the slit, “I didn’t know the dress had a slit when I was using it to get off,” he whispered, hot breath against your ear making you shiver, you were about to crumble onto him “I imagine I would have… let my imagination run wild with it.”

“Let your imagination run with it now,” you replied and pulled on his hair to bring him back to your mouth. He groaned at the harsh movement, and you almost fucking melted into him after he made that sound. “Remus! You’re too tall,” you complained in between kisses and you pressed your hands onto his shoulders to bring him further down. He smiled onto the kiss, but allowed you to push him down until you were both kneeling on the soft mossy grass. He was still too fucking tall “sit.”

“Sit?” he asked diverted, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Yes, sit,” you said again, pushing him on the chest just hard enough to have him tumble back, ass on the ground as he stared at you, amusement evident on his face. Of course, had Remus actually wanted to stay up, your small little blow to his chest wouldn’t have done shit, but he liked how desperate you were.

He looked up at you, still on your knees as you looked back at him, eyes blown with lust “I like it when you take charge like this,” he joked.

You scoffed diverted “Shut the fuck up Moony, I’ll–“

“Make me,” he interrupted you, brattily.

How many fucking romance novels had this boy read? “I’m sorry?”

He just smiled wider, he knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was getting a kick out of it. “I said… make me.”

You wanted to scoff, but instead, you climbed on top of him pressing yourself against his cock and leaning in for a kiss, but not allowing your lips to touch. It’s what he wanted, really. You knew because you had probably read those same novels. Instead, you rocked your hips into his, and he gasped. Remus leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back and brushed your cheeks through his as you leaned over to whisper in his ear, rocking your hips against his once more before speaking “You were saying?”

His mouth went dry, he was not expecting so much push and pull with you, he almost always imagined you as a little bunny he would ruin, but it seemed like you were as much of a wolf as he was, which was somehow even better, hotter, it made his whole fucking body feel like it was on fire, which was exactly what you were feeling as you felt his crotch rub straight against your wet panties. The friction making you feel things you didn’t consider possible.

“Fuck,” he whispered, which only furthered your conviction “Darling if you-“ he groaned as you ground against him yet again “keep this up, I’m not gonna– not gonna last,” he somehow managed to get out.

“Then stop me,” you said with a wicked smile. Remus pulled you back, to stare at your face, you still had that expression and he quirked one of his eyebrows. “Must I repeat myself?”

Remus scoffed, biting his lips when he felt you roll your hips against his again, which got a hiss in return. When he was sure you were okay with it, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you back on his legs, just enough so you wouldn’t be able to continue grinding against his crotch. And then he lifted you up with remarkable ease before laying you on the mossy grass floor.

Your hair sprawled around your face, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes so blown with lust they almost looked black, he wasn’t sure you’d ever looked prettier in his life. He hovered over you and you opened your legs for him, pulling them up to try and chase his, but he pulled them back, you gave him a desperate pout. Which made you look even more adorable.

Remus placed one of his hands on your hips to hold them down and brought the other one to your legs, he was taking his sweet time as he brushed it over your leg, savouring the feeling of your soft skin against his hands, pressing lightly as he brushed over your calves and brushing your inner thigh with utmost care, you felt like you were at the common room all over again. The recurrent dream you had coming back to you in an instant.

“Remus,” you whined, as you tried to push your hips up only to be stopped by his dextrous hands. You heard him chuckle, voice hoarse still.

“Let me enjoy the view darling, you don’t know how pretty you look right now.”

“Well, enjoy while touching,” you said, pulling the dress as far as you could and placing your hand over the one on your hips to bring it down to your core.

There was no shame in your movements, there was no fear, you’d let him touch you wherever he wanted and that made Remus’ cock twitch in his pants “Perhaps you shouldn’t be putting so much trust in a wolf’s hands…” he said as he rubbed his thumb over your wet underwear. Failing to keep up his smug grin when he realised just how wetter you’d gotten them, the small little surprise eased a smile on his face. And since you were looking so attentively at it –at his beautiful, perfect, licentious face– you noticed.

Deciding to tease him further you rolled your hips against his thumb, feeling the way the rest of them pressed against the top of your slit, warm and kind, even as they pushed you back down again with relatively strong force “Maybe you’re just a sheep in a wolf’s skin,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Isn’t that saying meant to be the other way around?”

You started to laugh, easily being shut up by his thumb sliding to the side and back again, this time dipping inside your panties and rubbing through your hole “Shit,” you breathed.

Remus smiled, realising how much you whimpered when one of his scars brushed against your clit. He tortured you with it for a few seconds before he pressed his thumb against it, earning a gasp from you. “A sheep in a wolf’s skin, eh?” he asked as he loomed over you, one hand still on your clit and the other one to prompt himself up, looking at your elated little face, and the microexpressions you made whenever he did something right.

You managed to somehow regain back focus, just enough to smirk in between a moan, “just a sheep,” you repeated. And he inserted a digit against you. You gasped again.

But he was just as shocked as you were, “So tight,” he whispered, “It’s not going to fit…” he said more to himself. You pushed your hips against his finger, wanting to feel some fiction.

“It will,” you reassured “Please Remus…” you begged then.

He almost came there and then. You were pleading for him to continue, fucking pleading. He complied. He started moving his finger inside and out, careful and soft at first, like he didn’t want to hurt you, keeping his eyes trained on your face to make sure you were okay as he dug deeper inside you. Your face was dazed in pleasure, almost too far gone when you felt another finger.

You frowned, and he stopped moving “Hurts?” he asked concerned laced in his tone.

You took a deep breath “No… just, give me a second…” You said as you tried to adjust to the feeling. After just a couple more seconds, it was you who was pushing against his fingers. You hadn’t even realised when he had pulled his thumb and replaced it with his index and middle finger, but they were longer, and they reached places they hadn’t done before. You only figured it out when he started rubbing circles against your clit like he had done at first.

And you moaned his name as he picked up the pace. The pleasure was so big you didn’t even realize he was actually preparing you, slowly moving his fingers as he rubbed and trusted so he could stretch you out, so he could actually fuck you the way he wanted.

He reached a point you hadn’t even managed to reach yourself ever before and you bit your lips so hard you drew bIood, he figured it out in a second and continued to rub against the spot until he had you wrapping your hands around his tightly, he knew you were close, so he smiled and continued pumping even as you tried to reduce the friction, which had you coming undone after a couple of seconds. Your breath was ragged, your hands loosened as you lost yourself to the pleasure. He helped you down from your high, still pumping his fingers in and out, slower now, almost painfully slow.

When he finally stopped, he pulled them out slowly and then brought his fingers straight to his mouth, and the guttural moan that escaped his lips when he wrapped them around his fingers and tasted set you ablaze yet again. You reached your hand for his crotch and started grazing your delicate fingers against him. He was still looming over you, and you smiled when his stance faltered.

You went straight to the button of his dress pants, and then pulled the zipper down, pressing your hand over his briefs, and you finally understood why he thought it wasn’t going to fit. Your fault for falling in love with such a tall boy. You heard him whimper above you and it only made your resolve strengthen, you pulled your hands inside his briefs now. When he felt your hands around him, not his rough hands- but your soft, small hands, around him he crumbled into you, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you stroked him.

You were soft, and kind to him, at first… But you started picking up the pace when he pressed his mouth to your neck and started sucking against the soft skin, and against your collarbone, and then further enough to reach to the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you, lust filled his eyes as he leaned his cheek into your chest but he did nothing.

You were almost too far gone to realise he was asking for permission, but he used his mouth to nudge the string that tied the section that gave the “milkmaid dress” its name and you instantly understood what he wanted. You nodded and he used his mouth to pull the small little bow you had made earlier undone. Using the now-added space to trail his mouth to the valley of your breasts. You tightened the grip around him when you felt his hot breath against your nipples, and you did it again when you felt his mouth wrapped around one of them.

“fuck,” You whispered. He hummed in response, his own moans being drowned out by your soft skin, as he licked and sucked and nipped to his heart’s content. But then you did something that almost got him over the edge, and he bit your soft skin almost a little too hard. You had moved your hand up and had started to rub his tip. You might have known shit about male anatomy, but if books had taught you something, it was that, that was the most sensible part of a man’s cock. From his reaction, it was just the same for a werewolf.

“Okay, that’s enough!” he said roughly as he pulled your hand off him and pushed it over your head, taking the other one somewhere along the way and keeping them both in place with one of his own. He was still accommodating one of his hands to carefully hold both of yours down when you chased your hips against his. He gave you an impassive look and you just repeated the action again, a teasing smile dancing on your lips. He narrowed his eyes at you and you had the nerve to shrug innocently in response, or at least attempt a shrug, since both of your hands were still stretched over your head.

He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he used his free hands to tug your underwear down. The cold caused you to shiver, but it didn’t last long, he was already rubbing himself into your entrance. The feeling made you quaver, you were desperate to have him, but you also understood what he was doing. He was coating himself in your slick.

After a few more thrusts to your slick and he lined himself against your entrance. When he was ready, you pulled your hips up and his tip slewed over you and graced your already sensitive clit, you did it again, but then he pushed you down, hands digging into your flesh as he set your hips back on the grass, giving you a warning look.

You smiled teasingly and attempted to do it again, but his hands were digging against your pelvis and you barely managed to squirm under him, “please just fuck me,” you said with a pout.

“I was about to do that when you decided to tease,” he responded, a fake annoyance laced in his words. You let out a sigh but you felt him line against your entrance again. Your breath hitched in your throat and stopped squirming, allowing him to move his hand from your hips to guide himself inside.

He was slow and didn’t go all the way in at first, paying close attention to your face as he slid inside, breath heavy “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered. You were panting as well, but managed to bring your hips up to help him bury more of himself inside you, he gasped, and dug his hands back on your hips, forcing you to still. Fucking Remus and his fucking werewolf strength, you thought as you attempted to writhe.

Remus was damn thankful he had played so many scenarios in his head as he touched himself, he wasn’t sure if he would have lasted half as long as he had if he hadn’t already pictured you in so many different ways. But even with so many, he hadn’t expected you to be so damn tight. When you kept squirming, he jerked forwards, dipping himself entirely inside you.

You moaned, your face in that mix of pleasure and pain he hadn’t yet managed to decipher “You okay?” he asked to your ear, his voice a mix between a whisper and a groan.

You nodded and clenched around him in response, he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t moving because he was letting you adjust, or because he was trying not to instantly cum. You just felt so fucking good.

He could feel you breathing under him, your belly rising and falling almost alongside his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to you, so impossibly close. But you weren’t as patient. You hadn’t had as much practice with your own hand like he had, and you were desperate for him to move again. You tightened your muscles one more time. He cursed under his breath, and then you tried squirming under him.

“Please, little witch,” he begged, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging for, when his head decided to cooperate he managed to speak again, still in your ear “let me adjust.”

You squirmed under him again “adjust while fucking me.”

He bit his lip, pulled back slowly and thrusted back in with a lot more strength, you gasped, but relished on the feeling of him finally moving “Such a crass language my luv,” he said in between another of those harsh trusts. You were squirming under him again, this time it wasn’t on purpose. You pulled your hands under his sweater, you wanted to feel his skin.

He faltered at that, like it was a part of him he didn’t want you to see, let alone to feel, but when your fingers started brushing over one of his scars, in such a fucking adoring way, he couldn’t help but melt into you, he was sure he’d let you do whatever the hell you’d wanted to him.

You started bucking your hips against his, meeting his rhythm as best as you could, he was still being mindful of you as he continued his thrusts, too scared to hurt you. It was only when you fastened your pace that he did the same.

You whined his name, a little more desperate now, he knew you were close but he wasn’t sure the angle was enough for you, so he leaned closer “Would you,” thrust “mind it if I–” thrust “flipped you around?”

You wrapped your hands around his hair, letting them roam over him as you brought him over for a sloppy kiss, he instantly knew that was your answer. He took you out of him, you chased your hips back to his almost unwittingly, and you saw his resolve falter, but he got it back as quickly and used his strong hands to wrap them around your hips and flip you around. You had your face against the grass, turning your neck to try and see what he was doing when he took off his sweater.

He leaned over you, you could feel his cock pressed against your ass, but he was carefully bunching the soft fabric, raising your head with his hand and cautiously placing it under your head. Fucking sheep in the skin of a wolf, you thought, he’s too freaking kind.

You were still nursing that line of thought when you felt him thrust against you again, a lot harsher now, you straight up moaned at that, and he smiled as he continued his thrusts, in and out, until you were mindlessly pushing yourself against him again. You felt one of his hands slide in between your thighs, he started rubbing circles to your clit, repeatedly. You were losing yourself to him. To his hips thrusting into yours with a lot more force, to his heavy breaths and panting, to every moan and gasp and whimper and groan he emitted. They all sounded so beautiful to you.

He continued rubbing, he was determined to make you come at least a couple of times, he had come enough to your photo, he wanted to return the favour. He realised your hips were chasing his skin and he took off the soft cotton shirt he was still wearing when he leaned over and placed his hand around your waist, pulling you up to his chest.

You let your head fall against his shoulder as he continued thrusting, you weren’t sure you’d be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried, so you just leaned in and placed sloppy kisses on his jaw, or to the section of it that you had access to now. He heard you moan when he quickened the pace of his hands on your clit, the other one still tightly around your ribs pushing you flush against him.

The feeling of his skin against your back was immeasurably perfect, you almost wished you could take off your dress to feel more of skin against you. You supposed it’d have to be for another time. You whined when he brought you to your climax yet again, the way your muscles clenched around him making him almost feral, he leaned in closer to you, “I’m going to…” he groaned into your ear.

“You can, inside if–“

“–No.”

“No?” you asked in confusion. He pulled you off of him and laid you back on the ground, still leaning over you when the first spurt of white warm liquid came out of his cock. You were still hazed, mind foggy and muddled from your orgasm but you realised what he wanted, and smiled reassuringly “It’s okay, I can buy another one.”

Remus groaned, letting his hand fall next to your head as he leaned in and continued to pump the rest of himself over you, over the dress. When he was finally done, he was so tired he wanted nothing more than to let himself fall over you, but he pulled back a little, still panting, but wanting to appreciate the mess he’d made.

You smiled at him, biting your lip, as you saw his lustful expression, your dress was coated in him, his sweat, and yours causing it to cling awkwardly to some part of your skin, but he absolutly loved it. He loved that he could practically smell himself on you, mixed in between the earthy and mossy aroma of the fores,t and the smell of sex. There was some cum near your breast, some over the left side of your waist, and some just over your entrance, that was still exposed to him. You looked even better covered with his cum than he imagined you would.

“Fucking gorgeous, wish I could take a picture,” he mumbled.

You smiled, pulling him to crash onto you, he complied, leaning his head against your chest like he had done earlier, you started brushing your fingers over his hair, especially the back of his scalp, he almost purred into your chest when you started scratching softly.

“You can keep one around the next time…” you whispered “but I’ll be taking some as well.”

He chuckled at your boldness, yet again. After what seemed like too little time but must have been close to an hour of the two of you just cuddling in the grass, you both knew you had to go back. So you stood up, Remus cleaned your dress with a swipe of his wand, almost lamenting the way his cum disappeared from it, but it had been pulled and dragged regardless. He wasn’t sure you’d be able to fix it.

“Here put this on,” He said, passing you his sweater over your arms.

You smiled as he bent back the sleeves to fit you better. And then he passed his fingers over your hair as if he was trying to make you look less sex drunk. You bit your lip “Do I not look like I’ve been railed to the heavens by a werewolf anymore?”

He chuckled, letting his hand linger on your cheek, “Thought I was a shep.”

“Hmm… You are, sometimes.” He smiled at your answer, and at your teasing smile. He stared at you for a second, he realised he was so unbearably in love with you it was absolutely insane. He wondered if you liked him a similar amount, judging by your reactions earlier, you might have.

When you leaned over to get your panties, which had been discarded somewhere over the grass, he beat you to it. You expected him to pass them over but instead, he pulled them to his face, giving them a sniff before placing them in his pocket. “Remus!” you admonished.

He shrugged, “It’s an exchange, you keep the sweater,” he responded with a rather dismissive wave of his hand.

“I never agreed to– bedsides, you're the one that ruined the dress!”

“And you’re the one that ruined the knickers, your point is?”

You scoffed, diverted at his answer and rushed towards him to try and get your underwear from his pocket but he veered off your grasp with ease, “Remus!” you said in between a snigger “You can’t expect me to go back to the castle all commando…”

He shrugged, “It'd be easier to go for another round if you did.”

You bit your lips in disbelief, and he wrapped his arms around yours, pulling you to start walking “Come on, hopefully, you’ll look less sex drunk by the time we’re back in the castle.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said as you pulled his jaw in between your hands to see his face better “You’re still all flushed.”

He shrugged “how could I not be? I have my arms around the prettiest little witch in the entire universe.”

You were sure you were the most flushed between the two after he said those words.

A/N: Did this one get out of hand in the length? Maybe... Do I love the final result? I definitely, definitely do. Remus and Reader's teasing and banter is my favourite thing ever. The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

Taglist: @lillysanura @sofiacblair @noommoon69 @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @maristaken @folklorev

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unabashegirl · 2 months

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my best friend's dad | part 1

Y/N and Scarlett Styles are best friends in college. They share everything even their plans for Spring Break. They have a trip to Bahamas planned. Everything takes a turn when Scarlett is unable to fly, and Y/N is forced to coexist and interact with Scarlett's dad.

Author's note: hello everyone, i hope you are all having a lovely night. As promised, here is a two-part one shot. I tried to make it one part, but as I wrote I realized I needed to give more context and build up the tension between Harry and Y/N.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the second part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: talk about smut

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From the very first day, Y/N had doubts about the career she had chosen to study in college. To be truthful, she had picked journalism because she admired how polished the reporters looked on the news. Her uncertainty vanished the moment she met Scarlett Styles at the end of her freshman year. Meeting Scarlett made it all worthwhile. They met in one of those classes that was just a filler for the syllabus, where no one ever attended and the professor didn’t seem to care, giving everyone the same grade.

Since freshman year, they had been inseparable. Y/N admired Scarlett in many ways. She loved how Scarlett stood up for what she believed was right, fighting with grace and facts. Scarlett influenced Y/N and helped her gain the confidence she lacked. She was much different from her freshman self.

"Alright, what do you think?" Y/N asked as she finished tying the side strings of her bikini bottoms. "Be honest." Y/N had Facetimed Scarlett for the approval of her outfits for their upcoming trip.

"Love it. That's definitely your color. How many are you taking?" Scarlett was in England, having flown back home to see her grandma and meet her youngest cousin before flying to the Caribbean to meet Y/N.

"Ten?" Y/N asked as she wrapped her bathrobe around herself and slipped off the red bikini she had just tried on. "Is that too much?"

"I think that's too little," Scarlett giggled. "I think that's all we’re going to wear for those two weeks."

"Crap," Y/N said, pursing her lips as she looked for more options. "The rest of my bikinis are too skimpy. I might have to buy more."

"Just take those," Scarlett rolled her eyes, looking at her best friend through her phone. "Stop spending money. Your mom is going to have a heart attack when she sees the credit card bill."

"I can't! They're too tiny! Your dad is going to be there," Y/N complained as she held up one of the smallest bikinis. "I want to make a good impression. He’s going to think I’m a whore."

"Please! My dad is probably going to be locked up in the house, designing and drawing. We’re barely going to see him."

"Fine, but you have to stick up for me when he kicks me out of the rental for nudity," Y/N said, laughing along with Scarlett, who knew her father was likely too busy to pay attention to their outfits, even on vacation.

Y/N continued her packing, occasionally glancing at the screen to see Scarlett’s reactions. After sorting through a few more outfits, she plopped down on her bed with a sigh.

"I'm so excited," Y/N said, smiling at Scarlett. "A much-needed break."

"From all the partying," Scarlett laughed. "I'm actually looking forward to some quiet time away from all the nonsense."

"Have you talked to him? Has he texted you?" Y/N asked, referring to Scarlett's boyfriend, Henry. They had a fallout two days before the break when Scarlett told him he couldn’t go to the Bahamas with them.

"He's still giving me the cold shoulder," Scarlett shrugged, trying to act like she wasn't hurt, but Y/N could read her too easily. She could tell Scarlett was hurt and disappointed. "I’m just not ready for him to meet my dad. Why is it so hard for him to understand? He means everything to me. I don't bring every guy I date to meet my dad. It's disrespectful."

Henry and Scarlett had started going out four months ago after meeting at a dorm party.

"His reaction is very childish if you ask me," Y/N said. She could tell that they weren't going to last. Scarlett hated being restrained or forced to do something she didn’t agree with. "He’s your dad. You choose when is the right time to meet him."

"I feel like he's just using the excuse of meeting my dad to tag along on the trip," Scarlett revealed. "Why would he want to meet him when we’ve only just met?" Y/N nodded; she had thought about it too but had refrained from saying it.

"Time will only tell, Scar." Her best friend only nodded. After they hung up, Y/N felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. She finished packing and went straight to bed.

The day of the trip finally arrived. Y/N was getting some much-needed coffee and a snack when she was interrupted by a call from Scarlett.

"I'll never understand why people can be so slow through the TSA—"

"Y/N, please don’t kill me," she interrupted, her voice filled with urgency. Scarlett had a knot in her throat.

"What? What happened?"

"They aren't letting me board the plane. My passport expires in less than six months." She was embarrassed; nothing like this had ever happened to her. Scarlett usually checked everything multiple times. However, the one time she hadn’t was last night. "I've talked with my dad, and he's calling some people, but I'm going to miss my flight and probably the first week of the trip until I can renew it."

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on her. She was disappointed and felt like crying.

"Y/N? Are you still there?"

"Y-yeah," she cleared her throat, noticing that the barista was calling out to her. It was her turn to order. Y/N stepped aside and allowed the next person to go before her. She was no longer thirsty or hungry. "So, I’m just going to find someone to get my luggage back and go home."

"What? You aren’t going to get on the plane? Why not?"

"What am I going to do without you?"

"Relax, read a book, listen to music, get a tan and a massage, and wait until next week for me to get there. Don’t be silly," Scarlett stated the obvious. She was just calling to let Y/N know the reason for her absence, but that didn’t mean the entire trip was canceled. She was just going to be late.

"I don’t know, Scar…"

"I am not taking no for an answer, Y/N. You spent way too much money on your seat on that plane. You opted out of eating quite a few times just to be able to afford it. My dad is already there, so you won’t be completely alone."

Y/N sighed, feeling torn between her disappointment and Scarlett's insistence. "Okay, you’re right," she finally conceded. “but please hurry up”

“I will. I’ll miss you,” Scarlett replied. “I promise I’ll get on the flight first out as soon as I get my passport sorted. In the meantime, just try to enjoy yourself. It’s the Caribbean, after all.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to normalize her pulse after the panic attack that she had started having.

“I’ll try my best.”

“That's the spirit. Give my dad a hug for me and have a safe flight. Text me when you land”

“Love you. Bye”

After hanging up, Y/N forced herself to focus on the positive. The trip was a chance to unwind, and she needed to make the best out of it. She ordered her coffee, though her appetite hadn’t quite returned and headed towards her gate.

Y/N boarded the plane and found her seat and after stowing her carry- on, she settled into the window seat, gazing out at the bustling airport below.

Just as she was about to pull out her book, a tall, handsome man appeared beside her. "Looks like I'm your seatmate," he said with a friendly smile, gesturing to the seat next to her.

Y/N smiled back, noticing his warm hazel eyes and easygoing demeanor. "Great, nice to meet you," she replied.

"I'm Anthony," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Y/N," she said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

As the plane took off, they struck up a conversation. Anthony was friendly and easy to talk to, and Y/N found herself enjoying his company. They talked about their reasons for going to the Bahamas, shared travel stories, and laughed about the little quirks of airplane travel.

"So, what's bringing you to the Bahamas?" Anthony asked after the plane reached cruising altitude.

"I'm meeting a best friend for spring break," Y/N explained. "She got held up with a passport issue, so I’m flying solo for now."

"That’s a bummer," Anthony said sympathetically, “I am also heading there for spring break with some friends. Maybe we’ll run into each other again. What are your plans for the trip?”

“A bit of everything, I guess. Relaxing, exploring and trying out some local food. You?”

“Pretty much the same. We’re staying at a resort, but I’m hoping to see more than just the touristy spots. I’ve heard the local culture is amazing.”

They continued chatting, sharing their interests and dreams. Anthony told her about his job in marketing, his love for surfing, and his plans to travel more. Y/N opened up about her studies, her passion for writing, and her excitement for the upcoming trip.

As the plane began its descent, Anthony turned to her with a smile. “Let me give you my number. In case you ever want to join us”.

"Sure," Y/N said, smiling back. She handed him her phone, and he quickly entered his contact information.

“Feel free to text me if you want to hang out” Anthony said, hanging her phone back. “And if you ever want to try surging. I am your guy”

"I might take you up on that," Y/N said, slipping her phone into her bag.

Once the plane landed, they gathered their belongings and headed towards baggage claim together. "It was really nice meeting you," Y/N said as they reached the terminal.

"You too, Y/N. Have a great time, and hopefully, I’ll see you around."

"Definitely," Y/N replied, giving him a wave as they went their separate ways.

Scarlett had arranged for a driver to pick them up, so after she collected her luggage, she met with him by the exit doors of the airport.

As Y/N exited the bustling airport, she was greeted by a warm, tropical breeze and the vibrant colors of the Bahamas. Her driver, a cheerful man named Marcus, welcomed her with a friendly smile and helped load her luggage into a sleek black SUV. Once she was settled in the backseat, they set off toward the villa where she would be staying with Scarlett’s dad.

The drive began with a stretch through Nassau’s lively streets, brimming with a mix of local culture and tourist attractions. Y/N watched as vendors sold fresh fruits and handmade crafts from colorful stalls, and locals mingled with visitors in an atmosphere buzzing with energy. The smell of jerk chicken and conch fritters wafted through the air, making her stomach rumble in anticipation.

As they left the city behind, the scenery shifted to a more serene landscape. Palm trees lined the roads, their fronds swaying gently in the breeze. The vibrant turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea came into view, sparkling under the bright midday sun. Y/N marveled at the clarity of the water, so inviting that she could hardly wait to dive in.

They passed through quaint villages with charming pastel-colored houses, each with its own unique character. Children played in the yards, and neighbors chatted over fences, giving the area a warm, community feel. Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her as they continued along the coastal road.

Y/N nodded, taking mental notes of places to explore once Scarlett arrived. The drive continued, and the road wound through lush tropical forests, alive with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, adding to the sensory delight.

As they neared the villa, the landscape became even more picturesque. The road led them up a gentle hill, providing breathtaking views of the ocean and the surrounding islands. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.

Finally, they arrived at the villa. It was a stunning, two-story retreat perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. The architecture blended modern elegance with tropical charm, featuring large windows, spacious balconies, and a thatched roof. The garden was a paradise of vibrant flowers, exotic plants, and a sparkling infinity pool that seemed to merge with the ocean beyond.

Marcus helped Y/N with her bags and guided her inside. The interior of the villa was just as impressive as the exterior. The open-plan living area was filled with natural light, and decorated in soothing, coastal hues of blue and white. Comfortable, stylish furniture invited relaxation, and the large glass doors opened onto a terrace with panoramic ocean views.

That’s when she heard a heavy British accent say, “she is here. I’ll call you later. Let me know what they say. I love you”

Harry, Scarlett’s dad appeared from upstairs. “You must be Y/N” he said, walking over to her. “I am Harry. Welcome to our little paradise”. To say that Y/N’ was beyond surprised was an understatement. Slightly sunburned from a day in the Caribbean sun, his skin had taken on a warm, reddish hue that only accentuated his natural good looks. He was shirtless, revealing a toned, athletic build, with tattoos peeking from various places on his chest and arms. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, showcasing a casual, relaxed style. Harry’s tousled hair, still damp from a recent swim, fell in soft curls around his face, and he wore a pair of sunglasses that added a touch of mystery to his striking appearance. His easy smile and confident demeanor made him all the more attractive, embodying the perfect blend of laid-back island vibes

She had expected someone older and more conventional, not the youthful, charismatic man before her. He looked far too young to have a college-aged daughter.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, feeling a bit fluster. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Styles. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Call me Harry” He laughed softly, a sound as charming as his smile. “I hope you’ll feel at home”.

As he spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy confidence with which he carried himself was undeniably attractive.

She suddenly felt self-conscious, acutely aware of her travel-worn clothes and the fact that she probably smelled like the airplane. She smoothed her hair, hoping she didn't look as tired as she felt.

Harry seemed to sense her unease. "Long flight?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah, a bit," Y/N admitted, feeling a little dirty and disheveled beside him.

"Well, I can imagine you might want to freshen up. Your room has a great view and a nice big bathroom. Why don't you get settled in, and we'll have some lunch out here later?"

"That sounds perfect," Y/N said, grateful for his understanding.

Harry gave her a reassuring nod. "If you need anything, just let me know. Scarlett speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you," Y/N said, touched by his kindness. "I really appreciate it."

As she turned to head to her room, she caught herself glancing back at Harry, who had returned to lounging by the pool. His relaxed posture and the way he effortlessly fit into the tropical surroundings only added to his allure. Y/N shook her head, trying to focus. She was here to enjoy a vacation with her best friend, not get distracted by her best friend's dad, no matter how attractive and intriguing he was.

Once in her room, Y/N took a deep breath and started unpacking. The luxurious surroundings helped her relax, and as she stepped into the shower, she let the cold water wash away the travel grime and her lingering nerves. She knew this trip was going to be full of surprises, and meeting Harry was just the first of many.

After a refreshing shower, Y/N felt revitalized and ready to embrace the beauty of the Bahamas. She rummaged through her suitcase, deciding on an outfit for the evening. With a bit of confidence restored, she picked out a vibrant bikini that Scarlett had convinced her to buy. It was a flattering shade of coral that accentuated her curves and complemented her complexion. The bikini top offered just the right amount of support, enhancing her figure without being too revealing.

She took her time getting ready, applying a light layer of sunscreen and letting her hair dry naturally into soft waves. Y/N gave herself one last approving look in the mirror, feeling much better than she had after the flight. She slipped into a flowy cover-up and grabbed her favorite book before heading downstairs.

As she walked through the villa, she could hear the faint sound of music and the gentle hum of conversation from the terrace. Stepping outside, she saw Harry lounging by the pool, sipping a drink and reading something on his tablet. He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening slightly as he took in her appearance.

“Better?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of warmth feeling embarrassed by her appearance earlier.

“I though I’d take your advice and relax by the pool for a bit.” As she placed her book on the sunbed, just so she could let her cover-up slip off, revealing her bikini. Harry’s appreciative gaze didn’t go unnoticed and she felt a surge of confidence.

“Good” he replied, gesturing to the sunbed next to his. “I hope you applied some sunscreen. The sun here is ruthless”

“I did” She smiled and settled onto the sunbed, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. She opened her book, trying to focus on the words, but she couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. He was even more attractive up close, with his sun-kissed skin and the tattoos that peeked out from his swim trunks. The way he effortlessly exuded confidence and charm was captivating.

"Good book?" Harry asked, breaking her reverie.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N said, trying to sound casual. "I’ve been meaning to finish it for a while.”

"What's it about?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"It’s a mystery novel," she explained, holding up the cover for him to see. "Keeps me on my toes.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves and the tropical breeze creating a soothing backdrop. Y/N felt a sense of contentment she hadn't expected. The rest of their first day was spent by the pool. Harry excused himself after dinner to work. On the other hand Y/N stayed outside to watch the sunset on her own.

“What are you working on?” Y/N asked the next day as she noticed Harry picking up his tablet and stylus.

“Designing a new building” Harry was the owner of an architectural firm. He spent most of his days, leaned over his design table, drawing.

“What kind of building is it?” Y/N said, genuinely impressed.

"It’s a mixed-use development," Harry replied, turning the tablet so she could see the screen. "It’s going to have retail spaces on the lower levels and residential units above. The idea is to create a community where people can live, work, and play all in one place."

Y/N leaned in closer, sliding her sunglasses down, admiring the detailed sketches and blueprints. “What’s your vision for it?”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he began to explain. “The design focuses on sustainability and integrating green spaces. There will be rooftop gardens, lots of natural light, and energy-efficient systems. I’m trying to create something that not only looks good but also feels good to live in.”

Y/N could hear the passion in his voice as he spoke, and she was fascinated by his creativity. “It sounds truly special”

“I hope it is” Harry said, smiling appreciatively.

Y/N watched as Harry continued to draw, the lines and shapes forming into intricate designs under his skilled hand. "How did you get into architecture?"

“I’ve always loved drawing and building things," Harry said, leaning back and gazing at the horizon. “When I was a kid, I’d spend hours with sketchbooks. It just felt natural to pursue architecture. I studied it in college and worked my way up through different firms before starting my own. How about you? What are you majoring in?" Harry asked, his tone genuinely curious.

Y/N frowned slightly, feeling a twinge of disappointment that she didn't share the same passion for her career choice as he did. "Journalism," she replied with a hint of hesitation, her gaze momentarily drifting away. She took a deep breath, feeling a pang of uncertainty as she compared her own career path to Harry's evident passion for architecture.

"It's... it's something I chose because I thought it would be interesting," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of honesty and self-reflection. "But lately, I've been feeling like maybe it's not what I'm truly passionate about."

Harry listened attentively, his expression thoughtful. "I understand," he said gently. “It’s okay. You are still young and it takes time to find that passion. Have you though about what inspires you?”

Y/N nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I've always enjoyed writing and telling stories," she admitted. "But I haven't found that one thing that really lights a fire in me, like architecture does for you."

Harry smiled warmly. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. You still got a long way ahead of you and sometimes that passion reveals itself unexpectedly” he said.

Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she listened to Harry's encouraging words. She realized that she didn't have to have everything figured out right away. This trip, with its new experiences and conversations like this one, was already helping her see things from a different perspective.

After a while, Harry put down his tablet and stretched. "I think it’s time for a swim down at the beach. Care to join me?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They made their way through a winding path bordered by lush foliage, leading to a secluded stretch of beach that seemed untouched by the usual tourist crowds. The soft sand greeted their feet as they approached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing soundtrack. Harry glanced around with a smile.

“Breathtaking as always” he remarked, gesturing to the pristine beach.

Y/N nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over her. The beach was indeed stunning, with its turquoise waters and powdery white sand stretching into the distance. It felt like a hidden paradise, far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

"I can see why Scarlett loves it here," Y/N said, taking in the beauty of the surroundings.

The next day dawned with a soft, rosy glow creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Harry woke before the sun, as was his routine, slipping on his running gear quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the villa. He tiptoed downstairs, the floor cool under his feet, and headed for the front door. As he passed through the living room, he glanced out onto the terrace.

There, on one of the sunbeds, Y/N lay curled up under a blanket, her silhouette softened by the early morning light. She had fallen asleep waiting for the sunrise, her peaceful expression making her look even more serene. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He found it endearing

Resisting the urge to wake her, Harry quietly slipped outside and started his jog along the quiet streets. The rhythmic pounding of his footsteps helped clear his mind, but try as he might, thoughts of Y/N kept intruding. He couldn't shake the image of her in that attractive bikini, her laughter echoing in his mind from the day before. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him; it was her warmth, her intelligence, and the easy way they connected.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Harry quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Y/N's presence, and he chastised himself for dwelling on thoughts that felt inappropriate given their relationship. He had spent the previous day enjoying her company, sharing stories, and learning about her dreams and ambitions. Yet, now he found himself unable to shake the attraction he felt towards her.

By the time he returned to the villa, the sun was fully risen, casting a bright light over the tropical landscape. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts as he cooled down. He decided to take a cold shower, hoping the shock of cold water would help clear his mind. As he stood under the refreshing spray, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his inner turmoil. He didn't want to complicate things or make Y/N uncomfortable during their time together.

He just couldn’t get that damn bikini off his mind. The one she had wore the day before. The red color complemented her sun-kissed skin beautifully, accentuating her curves in all the right places. His hand creeped down and grabbed throbbing cock, trying get some release from the torture that he was experiencing. Her confidence and natural grace shone through, making her even more captivating. He admired the way she moved with a relaxed elegance, her laughter and smiles lighting up the surroundings. Every detail, from the way her hair fell in gentle waves to the sparkle in her eyes as she talked animatedly, only added to her allure.

He couldn’t help imagining her naked, under him, moaning, begging for him. Harry though about how deliciously tight and warm she could feel around him. He thought about how she would taste and his mouth water. He didn’t last long. As he allowed the water to wash him off, he couldn’t help feeling ashamed. Ashamed that he was acting like a schoolboy. He was forty-four years old and fantasizing about his daughter's best friend while she slept downstairs.

part 2

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ashtavula · 5 months

Note

OMGOMGOMG COULD I ALSO REQUEST THE REST OF DIASOMNIA WITH THE ACCIDENTAL LOVE LETTERS?!?!!

I LOVE YOUR WORK AHDJBAJSNFF

aaaaa thank you!!!

Sebek, Silver, and Lilia accidentally receive your love letter

Sebek:

-The two of you had been studying together. Well, more like Sebek had been fussing at you while you struggled to understand the complex theorems in front of you. You end up having to leave in a rush, and your love letter ends up fluttering to the floor. Sebek tries to tell you that you dropped something, but you leave without paying attention to his words. He picks it up, and his eyes go wide when he realizes what's been written.

-Sebek sputters as he reads, and his cheeks turn pink. He'd been trying to ignore his feelings for you, but your letter makes his heart pound in his chest. Sebek is consumed by the desire to go to you, to tell you that he loves you more than anything. And before he can think to try and stop himself, he's already shoved his things into his bag and is tearing off after you, still holding your letter.

-When he finds you some time later, he immediately grabs your hands and pulls you close. Sebek, in all of his usual enthusiasm, loudly declares that he accepts your feelings. He goes on to vow that he will be a devoted husband to you, and that his adoration for you will never wane. As usual, he's going too far, but that's just one of the many things you love about him.

Silver:

-Silver was confused when he woke up to find a letter sitting on his chest, delivered by one of his avian friends. He rubs his eyes, yawning as he opens the folded paper. The lingering drowsiness quickly leaves him once the contents of your letter are revealed to him.

-You...you love him. Silver has a hard time coming to terms with that. He loves you too, but he's not sure if he'll be able to give you the sort of life you deserve. Silver isn't oblivious. He knows that his condition is difficult and frustrating. He also knows how most people see him. It takes a few long minutes, but Silver eventually decides that there's no harm in at least trying.

-A week later, a letter arrives for you, telling you to go to the botanical gardens after sunset. When you arrive, you find Silver. He appears almost ethereal in the moonlight, holding a bouquet of flowers for you. The two of you wander through the garden, and Silver points out all of the flowers that only bloom at night. He shows you just how beautiful things can be in the quiet of the dark. At the end of the path, surrounded by the sweet scent of the flowers, Silver gets down on one knee, and he confesses to you. He tells you that he can't promise much, but he can promise to love you, no matter what.

Lilia:

-He tilts his head to the side as one of his little bats comes flying towards him with some paper clutched in it's claws. Once Lilia receives it, he's quick to note that the page is covered with your handwriting. And it doesn't take more than a few words for him to realize exactly what kind of letter you've written for him.

-Lilia's lips spread into a sly smile as he reads, little giggles escaping him. He's happy, but also rather amused by the novelty of actually having a love letter addressed to him. It reminds him that even he can be surprised every now and then. And since you're being so sweet to him, he decides that it's only fair to return the favor.

-Since you sent him an old-fashioned love letter, he's going to show you some old-fashioned fae courtship. He surprises you by arriving at Ramshackle one evening, bearing a container of homemade food and his bass guitar. Once you've been given the food, Lilia clears his throat, and starts strumming on his guitar. He's written you a love song. The lyrics are lovely, even if he does take a few...liberties with the vocals. And once you accept his somewhat odd courting, he'll give you one more gift. A sweet kiss, right there on your front porch.

#lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #twst silver #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader #twst

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lotus-n-l0ve · 1 year

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𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

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gothicflowers · 3 months

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Domestic Price headcanons!! ON MY HANDS AND KNEES!!!

Domestic!Price x F!reader

WARNING MDNI (+18 ONLY)

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff, some sexual references.

Word Count: ? So many

Sorry this took me forever to write, the past month has been insane. But things are finally getting better and I’m feeling creative.

Domestic!Price isn’t someone that many are familiar with. Especially those he works with. When price joined the military he was a teen who was in the punk scene and he couldn’t hold a job for more than a month. The man was running from the cops and passed out at random houses half the week. By six pm there was liquor on his breath. His dear mom had enough one day and kicked him out. When he stumbled through the front door she had a suitcase full of his good clothes packed and handed him a small amount of cash. He told her he didn’t care and he didn’t need her. After two months of couch surfing and working odd end jobs for cash he seen something about enlisting in the military. Free housing, consistent pay and a uniform. John knew he could pick up girls easily with a uniform on, easier than his charming personality already could.

Six months later he’s in basic training regretting his decision to join. He came into basic training more out of shape than he thought. He hates reading and is having to study and sit through classes when he’s not being drilled. But by week five somehow he’s leading the class. Perfect scores on test, marksmanship skills are undeniably good, and maybe that mandatory haircut doesn’t look too bad.

He graduated top of his academy class with flying colors. Five years later price has slowed worked his way up the chain. He’s still a cocky bastard but nobody can deny his knowledge of strategies and tactics. He’s a hard ass to new guys but ensures they are well trained, after all John is a firm believer that you’re only as good as your weakest guy.

After two years of being in he realized his mom was right. So on one of his days off he showed up to his moms with flowers and sweets and apologized and thanked her for giving him the push he needed. Even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

John Price has finally got his life together. But he’s still a playboy who doesn’t see the point in setting down with a nice lady. He has time right?

Before he knows it LT John Price in his early thirties. Nobody to come home to every night actually sucks. Too much beer gives him a headache and he’s not much for parties anymore. He’s picked up a few hobbies like leather-working and fishing, but there is still a void in his life. Price is… alone.

John didn’t fear commitment, but young John didn’t see how keeping a woman by his side would benefit him then. John wishes he could go back in time and smack himself for all the times he turned down sweet kind women who wanted to settle down. He broke so many hearts, all because he thought he had time.

That’s when he starts daydreaming. Thoughts of walking through the front door and being greeted by his lover and maybe even a dog or two. Summers nights stargazing rather than slouched on the couch with a beer in hand. Having purpose, a life outside of his job. So he put the effort into making a dating profile and goes on a few dates. A few horrible dates. So he deleted the profile and slowly gave up.

Then one day you cashed into his life, well... technically he did.

Literally.

John wasn’t paying attention while backing his car out at the supermarket and backed right into your car. Your bumper was deeply scratched and your taillight cracked. You both pulled back into your parking spaces to look at the damage. Before you knew it the idiot driver that backed into you was next to you profusely apologizing. The man had tired eyes and looked defeated at his careless actions. You couldn’t deny that the idiot was incredibly handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked in my mirror and I didn’t and I-“ John rambled.

“Don’t worry, this car has more scratches than I care to count” you replied giggling.

John was clearly struggling to talk as he was distracted by your beautiful face “I completely busted that taillight. Ma’am I’m so sorry. I can get my insurance and we can get this sorted”

“Well it’s a rather old car, so I have a better proposition” you smiled watching the mountain of a man remove his beanie to rub his hair.

“What would that be” he asked.

You smirked “Well there is a cafe on the corner. You look like you could use a coffee and so could I. We go have a nice cup, sit down like old friends and chat. Look online for a taillight replacement instead of getting insurance involved”.

You pleasantly surprised John and he agreed to your idea. Firstly because he hates dealing with paperwork and secondly because this beautiful creature wanted to actually talk to him. Somehow you two just clicked.After two hours of nonstop chatting and learning about each other John received a call from work demanding him to come in on his day off. Unfortunately closing your time together.

“Well I quite enjoyed this. And if you’re comfortable with it I can install that taillight when it comes in. I would hate for you to do it yourself. And maybe after I can take you out to dinner” John said, getting a little shy with his last sentence. He was praying he didn’t misinterpret and scare you off.

“What a gentleman. I would love that” you eagerly answered. You wrote down your number for him on a napkin.

(000)-000-0000

Y/N xoxo

A broken taillight is the beginning of Domestic!Price

About a week later John arrived on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, a tool bag and a new taillight. He was a tad bit nervous hoping to make a good impression.

Domestic!Price is the definition of chivalry.

He opens all doors for you and is quick to lend you his coat if you show the slightest signs of a chill.

Before you know it John brings you fresh flowers every week. Your grandmother always told you the stronger the intentions the longer the flowers will last. And the flowers John brings you live for what seems like an eternity.

As much as John wants to move fast he forces himself to slow his pace. He feels the need to prove he’s the gentleman you deserve. Especially after learning about your shitty dating experiences.

Even when he brought you home from your first date he only left with a kiss. Granted it was a long passionate kiss, but just a kiss. He’d desperately wanted to tear your clothes off in that moment, but didn’t want to give off the impression that he expected it. He said goodnight and left. You were kinda shocked that you two didn’t fuck, you took an everything shower and had lingerie under your outfit. But it was actually refreshing to find a man that was satisfied with just a kiss. He wasn’t putting on an act the whole night to get lucky, he was genuinely interested in you.

His good morning texts always arrive to your phone around 5:45AM. John did warn you beforehand that he frequently is away from his phone during meetings and trainings so you never worry about him ignoring or long awaited responses.

John will wake up before you regardless of the day. He’s usually found making coffee/tea and breakfast somewhere around 08:30. He usually brings it all up to bed on a tray. Heaven forbid he lets you lift a finger this early. Every morning you both snuggle with your coffee and listen to the birds chirping outside the window.

Domestic!Price is not very good at cooking, breakfast and desserts are the only things you let him make. Mostly because he’s surprisingly good at making them. You always tell him if he leaves the military he should be a pastry chef. Price likes comfort food, hardy meals that almost make him fall asleep afterwards. He’s in denial about gaining 15 pounds since he met you. But he feels that the extra pounds are just the extra love you gave him to carry around. He had to go down a notch on his belt because he’s got a little love handle to him now. You feed him well.

Football is his thing. Price is very passionate about it but thankfully he’s calm about it, he knows you don’t do well with yelling in the house. Usually takes you to a couple games a season. You two have matching jerseys, yes he had them custom made.

He hates messy. When he first joined the military he had two roommates that never picked up after themselves, neither did he. Until one day he found a molded plate in between the couch cushions, he started to become a clean freak after that. He moved out a few months later when his roommate’s wouldn’t clean up their mess.

Nowadays Domestic!Price loves a clean home. He made a chore list for both of you. He always helps you with your chores despite you telling him to relax. He loves candles and the smell of fresh sheets. Price wasn’t very organized before he met you, thankfully you managed to get the home organized and he can find everything now.

IKEA who? Never head of her. Domestic!price likes wood working. The kitchen table, cabinets, china hutch and so much more was all hand made by price. But the most elaborate thing he’s ever made? The bed frame. It has some… flair as he called it when it was finally put together. The frame has secret pockets for rope to be tied to. Specifically so he can tie you down. And let’s not forget that makeup vanity he made you, that mirror is a lockable cabinet containing a whirlwind of things. Vibes, clamps, ropes, differently shaped dildos, paddles, you name it it’s in there. Why is there two smoke alarms in your bedroom? Well… one of the is just a cover for that ceiling hook so he can suspend you.

Domestic price doesn’t mind vanilla sex. Lots of times you two disregard the kinky objects and are just wrapped in a passionate embrace. John’s not one for staying quiet, both of you could be heard from the front door when you’re together. He will be soundproofing the room if you two decide on kids.

Speaking of kids this man has the biggest breeding kink known to man. It’s not seeing his cum dripping out of your hole that fuels the fire in his belly. It’s the sheer thought of you both sitting around the dinner table with your kids asking each other about their day. Dance recitals and little league games. Watching you being a loving parent and having everything you need. That’s what he desires out of life.

Domestic!Price craves domestic life. Where there’s no threat, no bogeyman in the closet, no sound of gunfire, there’s just you two and the home you created.

John always drives, you’re a passenger princess. If it’s a nice day he takes you out for a drive in his classic car he restored himself. Windows down while 2000’s dad rock plays. Speaking of music he likes to collect vinyls. His collection grew heavily when he started buying records that you like. He plays Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album weekly.

Domestic!Price likes slow dancing with the lights dimmed late at night. He’s a fan of 70’s music and it’s his usual go to for dancing. His father heavily influenced his music taste.

Price doesn’t care for the term boyfriend. After about a month of you two dating he promoted himself to husband. John said boyfriend “sounds childish at our age” when you asked sweetly what that was about when he introduced himself to your coworkers. He said he wouldn’t do it again if it made you uncomfortable to which you promptly said you liked it and much preferred the idea of being his wife rather than his girlfriend. That night he started looking at rings.

He went through your jewelry taking note if you wore gold or silver more. What types of jewelry styles interested you. The man was on a mission for the perfect ring. And what doesn’t it matter if you two have only been together two months? His grandparents met and married after three months and they were the definition of true love.

And yes he did propose at only four months. It was better than you could have imagined. He planned a whole weekend getaway and you never suspected it. He had rented a private boat for you two and brought champagne and charcuterie. He proposed a toast to you two and got down on one knee. You were both crying tears of joy when you said yes.

Unlike most men who buy their significant other jewelry he doesn’t buy you stones. Pearls, he buys you pearls. Expensive ones too. There’s just something about them on your neck that drives him wild. He hasn’t made the connection but it feeds into his housewife kink. There is something about him coming home from a long day and seeing you in a dress wearing those peals and an apron. A hot meal and the table is already set. You take his coat off and asking him about his day. Perfection.

Domestic!Price doesn’t share much about work. You know what he does and the stresses. He listened to your advice and does some therapy to help deal with his stress levels and the things he’s gone through. He slowly starts thinking about transferring to a job that won’t put him in the field.

He invited the boys over for dinner and his men were quite shocked. John didn’t give them much notice or anything really other than “don’t be late”.

Gaz who showed up in a tracksuit was under the impression this was a boys night with pizza and beer was shocked to arrive at a beautiful home with a perfect garden of roses. Ghost knew of your existence quite well as price loves to talk about your cooking and how much he misses you when they deploy. Soap… well… he said some things in Gaelic that you didn’t understand but surely they were those of surprise. Soap felt like a dumbass for wearing jeans and a cutoff tee.

John met them at the door and welcomed them in. The boys were rather impressed by the decor and how cozy it looked. The men half expected the home to be bare as they never took price as one for decor. But the biggest shock to Soap and Gaz was you, a woman slightly younger than Price who was in cooking in the kitchen is a pretty dress, heels and pearls. Even though Ghost was aware of your existence he was floored at how Price could pull such a beautiful woman.

Price proudly introduced you with his are around you lower back. After pleasantries they all offered to help you finish cooking, to which you laughed and said no. Even price shook his head because he knows you have your process of cooking and don’t like extra hands because it overwhelms you. And when you brought them a tray of neatly made drinks you have sworn Soap about died. No wonder Price always comes to work in a good mood, he’s got a pretty bird like you at home.

After seeing what his captains life is like outside of work it gave him some hope, maybe it’s possible to have a stable relationship with this job. Soap made a joke about “sharing”. That was the first time Price ever thought of beating Soap into the ground. Price is too proud of the life he daydreamed about to let another man or woman come into the picture. Just the thought of losing you or your lips kissing anyone but his will send him into a spiral. You’re his world. His to love, fuck, and protect.

Domestic!Price likes to slow down when he’s not at work. Life at a slower pace is more enjoyable. He can take in the sweet moments and the sunshine. He slowly starts bringing Simon and the boys around more and they too realize this.

Domestic!price doesn’t fully understand social media. He isn’t on any, most because of his job. Plus he doesn’t like how fake people are on it. He lets you post pictures of you two together but his face is always uniquely hidden, for your own protection of course. The first picture you posted of you two was actually from your wedding. You both walked together hand in hand as he was kissing your temple. After that you received several calls and texts from old friends and distant relatives asking when did you get married? Who is he? Where did you two meet?

Speaking of yours and prices wedding domestic Price was very involved in the planning. He found the most beautiful venue and really liked picking florals. I mean this man went over budget because he wanted the most elegant and elaborate flower arrangements. If you have any cultural customs John was very adamant that your customs would be met to your specifications.

Unfortunately John’s family is a handful and wanted to plan the wedding, his mother thought it was her big day. John sat her down and had a long conversation about boundaries and respect towards his soon to be wife. She actually apologized as she didn’t realize how much she was overstepping. Your mother was shocked that John was very involved with the planning, but it made her adore him even more.

You both have relatively large families but decided to keep the guests list under sixty people. Only close family and friends. This ruffled some feathers but it made for a perfect day. John is very good at controlling his emotions but when he seen you walk down the aisle his eyes welled with tears.

Domestic!Price can’t wear his ring to work. He wanted to tattoo a ring or your name somewhere on him but still feared it could be used as easy leverage. So he has a large chest tattoo that incorporates your favorite flowers and bird. In fact he starts slowing getting tattoos about you. It’s his way of keeping you with him when he’s gone.

#john price #cod #flowerwrites #captain john price #captain john price x you #john price cod #john price x y/n #captain john price x reader #john price imagine #call of duty #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain price x reader #captain price x you

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angelisverba · 1 year

Text

achilles heel

in which y/n gets herself into another precarious situation and wants her dealer to help her, and harry can’t help but feel conflicted about how much he wants her

read part one here

word count: 14k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: bad trip! peer pressure, drug coercion, drugs, mentions of bullying, sexual content!

author’s note: there aren’t any facts to back up the use of any kind of sexual enhancers, so much of this experience is improvised and not actually something that would happen irl in terms of science. love you!

Two slow, torturously long weeks pass- one in which he was out of business entirely trying to stock his inventory up again- before he hears from her again. In the middle of the night, it’s beginning to become a pattern for them. He only hopes that this time, it’s not for an asshole group of people.

His bohemian dream of a room is upturned, messy, as he’s been a grump about not seeing her. There’s shirts strewn everywhere, his bed is a rumpled mess and he wishes that it were because he had sex in it instead of restlessly sleeping. He’s coming out of the shower with a white towel low on his hips. There are clouds of thick steam coming out from his open bathroom door and while a majority is from the hot water he hoped would soothe his tense body, there's a bit of thicker, headier smoke from the skinny spliff he hotboxed while in the tub.

And it hadn’t worked for shit. Because he was still cranky, still restless. His fingers were itching to do something, and if he hadn’t just smoked weed, he would be in his garage, throwing around weights like a madman to try and get himself tired. Sadly, he wasn’t even fucking horny, so jerking off wasn’t an option.

Sidestepping his sweatpants by the edge of his bed, Harry grips the thick of the fabric at his crotch and reaches for a pair of clean underwear from a drawer at his bedside table, furrows his eyebrows at the box of condoms stashed in there, and pull on white boxers. He throws the towel at the end of his bed and lays back with his arms splayed wide, sighing dramatically. He felt deeply sorry for himself.

Y/n was probably never going to talk to him again because the last few times they had seen each other, Harry was a complete dick to her, acting every bit like the asshole drug dealer that had a criminal reputation. God, the girl was probably scared of him. He fucked his all-

Ping!

This phone went off with a notification. The same tone he had assigned her, and Harry’s body lurched off the bed. His arms swept the expanse of his bed, ruffling his duvet in search of the device.

Ping!

It went off again, and the urgency in which he was searching increased. Where the fuck was his-

He found it when it thunked onto the floor, and with shaking hands, he unlocked it.

Y/n: Hi, Harry!

Are you available for delivery at the moment?

Of course he is. Always, for her. But he didn’t type that back, obviously. He had to be cool.

Harry: I am. What can I get you?

The gray dots appear instantly, and he gets another text shortly after.

Y/n: Do you have any brownies?

He had been to a frat party earlier in the day in which a group of senior guys had taken some pot brownies off his hands. Before confirming with her, he double-checks his inventory on the notes app folder he has just to keep track of stock.

Harry: I have half a dozen left tonight

Should he have added a smiley face? No, that would have been creepy right?....

Y/n: Perfect :D ! I’ll take five, please!

Harry: No problem. Can I have the address, please?

She sends it not even a minute later. All concerns regarding driving a vehicle while high unethically fly out of his mind because honestly, he wasn’t even high anymore. Not even feeling it. She was only twenty minutes away, ten if he didn’t pay attention to laws.

Harry: I’m On my way!

Y/n: See you soon!

Yeah, fuck the laws.

***

He makes it in 8 minutes.

And something about this house doesn’t feel right.

He didn’t realize it until the houses started looking nice and the parked cars on the side of the street started getting more expensive than the address she had provided him with was one on the wealthier side of town. He knew of a guy that lived here who everyone talked about because his method of acquiring money was sketchier than Harry’s, and well… that said a lot given that Harry sold drugs for a living.

The end of the driveway that he parks on is wide enough to be a two-way street. One of the lights flickered on by the motion sensor as Harry took his helmet out and shook his hair back. In his rush to get here, he hadn’t put on a shirt, and with his leather jacket left unzipped, his tattoos were on full display. The moonlight gleamed on the ridges of his abdomen, casting shadows across the markings on his skin. He was warm despite the chill in the air, and the cool drift of the night wind on his muscles was a welcome feeling.

Harry just didn’t realize how… devilish he looked. He appeared every bit the bad boy ready to sweep you off your feet in the summer, and the serious expression on his face added to the mystery. Wondering if this time she was able to hear his motorcycle from deep inside wherever she was in that mansion of the house, Harry kicked his stand down, hung his helmet on the handlebar, and took his phone out to let her know he was here.

Harry: I’m outside

Grey bubbles pop-up, squiggling like a little wave. And then…

Y/n: Be right there!

All of the breath in his lungs vacates his chest, and he gets warmer than he already was. Pacing the short lengths of his motorcycle, he wonders how he may get more nervous to see her every time he sees her. He never used to be this way, not even with a girl he wanted to talk up at a bar. There was a confidence within him, this shine that sprouted from knowing that he knew he was the shit, and he was going to use that to his advantage, to make a girl blush and stutter. Instead, she was the one to turn him inside out. He forgot all about basic manners around her. He forgot how to smile without questioning if his smile was wonky. He thought-

“Hi, Harry!”

He thought she looked so fucking sexy tonight.

Coming from the front door, y/n is a wispy, gauzy mirage. Her feet are wobbly, and there’s a glass tumbler in her hand with a toothpick-skewered olive. She’s smiling so brightly at him, and this unrestricted happiness at his appearance alarms him. Where is the timid girl who speaks to him with a voice barely above a whisper? She must be drunk he thinks.

An itchy feeling he can’t shake off overcomes him because the girl is wearing a lacy slip dress that is so sheer, he can see her pink undergarments underneath. A white cardigan slides off her shoulders and hangs on to her elbow like a satin bow slipping loosely from a gift. He can’t decide if he wants to tie her back up or unravel her.

She runs the last few steps to him, and either she miscalculates her stop, or trips on a pebble because suddenly, she’s in his arms and he’s holding her upright. And he’s also breathing heavily because a rush of blood has made its way down to his cock and he knows she can see it pressing through his jeans and against her belly if the way her eyes go round is any indication.

Her drink slips from her hand, and shatters at their feet. The loud scattering of glass makes her jump, and an apology is clumsily stumbling from her mouth while she tries to pull herself from his embrace. Harry, however, tightens his hold. His fingers squeeze at her waist, and through the lace of her dress, he can feel the overlapping fabric of her panties. Without saying anything, he lifts her and takes a few steps to the side before setting her down away from the hazard.

“What-” her brows furrow, and her head tilts to the side. She isn’t rushing out of his arms now.

Interrupting her, Harry explains, “y’were about to step on the glass.”

“Oh,” y/n is back to whispering as her eyes travel all over his face, “thank you.”

With her in his arms, Harry has forgotten how to act. His mind is blank as a sheet of paper, and his lungs are expanding and contracting but oxygen isn’t really reaching him because he smells something sweet combined with alcohol on her warm breath. He sees how y/n’s facial expressions resemble that of a guppy fish, and he realizes that maybe he should let her go but he can’t because… because her fingers are shifting around his arms and she’s kind of shifting her weight and writhing and Harry still has a fucking boner so this is all-

He steps back, observing her shiver, and clears his throat. “Of course. Are you…are you cold?”

“Cold?” she asks. Her voice is silvery like the incantation of a church bell and he wants to fall to his knees are revere her, to beg for forgiveness, for her to cleanse him of all his sins. The night air has turned him into some kind of animal, he decides. The moon has transformed him into the hungry, howling wolf who will only be silenced by knowing her in the most carnal way. Meeting under the blanket of darkness has decided their fate.

“You’re shivering,” he states, voices unwavering and factual. That confidence he was missing before has somehow found its way back. Like tectonic plates, the tension has shifted in his favor. Harry gathers the courage to fix the cardigan on her shoulders.

His hands graze the cool skin of her biceps, and he doesn’t miss the way she textures with evidence of her intimidation. The way her breath stops altogether and he mumbles under his breath, “Just fixing y’up, darling. Y’can breathe, m’not gonna bite,” and she drops her arms at her side to let him help her, and then…

He feels the thin, sharp glide of her fingernails at his sternum. How can a single touch be so erotic? His jeans are too tight over his bulge, and fighting a groan, he exhales deeply, looking up at her to find her eyes droopy, staring at his butterfly tattoo. Her mouth moves around the shape of pretty before her eyes flicker up at him. They both freeze. Prey and predator, caught before the deadly pounce.

But y/n breaks their eye contact.

Harry drags the fabric up so it sits properly on her shoulders, and slides his fingers down to the front, so he can begin with the first button. His fingers drag unnecessarily like syrup on the skin right above her slip, and her audible gulp along with her choked, thank you check him back into his manners. She might have toyed with him, albeit unknowingly, but he welcomed it. He doubted that she was 100% sure if she wanted that reciprocated, so he stopped. As much as it hurt him to do so, he stopped.

At the last button, he reluctantly steps back, “All done, don’t want to get sick now, do you?”

And he manages a smile. It’s small, with just a bit of a cocky gap between his lips to white teeth. His hands slip into his front pockets, pulling his jeans forward subtly to give his dick some breathing room. He feels branded where she touched him, that sliver of skin hot with burning desire. Visions of them together flash behind his eyes like bits of a dream he’s trying hard to remember.

“You’re right,” she mumbles, “thank you.” Y/n wraps her arm around herself and can't seem to make eye contact with him.

The rational side of him that’s drowning in his tunnel vision reminds him that he’s there to do something (deliver drugs), so he moves around to the compartment and pulls out the paper bag. This time, it’s decorated in a field of smiling, dancing daisies sprouting from the bottom of the bag. “Here are your brownies,” giving her the bag, he laments that he’s going to have to leave her soon.

“How much do I owe you?” Y/n blinks up at him like she’s just barely waking up. Like she’s trying hard to stay focused, just like him. But that would be silly, Harry thinks, because there’s no way they share the same feelings. She only touched him because she’s drunk, or tipsy, and he’s just a drug dealer, and no matter how much of a boner he has for her, his dreams of rutting over her like a dog in heat aren’t going to come true. She’s too delicate for him.

He feels shitty taking money from her, but that is his livelihood, and chances were the douchebags buying from her probably threw more money at her than necessary given how rich they were. So, he tells her the total, and he hands him- just like he expected- crisp bills.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the money from her and shoving it into his compartment. His legs make no move to straddle his bike, even though that’s what his brain tells them to do. They’re not really listening to him though. And y/n stands them holding the bag, staring at the shattered glass and worrying her lip between her teeth. She’s not in any rush to get back inside, so Harry asks her a question- something that’s been on his mind ever since he left her the last time- to keep her out a little longer, “h-how was it? Last time, I mean. Smoking with those people?”

The girl straightens at the memory, suddenly energized. “Oh! I didn’t actually do it. They tried to get me to, but I didn’t in the end.”

Jerking his chin towards the bag in her hand, “Do y’plan on eating some of these?”

Y/n shakes her head, “Not really, I have work tomorrow. So does everyone else but,” she shrugs, pursing her lips a little and looks over her shoulder at the house. The relatively quiet house. “I already drank a little more than I should have.”

“I see.” Nodding, he’s left with no other choice but to reach for his helmet to put it back on. It’s time to leave. For the life of him, he can’t seem to figure out why such a sweet girl would continue to choose to hang out with people like this. Who drink and do drugs recklessly. He was concerned for her safety, and he made a mental note to ask Mitch about it. He wasn’t anyone to tell her what to do.

He wishes he were, but he wasn’t.

“Well, be safe, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you,” and she waves at him with a small, shy smile. The cardigan is already slipping off her shoulder even though it was buttoned up, and she turns around to walk back into the house.

Harry’s finally gotten to dozing off when his phone rings.

Blindly, he slaps his hand around and curses whoever is on the other end of the line for interrupting his maladaptive dreaming about y/n. He got home grumpy, slamming doors behind him and stomping around his own home. Feeling sorry for himself, he had turned on his Sade playlist and allowed her smoky voice to lull him to sleep. Creases had decorated the space between his thick brows, his pink lips literally turned upside down and occasionally he mumbled curse words at himself. In effort to relieve his own stress, he turned on a lavender candle, and it burned dimly on his bedside.

“Yeah?” He rasps sleepily into the phone, annoyance dripping from his voice.

There’s a couple of sniffles on the other end. This gets his attention, his eyes snapping open as his ears strain to listen, and then, “H-Harry?”

Was he still dreaming? Harry bolted upright from his bed, dragging a hand over his face. Was that actually y/n’s weepy, crying voice leaking through his speaker? He recognized the normally sweet voice, but instead of shy and timid, it was shaky and sad… maybe even a little panicked.

“Y/n?” Harry asked, spiking up in volume as a million-and-one scenario of her in danger played out in his mind. “What’s wrong?”

She hiccuped, “I-I was- Everyone was- They gave me a piece and said I should- But I didn’t want to and they- I don’t-” The poor girl was making no sense, and couldn’t seem to keep track of her thoughts, whether it be because she was too frazzled, or her irregular sobs stole the rest of her sentences and she would start new. The fact that he has just woken up, remnants of sleep leaving him more and more by the second, didn’t help either. He had to get her to calm down somehow.

“Sweetheart,” He interjected, repeating the endearment twice before she stopped talking long enough for him to get his word in. “ Listen to me… Take a deep breath, listen to my voice.”

Y/n made a long, keening noise, and something stirred his gut like the whirls of dark waters in turbulent seas. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t herself, which only left one thing, “I’m trying but my skin feels weird and-”

She was having a bad trip.

Those fuckers have coerced her into taking something, whether it be the brownies he sold her, or some other drugs they had in the house. Y/n had taken drugs against her will, and she was stuck in a place where she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with anyone there because these were the same people that bullied her at her workplace. The situation she was in, and the simple fact that they did not respect when she said no made his blood boil. He felt like a caged cat, pacing back and forth, tail swiping low on the ground.

But his next thought cowed him.

If the drugs she had consumed were his brownies, did that mean he was partially to blame? He was responsible for there being something to press on her, to begin with, wasn’t he? He delivered them into her hands, which she then transferred to her party, and they turned it around on her. Harry was at the start of all of this.

He sat up, and ran his hand through his hair, swallowing back the sour taste that started at the back of his mouth and twisted his chest. Pushing all of it aside, he focused on her, “I know darling, I know. Close y’eyes. S’gonna be okay, y/n. Close your eyes.”

Rough, uneven breaths reverberated through his speaker, and he realized she was trying to calm herself. Harry wanted to scream and punch something. This is his fault. She was having a bad trip because of him. There were times when he was feeling generous and upped the milligram ingredient in his pastries, and he can’t remember if he did that this time but regardless, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt he’s ever felt this guilty. He could have said no, when she texted him. Or not respond at all. But he was selfish and wanted to see her. This is where his selfishness got him.

“M’kay.” She responds a little more sure, but it isn’t enough for him. He started this mess, now he has to fix it. He gets out of bed again, in such a rush that his duvet ends up strewn on the floor, and he reaches to tug his recklessly discarded jeans over his long legs. He yanks a burgundy knit sweater that he finds- also on the floor- but he’s not cold. He’s sweating with anxiety, and the sweater was just for her benefit. What if y/n is cold again? Harry has to be better not, he can’t fuck up with her anymore like this. He was going to take it off again as soon as he saw her and be shirtless again with his leather jacket.

With the device pressed between his shoulder and ear, he buttoned up his pants and shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he found, “Y’got your eyes closed f’me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she whimpers again, sounding so unsure, so small, and fuck, the crack down the middle of his heart grows. Closing your eyes while high was scary, especially if you were having a bad trip, Harry knows that having a handful of negative experiences himself, but it was the one thing he could think of right now. To get her to focus on his voice rather than anything going on around her. Wherever she was.

“Good girl. Now just listen to me, okay,” walking out of his room, he swiped his keys off his kitchen counter, and snagged his leather jacket from -surprise, surprise- off the floor right before entering the garage, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m… I think I’m in a bathroom,” y/n peeps a response.

“Alright, good. Good, sweetheart. Now how much did you take?” Putting the jacket on, Harry turns the key in the ignition and straddles his bike. He presses the button he keeps on his keys for the garage door, and walks his bike out. The street lamps in his neighborhood are on, illuminating patches of the concrete like polka dots.

There’s some noise in the background. It sounds like knocking and the call of her name. “M’not sure… maybe… maybe half? They’re knocking on the door, Harry.”

She’s so scared. For the first time, he realizes that she doesn’t trust anyone there. That’s why she was calling him. If there was, she would be resting her head in their lap, and talking things out with them. That’s what you do when you’re high. And this was her first fucking time doing any kind of drug? They made her take more than what she was supposed to.

“All at once? Don’t listen to them, sweetheart, focus on me.” This time, the timbre of his voice is livid. He didn’t take kindly to these kinds of things, and he was going to find some way to get back at all of them.

“Yeah, I took a bite only but Alana said I would be a party pooper if I didn’t eat more, so I did because everyone was watching.” There’s more noise, yelling. The knocking gets louder.

“Fuck!” Slapping his hand against his helmet, Harry tilts his head back and wills himself to calm down. He couldn’t drive like this.

She gasps, startled, “Did I do something wrong? Oh my God, am I going to die? Harry, am I-”

“Shh, no. No, y/n. Everything is going to be fine. I’m on my way, okay. Everything is going to be fine. Can you set a timer for eight minutes on your phone, and walk outside when it rings?” He nears the end of his driveway, shaking his head at his lack of restraint. He had to hold it together for her.

“Yeah,” she responds.

“Perfect, I’ll be right there. I’m coming to get you, okay?” He’s firm in his delivery, so she doesn’t have any reason to doubt him.

“Okay…” her single-word answer drags out, and he waits for her to say more. “Do you have to hang up?”

“I do, darling. My motorcycle helmet doesn’t have a Bluetooth mouthpiece, so I won’t be able to hear you. It’s only eight minutes, I promise.” He decides not to pay attention to how easily the endearment terms are rolling off his tongue, and to the sure-ness in his sternum that was missing at the start of their meetings.

“Alright. Bye, Harry.”

He doesn’t say bye, because it isn’t one. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

***

On his five (FIVE!!!) minute drive to y/n, full of felonies and annoyed car horns, Harry decides two things. One, owning a motorcycle is probably the best decision he’s ever made because it allows him to do things like this, and two, he’s come to the conclusion that he no longer cares for social formalities, and he’s going to… honor his cravings as long as y/n lets him. He knows that the moment he gets there, he’s going to want to coddle her, tug her to his side, and hide her inside his jacket as much as he could, like a bear with food in the winter. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad to provide the feeling of safety if she needed it. In fact, he was eager to. He decides that just for today, it’s okay.

Because he gets there three minutes earlier than the time he told her, so even though he doesn’t have to, he rushes to park his bike, swinging off of it before it’s even rolled to a complete stop and jogging up the long driveway to wait by some bushes near the window. He was partially obscured from the front door, and he wanted to stay that way in case Y/n wasn’t the first person to walk out.

Sweat coated the back of his neck while the rest of him was ice cold. Looking each and every way, he took off his jacket and slipped off the knit sweater to slip it over her head as soon as he could. Harry listened intently, the ragged sound of his own breathing filling his ears as he tried to pick up on any noise that might indicate trouble, but all he heard was faint chattering and the occasional bout of loud, loopy chortles.

Momentarily after, those voices get louder, some of them aggressive, and there are sounds of movement. The heavy pattern of feet moving quickly, the scratch of furniture on the floor. Someone- a female- is asking where someone is going, and Harry knows it’s y/n. Running to the door, he makes it just as it swings open, and a very red-eyed y/n stands there, one hand on the door with her eyes on the floor. She’s mumbling, something over and over, and he thinks one of those words is his name.

He’s reaching out to encase her in his arms when she blinks a few times, slowly, like she's just waking up, and her eyes are dragging up her body to register his face.

Tilting her head to the side confusedly, she steps out, closes the door behind her, and mumbles, “Harry’s waiting for me.”

His heart melts and he feels the bursting of a thousand suns in his chest. Smiling down at her invertebrate state, with his eyes softening and a gentle caramel-like baritone streaming through the rough in his voice, “I’m here, darling. Come with me.”

Poor thing is so out of it, her eyes start to water, her chin trembling and her shoulders beginning to shake with the rattles of oncoming sobs. Had he spooked her? Her eyes were puffy and hooded, but he knows that doesn’t mean she can’t see him. Y/n is probably just overwhelmed, he thinks. She’s out in the dark and cold, high, and he’s a tall, scary figure looming over her. Voices inside are getting closer, their sentences running over each other so that he can’t really understand what they’re saying, only that they sound upset.

Ignoring the rumble that is bound to get to them, Harry kneels down to her level and takes hold of her cold trembling hands in his large ones, bringing them to his chest to get her to focus on him, “lovie, s’me,” he pleads for her to recognize him, “I’m Harry, I came f’you like I said I would, y/n.”

“Y/n!” A man inside, short and skinny but snooty looking with a sharp, shark-like face stalks towards them. His parade of three- two blonde girls and a dark-haired guy- follow behind him. They all have glasses in their hands. One of them had a cigarette. “What are you doing?”

At the sound of her name, y/n’s eyes shut tightly, and her chest rises quickly with sharp breaths that escape her mouth. Dropping her head, a long whine seeps away from her like a sticky substance, and Harry wants to wipe it all away. He’s not sure why he’s reacting this way, or what he should do to help her, because he’s had bad trips but they’ve all been hallucinogen-based.

“Baby-”

“Y/n” the asshole with the dark hair calls her name so arrogantly, Harry can’t help but wonder what they’re like sober, “who is that? Will you come back inside? We’re about to start playing pass-blow.”

They’ve interrupted him twice now, and with every second that passes, he gets huffier. Frustrated. Angry. Because he’s just trying to talk to this angel and they’re overwhelming her. Y/n is whimpering now, her hands moist in his, and she’s sniffling every few seconds.

“Y/n,” he tries again to get her to look at him, to say something. He doesn’t want to act inappropriately, and with her consent already being disregarded once tonight, he’s doing everything in his power to get her to speak what she wants.

With glassy eyes, y/n dazedly stared at him for a moment. Her expression was stuck between confusion and sadness, her lips downturned and her brows furrowed, “Wanna leave, H.”

Harry nodded at her, “Okay, we can leave.” Then he stood up and grabbed the sweater over his shoulder, “Put this on first, lovie. It’s cold.” Slipping it over her head and helping her stick her arms through, he tugged it all the way down, near to her knees, all the while ignoring the group that started and whispered behind her. When he was done, he pulled her under his arm and walked in the direction of his bike.

All of two seconds passed before an agitating, grating voice interrupted them, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Harry can’t take it anymore. Placing his hand at the back of her head to cup her to his chest while he turns around to spit out a response at this douchebag, he takes deep breaths and tries to focus on her comfort. He tries to focus on the warmth of her breath against his chest and the way one hand is wrapped around his wrist, her fingers drawing loose circles on the tender skin, and the other is clutching his shirt tightly. But he feels that he has to say something, in some weird ‘marking my territory’ kind of way.

“Fuck off, asshole! You’re not getting shit from me anymore,” Y/n jumps in his arms at the tone and volume of his voice, and the wimp shrinks back, too. He mumbles something about it ‘not being fair’ like a whiny child and turns around. Harry gently removes her hand from his wrist so he can wrap it around her shoulders, and starts walking down the pathway back to his motorcycle, whispering, “C’mon baby, walk with me. Do you want me to take you somewhere? I can call an Uber? Sarah’s house? We can go back to my place, too. Y’name it, love, I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay.” If she’s surprised at his sudden softening, she doesn’t show it. Hell, she’s probably too out of it to do anything but appreciate anyone that is considerate to her current state, given that she was hanging around assholes who were making fun of her while she was having a bad trip.

They reach his bike, and Harry guides her by her shoulders to sit with her butt on the side of his seat. He crouches down in front of her, and wraps his hand on the back of her shins, grasping firmly to give her some kind of sensation to ground herself on. The loopy look in her eye that was there when he first arrived has drifted away like mist in a breeze, and she’s looking at him a bit more clearly.

“You still doing okay?” He asks, trying to catch her eyes but y/n is fiddling with her fingers and looks a little… frustrated? “Y/n? Can you tell me what you want to do, love?”

“M’sorry,” Her lower lip wobbles and there’s a small tremble in her chin. Her eyes, when she finally finds his, are watery, and it makes Harry’s heart pinch. He wants to hold her until she’s okay. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but can we... go back to your place?”

He rises then and cups her face in his hands to ensure that she’s looking at him. A little voice in his head is telling him that he’s being too touchy and needs to tone it down, but y/n can’t seem to keep her hands off him. His elbows are warmed through his jacket by her nimble fingers.

Cooing at her almost, “Hey, s’kay. Y/n okay. No crying, alright? I’m happy that I could be here to help you, okay? Of course, we can go back to my place, as long as you’re cool with it. Are you comfortable riding on my motorcycle right now? I can order an uber if you aren’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Nodding, she sniffles and looks into his eyes finally. They sparkle underneath the light, like stars are trapped in her pupils, and the sight takes his breath away. She’s still whispering, but it’s no longer as panicked and short. It might just be the brownies wearing off, or her high calming down.

“Right, then.” Before letting go of her sweet face, he swipes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks in a soothing motion. He walks around to the back of his bike and unlocks the compartment to take out a spare helmet. Holding it up, he gestures for her to tilt her head towards him, “safety first.”

“Your eyes are pretty. Like that thing that makes Superman weak.”

“Kryptonite, baby?” He secures the helmet on her head and makes sure it fits by tilting her head this way and that to check for wiggle room. When he’s satisfied, he raises the glass panel and murmurs, “and yours are prettier than mine.”

“Mhm,” she blinks blearily up at him, and his heart expands three times its size in his chest. “And you really think so?”

“I know so.” They share a small smile, and Harry’s nose is pink from the cold and the warmth of her gaze. He swings a leg over to straddle his bike, and scoots forward to make space for her, and pats the seat behind him. “Come sit behind me, love.”

Y/n grabs the hand that he holds out for her, and clumsily takes the seat.

“Now hold on to me. Hands around my waist,” There’s a strange pitch in his voice, and he has to clear his throat before speaking. Y/n listens to every word he says and places her hands on his waist so lightly, they might as well not even be there. The touch, as innocent as it might be, makes him squirm, and to hide it, he grabs them, and brings them around so she can splash her own fingers at his belly button. “Tighter, sweetheart. I don’t want you to slip off. If you don’t want to see, you can press your face into my neck, okay.”

“Okay,” she peeps. Harry pats her hands and turns his key in the ignition.

“Ready?” With his ankle, he kicks the stand up, and looks over his shoulder to check in on her. The muscles in his stomach are doing a strange tightening and flexing because they don’t know how to act normally under her touch.

“Yes.”

She squeezes her arms tightly around his waist, and she can feel her face pressing into his back as he starts his engine to take her home.

***

“Who were those people?”

It seemed as though removing her from the situation (Harry hates even thinking about the word because it wasn’t a situation, it was a fucking catastrophe that the poor little thing had to go through what she did) had been the best thing to do. From the looks of it, y/n was having a pretty normal high now, asking him if he had anything to snack on that was sweet and tart because she was hungry and her mouth was dry.

He kept himself well stocked on berries and fruit for this exact reason, so while he stood at the aisle in the middle of his kitchen cutting strawberries into nifty little hearts and tossing them into a bowl with freshly rinsed raspberries and blueberries, y/n sat on the barstool, watching him and humming a little tune. She was much different from the way she had been fifteen minutes ago, when they had just walked into his house, blubbering about how she was so sorry that he was losing sleep because of her, and how she still didn’t feel right. It took ten minutes of holding her in his lap on the couch (he still felt overly warm at having her so close to him), shushing and cooing at her, letting her know that everything was alright while stroking her hair, and another three before she stopped crying, and let him know he had a nice voice that tickled her spine and that she had the munchies.

Not that she called them that, of course. Harry doesn’t think she had ever heard the term, given how she knows fuck all about drugs and being high, just said “I’m hungry, h. Do you have anything tart and sweet? It feels like there’s a dragon in my belly.”

So he chucked, rubbed her back as he slipped her onto the spot next to him, and let her know that he had just the thing, and that he would be right back. But that didn’t stop her from trailing behind him like a duckling imprinted on her new human, pitter-pattering all over his tiled floor.

He hopes that she doesn’t feel like he’s prying, because while he was curious to know what compelled her to keep that kind of company, he wanted to know anything about her. This just seemed like a good segway into her.

Y/n is bobbing her head side to side to keep time with the cat clock he has up on the wall. She’s matching pace with its swinging tail, and clicking her tongue every second, pausing only briefly to say, “my co-workers,” in a chipper tone.

Casually, he hums, “The ones that bully you?”

“Yeah!” She’s quick to respond, and quick to realize what she confirmed. Meaning she also realized Harry knew something she had never told him about, and this confuses her. Snapping her head away from the clock, he watches as her shoulders droop and she takes in what he said. The gears were turning clearly on her face, when finally, she spits out her question warily, “Hey… how’d you know that?”

Harry froze mid-strawberry heart. He couldn’t exactly say that he had been asking Mitch about her, and that had told her about her relationship with everyone at work because then that would make him seem more like a creep and less like a love-struck infatuated fool, but he also didn’t want to lie to her completely. He had to stick with a little white lie, “umm, Sarah mentioned something about observing shitty things happening at work, and she mentioned your name.”

“Oh,” y/n’s lips form a little pout, “Are you mad?” When those words come out of her mouth, the possibility of him seemingly being mad at her starts overwhelming her senses, and she starts sputtering again, “I’m sorry- I’m just- I feel off, I-I shouldn’t have eaten that brownie. I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a wimp.”

With sympathetically pursed lips, Harry shakes his head and gently soothes her worries, “I’m not mad. Y’just having a bad trip, sweetheart. It happens sometimes, even to me. When you’re not in a comfortable environment, it happens.” He finishes with the final strawberry slice, and slides the bowl across the way for her, “this is for you, should help with the munchies. Want some water?”

“Please and thank you,” she mumbles around a bite of pink fruit. Sliding a glass across the table, Harry stands across the island to watch her. Y/n hand one hand wrapped around the small bowl, and the other holds fruit to her pouty red lips, swollen by the assault of her teeth. A trail of juice glistens down the side of her finger, and he watches, transfixed, as a pink tongue flicks out to lap up the mess in one, two, or three, tiny licks. A thick glob of saliva collects at the back of his throat because she's moaning, too. Little satisfied hums of pleasure and barely audible sounds of suction don’t escape him.

Blood rushes to the center of him, tenting his pants and he has to go somewhere because fuck she might see it if he has to get close to her.

Clearing his throat, Harry averts his eyes and tries to find somewhere else to set his eyes. Anywhere else because it’s so easy to picture his the ruddy mushroomed head of his cock pressed against her mouth like the tip of the strawberry heart, glistening with the moisture of precum and strings of her saliva as she wipes away his mess with her tongue like an eager little puppy.

What was wrong with him? She needed his help, and had turned to him when she needed him. She had already had people pouncing on her, she didn’t need someone else chasing her skirts.

“S’good, Harry,” y/n gulped down the last few pieces, and Harry blinked. Hard. “Can I have some more?”

There was a wide, lazy feline smile on her mouth. She looked… hazy. A bit sweaty. Disheveled. Y/n looked freshly fucked, and stray drops of fruit around her mouth were making it so incredible hard for him to breathe, “no more lovie,” he managed to say, “or you’ll get a stomachache.”

“Okay, H,” y/n yawned, unfazed by his rejection. Unaware of how crazy Harry was about her right now. His composure was fraying by the second. His mind played visions of them together like little prophecies, his tongue licking a stripe across the side of her face as he pounded her from behind so hard her eyes teared up. Her nails left little marks on his back from where she tried to grab leverage to bounce faster in his lap. Her skin dipping where Harry pawed at her to bring back against his dick. Fuck, he had to go into the restroom and tuck his boner into his pants.

“Sleepy?” He rasped, voice trembling, eyes glued to her glassy doe eyes, “come, I’ll show you to your bed.” It was easier to be quiet and gentle with her. A calm version of him meant a restrained version of him. Clean as opposed to filthy. Good instead of bad.

Her bed was really his bed. In his hurry to angle himself in such a way that she won’t see his raging erection, she forgets the state of disarray his bedroom is in. He walks slowly so he can hear the pitter-patter of her feet trailing after him, and stops at his door. Opening it, he inwardly cringes at everything inside. Blankets strewn all over the expanse of his mattress. Untucked and unaligned. One of his pillows on the floor instead of on the bed, and a rolling tray with crumbles of weed and baked mango bits on his bedside table.

Harry rushed to that first, not wanting her to see anything else related to drugs. So much for a first impression. What a way to enforce the bum-drug dealer stereotype.

“Promise m’not this messy,” he grumbles, picking up loose t-shirts and sweaters off the floor as he goes to turn on the lamp (swipe the tray away before she has a chance to see it), “it was a rough night. Was having a hard time sleeping.”

Y/n squeaks behind him and he turns. She’s still standing by the doorway, “t-this is your bed?”

Oh, God, she hates it. Harry starts swiping blankets off the bed to remake it for her. What was thinking, giving the sweet girl a messy bed?.“Yeah. I know it’s a little messy but I promise the mattress is comfortable. I bought it last year because I was having back problems a-”

“Where will you sleep?”

He starts tucking cover on the edges of his mattress, trying to be quick about it so she can see it’ll be neat for her. “On the couch, lovie.”

“B-but… this is your bed?” y/n poses it like a question, but Harry can hear the guilt in her voice because she would be taking his bed.

“I know that,” smiling softly at her, he shakes out and fluffs the pillows. “But I want you to sleep here instead. It’s much better than the couch.”

“Are you sure?” Her fingers tangle at her navel.m

He nods and tucks the used blanket under his arm to take to the couch with him. “More than, sweetheart,” Looking at her attire, he pulls open his drawer and grabs some items for him and a few for her, “want to change into something else or is that okay for you? Can give you a sweater or a t-shirt.”

Eyes lighting up at the large black shirt, y/n reaches out and points to it, “Can I have a shirt, please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does. But it happens, low and gravelly like the drag of a big cat’s tail on a cave floor. He sees the way her cheeks burn with his effect, and his cock throbs in his pants. He needs to get out of the room. “There’s a restroom down the hall if you have to go, and an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m gonna sleep right outside, so let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Y/n nods, “Okay.”

The moment he closes the door slightly behind him, his hand clutches his ground, shifting it sideways so he’s not pressing up against the zipper.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Harry wakes up to the sound of mewling.

Which is strange because he doesn’t own a cat, and high-pitched whimpering sounds are coming from… his bedroom? They’re muffled because his door is half closed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes- if you can even call it that, he was tossing and turning because he couldn’t focus on sleeping knowing the object of his main thoughts is only a few strides away- Harry swings his feet off the side of the couch and pushes off with his knuckles. The sweatpants he had on dragged down low on his hips, the slant of his Adonis belt, and the thin skin right above the base of his cock visible. Sleepily, he tugged them higher and pressed the door open to check in on y/n.

And he felt his heart stop in his chest at what he saw.

Y/n was writhing in his bed, the sheet tangled between her legs and she was naked. Her face was flushed with tears, her chest choked up with sobs she was trying to keep down by biting on his pillow. Her hair was wild from her erratic movements caused by… well Harry didn’t know what.

He rushed to her side, “Y/n! Y/n, baby.”

A gasp wrenched itself from her chest, eyes were blown wide so that he could see how red they were, swollen at the waterline. She yelped like just his touch hurt him, and after removing his hands to ease her pain, Harry frantically ran his gaze all over her body, looking for anywhere she might be hurt. To see if maybe she had had some kind of reaction to the drugs she had taken.

“What is it, love? Talk to me,” he whispers, not wanting to scare her even more. His thick brows are furrowed heavily, eyes heavy with concern and a touch of sleep. He had never felt so helpless before, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to cradle her close to his chest and rock her sweetly until her crying stopped.

Y/n keened, whiny and long, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Why are you sorry, lovie? Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it all okay,” he rubs a hand across her head, featherlight but enough to brush the hair away so he could see her clearly. She turned to him, following his touch with her nose like an animal searching for the warmth of touch, and then curled deeper into herself, hands clutching at her navel, “do we have to go to the hospital, y/n?”

“I was hungry, H,” y/n shuts her eyes tightly and gulps a breath of air, “but you said no more.. and there were brownies in the drawer.”

Harry rubs her back, transfixed by y/n’s bizarre actions as she moans at his touch. Cocking his head to the side, he mumbles what she said, “brownies in the…”

Realization dawned on in.

No, no, no, no. Looking at the bedside table that previously housed his rolling tray, it now was covered with two, blood-red pieces of crumpled foil crumbs of chocolate dotted around the trash. The words Kitty-kat Brat in a sensual, curly font stamped on the side. A script of warning on the side said that each partner should only consume a fourth of the brownie every hour as desired and that after consumption, the effect would only be sated by the exhaustion of endorphins. And at the top, in a glitter color: aphrodisiac.

Y/n had consumed two aphrodisiacs that Harry kept for himself on the occasion that a partner might want to experiment with them. The poor girl was hurting because she was… so fucking horny.

“Oh, lovie,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck was he going to do? Leave her? No, he couldn’t do that when… when her pussy was weeping for attention. Call someone else to help? When help meant she would get fucked so hard she’d be cock-dumb? Absolutely not. But also, Harry didn’t feel right touching her when she was clearly under another influence. And if he didn’t feel right doing it himself, why the fuck would he let someone else do it? With a curled knuckle, he hooks her chin and forces her to look at him, “can you tell me exactly what it is you’re feeling? S’okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

Y/n shuts her eyes and tries to yank her chin away, but Harry tightens his grip, pinching the sides of her mouth so she can’t move, “can’t do that, H.”

It’s laughable really, he thinks. How whiny she’s being when her actions are the reason she was in this position. He had told her no more, and did she listen to him? No. In fact, she went looking through his drawers and ate his brownies, which he did not give permission for her to do.

If there was one thing that got him riled up, it was girls who didn’t listen and then cried at the consequences of their own actions.

He chuckled at her, even though he was surprised at the change in his feelings about the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. Here he was, thinking she was this innocent little thing. And she eats his fucking sex brownies. Shaking his head, he taps her cheek with his finger to get her to pay attention to him, “I need to know what’s happening so I can find some way to help. Aren’t you hurting, baby?”

Keening, back arching off the bed, she cries, “So badly, Harry. My… pussy hurts. I’ve already cum so many times but nothing I do is working!” Blood rushes to his dick at the lewd confession. How long she has been in here with her fingers rubbing her cunt with him just outside the door. Muffling her moans so he doesn’t hear them. The thought makes him groan internally. “It doesn’t feel right.”

His voice is low and gravelly, filled with a hunger that was kindling in his loins in preparation to spread like wildfire. “What doesn’t feel right?” He asked.

“Me doing it myself,” she swallows wetly, and her hand comes up to grip his wrist, Her thighs are chafed from how urgently she keeps rubbing them together, and through the lace of her bralette he can see how hard her nipples are. The glassy look in her eyes isn’t just from tears, it’s a reflection of how deep her need goes. “I-I… I want someone else to do it. I want you to do it.”

Little crescents of broken skin are left in her wake, and he lets her. The sting of pain is keeping him centered at the moment. The sound of her harsh breathing, rustling of the mattress springs from all her movement, and the bursts of circling motion at her hips are testing him. He wants to squeeze the tip of his dick to alleviate some of the aches that are settling there. “You want me to do what, sweet thing?”

“I want you to help me, H. Please?” Blinking at him blearily, y/n pouts. She was begging him.

Crooning to her with a condescending pout of his own, Harry cups the side of her face and runs a thumb under her eyes were tears have started falling once more, “help you what? Use your words.”

Y/n huffs and sobs, her heels sliding against the mattress, “help me cum! Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at me, y/n. I said look at me,” he shakes her by the grip he has on her face gently to get her to snap out of the whining and whimpering. Needing her eyes on him so that he could read her, he asks “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, yes. I am. Please do something.”

“Ask nicely.”

The girl is back to mewling, taking the hand on her face and moving it down to her legs so that Harry would get the hint, “please touch me, H.”

Y/n pulls him down onto the bed by his hand, and Harry lets her tug at him until he’s sitting down next to her before he pulls out of her grip and grabs both of her hands in one. Placing them above her head, he looks at her pointedly, eyes dark, so she doesn’t move her hands from where he leaves them. Big hands splayed wide across her trailed down the sides of her waist and stopped at her hips, rubbing gentle circles, “Open y’legs, don’t be shy now. M’just gonna help, and I need to see what I’m working with.”

Briefly, she mumbles some kind of complaint, the remnants of any modesty making themselves known, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. He waited, glaring at her almost, until she allowed her thighs to fall open freely, and he hummed low at the back of his throat. Sliding his palms up the inside of her thigh, he began to talk to her in a tone that many didn’t get to hear, “want my fingers, lovie? Or my mouth? Don’t think you deserve my cock for being naughty and touching something that wasn’t yours. Only good girls get my cock.”

“Everything, H. I’m sorry, won’t do it again. Give me anything you want,” y/n weeps, her hands in a fist above her head digging into the pillow that is halfway out of its case from all her moving around.

“Think I’ll pet y’weepy cunt first, hmm? How does that sound?” Harry bites back a moan and feels the tip of his dick rubbing against the inside of his sweatpants. Reaching down to adjust himself doesn’t seem like a priority when his girl is beneath him with her legs wide open and pleas are falling from her lips for him to touch her. The inside of her thighs are irritated, the black gusset of her thin underwear stained white with the cream of her pussy. He wants to press his nose against her and lick her clean. His mouth is watering for him to do something of the sort but instead, he hooks her underwear aside and…

And his own hips buck forward against his will. She’s so slick, it's running down the seam of her ass and onto his bedsheets. Drops of her creamy cut sit on the edge of her hole, accumulated from her previous orgasms. Y/n twists uncomfortably and pants. Harry, wanting to hear her cries again, smears her cum with two fingers around her entrance, and slides them into her pussy.

“Perfe- oh, God.” She clenches around him, and he can feel that spongy place brush against the tip of his finger the second before she starts twitching from an orgasm. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream and her head tilts back into the mattress. Harry smirks as she cums from one touch, and his own jaw drops at the amount of moisture that comes out of her, dripping onto his knuckles.

Guiding her through it, Harry continues moving his fingers at a steady pace, bringing his thumb up to the hood of her mound to press against her clit, “Oh, y’poor thing. Just a touch and y’already gushing on m’hand? Thought I was gonna have to try for it. Y’cum this easy for everyone, lovie, or jus’ me?” He leans over her with a hand braced beside her head and whispers into her ear, “how ‘bout I work f’the next one?”

Ripples of need were running down his spine and to his groin but he focused all of his energy into paying attention to what made her react the most. Listening for the hitch in her breath. He dragged his fingers out slowly, curling them on the inside of her wall as he did so where was persistent pressure leading up to her g-spot, and y/n made an animalistic noise mixed between a whine and cry. His tongue lolled against the side of her ear, the skin hot and flushed from the heat of her body. Harry nipped the tender flesh of her neck and waited to hear her yelp to soothe the sting with his tongue. Kissing his way down to her throat, he presses his fingers into her as far as they go and runs circles around her clit while keeping steady pressure on the bundle of nerves inside of her. He’s rubbing her inside and outside, slowly, slowly, and then starts picking up the pace.

Y/n is mewling, her tits in the air as her back lifts up in a hold. Her moans are becoming louder, her pussy tightening around his fingers and he knows she’s going to orgasm again. He’s mumbling how good she is being for him against the side of her breast, his nose holding back the flimsy lace as he leaves the plush skin and fights the urge to cant his hips into the bed like a dog in heat. He feels hot everywhere, like the heat turned on by itself in his room, and when y/n’s fingers curl into his hair and pull as she cums again and screams his name he can’t find it in him to reprimand her. Harry just talks her through it.

“Good girl, y/n. Y’being so good for me. Think you can give me another, lovie? Because I want one more. Y’gonna give me one more, okay?” Cooing at the way she digs her head back into the pillows and shakes her head, Harry increases his rhythm so that the muscles in his bicep flex with every move. She’s still spasming around him from the orgasm she’s riding, but he doesn’t let it end, “ah, you’re so cute, saying no but this little cunt is weeping yes. Who am I to deny her, hmm?”

She’s adamantly shaking her head no, eyes lulling shut and her mouth slacks with a cry, “too much… too much, h. Sensitive, please-”

“Weren’t you begging for it earlier, y/n? M’only giving you what you asked for,” Harry thinks he could cum just from watching her body tense with unyielding pleasure. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and Harry is back to fucking her fast and hard with his fingers while licking and sucking on her nipple, “that’s it. That’s it right there isn’t it, baby? Abusing y’special spot so it’s too much for you, hmm?”

He’s muffled against her skin and the sound of her wet pussy being penetrated by his fingers is so filthy, his own eyes roll into the back of his head. He takes a deep breath and smells the sex on her, the tanginess of her juices zinging his tastebuds, and god he has to taste her.

“Yes, yes, please, Harry,” y/n is anguished, heels set firmly so she can meet his hand halfway, and she's so erratic he can’t focus on anything else but the furious pace she’s set.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Harry groans, moving one of his legs so one of hers is in between his, and the movement of her shin against his crotch makes him pant. Every muscle is tense with a restraint that is slowly melting away. With every rub of her against him- she’s doing it unknowingly, and he’s rutting against her- he’s closer to spurting in his sweatpants.

“Mhm,” her affirmation drags out into breathless gasps as the weak squeeze unclenches and clenches all over again as another orgasm rolls through her.

He can’t take it anymore. He removes his hand to give her a chance to recover, takes the hand covered in her cum, and sticks it down his pants. Hissing at the relief he gets from squeezing himself from base to tip has him seeing white.

“Good girl, baby,” stroking himself, he nuzzles against her chin. He wants to kiss her but he wants to talk them both up into a frenzy. “Took it so well, let me treat y’little pussy right. Does she still want more?” y/n nods, sniffling and scrunching her nose, “you do? Want my mouth or my fingers next, lovie?”

“I want more than that. It’s not… not enough,” she whimpers.

Harry cocks his head to the side and thrusts into his hand once more before going to touch her again. He’s painfully hard, and the catch of his tip against the terrycloth fabric inside is overstimulating him. “Not enough? I made you come three times and it wasn’t enough?”

“Give me more, Harry, please I-I need it,” y/n angles her hips in his direction again. A thin film of sweat coats her skin, and the baby hairs at her temple are sticking to the skin. Her eyes are red, but she’s not crying anymore, and a line of clear snot trails into her upper lip that she keeps sniffling. She looks thoroughly fucked now before Harry’s even stuck his cock in her. He cleans her face with the edge of a blanket and kisses her under each eye. Before he can right himself again, she pulls him back down by his hair and presses her mouth against his. Little pecks at first, and then she’s licking at the seam of his mouth, all the while Harry just smirks. He doesn’t kiss her back at first, and when she starts to cry about it, he leans in and devours her mouth.

He’s brutal in his kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth and knocking his teeth against hers. She tastes sweet, like chocolate and strawberries and weed. Y/n melts against him, opening up her lips to him and licking back like a cat. When they separate, a string of saliva connects their mouths.

“What do you need? Hmm? Want my mouth and my fingers, too? No?” He hums low, pretending to think of naughty ways to get her off, when in reality, he’s already thought of a million and one, “want to ride one off on my thigh? Rub that wet thing between y’legs all over mine and leave a sticky mess behind? Y’might give y’self a burn, but that’s what you get for poking into something y’should have.”

“No. I’m sorry, H, just please- help me-” she pleads meekly.

“I want to help y’lovie, but y’gotta tell me because I’m running out of ideas here,” before he can finish her sentence, she makes a frustrated huff and buries her head into his neck. Y/n wraps her leg around his, trying to pull him on her but all she manages is to lift herself up and grind her molten core on the hard ridges of his abs. An absurdly loud moan resonates throughout the room, and Harry groans at the way she ruts into the air, a pull in his abdomen demanding his dick makes contact with something. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders, and Harry has to remain tense while she uses him as leverage to push her hips up so her clit drags against the ridge just below his belly button. He’s being mean, watching her struggle and pant, sweat gathering at her temples and between her tits, but he can’t help but watch her use him. She’s so focused on trying to get herself off, it’s almost like he’s not even there as long as he isn’t moving.

The way he watches her is so nonchalant, it’s almost as if he’s not a few touches away from cumming himself. He merely smiles lazily at her efforts, mumbling lame encouragement and telling her she was so cute while she puffed and struggled to get herself off. She couldn’t keep herself touching his abdomen for long enough to pick up a pace. When she starts to tire out, her pants turn into frustrated huffs, and her thighs quake from exertion.

Harry chuckles, “y’need help, baby? Y’were doing just fine before. Didn’t seem to need me then.”

She sulked, and the expression on her face was only missing the stomping of feet to resemble a tantrum, “You’re being mean!”

“Oh, darling,” he soothed, licking the salty drop of moisture that fell from the side of her eye in frustration. He wanted to keep toying with her until the only word she knew was his name in different volumes and tones, but if his own dick was hurting this badly without an added stimulant, he can’t imagine what she was feeling. He gently kissed her lips and pulled away before her eager tongue made an earnest effort to deepen their connection. “don’t cry.”

“It hurts,” y/n turned her head to the side, into the pillow to cover her face, and mindlessly ran her hands across his shoulders. A smattering of gooseflesh covered her, and for some reason, it softened him.

“Here, why don’t we try this,” he moves them so swiftly, so she’s on top, her legs on either side of him, her center sitting atop his belly button. Harry decides that he’s going to let her have her fun for a while before taking control. “Better, lovie? Like this?” Her jaw is slack from the contact of the muscular ridges, her clit grazing against the indent of his abs as guided by his hands on her hips, dragging her back and force to set a rhythm. Hurried ah-ah-ah’s are choked out from her, and y/n tries to go faster, her thigh muscles straining against Harry’s grip. And he lets her go.

With his elbows planted on the bed to support himself, he flexed his core and smirked in satisfaction when she mewled and humped him erratically, muttering that it felt so good, how she was so close. There had never been a time like this before, in which he practiced such restraint, but just gazing at her was enough. He began to pant with a savage abandon, entranced by the bouncing of her tits, the little huffs of breath that interrupted her cries. Precum leaked out of his dick and made a dark sport on the gray fabric of his pants at the feeling of her wet pussy rubbing against him. Using him to get off. This sweet angel who had been scared to look him in the eye at one point, who didn’t know shit about drugs, who had captivated him before he knew her name, was using him to get off. He had never felt so lucky.

“Go on then, use me,” Harry canted his hips up to press against her as she came down on him, and groaned when the tip of his dick touched her ass. “Give this pussy what it needs, baby. Whatever she wants,” grabbing her thigh, he stroked her, swiping up and down and skating his thumb on the tender skin that wasn’t touching.“Can I rub you right here? She wants me to touch her, will y’let me?”

Nodding fervently, so eager, “Yes, please. Anything you want Harry, need to going to-”

“Cum all over my belly?” Harry suggested, his palm stopping where her thigh meets her hip so that his thumb could reach her clit and swipe against it as she moved. Her hole fluttered against him, and then he felt her start to clench, grasping around nothing as the beginnings of another burst build inside her. His thumb flicked her bundle of nerves faster, rolling longer in bursts of two or three, and then she stilled, her thighs spasming from an orgasm announced by the shout of his name. “Look at you, y’shaking,” he whispered in awe, his hips stuttering when she feebly tried to rock against him while still cumming, “and you still fucking want more.”

“Make it go way, H,” y/n pleaded, her shoulders twitching from the continuation of the orgasm she had previously. The dim lighting in the room makes it hard to see but he doesn’t miss the way she arches her back and pushes her tits out. His mouth waters at the thought of sucking them again, but he wants her to be filthy. As filthy as his thoughts were getting.

“No.” He says, taking his hand away and watching her pussy shudder against him as he cuts her orgasm short.

Y/n whines low in her throat and lets her body fall forward. She rests on top of him now, her head by his ear. Her mouth is hot against his ear when she mutters wetly, “please.”

“You’re gonna do what I just did again, and again until it stops,” Harry rubs a hand up her back, through her shoulderblades and up the nape of her neck until his fingers are deep in her hair, and tightens his grip to keep her still from licking his jaw. He yanks her back so her face is a hair away from him, their noses a centimeter from touching, “or until you tell me exactly what you want”

Gulping, her head bobs up and down and her tone becomes pitiful, “Kay. Please.. can you… unbutton your jeans, please?”

“I said y’ have to tell me, not take what you want, y/n.” He feels try to slowly inch forward to kiss him.

“I know! I know!” Shutting her eyes tightly and whimpering when Harry pulls her back to stop her movements again, her high-pitched tone of voice sounds like music to his ears, “m’gonna go again, I promise, but your buttons are hurting my… butt.”

There's a beat of silence, and then he kisses her nose. Let's go of her hair, and tucks his hands behind his head like he's kicking back for a fucking vacation and not like if she accidentally touched his cock one more time he would cum. “Y’cute, lovie, go ahead, then. M’only watching this time.”

“S’not fair!” Y/n complained but reluctantly started moving over her own lubrication. Harry was so wet with her arousal that the filthiest suction noises were coming from where their skin touched. The insides of her thighs were hot against him, and he imagined it was from the irritation. Later, he would have to apply the cream to them. But he wasn’t going to touch her then. Not when she was being so bratty after he made her cum several times.

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry growled “what’s not fair is you ate my sex brownie, y/n, but I’m not complaining, am I? What if I wanted to fuck someone else senseless, eat out their sopping cunt, and have them beg me ‘more, h, s’not enough’? Have them mark me with their cum like you’re doing right now, and play with their clit till they can’t talk properly?” She didn’t like what he had to say“Oh, I see, y’don’t like that, do you, baby? I’m doin’ these things with you, s’not enough?”

“No!” A warmth spread in Harry’s chest at her disapproval of him doing things to someone else, at the thought that they shared the same possessiveness.

“What more do you-” she lifts her hip and inches back, and then she pulled his sweatpants down and come down in such a way that her folds were fit snugly against the angry red tip of his cock. He hissed and stilled, “Y/n, what-”

“Want this, h,” y/n whispered and rolled her hips against him. That was all it took. One touch of her pussy on him and hot, thick white ropes of his cum were spurting between them. A long animalistic groan thrummed in his chest, the tightness in his core snapped and so did he. He grabbed her with a curse and held her still as he fucked out his orgasm, his dick sliding between her folds furiously as the orgasm continued like it would never end. Moaning as he watches her bite down on her lip, climbing up on another climax as moisture burst on the length of his cock. She was quivering, grinding against him as much as she could so prettily. His blood was boiling at it felt like he was going to have heatstroke from how warm he was everywhere, but the pleasure was lighting up each of his nerves and he could care less if he died right after.

“My cock?” He snarled, his lips pulled back so he looked like the animal he was being. Puffs of air were sifting through his nostrils harshly, but he kept dirty talking her. “Y’naughty little thing, lookin’ like a fucking wreck with me sliding in between you like this, fuck, sucking me right in.”

“Feels so good,” y/n panted, her hands on his wrists at her hips. Her touch was featherlight on him, and Harry knew she was getting to the end of the brownies.

“Does it, baby?”

“Yeah, you’re so warm, it-it feels really really good,” bits of her words disappeared with gasps that took her oxygen away. She was so flushed, her skin damp with sweat.

“Is that all you know how to say?” He slows his movements, and instead of moving her over him, Harry thrusts. His member setting a harsh, punishing pace that would have him reaching her g-spot repeatedly if he was inside her.“Or are you just not thinking right because you want me to fuck you so badly?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Say it,” snarling, he pistoned up into her, the familiar sensation of a coiling rope building in him once more. The tip of his cock between them was leaking precum, y/n’s pussy dripping creamy slick on him so there was a sopping mess between them.

“I want you to fuck me, h,” on his name, y/n starts shaking uncontrollably, another orgasm running through her and this one renders her into a sobbing mess. Harry… well he’s moaning without reserve, eyes shut as pleasure overtakes him again. This time he savors it, slowing their bodies down so their sensual touches drag out longer. Low sobs shakes her, and she collapses beside him and starts to curl in on herself from the overwhelming sensations. Harry follows, climbing over her and turning her so she’s facing him and looking her right in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna fuck you dumb, tonight, sweetheart. Not when you’re already stupid horny from a brownie y’took without permission. Remember what I said? Only good girls get me between their legs. And you were so, so, naughty.” He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses below her breasts, peppering them both and tweaking her nipples when they weren’t in his mouth.

Y/n begins to cry, tears immediately falling at his rejection. Her beginning is desperate, “No. No, h. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, I want-”

“I know you want to cum. So that’s what I’ll give you. But not with my dick. Gonna eat up all the honey that comes out of this puffy little hole and I don’t care if y’cum so much y’crying because your slit is numb. I’m gonna stop when I want to, understand? Nod if you understand.” She does as he asks, and sniffles. “Good. Now lay down and let me eat.”

Her back has barely touched the mattress before his mouth is on her, devouring her like it's both the first and last meal he’s ever had. His tongue is hot on her already creamy pussy, and the taste of her has him rutting into the mattress like a fucking animal, fucking down on it like it’s her. He laps at her desperately, ears keenly aware of every moan, squeak, whimper that comes out of her. He fucks into her hole with his tongue, licking her cream before it's even fully out of her, and spitting it back out on her clit. The action makes y/n freeze, and he looks up, momentarily confused thinking that he’s crossed a boundary but…

But y/n’s head is thrown so far back he can count the veins in her neck, and her body is trembling, a restrained garble of words incoherently coming out of her in pants and Harry knows she’s coming. He blows on her clit, allowing his spit and her cum to drip before going back down to slurp at it. He focuses on that little button, suckling at it and flicking it with his tongue. Soon enough, y/n is yelping, her hands in his hair as she tried to wretch him away. It’s finally become too much.

“Don’t you fucking pull me off, I’m not finished yet,” he momentarily takes his hands off of her thighs and wraps them around her wrist, pressing down on the tendon at the center to wiggle her fingers off his head. He tucks them under her back, and places his mouth on her once more, dark eyes threatening her as he mouths his words on cunt, “Lay down and don’t pull again or I’ll tie y’up.”

Holding her down firmly, Harry splayed his tongue flat on her and sucks, surprised and pleased by the shriek that escaped her. Y/n is crying, saying she can’t take it, that it was enough, but Harry isn’t listening. He’s so lost in his own pleasure, the arousal he gets from her taste, the sounds she makes because of him, that he’s chasing after his own orgasm by rubbing his cock against the bed. He’s getting frustrated because he wants to get there as soon as she does, and he knows it's gonna be soon with the way she’s throbbing against his lips.

So he reaches down and squeezes himself in a tight fist, lubrication not necessary because of how slippery he was already. The moment he does, his vision goes white, and there's a spurt of heat below his belly button, and moisture drenching the lower half of his face.

They lay there heaving briefly, and he becomes aware that she’s no longer awake. Her breathing is stinted with hiccups from leftover sobs, but she’s asleep. The tip of her nose is red, her eyes red-rimmed. He knows she’s going to wake up tired and with a headache tomorrow, but he’ll be there with her. With the corner of a blanket, he cleans them up as much as he can and tosses that soiled sheet away, grabbing a much more clean one and throwing it over them.

“Night, baby.” He kissed her forehead and tucked his Achilles heel close to his chest, the girl sleeping like a rock in his arms.

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

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slytheringangstuff · 2 months

Text

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝓉 𝓍 𝐹𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 𝟣.𝟣𝓀

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑒

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎/𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝑜 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒.

𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒷𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹! 𝒪𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 <𝟥

“You’re an idiot, you know.” y/n sighed, her back turned to Theo, as she searched for the first aid kit that she used far too much. Theo leaned on the bathroom door frame, arms crossed, and smiled softly at y/n. No matter how mad she was with him, she always made sure he was okay, which was more often than not recently.

“You know, it’s not that bad, Tesoro.” He smirked as she paused, taking out the kit. It’s just a scratch, but I appreciate the concern.” At this, she turned around so fast she could have gotten whiplash, he thought, his expression changing to a more startled one.

“You are not fine!” y/n snaps. Her voice was full of anger, yet her eyes showed the hurt and concern she felt. “Theo, this is the third time this week I’ve had to patch you up!” She scolded in disbelief. “It’s Thursday! Matteo has been in fewer fights this month than you have this week! Matteo! How is he more controlled than you!? HOW?! I mean, you won’t even tell me why! I don’t get it Theo!” He opened his mouth to speak, but Theo couldn’t think of anything to say; all he could do was stand there and listen, wincing whilst trying to ignore the throbbing in his head.

Noticing this, y/n sighed, calming herself enough to focus on fixing his injuries. There weren’t many, but she knew him well enough to know that he was in pain.

“Come here.”

Walking towards her, he gives her an apologetic look before lifting her up onto the counter, the start of a routine that was almost second nature to them both by now. He stood between her legs, hands resting on her thighs, rubbing soothing shapes in hopes of helping her relax. Carefully, y/n lifted her hand to his chin so she could begin to inspect the damage fully. Slight cuts and bruising to his nose, cheek, and lip, and the worst being on his forehead; whoever he fought must have had rings, she thought. Taking a closer look at his nose told her he had once again broken it for the fourth time that month, but to her relief, it was easily fixable. Seeing this, Theo smiled, only to immediately wince, closing his eyes. The burning sensation was a painful reminder of his split lip.

Frowning, she reached for her wand and pointed it at his nose. “Episkey.”

Gasping, he jolted back, his hand moving to his nose. Hissing in pain, he shot y/n a look that can only be described as betrayal while she giggled. “What happened to a warning?” he asked, still holding his now-fixed nose. "What happened to ‘no more fights’?”

“You know I don’t go looking to fight someone. I have my reasons.” Opening an alcohol wipe, she sighed. "With the amount of times I’ve patched you up this week, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were walking around with a ‘fight me’ sign on.” She smiled lightly as he chuckled. “This’ll sting,” she warned. “But you know that by now.”

Theo groaned, teeth clenching, as Y/N cleaned his cuts, paying close attention to the one on his forehead. She giggled quietly as she placed four butterfly stitches on the cut to help it close and heal. “What’s so funny?” he questioned, wondering what had lightened her mood.

“You’re lucky the cut isn’t deep; otherwise, you’d look like Harry Potter 2.0.” She teased. Hearing this, he gasped, hand flying to his chest so dramatically it rivalled Draco’s reactions. “How dare you say such cruel things!” Trying to cry, he ‘sobs’ out, “To say I look like that prick is to say I have been so horribly disfigured; you may as well end me now!” Trying to control her laughter, y/n chokes out. “You-you are-“ Theo interrupted, “Beautiful, a genius, immensely talented-“ She stopped him. “An idiot!” Seeing him pout, she continued. “But… you’re my idiot, and I wouldn’t trade you with anyone in the world.”

“Liar.” y/n leans back, offended. “How exactly am I a liar? Who on earth would I replace you with?”

“I’ll give you one name.” She gestures for him to continue. “Tom Hiddleston.” She smiles wide, her head tilting back with laughter before wheezing out. “Okay! But… you’ve said the same to me about Ryan Reynolds!” Laughing with her, he yields. “Fine, but can you blame me?” “No, but you can’t blame me either.” Theo holds his hands up in surrender. “No, I cannot.”

Theo’s eyes soften as she finishes cleaning him up.

“It was about you.” Confused, y/n looked into his eyes. “What was about me?” He takes a breath, looking away, before answering.

“The fights. You'd be sick if you heard half of the things those boys said about you.” Looking into her eyes, he continues. “Pansy and Draco told me last week they were bothering you, and I’ve been keeping an eye on them since. I can’t and I won’t let them show such disrespect towards you amore, simply because they will never be able to have you.” Anxiously he waits for y/n to respond, her face a mixture of emotions that even he struggled to read.

Her eyes glistened with tears as she tried to speak through the lump in her throat. “I understand why you did it, and I’m… I don’t know.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “It feels good to-to know that you’ll stand up for me even when I’m not there. And I’m so grateful for that, but I don’t want you to keep getting hurt because of me. I love you so much; I hate seeing you in pain, Theo. I can handle it. I promise.”

Pulling her to his chest, Theo presses a kiss to her head. “I knew you'd feel guilty, so I didn’t want you to know. You do understand that I’d take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe or defending you, right?" He holds her closer to him, if possible. Not waiting for an answer, he continues. “When you love something, you protect it. And I love you more than anything in this world. You’re the reason I get out of bed amore mio.”They hold each other for what feels like years before Theo speaks. “You said you love me… for the first time.” He feels her smile on his chest before she pulls away enough to meet his eyes. “So did you.”

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mustainegf · 29 days

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Beach Episodeee- basically you start playing volleyball with the metallica boys but they all are lowkey staring at your body and getting horny and you notice...you can choose whoever you wanna do this with, or could do something similar to that valentines day one where the audience chooses who they wanna be with!

Photo for ref

Love you Elena!!!💗

YESSS DUDE I LOVE THESE ONES WITH THE CHOICES

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 ¹⁹⁸⁵

The sun was barely cresting, a golden glow along the beach by the time we rolled in with Cliff's old, beat up car. The saline freshness in the air and the waves crashing against the beach always comforted me. It was one of those perfect summer days, and there I was with my favorite people in the world. James, Cliff, Kirk, and Lars.

Since weeks ago we had been planning on catching time at the beach. Now that we were here, I just couldn't wait to kick back and relax a little, to enjoy some fun.

Finally, we found somewhere on the sand, and so I stepped down to my swimsuit. Nothing too fancy, a black bikini did the trick for me, at least it made me like what I saw. And I could feel their eyes on me as I took my shorts off and let them drop into the dust. I glanced up to see James watching, a suggestive look on his face, almost flustered.

He glanced away immediately when he realized that I had seen him, but with the smirk on his face, telling me that he was really not sorry.

"Nice suit," Cliff laid his towel down carelessly next to mine as he unfolded it. He was so calm, but those eyes sort of petted me, and my stomach flipped.

“Thanks,” I said, my cheeks clearly heating up. Not that they weren't ogling before but today for some reason it seemed a lot more obvious.

He started putting up the volleyball net a few feet from us. His look even flickered in my direction time and time again, softer, almost shy in a way, as he looked at me with something that just made warm creep into my cheeks.

Not so much Lars, he didn't even try. Literally, he didn't try to hide that his eyes were roving down my body with some kind of audacity that both made me want to laugh and roll my eyes.

"So you guys ready to lose?" I smiled, trying to let a little bit of tension out as I walked over to the net.

Yes, I felt their eyes on me, but I wasn't going to let that bother me. If anything, it was kind of fun knowing they were all looking. I could play along.

“Depends on what we’re playing for,” Lars shot back, winking at me as he tossed me the ball.

"Loser buys lunch?" I retorted, not so much enjoying the implication in his tone.

"How about a prize for the winner then?" he suggested, with a voice that could sometimes penetrate my bones. His eyes held a dare.

"And what prize would that be, exactly?" I said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh, I’m sure you know," James replied, but before I could answer, Cliff interjected.

"Alright, let's get this started," he rubbed his hands together, "Enough talking."

We ended up splitting into teams, with me and Cliff versus James, Kirk, and Lars. It wasn't exactly fair, but Cliff was the tallest, so it gave us a boost.

I had my eyes more on the boys as they kept glancing my way, watching my every move across the sand.

Every time I leaped to smack the ball, I could make out James ogling at me with those eyes. The same went for Lars, his eyes turned even more wicked, comments more daring, as we played on.

"Great spike." He beamed at me as I returned the ball to our side of the net, but his gaze was fixed upon my chest, not the ball.

"Pay attention to the game, Lars," I shot back, though I couldn't help the grin that pulled at my lips.

Not even Kirk, always so upright with things, appeared immune to being carried away by it. And even when the ball came flying near him, he missed, his eyes otherwise occupied tracking me through the sand.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his face flushed, running off to get the ball with a stupid smile on his face.

The time we finished the game, my heart was pacing and it wasn't just from how active I was. When we fell down into the sand from laughing, out of breath, I couldn't help but notice the way they looked at me, as if I were the only thing that mattered in this world.

We spread out on the beach and sprawled out, laying upon the beach with cold drinks. The sun was lower now, early evening rays warming our skin. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel their gaze upon me, their attention making my skin tingle with eyes so closed.

"Having fun?" Kirk asked, his shy voice obviously trying to be as confident as possible.

"Yeah," I answered, smiling up at the guitarist. Kirk’s eyes flicking down to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

Cliff, who was lying on his towel next to me, leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You know, you’re driving them all crazy.” The smile upon his lips belied it, but in his eyes, very serious, burnt a different narrative.

"Am I?" I managed out.

"Yeah," he said, and his voice dropped. "But I can't say I blame them."

I swallowed hard as his words settled. I knew what they all wanted, and it had turned me on. Yet I knew I had to make a decision.

I couldn't keep them all hanging like this. It was kind of a game, who was going to test the water and jump in first?

The only question: who would it be?

Now the sun had finally begun to set for no good reason at all, painting a soft orange sheen on the beach. Now I stood a few feet from them, the guys seated on the sand, now laughing and talking easy with each other.

Who do I choose?

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kurocamille · 9 months

Text

❝maybe frat boys aren’t so bad (aka miscommunication leads to makeup sex?!) ❞

Frat!Bakugou Katsuki x reader (second part of my frat!Bakugou series) mdni

part 1 / master list

5.3k+ words

after your hookup with Bakugou, somehow everyone knows. this means that you’re on mean girl Mika’s watchlist and that you’ll have to distance yourself from him. however, Bakugou gets it in his head that you don’t want to be with him, and when he sees you with Kirishima, he doesn’t think you’ll ever let him back in your life (or your bed). Turns out it was all just miscommunication…

warnings

part 2 of 2, jealous Bakugou, miscommunication trope, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, blow job, making out, hickeys, he bites you once?, penis in vagina sex, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, female/afab reader, creampie, “baby” as a pet name

It had been exactly one week since your night with Bakugou Katsuki. As you had expected, rumours about the two of you had reached far across campus in no time. After all, Bakugou is very popular.

Unfortunately, the result of this rumour was that everyone knew what happened… including Mika and her minions. So, last week, instead of waking up to an expected empty phone, it was instead alive with thousands of nasty messages.

When you opened them, the bulk of the message spam followed the same pattern. ‘You’re such a whore,” or “I can’t believe you’d steal Bakugou from Mika, you bitch,’ or, at worst, from the culprit herself, ‘I heard you got with Bakugou. If you think you can take him from me, you’re wrong. I’ve got loads of people who can fuck you up.’

Obviously feeling threatened, because only the lord knows what Mika can do with her money and power, you had chickened out and never replied to Bakugou’s message. No matter how much you wanted to see him again, it was not worth the damage Mika would inflict.

—-

Now, after seven days have gone by, all spent avoiding Bakugou like the plague, you finally think you can go to class and fly under the radar. You arrive on time as usual, sitting in the middle row of the lecture hall.

It’s a massive class, and although many people are already there, there are others filing in as the prof starts their lesson. You, being too engrossed in your note taking, don’t notice as a body slides into the empty seat beside you.

“Hey, what did I miss?” the voice says in a hushed tone.

You look up and see none other than Bakugou Katsuki, still very much blond and still very much attractive. Instead of replying you turn back to your notebook, tearing off a piece and quickly scribbling a message down.

You slip the note reading, ‘Literally nothing, pay attention during class!’ into Bakugou’s waiting hand. He huffs and attempts to speak to you again, but you face your paper and ignore whatever he’s saying.

“Please be quiet up there!” The professor calls him out, and he slouches down in his seat, begging for class to end.

After everyone finally gets dismissed, Bakugou tries to poke your shoulder to get your attention, but you’re already dashing out the door, praying that nobody saw you together.

“Wait, Y/N,” Bakugou calls for you, jogging to catch up to you. Damn him for having such long legs…

“Sorry, I can’t talk to you,” you reply. It comes out more harshly than expected, but no sense in trying to chummy up to him again if Mika was threatening you. So, you turn on your heel to leave him again.

“Just hear me out,” he blurts out, lightly grabbing your shoulder to make you face him.

You don’t move, instead you stand there with your hands on your hips, waiting for him to continue.

Finally, he gets the hint and speaks again. “I’m sorry if it was bad for you…”

What?! “It wasn’t bad for me, it’s just–”

“No, it’s okay if you don’t want to see me again, but I’d rather you tell it to me now, to my face,” he interrupts you mid sentence.

Ha, you think, Ironic that the frat boy doesn’t want to get ghosted, but as you had realized much longer before this, Bakugou is not your average frat boy. Although he looks like a pretty boy with no space for a committed relationship, he has much more depth than you could even imagine. Despite being a flirt and allegedly a playboy, Bakugou had only ever treated you with respect, so you suppose you at least owe him this one conversation.

“Bakugou,” you start, unsure of how to follow through to your point. “It wasn’t bad. If anything it was too good. I just– I just can’t afford to be seen with you.”

A hurt look flashes through Bakugou’s eyes before he gives a slow nod of understanding. “I get it, you don’t want to be with a guy like me. It’s alright, guess I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Wait, that’s not–” you start, but Bakugou is already walking away with his hands stuff in his pockets.

You stand in the middle of the busy hallway for a good few seconds before you hear a giggle that breaks you out of your daze. It’s Mika, she’s leaning on the wall we chatting to her friends.

“She’s almost as much of a player as Katsuki is,” she says to her friends in what she pretends is a whisper, but you know she wants you to hear.

“Yeah, but at least he’s good in bed. She seems like the desperate type.” All of them burst out into a fit of giggles. Y walk off, not even bothering to hear the rest of the conversation.

—

A month later, you haven’t heard from Bakugou at all, his one lone message still sits in your inbox, unanswered. You can’t help but be a little upset knowing it could’ve happened if not for the circumstances. It doesn’t matter, though, as far as you know Bakugou got back with Mika for a bit, dumped her, and is now moving through girls like a snowplough.

You’re sitting in a cafe when somebody plops down in the booth in front of you. He seems to recognize you, but you can’t fully place his fiery red hair and toothy grin. “Hey, Y/N, right?”

You furrow your brows. “Who’s asking?”

He laughs heartily at your question. “Sorry, I thought you might remember me. I’m Kirishima Eijiro. I was at that party a few weeks ago.”

Looking down, you see him offer a hand, which you shake quickly before placing your hands back in your lap. Even though the issue with Bakugou and Mika had blown over, and you had fallen back into your mundane life, you were still trying to avoid anything “boys and Bakugou” related.

“Well, I’ve been having some concerns about my buddy,” he thinks out loud.

“Are you really certain I could do anything about this?” you reply hastily. Maybe you shouldn't have said that so soon.

“That’s the thing,” Kirishima replies. “I’m not tryna blame you or anything, but I think you might be causing some… altercations… in his sex life.”

You smack your hands down on the table, catching the attention of surrounding customers. “What?!” You sink back down after receiving a glare from a neighbouring table.

“I didn’t mean that it was bad!” Kirishima speaks for you as you drown in embarrassment.

“Sorry, you kind of implied it though.” The flush on your cheeks doesn’t dissipate.

“Right, actually, moreso the opposite. You might’ve heard Bakugou’s been sleeping around a lot. He and Mika are officially over this time. I’m not going to tell you why, but what matters is that he’s been trying to make up for losing you, at least I think,” Kirishima spills.

You make a non-coherent splutter, but Kirishima doesn’t let you reply. “I tried to tell him this was all about Mika and her stupid followers, but he’s not into socials, and he’s stubborn as hell, anyway. He believes you’re avoiding him because of his reputation, but you’ve gotta help me. He’s been insufferable lately, and even as a member of our frat, the number of girls he’s been with is getting slightly concerning.”

Kirishima looks at you with begging eyes, and you know it’s serious if he came to see you. You look down at your lap, your heart racing with confusion and anxiety.

“I’m sorry, but how can you be so certain? I’d like to help, really, but I’m not sure where I come in,” you say slowly.

“Call him or something. Give him some closure, and let him know it isn’t because of his “player” mentality or whatever he’s got stuck in his head.” Kirishima gets up and places a bill down to pay for your food.

Just then, a familiar figure passes by and notices you through the window. You’re too wrapped up in your conversation with Kirishima to notice the way they ball their fists and huff away.

“Thanks. Hope to see you around.” Kirishima leaves you sitting there confused.

You sit there in awe at the conversation. Why are you supposed to care about Bakugou’s overactive libido anyway?

Sighing, you stare at your empty cup and decide to leave the cafe. It turns out it’s just starting to rain when you trudge back to your dorms, and you get drenched.

—

That night, you lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. Thoughts of Bakugou continue to invade your mind, and you hear yourself groaning in annoyance.

Maybe I should call him, you think. But, ugh, that’s kind of weird and pathetic.

However, the more you think about it, and him, the more your thoughts start to go back to your night in his car. You remember how it felt to have his big hands on your body, how they felt inside your–

You stop that thought before it can progress.

Again, you let your mind wander. If you think about it, if you actually wanted him again, would it really be fixing his libido? If it benefited both of you, it couldn’t be that awful to call him again.

Nevermind, you’re just thinking too much. How could you even consider it?!

Just go to bed, you beg yourself.

You stare up at the ceiling until your eyes blur out of focus, but somehow, somehow, everything leads back to him.

Flushing, you try not to think about his adept fingers moving in and out of you. Slowly, your panties get wetter and wetter, and you realize that the only way you’re ever going to get over him is by getting under him.

Finally, you decide to roll over and give in to your desires. The glow of your phone screen is glaringly bright, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. When things come into focus, you unlock your phone and click on Bakugou’s number before you lose confidence

“Hello?” Bakugou’s raspy voice answers after five rings.

“Hey, Bakugou,” you whisper. “I wanted to tell you something. Don’t hang up, please.”

“Okay,” he yawns.

“Kirishima came to me today. Can we talk this over or something?”

“We are talking. And I know. I saw” is his gritted reply.

“You’re right, I’m in no place to be asking for anything. I’m sorry. I just need to talk to you in person. I need to get something off of my chest.”

“Oh, something? Or, somebody… like, Shittyhair?!” he practically seethes through the phone.

“Wait, what?!” you yelp.

“Why are you even calling me over if you’re with him.”

“What?” you repeat yourself. “I’m not with him?”

“You literally just said you saw him today,” he argues.

“That’s what I was calling about. He sai–” you start.

“If you’re coming to me with your boy problems, hang up.” You can tell he’s on the verge of leaving.

“No!” you huff madly. “If you’d let me finish, you’d know that he came to tell me he’s worried about you.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been fucking, since apparently I wasn’t good enough for you, or whatever,” he replies angrily.

“I swear, Bakugou,” you sigh. “I haven’t been with anyone since our night together.

Bakugou pauses before replying. “I don’t fully believe you. Especially when you just gave me proof you went out together”

You blush as you speak your next words, admitting something to him you thought would happen under different circumstances.

“I haven’t been with him, and I swear it, because…” you hesitate. “I’ve only ever been with you.

A sharp breath is blown out on Bakugou’s end, and you wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Seriously?” His breaths are suddenly slower and calmer.

“Yeah, I swear. Can I just talk to you in person? I really do need to tell you.”

Bakugou makes a slight shuffling noise on his end, and you hear someone’s murmuring in the background, likely one of his frat brothers.

“Fine. You want me to come to you?” he finally replies, giving in (almost too easily, in your eyes).

“Yes, please,” you reply quietly.

“I’ll be there soon.” With that, he hangs up.

After the same short drive from last time, Bakugou shows up in your dorm parking lot. He shoots you a text message that he’s here, and you greet him at the door.

It’s about one am, and despite your disheveled tank top and shorts, Bakugou is dressed as handsomely as ever. “Hi,” you say.

“Hi.” He gives you a sad smile in return.

“I want to apologize.” You bow your head shyly. “It was my fault for all the confusion. I should’ve told you what was up. I just didn’t want to mess up my chances with you or your relationship with Mika. Kirishima told me about everything that’s been happening.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry, too,” he replies.

You look up in surprise. Altogether, pathetically, you had expected more grovelling, so this is unexpected.

“It was all Mika’s fault, anyway, and I promise things are over with us,” he says, his face pink with embarrassment. “And… I guess I could say that my judgement of you and Shitty hair was a little preemptive.”

“You think?” you laugh quietly.

“I really am sorry, okay.” He looks up at you and deep into your eyes to solidify his point.

Your face feels hot, and you’re sure he can see the growing blush across your cheeks. Even so, you smile and say, “So, are we good?”

“Yeah,” he replies, returning your smile.

There’s a long pause between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel awkward like you might expect. The gap between you feels like it’s closing, and eventually your lips are just barely touching. His breath fans over your face, and you grip his shirt, taking him in a kiss.

Bakugou holds you to him, his back pressed against the door of your dorm. When you slip your tongue against his, he doesn't decline. He gingerly holds you, squeezes your hip with one hand, and cups your face with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” you sigh as Bakugou starts to pepper kisses all over your neck.

“You do, it’s me that doesn’t deserve you.” He moves your face so your gazes can meet.

Bakugou gives you one of his signature grins and catches you in another heated kiss. His tongue swiftly swipes across yours, causing you to moan in his hold.

When he changes the angle of kiss, you become entangled, your hips pressed flush against his, earning his groans in your ear. With his newly growing boner and your wettening panties, you feel unbearable lust growing.

“Can we go upstairs?” Bakugou asks.

You nod, keying yourselves in and rushing to your room that’s right around the corner.

As soon as the door opens a mere inch, Bakugou jumps back on you and pushes you down to the bed, a haze of desire over his eyes.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” He nips on your neck.

You can only moan in response when he kisses down your chest. Pulling your tank top over head, Bakugou, or Katsuki, you suppose, focuses his attention on your chest. Your body stiffens as he glides his tongue over your hard nipple..

“That feel good?” he asks when he pinches the other nipple while continuing to lick long stripes on your breast.

“Yeah,” you hum in reply.

You feel so good under Bakugou, writhing in pleasure as he sucks hickeys into your skin. You feel his hand sneak up to the top of your waistband and you yelp in surprise. “Ah! Katsuki”

“Can I continue what I started last time?” he says in a begging tone, lightly tugging at your panties.

“Please,” you moan equally as wanton as him, and you’re almost immediately spread bare for him.

Kissing down your chest, Bakugou gets spurred on by your moans. He gives your clit the sensation it's been craving. Slowly, pressure is added to the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself seeping down onto your sheets.

When he sees your glistening pussy, he laughs, “So wet again, baby, and I’ve barely even touched you here.”

“I was getting wet thinking about you earlier,” you mumble into the back of your hand.

“Good.” He smiles. “Don’t think about other guys from now on, you’re all for me.”

There’s no time to reply in shock because Katsuki dips into your depths, swiping up and down your wetness. One finger slips inside smoothly, moving in and out with ease.

Testing it out, Katsuki moves down to your sex and adds his mouth to the mix. This new feeling sets your body on fire. What he’s doing to your body is more than anything you’ve ever experienced, and your core tightens uncontrollably.

“Wait, ah!” you cry out, but Bakugou doesn’t relent. Instead, he adds another finger and curls it into your g-spot.

Working in and out of your cunt, you feel yourself squeezing around his fingers. The feeling of his strong fingers moving inside of you and his lips sucking on your throbbing clit brings you to your limit embarrassingly quickly. You can’t find it in yourself to care, though, because it just feels so good.

With one last strangled moan, you cum, the pleasure sending you over the edge. You tingle all over post orgasm and feel your eyes slip into the back of your head for a second. As Bakugou continues to finger you, your body lifts off the bed into his mouth.

Then, suddenly, you feel something else coming. Something that you feel coming upon you just as fast as your orgasm. You try to sit up and stop Bakugou, but his hand keeps you pinned to the bed. The overstimulation on your body creeps up on you, and there’s a new pain that accompanies your pleasure, adding to your second high.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out when Katsuki switches his fingers for his mouth.

Nimble fingers swirl circles on your clit as his tongue darts out to meet your pussy. It licks up and down, teasing your entrance with the occasional poke inside. And, when you’re least expecting it, it finally slides to your hole, working on thrusting as far into your depths as you can.

This feeling is incredible, and the way Bakugou groans into your pussy drives you mad. Feeling the finger leaving your clit, you whine, but it’s replaced with his tongue again. This time, his tongue switches between your folds and you clit, stimulating every inch of your already twitching sex.

“You’re so good, baby. Love this so much,” Katsuki murmurs when he lifts off of you for a moment.

“Kiss me, and let me touch you, too,” you moan, bringing his face to yours.

You aren’t bothered by the fact that he was just eating you out when you start dipping into each other’s mouths. If anything, the look in Bakugou’s eye tells you it turns him on more. The genuinely lewd look of his tousled hair and wide pupils raises your heartrate so high you can feel it beat inside your chest.

Absent-mindedly, you fumble with the buttons on Bakugou’s jeans. He helps you by leaning back and pulling his shirt over his head. You don’t miss the way his muscles flex and the way he flaunts his abs.

Then, with a quick tug, Bakugou’s pants and boxers slide off. His dick stands proudly, pretty and thick as ever. You place your hand on it like you did last time. He responds well to your touch and groans lewdly when you give it a squeeze.

You slick your palm with spit, and Bakugou helps guide your hand back to his leaking cock. Together, with his hand wrapped around yours, you move on his member, fingers trailing along the prominent vein down the front.

Once you’ve built up a rhythm, you meet Katsuki’s tender gaze. The red of his irises disappear as his eyes flutter shut. He leans forward and recaptures your mouth in a slow but sloppy makeout.

You twist your hand on Bakugou eliciting a breathy moan from him. He twitches in your hand signalling his impending orgasm.

“Can I cum in your mouth?” His mouth is by your ear, moaning and releasing hot breaths to spur you on.

You freeze, and your motions stop. Bakugou notices your alarm and moves to look directly in your eyes. “You don’t have to– I would never force you.”

“No.” you shake your head. “It’s just that I’ve never done that.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen in shock temporarily then fall back. “You want me to teach you tonight, baby?”

You bite your lip meekly and nod your head. Bakugou grins in return, helping you down to his crotch. As you come face to face with his cock, it twitches releasing some precum out of the slit.

“Just put your lips on it. Do what feels right,” he says and pulls your hair into his hands.

You kiss his member just like you would his lips. The wet noises coming from your mouth are so loud and such a turn on for Bakugou. His grip on your head tightens, and he has to force himself not to push you down.

Bakugou hisses when you place the tip in your mouth and give it a hard suck. Wanting to please him even more, you take more of him deeply in your throat. At this point you feel impaled by his large dick with your nose just a few inches from his groin.

Despite your struggle to take him in entirety, Bakugou doesn’t notice and instead groans every time you slide down on him. You gag frequently, and you’re more than certain your teeth have grazed his shaft multiple times, but Bakugou acts like this is the best head he’s ever received.

The longer you go, the more moans fall out of his open lips. His head tilts back when you curiously brush a finger down his balls. He’s much more sensitive than you imagined he would be, and his hips thrust up uncontrollably.

“Fuck, sorry,” he groans, he pulls you off of him to check if you’re okay.

“It’s alright.” You lick him one last time. “Do you think we could maybe go all the way?”

Bakugou blinks at you wordlessly. Then, after about a minute of silence, and worry, on your part, he replies. “You mean, can I take your virginity?”

You hum in reply, and Bakugou throws you back to the middle of the bed

“I left the condoms in my car,” he realizes aloud.

“That’s okay,” you whisper in his ear as seductively as you can. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, okay.” Bakugou acts like your response is the sexiest thing ever.

He leans down and kisses your neck one last time. You feel his cock against your stomach leaving a hot trail of precum on your skin. Everything about this moment is hot, but you can’t take his slow kisses any longer. You need him inside of you, thrusting deep into your core.

Just when you’re about to take matters into your own hands, Bakugou leans forward and brings himself to your entrance. It is at this moment that you realize how big he is, and that he’s going to try to fit that entire thing inside of you.

You let out a deep breath when he finally slips inside. The stretch is rough, his cock prodding your most intimate crevices. As he inches into your depths, he grasps onto your hand, pulling you to him in a surprisingly romantic way.

The way Bakugou moves within you is gentle, far softer than he was when he ate you out. You can only assume he wants your first time to be soft and sweet. He grips softly at your waist, slowly moving in and out. When your eyes meet, you give him a sweet smile and a nod, hoping he’ll move a little faster.

He takes the hint well, and suddenly Katsuki leans over you, your hands meeting his hardened chest. You jolt with both pain and pleasure after the first deep thrust. Then, as he pumps his cock more and more, you feel the pain fading away, the stretch to accommodate becoming pleasant.

After Bakugou notices your growing comfort, he goes ahead with pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in. Differently from before, you can feel him even deeper, and your body arches to meet him when your groins come together.

Swiftly, Katsuki moves you from your back to a position where you’re sitting on his lap. The sensation of him thrusting up into you makes your toes curl and loud moans to fall from your lips. In turn, Katsuki groans and continues to rut his hips like it’s his sole mission.

“You tighten up when I’m in you like this, did you know?” Katsuki groans in your ear, his hot breath hits your skin and makes you shiver.

The feeling in your cunt overwhelms you, but it’s so good, and you know now you won’t be able to get enough. Meeting Bakugou’s thrusts, you attempt to ride him, earning deep groans in return. Bakugou screws his eyes shut and allows you to move opposite to his thrusts. With the constant movement, and the occasional brush against your pleasure spot, your cunt tightens further.

Bakugou grips your ass with his large hands, wanting to feel your insides constrict even further. Unbeknownst to you, this is his first time going raw, and it’s making him cum like it’s his first time, too. So, unashamedly chasing your highs, you grind against each other as fervently as you can.

The air in the room is hot, but the heat in between your bodies as you ride him is far hotter. Both of you elicit loud noises from the other, your neighbours probably hearing your moans through the wall. Normally something like this would embarrass you to no end, but Bakugou’s fucking you so well that you feel you inhibitions melt away along with your innocence.

The coil in your stomach twists, and you feel your high coming. However, Bakugou stops short and leaves you bouncing on him by yourself. After only a split second of confusion, Bakugou slaps your ass, leaning back into a pillow.

“Want me to ride you?” you breathlessly say, attempting to make your voice sultry and not actually inquisitive.

It fails, but Bakugou doesn’t make any visible notice. Instead, he grunts out a quiet ‘yeah, please’ and grips your flesh, moving you against him. The pleasure of having him grind you on him does wonders for your pussy, and the new angle he’s hitting you at has you seeing stars.

Unlike before, Bakugou’s cock hits your g-spot every time now that you're fully riding him. The new feeling sends waves of heat to your stomach, quickly pushing you towards the edge.

Katsuki had been holding out strongly for a while, but as soon as he leaned back and let you ride, he was pretty much done for.

He feels himself unable to control his orgasm, which is creeping up way too fast. You don’t mind, though, as you’re equally as close. When you feel his dick twitching deep inside you, balls contracting and signalling his release, your cunt tightens more than it ever has before.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” Bakugou grips your ass and pushes himself up so he can thrust again.

You, on the other hand, yelp in surprise at him readjusting your position, moaning uncontrollably as he goes so deep you think he’s hitting your cervix. You fantasize about how Katsuki slips in and out of you with ease, balls coming up to hit your ass, which unknowingly makes you milk his cock harder.

With a surprising bite to your neck, Bakugou thrusts into you one last time, and calls out your name.

The spurts of cum he makes into your pussy have you cumming on the spot, as well. Both of you moan as you reach your highs together, Bakugou trying to quell his own by pressing his hot mouth to your skin.

“Katsuki!” you cry one last time, slumping forward onto his shoulder.

Neither of you have ever felt this good—you especially, never having thought your first time would be this wild. But Bakugou surprises you with his sexual prowess, and has you basking in a hazy afterglow, one that you won’t forget anytime soon.

You blissfully gaze at him as he continues to thrust ever so slowly, milking out your orgasmatic pleasure.

His eyes are half-lidded, yet you know he’s still very alert of your bodies. Then, he, for the first time since he penetrated you, lets go of your body for a split second, and you miss the warmth of his hands, but you’re quickly satisfied by him going to grab your waist.

Bakugou effortlessly pulls you off of his body, his heavy breathing, muscled chest catching your attention. The genuine ‘splurt’ that comes from between you two when he unsheathes himself makes you blush and awkwardly chuckle in embarrassment, but Bakugou stares amazedly at your pulsating cunt.

You try to cover yourself, despite the fact that he’d seen it all before, but his hand pries your legs apart and dives towards your pussy.

“Wait,” you abruptly say, hoping he’s not already wanting more.

“Hmm?” he hums, curiously drawing a finger down your slit.

“I’m not sure I can go again.” You look at him as he dips his fingers into you ever so slightly.

Instead of replying, Bakugou sets your nerves on fire with his feathery touches. Then, when you look down, you see what’s caught his attention. It’s his milky white cum thatleaks out of your hole and onto your dark bedspread.

“Katsuki, I’m so sensitive. Am I supposed to be able to go again?” You stop his hand’s movement with your own.

“Oh, nah, sorry, baby. You were so good, I forgot you were a virgin.” He grins at you, and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks

He finally takes his hand off of your body and mumbles something about going to get something to clean you up.

“Ah, wait!” You stumble after him, your limbs too sore to hold you up properly. “Let me find something for you.”

You meet Bakugou in your ensuite where he’s already holding a towel. From the doorway, you take a step forward, but your knees buckle and you fall right into his arms.

“It was that good, huh?” he jokes, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Nuh uh,” you counter, but your wobbly legs betray your words.

He chuckles in response and sets you down on the counter, the cold surface strikingly frigid against your burning flesh. He gently pats you down with the towel, making sure his cum is wiped clean from your skin.

“All done,” he says once he’s finished wiping all your skin down.

You go to thank him, but stop when you notice yourself in the mirror. Bruises litter your neck and even your chest. When did those get there? you think to yourself.

“Oh my god, Katsuki!” You go to playfully punch him, but he catches your hand in his.

Placing one hand on your waist and the other on your chin, angling your head towards his, he places a chaste kiss on your lips.

Then, when he pulls away, a goofy grin breaks out onto his pretty face. “Oh my god, Katsuki? That’s what you’ll be saying next time.”

Your face bursts into flames, and Bakugou chuckles, holding you for a moment in your dim bathroom light. “So, when’s next time?”

a/n: hi guys!! i’m back with part 2. i’d love it if some of you sent prompts to my inbox or even commissioned me because i tried extra hard to finish this promptly 😃

tags @oldfruitloop @mimi53213 @cheyehc

#bnha smut #anime smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha smut #mha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smut #anime fanfic

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house-of-lovin · 1 year

Text

legally binded - 3

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 3: Movie Premieres, SNL and Quarrels

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Otherwise known as the One in New York. What do you guys think about R and Jenna's dynamic so far? 👀 (taking a break for a few days/maybe a week after I post this, I think I've kept you all fed for a bit while I'm gone lol, in the meantime, send asks I'll try to answer all of them!😋)

Word Count: 6.4k+

“You get on that plane and I’ll drop you as a client.” Jake’s voice rings out from your work phone.

“What the fuck, Jake, are you serious?!” You seethe, practically red in the face.

You have been on the phone with Jake for the last hour – Liv refuses to pick up your calls after you blew up the group chat, rehashing your argument with Jenna. Desperately pleading to fly back home because you couldn’t stand being in the same city as the actress, at the moment.

You couldn't even think about her words without it making your blood boil.

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious. Do you know what time it is here?”

Glancing at the clock it read 3:46 A.M. EST, you roll your eyes. “It’s just past midnight in L.A. You won’t die if you don’t get eight hours of sleep.”

“Be quiet. I don’t wanna hear another word from you.” He nearly shouts and you imagine that one vein popping through his forehead. You liked to stare at it when Jake goes off on his shouting tangents at you.

He never notices that you're not paying attention.

“Maybe we should get Liv on the phone or maybe Sarah?” Link glances at you worriedly.

He hates seeing you so riled up, so he often played the middle-man with your quarrels against Jake and Liv.

“Liv says she doesn’t wanna hear it. Sarah says forget it and I’m saying, I’m not fucking around this time Y/N, this is your last chance. I’m over your shit.” He hangs up the phone, leaving the line dead.

You jump face-first into the stiff bed, groaning loudly.

“Looks like you’re outta luck.” He pats you back, leaving you to sulk alone as he shuts the door. “Try to get some sleep.”

There was no way you ended up in this situation.

You guess, it was fair to acknowledge your recent streak of bad behaviour. First, it was tame — ignoring your phone, running away to party, getting mixed in the wrong crowds – eventually, Link had to start dragging you out of bed by the legs (sometimes kicking and screaming) just to make it in time for a gig.

You’re not sure when all of this started. All you knew is that you were so tired. You just wanted one second to breathe; to feel like that young child again, with hopes and dreams. But no, someone was always hovering over your shoulder ready to drag you away to another event you could care less about.

You close your eyes, allowing the jetlag and exhaustion to set in as your body moulds into the mattress.

–

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of Jenna’s hotel room. The large double door looks menacing and faintly, you can already hear a bustle on the other side. You really didn’t want to knock but you know what was on the line so you swallow your pride and raise a fist to knock.

But before you can knock, the door is opening revealing a girl, with dirty blonde hair bearing a semblance to a certain actress. “Oh, hi!”

“Hello.” You greet warmly.

“I’m Aliyah. Jenna’s younger sister.” She holds her free hand out.

You shake her hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m–”

“I know who you are.” She smiled then laughed, “Everyone knows who you are.”

You chuckled, shyly nodding. “I guess.”

“Are you two done?” Jenna suddenly appears, yanking the door wider so you can see her. Her makeup complements her well; the green bustier two-piece looked expertly crafted just for her; and the way her hair fell in soft waves framed her face nicely.

“Hi…” You say a little vacant-sounding.

You don’t say anything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see her sister’s raised brow but you think you’re imagining it because you can’t keep your gaze off of Jenna. The actress raises her brow at you, impatient.

“What did you need?” She asks.

“Uh—I wanted to talk, about last night."

Jenna watches you momentarily before rolling her eyes; pulling you inside with a rough yank. “Get inside before someone sees you — Aliyah close the door.”

You stumble, still a little dazed but the smaller girl’s nails are gripping your arm painfully making you snap out of it.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You whisper, not inattentive to the multiple people scattered around the large room.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” She ignored your complaints and pulled you past the foyer into the living room – her entire team had taken refuge in the room to get the star ready for a day of press interviews.

Various echoes of your name and greetings are sent back to you but you certainly don’t miss the awkward tension in the room started by your sudden presence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can just go.” You point behind you.

“Nonsense.” An older woman that looked kinda like the actress waves off. “It’s great to have you here, Miss L/N. Jenna was just talking about you.”

“Oh please, just Y/N is fine.” Shaking your head bashfully, briefly wondering what she could be telling her family and team about what kind of person you are.

“I’m Jenna’s mom. That’s her dad, her other sister Mia, and her brother Markus.” She points and you try to keep up with the names of the people she’s throwing at you; Jenna’s family and team included.

“It’s so great to meet you all. It’s not hard to see that Jenna is so loved.” You say sincerely.

“We try our best.” Her dad says looking appreciative of your words. You smile at everyone and it seems to ease a bit of the tension in the room.

You didn’t see Jenna rolling her eyes again (her favourite to do around you) disregarding the encounter; she hides the surprise she feels from your genuine compliment.

Last night's argument with you, still burning in her brain.

“What did you want to say?" She says a little bluntly.

Watching as everyone turns to go back to what they were doing, you look down at Jenna. “Um… I wanted to apologize for last night. And call a truce, maybe over dinner?

She looks surprised not expecting you to be the first one to give in. “Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“I appreciate it.” Jenna cuts in, “I’m sorry too… a truce sounds good. Sarah got mad at me too, for what it's worth. She even said I was whining.”

Jenna jokes, dropping her walls a bit.

You rub a hand on the back of your neck, chuckling, “Good to know.”

“I can’t do dinner though.” She shuts her eyes as if remembering something.

“Oh, that’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Or maybe… you can be my date to the Scream cast dinner?” She offers, looking a little hopeful.

“Are you sure?” You chew your lip. Ignoring the word date.

“Yeah! Totally, you can meet everyone, it’ll be great. Not to throw anyone under the bus but they’ve been trying to meet you.” She says sheepishly.

You laugh, dropping your walls just a tad. “Sure I’ll be there.”

She smiles warmly, satisfied with your answer. “Yeah, it’ll be great. I guarantee there’ll be paparazzi, so it’ll be good for publicity. They’ve been hounding me since I landed, my dad nearly pushed a guy in the airport. I couldn’t even walk to the door by myself at the SNL dinner cast party.”

You lose a bit of the smile but Jenna doesn’t see, laughing at her memory of the paparazzi. You blink around, making sure no one saw you, it might give them the wrong idea. “Uh, yeah sure. I’m good with whatever.”

“Okay, cool.” She shoots a thumb up, walking away from you. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Mhmm.” You smile, waving goodbye to everyone and booting it out the door.

Unsure where the tension in your chest is coming from you swiftly walk to the elevator; aggressively tapping the button as if the elevator would come faster that way. And practically throwing yourself in the metal box as soon as it opens.

You miss the entire pandemonium that implodes in the room when you leave.

“Holy shit?” Mia exclaims.

“Language.” Her mom chastises.

“No, holy shit, indeed. Jenna oh my god what did you do to that poor girl?” Aliyah walks past Jenna to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What are you talking about?” She looks at her sisters confused.

Mia’s rolling her eyes, standing up from the couch. “Did you not see the way she was looking at you?”

“No? How was she looking at me?” She turns to her mom who had a hint of a smile on her lips as if she knew something. Jenna was starting to feel left out.

“She likes you, Jen.” Her brother speaks up, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“What? You guys are crazy. We barely know each other.” Jenna starts shaking her head furiously, turning to Enrique, her stylist and close friend. “Enrique, tell them they’re being crazy.”

But he shrugs, sharing that same Cheshire grin her mom had. “God, not you too.” She clamps her eyes shut with her hands.

“Hey! Watch the eyes!” Her makeup artist warns.

“Dad?” She drops her hands, pleading at the silent man, who, she knows is listening. Why do Dads do that thing where they let everyone argue, only stepping in when the Mom asks for backup.

He remains in character – staying silent.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. She was literally here for five seconds. How could you possibly think she likes me from that.” Jenna turns to everyone else.

“I don’t know, Jen. The eyes never lie.” Mia says, privy to the way your smile fell when Jenna mentioned being spotted for publicity tonight.

“I’m– I’m late for interviews, I need to go,” Jenna mutters, grabbing her purse and walking to the door.

–

“This is gonna blow up.” Your producer says from beside you.

“I don’t know. I still think it’s missing something.” You sigh, sliding the headphones off as you slump onto the plush leather seats.

You sneaked off to the studio not too far from the hotel in lower Manhattan. See you would have told Link or anyone really, but you were trying to be discreet. And Link is one ‘ol snitch and the personal fun police.

It seems after your fight with Jenna, Jake and Liv put you under strict instructions not to leave the hotel unless accompanied by someone from your team.

You’re not a fucking child. You don’t need a babysitter. So here you are, with your producer in the studio trying to record this damn song you’ve been stuck on for three months.

“Maybe it’s time to scrap the song then.” He offers. “It’s never gonna be done before Coachella.”

Immediately you are shaking your head. No, this song is special, you can feel it. If only you can get your head out of your own ass long enough to find the damn words.

“No, just– just put it on hold. Let’s work on something else.”

He sighs, clicking the screen to pull up another file. “Your call.”

The buzzing of your phone against the wooden table echoes into the silence that grew as you waited. “Ah fuck.”

Reaching over, you grab the phone and are bombarded by a flurry of texts and missed calls.

Some from Jenna, some from your bodyguard and driver, most from Link.

Jenna’s is the first one you click.

The phone rings three times before it gets picked up. Muffled, loud voices are all you hear at first before she eventually speaks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, I am so–”

“Where the hell are you? You’re ten minutes late. We’re all waiting for you.” Her tone is sharp and snipped.

You had fucked up.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I’ll be right there– there was…. uh.” You stand, gathering your jacket and silently bidding your producer goodbye as he looks on confused. “There was a lot of traffic. I am so sorry, I’m trying to make it as fast as I can.”

She sighs through the phone, “It’s…fine. Just get here as soon as you can, please.”

A little white lie never killed anybody.

You make it to the restaurant in record time. Pushing through the paparazzi camping outside the restaurant doors. Do they have no shame? Clearly not as they shout Jenna’s name at you; asking if you were there to see her, trying to get their piece of the scoop. Thankfully, the security guard had seen you and personally ushered you to the cast‘s table. Someone must have informed them that you were coming.

You’re still blinking away the spots in your vision from the camera flashes when you feel an arm pulling you down to sit.

“What took you so long?”Jenna asked assertively, scanning you.

“I told you. Traffic.” You plaster a smile at all the eyes on you, subtly shrugging Jenna’s arm off yours with a little bit of attitude.

You don’t miss her clenched jaw. Plastering a smile in front of her costars who were trying their best not to gawk at you. "Well, where were you then? No one could get a hold of you, we were worried."

You tried your hardest to school your genuine surprise at her worry. "Sorry. I was working. My phone was off."

“Hi! I’m Melissa, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.” A brunette extends her hand from across the long table – interrupting Jenna before she can say anything else.

You make the usual greetings, introducing yourself to Jenna’s costars and colleagues. You felt a bit like a trophy wife if you were being honest. Like eye candy on her arm, serving only to make her look good. Upon that realization, you feel a little flushed. You’re not sure why, that is the whole point of this whole thing.

Her castmates have been sending you two knowing eyes over dinner — giving Jenna inconspicuous smirks and smug grins as if you couldn’t see. You keep your head down after the pleasantries are over and the main courses are brought out.

Grateful, you don’t have to talk about your upcoming projects any longer.

“What’s wrong?” You nudge her elbow, noticing how she was pushing away some pieces of food on her plate.

“I don’t like apples.” She mutters.

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your lips but you don’t tease. “Just push them off to the side and I’ll eat it.”

She looks at you. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” You shrug taking a sip of your wine.

“That doesn’t gross you out or anything? I know some people are weird about that sort of thing.” Jenna explains.

“Dude, I’ll eat your apples, chill.” You laugh.

“Okay, thanks…” She mumbles, still looking at you but you turn, talking to Mason and his girlfriend.

Jenna feels a nudge on her side. “What?”

“You two are cute.” Jasmin smirks. “And Y/N L/N? Not a bad catch at all.”

“Stop.” Jenna blushes. Unsure if she feels uncomfortable that some of her close and respected friends believe this lie so easily.

–

“Hey, give them some space!” The security guard shouts as the paparazzi come rushing toward the door as soon as the cast steps out.

You were standing in the lobby waiting for Jenna. “Shit…” You hear her mutter, watching as she searches for something in her bag.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“I forgot my sunglasses in my room. The flashes hurt my eyes.” She frowns. Wordlessly, you fish the pair you stashed in your jacket.

“Here, wear mine.” You hold the glasses out, watching as she just stares at it. Rolling your eyes, you push it toward her. “Dude, just take it.”

“Thanks…” She mumbles, sliding them up her hair.

You walk ahead of her, holding the door open as everyone trickles out. You’re regretting giving Jenna your only sunglasses cause the flashes are bright and it’s making your eyes water.

“Go ahead,” You usher, only leaving once everyone’s gone ahead of you. You trail behind ignoring the various men with large cameras chasing you as you walk down the sidewalk.

“Y/N over here, please! Just one photo.”

“Y/N, just one photo of you and Jenna, please!”

“What do you have to say about Vegas?”

You ignore them keeping your head down trying not to fall behind.

“Where’s Y/N?” You hear over the sea of nameless faces.

“Right here.” You say, sliding in beside her.

You miss the subtle sigh of relief she lets out.

“You can’t just walk behind everyone like that.” She grits, frustratedly.

"I tried to keep up." You mumbled like a scolded husband.

The shouting increases when you stand beside one another; practically rendering you blind with all the flashes. “Dammit.”

You place an hand on her back, pushing her forward. “Put on the sunglasses and walk.”

“Y/N, please over here. Jenna!” The shouting is constant and blurs altogether all at the same time.

“Ow.” You feel Jenna tumble when someone bumps her side causing her to bump harshly against you. Firmly, you grab her arm to preventing her from falling and pushed back against the crowd to check on her.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as she fixes the lopsided glasses. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hey. Watch it–” You grit at the closest person holding a camera. “It wasn’t me.”

The man insists, still shamelessly snapping flashes directly into your face and you begin to grow angry, slapping the camera out of his hands. “I said fucking watch it, asshole.”

You glare for a brief moment as the shouting gets impossibly louder. Knowing if you didn’t pull Jenna out of this, chaos would ensue. You link hands and drag her through the crowd, briskly walking to her castmates who shared looks of concern.

“Are you okay?” You ask, still walking but now barricaded by security and her friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” She squeezes your hand but then sighs, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

You scoff, “Are you serious? That guy pushed you.”

“It was an accident and you kinda overreacted.” She whispers lowly.

You clench your jaw, dropping her hand — Not wanting to blow up in front of her colleagues, you walk swiftly ahead.

You don’t talk even when you are both side-by-side being driven back to the hotel. Her driver has the partition up halfway but you see the nosy glances he keeps making at the rearview mirror as you and Jenna sit in silence; acutely aware to the growing tension between you and the actress.

You refuse to speak, just looking out the window as other cars pass by on the street.

“Are you done ignoring me now?” She speaks up but you still don’t want to talk. “Seriously?”

“Y/N all he did was push me. A little shove, that’s all. I’m okay. What’s not okay is the phone call you know we’re going to get from Liv and Sarah about that guy’s camera.”

“He deserved it.” You mumble through the palm holding your head up.

“I’m not saying he didn’t but you can’t just be aggressive to paparazzi like that. It’s exactly what they want.” She reasons, turning to you. Hoping you’ll finally look at her.

“I know…”

“Look at me, please?” She places a hand on your arm.

You turn, keeping your face impassive.

She sends you a shy smile then laughed. “I mean it though, thank you for having my back. My Dad is gonna think this whole thing is hilarious.”

“Why?” You can’t help but join in.

“He’s a cop, so he’s a little protective. He’s been waiting to shove away a pap for the longest time. He’s gonna be so mad you beat him to it.”

You laugh imagining her father’s reaction.

–

“You haven’t seen Scream? Not even the original?” Jenna turns bewildered like it was the most blasphemous thing she’s ever heard. You were in her hotel suite, watching movies. For some reason, Jenna invited you over to her room after being dropped off at the hotel. “How? You’re an actress.”

You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no so you accepted.

“Yeah, sorry. Jeez. Way to sound like a film snob. I didn’t know there was a checklist of movies to watch before becoming an actor.” You snort reaching for more popcorn from the bowl beside you.

“Shut up.” She hits you with the remote. “How have you not seen any of the Scream movies? You’re literally going to my premiere tomorrow.”

You hold up your hands in surrender, throwing a couple of kernels in your mouth. “Sorry, they’re not really my cup of tea.”

She rolls her eyes, snatching some popcorn from your hand, ignoring your protests. “Oh sorry, I forgot we have an action star in our midst.”

It was your turn to hit her arm, “Shut it. I just mean… I haven’t found the time to sit and watch them. They’re not exactly short films.”

“You’re in the MCU and Dune. Don’t talk to me about long movies.”

“Touché…” You can’t beat her there. They are ridiculously long movies. Probably why you’ve only ever seen them during premiere night and never again. “Well, put one on then. Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

She grins scrambling for the remote. “You’re on.”

You wait for her to pull up the Scream catalogue, chuckling at her visible excitement.

“Hey, why did you become an actress? and singer while we’re at it, Miss Grammy winner.” She nudges your shoulder.

You snort, shoving her lazily. “Shut up… Do you want the press interview answer or the real one?”

She raises a brow, immediately deciding. “The real one.”

You nod, feeling like she would say that.

“My mom... She was a rising star in the 80s but something happened and she never got to live out her dreams. When she had me she put me through all of the arts. I bumped and failed with most of them but acting and singing kinda stuck… I guess she saw those were the only two things I could stand so she pushed and pushed, it led to Jake discovering me and here we are.”

Jenna stays silent processing your story, she doesn’t miss the slight solemness your tone had taken. "Why do I feel like there's more to it than that?"

You chuckle, licking your lips. "Caught me... it's why I don't talk to my parents anymore."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. As soon as I turned eighteen I cut ties with them. She got too controlling, wanting money, wanting autonomy over my career so I took Link with me and moved to L.A. and did it on my own. I think... at some point acting became a spite thing with me because of her.

“Spite?” Jenna asks?

“Yeah… it was all I’ve ever known for a long time until I started making music. Probably the only time I’ve ever felt sure about a decision.”

"Oh..." Jenna finds herself saying again.

"Uh–sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird. We can just forget about it." You curl into yourself, tugging the blanket to your lap.

Jenna blinks, feeling dumb that she's made you think her silence is a bad thing.

"No..." She grabs your wrist. "Thank you for sharing with me."

You look into her eyes, feeling a bit small at her kind eyes. You know it's not out of pity but you couldn't help but want to close up again.

Pulling your hand away from her grip, you cough. "Of course, we're friends now."

"Oh, are we?" Jenna ignores the drop in her chest when you pulled away like that. “Okay, what’s the press answer then?”

“That I watched the movie Cabaret when I was younger and wanted to be like Liza Minelli.” You admit.

Jenna scoffs, “That’s literally my answer.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah except, it’s Dakota Fanning in Man on Fire.”

You chuckle, “doesn’t Denzel die in that one?”

“Yeah and what about it?” She raised a brow.

"But see, don’t fight it we’re meant to be friends... we even share the same answer."

"Shut up, dummy. Every actor has some sort of answer like that.”

Eventually, the two of you start a marathon of the Scream franchise. Which in hindsight, is kind of a bad idea seeing as it was way past midnight and the other actress still has a long week ahead of her. It seems like the events of the day catch up to her cause you feel a head slipping on your shoulder; distracting your focus halfway through Scream 3.

Jenna had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder. You fight the urge to tense up not wanting to wake her up. She looked like she needed the rest and you relate more than anyone to her exhaustion.

“Jenna…” You lightly tap, “You fell asleep, you need to go to bed.”

She grumbles, whining in her slumber. You feels your cheeks warm when she unconsciously moves to snuggle closer to you, throwing an arm over your waist.

Fuck.

Really?

God, I am not your strongest soldier.

“Jen, seriously. Wake up.” You shake her arm.

“What?” She complains, her words muffled by your collarbone.

“You need to go to bed.”

The feeling of her soft lashes brushing against the material of your shirt as she blinks sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh…”

Jenna mumbles mortified. Quickly pushing herself off of you, unable to look you in the eyes. “Sorry.”

You don't mention how she might have punched your stomach and that you were desperately trying not to cough.

“S’okay…” You shake your head softly. You couldn't help but notice the way her hair fell over her eyes messily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks once she regains her senses, waking up from her short slumber.

Something tells Jenna she won’t be sleeping with how fast her heart is pounding; uncertain as to where her sudden anxiety is coming from.

“Yeah… I’ll be waiting for you inside.” You stand gathering your belongings.

“Wait, you’re not walking the carpet with me?” Jenna pulled a face.

You raise a brow, “No? At least, I wasn't told I had to. They just said I had to show up.”

“Oh… okay.” She nods then sighed, long and profound.

You continue to raise a brow but don’t say anything. Not wanting to push her. You remember the last time you guys fought and are immediately turned off. No thanks, not trying to open that can of worms.

“Okay. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She leans against the door.

Her premiere is a success. After borderline shoving you inside a tinted Cadillac, Link brushes your vintage Prada gown down; making sure you are in tip-top movie-star shape. You don’t walk the carpet, instead heading straight inside – making headlines.

Your every damn move is a headline these days.

Silently thanking whatever God was out there that you didn’t because the way your jaw dropped when you see Jenna was downright embarrassing. Your reaction would surely have been a running piece if cameras were around.

Your managers would love it though.

Link had to forcefully elbow your side as Jenna walks up to greet you.

“Wow…” You manage to say. “You look stunning Jenna.”

Jenna was glad for the dim lights in the theatre, “Thanks.” She blushes, casting her eyes down.

“You look great too.” She scans you up and down, suddenly feeling warm under her gape.

Maybe it was the way her makeup is done or the deconstructed tuxedo for a dress that she had on tonight but she looked more mature, intimidating? Like she could throw you around a little and you’d just gladly ask her to do it again.

Wait, what?

“Thanks… Link and I should head to our seats but I just wanted to congratulate you. This is seriously amazing.” You express sincerely.

Jenna flushes more, waving you off with a huff and a lazy hand. “Please.”

“Seriously!”

Link coughs loudly, interrupting the bubble you and Jenna found yourselves in. “Okay, someone’s a little impatient. We better go.”

A hand reaches out, grabbing you. “Do you wanna, maybe, I don’t know. Sit beside me?”

You turn, surprised. “Oh? What about Enrique?” You glance at her stylist standing just behind her pretending like he wasn’t listening; fiddling on his phone.

“I’m sure he won’t mind switching to sit with Link, right Enrique?” She turns, asking her friend.

He grins widely, “Nope. All good with me!”

“Perfect!” She smiles at you, still grabbing your arm.

“We’ll be down there!” Jenna calls out to Link and Enrique linking your fingers out of nowhere as you walk to beside her costars.

You still don’t say anything when Jenna wraps herself around you when you make it to your seats, waving as people cheer with a large smile before pulling you to sit down.

Only then did she pull herself away, “sorry about that.”

“All good.” You mumble after realizing what happened; turning to face the large screen.

Perfect photo op.

“Hey is that sharpie on your dress?”

“Yes.” She sighs.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch but you can’t stop the growing unpleasantness in your chest. You decide to brush it off and save face for Jenna’s night. Your sulking and feelings can wait in the privacy of your own four walls and definitely not at a high-profile movie premiere.

By the time you found yourself at the NBC building in a random dressing room at the SNL studio, waiting for Jenna’s monologue you forget all about it. You lay lazily on a stiff and most likely old couch, scrolling through your phone.

A knock on the door has you pulling off your headphones. “Come in.”

“Hey Y/N.” A head peaks in making you sit up briskly. “Aliyah, hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh– Jenna’s asking for you.” She sends a sheepish smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Oh,” Your head perks up. “Is she okay?” You question, following the smaller girl past hallways that all looked the same; trying not to bump into the various stagehands buzzing around.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s kinda freaking out, though and… we can’t get her to calm down.” You both stop at a closed door.

“Oh… why me?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Uh… okay she didn’t exactly say you but I saw your episode and you were hilarious and who better to talk her down than someone who’s done it before.” She flashes a large grin before opening the door and shoving you inside.

The room is empty save for Jenna dressed in a short-legged suit. You force yourself to blink, reminding yourself that you are on a time crunch.

“Jenna.”

She snaps her head at your voice, and a noticeable tremble in her fingers is the first thing you see. “What–what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in your seat by now.”

“Your sister asked me to come.” You admit, walking forward.

“I’m fine. Go to your seat, I’ll see you after the show.” She turns her back to you, looking over sheets of paper with multi-coloured inked notes scribbled on every open space.

“Take a deep breath for me, Jenna.” You walk closer, slowly bringing the hand tightly clutching her notes down. The bones in her fingers relax as she drops the paper. She doesn’t say anything when you don’t disconnect your hands.

You find yourself standing much closer to her.

“Take a deep breath.” You repeat.

Jenna closes her eyes, inhaling a long, deep and audible breath in then out. She clutches your fingers as she does so, unconsciously leaning back against you to ground her bubbling anxiety.

She stays in your hold with her back against your chest: a death grip on your fingers. Your swipe a thumb over the skin of her hand. “It’ll be okay…”

“Thanks…” Jenna looks into your eyes, taking one last deep breath.

Briefly, you hold her gaze feeling tepid under the intense look in her eyes. You can’t tell what they're saying but for some reason, the way her dark pupils seemed softer under the fluorescent lights had you under a spell.

And for a fleeting second, you thought she was leaning in closer to you — eyes flickering to your lips.

“Don’t mention it.” You drop her hand immediately, taking wide steps back.

Not liking the way her eyes flickered down.

You don’t like what that could possibly mean.

Jenna’s turning rapidly, pretending not to notice as you take sizable steps away from her. “What did my sister say?”

You laugh, shoving your hands in your jacket. “That she liked my SNL episode and thought someone who’s done it before can talk you down.”

“Talk me down?” She scrunches her nose.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” You shrug.

“Your episode was okay.” Jenna turns away to face a mirror, brushing away her bangs.

You take the bait, glad she wasn’t trembling anymore. “Okay? I got the whole cast to break, it’s considered a classic. It was nominated for an Emmy that year.”

“It didn’t win though.”

You scoff playfully, “I’m leaving. You clearly don’t need my help anymore.”

She laughs obnoxiously as you stomp out of her dressing room. “Wait.”

You stop just before you open the door. “Yeah?”

“Thank you… for talking me down.” She tucks a hair backs, a little shy.

The small smile creeping on your face is hard to subdue. “Don’t mention it. Now, go. You’re gonna kill it.” You wink, exiting the dressing room.

“She’s all good.” You tell her team.

“That’s it? She hasn’t calmed down all day, it takes you – what, five minutes?” Enrique crosses his arms. Jenna’s mom smirks, patting his back then walked past him and into the room as the rest of her family slowly trickled in; her sisters staring at you intensely.

“Uh sorry?” You blush furiously, walking off in the other direction to find your seat.

Jenna kills it, but that was never a surprise. You can tell she’s nervous throughout her monologue but after Fred Armisen does his bit – from beside you, which had been a pleasant surprise. She begins to grow confident, feeling pleased with your embarrassment when the camera pans to you and Fred.

You’d get her back for that. Making a mental note to cook up a special revenge plan, just for her.

Eventually, she falls into the role naturally. Nailing her punchlines perfectly, working the crowd like an expert, and exquisitely performing her skits. It’s a shock to you when you overhear someone behind you say she’s never done live stage work before.

She's so natural at it.

It's a privilege to watch her perform.

You nearly die when she changes into a red suit as she introduces the musical guest of the night.

Actually, you begin to slide off your seat when she comes out in a pinstripe suit — a reference to the Addams family you overheard in passing.

When credits roll and the ‘LIVE’ sign turns off. You remain in your seat. Unsure if you are just admiring her or if it’s ‘cause your legs no longer functioned. You can’t fight that admiration as it grows when you see how supportive her family is as they cheer her on and celebrate this win as one unit.

You smile, wishing you can relate. At least some people had that in their lives.

A part of you thinks it makes the whole world’s difference, having a support system like that. But you would never know.

Silently, you slip out the stage doors and back to the random dressing room you’ve decided to take refuge in.

You narrowly miss Jenna trying to find you through the masses; her smile dropping a bit when she realizes you’re gone.

–

You don’t get a chance to personally congratulate Jenna because Link was bursting into the dressing room — after complaining about trying to find you for ten minutes. Rambling on how you’re needed back in Los Angeles and there was no time to say goodbye.

When you catch the other actress it’s by pure stroke of luck. You're going through checkout at the hotel, waiting for Link to do all the work as you wait behind him.

You feel slightly guilty that you're just leaving without warning.

You should send Jenna a text, right? But would she even care if you left so suddenly? She did want you out of the city just a few days ago.

But then, you two literally just, might’ve, maybe, almost kissed/shared a moment in her dressing room, so who knows what you should do at this point.

You feel a migraine forming at the base of your skull, the longer you thought about the other actress.

“Y/N?” A voice breaks your self-deprecating thoughts. You turn to see Jenna with her team and family trailing beside her.

Jenna’s smile falls when she sees your bags. Her family walks ahead but you certainly don’t miss their curious eyes as she stops in front of you.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes keep flickering between you and your bags.

Link avoids her sharp, accusing eyes.

“Back to L.A. sorry I was just about to send you a text, actually.” You confessed, a little ashamed.

It felt like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing… like when you lie to your long-time partner about the real reason why you want some time apart.

“A text?” She raises an unamused brow not liking your answer.

“Yeah, Jake wants me back in L.A. Uh– sorry, was I supposed to tell you?” You ask, a bit confused.

“Tell me?” She scoffs, face dropping. “Yeah, you’re supposed to tell me. I was going to invite you to dinner to celebrate with my family and the SNL cast tonight. But you weren’t even in the audience anymore by the time I finished.”

“Sorry… I thought you’d want to celebrate with your family.” You shrug lamely, torn between feeling guilty and confused at her reaction to the news of your sudden departure.

She made it feel like you were trying to escape.

“Well, I thought–”

She cuts herself off with a huff then looked back as her family waits for her by the elevator.

“Thought what?”

As if remembering she was still out in a very public setting, after hosting one of the most recognizable programs in America; Jenna blinks out of it. Shoving her feelings down.

“Nothing. Have a safe flight back to L.A. I’ll see you in a few days… or weeks” She mumbles with an edginess to her words, walking away before you can say anything else.

“Tough break, buddy.” Link pats a comforting hand on your shoulder as you were rendered speechless. Unsure if you should chase her down and apologize.

Damn can she walk fast in those heels.

But, why would you be apologizing for having to do your job?

But the way her brow creased like she was actually upset caused an unpleasant drop in your chest. Not enjoying how she was upset and that it seemed like it was all your fault. You? Nah. Maybe she’s still dealing with other stuff and is just taking it out on you.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“What. Just. Happened.” You turn, aggressively snatching your card from the hotel worker who definitely enjoyed the show.

“Are you blind?” He scoffs then walks away from you.

“What do you mean? Link… what do you mean?”

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thesmutsideblog · 1 year

Text

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

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