#so I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 23 hours

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts.

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light.

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there.

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.”

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you.

Nightmare.

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them.

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you.

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that.

Maybe someone was, but not in reality.

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures?

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest.

He’s crying.

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing.

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them.

“It’s okay.”

Kyle.

His sweet Kyle.

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team.

What a failure he is.

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing.

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly.

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half.

How he’s missed this.

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny.

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds.

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I full-heartedly agree.”

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door.

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.”

John clears his throat. “How is she?”

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair.

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks.

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.”

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks.

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.”

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says.

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.”

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own.

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier.

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha.

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can.

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs.

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take.

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage.

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about.

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next.

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can.

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger.

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again.

But what comes next?

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you?

Could they leave you alone again?

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs.

They have time.

He has to make sure you’re okay first.

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay.

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room.

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there.

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them.

You hate it.

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything?

They left you.

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do.

You’re not them.

You don’t want to be like them.

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first.

Fuck them.

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection.

Or worse.

You’d get picked up by someone else.

Graves. Shepherd.

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead.

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass.

You still haven’t spoken to them, though.

You can hardly stand to look at them.

Fuck them.

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream.

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything.

You hate it.

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them.

It makes you want to scream.

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again.

Fuck them.

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do.

Fuck. Them.

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore.

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there.

You were tortured there.

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you.

Dr. Keller cares.

It’s her job to care.

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive.

She’s the only one you want to forgive.

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world.

You should have been their world.

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first.

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change.

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first?

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass.

You thought you were dying the first time.

You could only be so lucky.

The bond.

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t.

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first.

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain.

Fuck yourself.

Fuck your omega.

Fuck your pack.

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more.

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass.

Fuck them all.

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side.

Fuck. Them. All.

You don’t want him here.

He does it now, usually in the mornings.

You hate it.

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort.

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain.

You don’t want to.

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it.

The sea.

They brought you to the sea.

John remembered. He did it for you.

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger.

You hate it.

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her.

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you.

You don’t want them.

Fuck, you desperately need them.

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t.

You can’t reach out.

You can’t take his hand.

How desperately you want to.

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch.

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.”

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie.

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness.

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore.

You don’t feel like anything anymore.

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever.

That will certainly make things easier.

But will it make things better?

No. Probably not.

It’ll make things worse.

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now.

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted.

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing?

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now.

How badly it would destroy you.

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close.

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally.

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing.

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it.

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.”

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says.

“She needs her alpha.” He argues.

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.”

“I can’t give her that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now.

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it.

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.”

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost.

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head.

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight.

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again.

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t.

To the beach and back, then.

She’s like an angel.

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is.

The Garrick beauty is genetic.

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her.

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.”

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever.

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?”

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting.

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit.

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do.

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed.

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks.

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books?

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure.

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.”

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you.

You want to do it.

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller.

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe.

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger.

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more.

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.”

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now?

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time.

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.”

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US.

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.”

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing.

You’re smiling.

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long.

She’s funny too.

Stinky men.

They are that.

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement.

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller.

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you.

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.”

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.”

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile.

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered.

Oh.

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered.

Oh.

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller.

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.”

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her.

That’s not possible. You know it’s not.

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.”

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.”

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say.

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter.

Another smile tugs at your lips.

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to.

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be.

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here.

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable.

You hate it.

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.”

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better.

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.”

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology.

It shocks him to stillness and silence.

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you?

He never existed.

He left you behind.

He never cared.

Anger begins to bubble within you.

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop.

They’re all listening.

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to.

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you.

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!”

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too.

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation?

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump.

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt.

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it.

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly.

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.”

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue.

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels.

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!”

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all.

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.”

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!”

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it.

The bond.

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all.

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary.

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll.

It was necessary, but at what cost?

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress.

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate.

But how?

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer.

You need someone, and it can’t be her.

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing.

You need someone.

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win.

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can.

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away.

Just in case.

One can never be too careful.

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her.

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe...

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later.

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Ghost x reader #John mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/Omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

1K notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 2 days

Note

Hello! How are you doing?

I don't have anything extremely specific (sorry, I'm just leaving work and haven't really thought about this).

But if you want to, how about jealous Aaron who has the, very rare, opportunity to go pick up the reader from her job and see her all smiles with another coworker? In this case I was thinking that there might be a age gap between them and the male coworker is more of her age? So a bit of jealous and insecure Hotch?

If you feel comfortable with this of course!

Have a good day 😊

in comparison

cw; fem!reader, age gap, insecure :( and jealous!aaron, some angst, small suggestiveness, fluff <3 wc; 1.2k

You were exiting the building with a few of your colleagues, partaking in what appeared to be an entertaining conversation from Aaron's line of sight. The liveliness on your face was vivid, undoubtedly enjoying whatever the whole of you were collectively discussing.

You looked comfortable, relaxed, happy. You molded into the group well. One of your male colleagues in particular was inching a bit too close, a near awestruck expression on his face as a laugh escaped you. If he took one step to his right, his shoulder would be touching yours. While you were clueless, he was enamored.

Aaron felt his eyes harden involuntarily, a jealous heat swarming through his body; he wanted to march over there and assert his role as yours. However, the feeling wasn't long lasting. A profound sadness climbed up his spine, as he gained a different perspective.

It wasn't that you didn't fit into his life. On the complete contrary: you were the perfect addition.

But something about seeing you with others, with someone closer to your age, was daunting. Intimidating. It sickened him how natural the visual appeared. Reality has smacked him in the face numerous times over the years, he wouldn't be surprised if it happened again. That somehow, someway, you would prefer the latter. The one that had nothing to do with him.

As you walked towards Aaron's car, you glanced back at your coworkers, offering a wave and a smile as they jointly headed to the parking lot. His window was opened a crack, and he heard you call back towards them, "Have fun tonight!"

Aaron exhaled a breath.

"Hey." You chirped as you slid into the passenger seat, leaning over the center console to place a kiss on Aaron's cheek. He was rather stiff as you did so, causing you to lightly scrunch your nose in confusion, pulling away slowly. Something was up.

"Hey," He echoed, greeting you with an almost forced smile. The abruptness of his thoughts had unsettled him deeply - he couldn't shake them. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." You responded hesitantly, searching his face as you buckled your seatbelt. You added after a moment, happy to be in his company and the emotion overtaking your heart. "I missed you today."

But your words went unnoticed, as he had already reentered the void that was his unwelcome thoughts.

In result the car ride home was silent, Aaron's pout unfaltering. His mind was plagued by the image of your coworker being in his place, driving you home, or the two of you huddled together amongst a night out with friends. It caused an uncomfortable, sad pit in his stomach.

"You missed a turn."

"What?"

Your statement jolted him back to earth. No he didn't... did he? His eyebrows furrowed in a line, reassessing the current surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, all familiar street signs. When he confirmed he, in fact, did not miss a turn, he turned to you, only to find a knowing smirk plastered on your face.

His eyebrows quirked softly, obstructing the line drawn above his eyes. "What was that about?"

"To get your mind off whatever you're stewing about."

A smile threatened his lips, due to your witty expression and observation, "I'm not." His tone found a slightly lighter note - amusingly guilty. Anything but convincing.

"Aaron, darling, you're gonna break some teeth if that," Your playful demeanor dropped for a moment, your eyes tracing back and forth, as if you were in a trance. "Jaw of yours tightens anymore."

Your brief distraction eased a notion of his jealousy, he still had that effect on you, thankfully. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his stare forward.

"So what is it?" You asked, "Did you have a bad day?"

He shook his head.

"Bad bout of cases?"

Aaron grimaced, his knuckles letting up only to secure his fingers over the wheel again, "They're always bad."

"Something I did?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but only silence came out. His hesitation caused your face to fall, your shoulders dropping and posture succumbing to the back of your seat.

"No honey, no you didn't do anything." He was quick to reassure, feeling entirely worse. "I can assure you."

Your eyes met his, needing more.

He sighed defeatedly, surprisingly not afraid to bluntly admit, "I'm jealous."

"Jealous?" You froze, but then it clicked. You gestured behind, as if your colleagues were somehow tailing the two of you. "Of...?"

Aaron bit his lip, nodding slowly.

Your expression lightened, a soft and genuine wonder in your eyes, "Why?"

"Are you okay with this?" Confusion arose on your face once more, so he clarified. "This. Us. You signed up for a lot, quickly at that."

Truth be told, the two of you had progressed at a rate neither of you expected, due to the sheer infatuation you possessed for one another. That, too, had been natural.

"I'm divorced, widowed, a father - I come with baggage. My 'going-out' are days long gone. I don't want you missing out."

"Aaron." In a way, you could laugh. It tore your heart into pieces he was thinking this way, doubting himself but he was clueless in an adorably, idiotic way. In summary, he simply never gave himself the credit he deserved. "What could I possibly be missing out on?"

"You could be spending your weekends out, socializing, with people closer in age. And yet, you're..." He came up with an example. "Making pillow forts. These are supposed to be the best years of your life. I'm terribly boring in comparison."

"Hey, I make a mean pillow fort."

He gave you a look.

Your hand grabbed his bicep affectionately, clinging onto it as if you were knocking some sense into him. "I chose this. I chose you. Jack is the addition to my life I never knew I needed. And I don't want to be out galavanting bar to night club to bar. I jump at the opportunity to deny a night out to spend it in. With you. When have you ever seen me wanting to go out and party?"

An expression of distaste flashed across your face at the concept, and Aaron's head tilted to the side as he considered your point.Yeah, that was true.

"I'm a homebody. And if there's anything I've realized over the course of the past months, you're my home. You."

Aaron let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know what I'm in for. And I embrace it with open arms. I want it." Your face was content, even more so than when you were talking with your colleagues. "I love you. And I love the life we're creating. It's so special, beyond my wildest dreams."

"Really?" A boyish, hopeful expression graced his face.

"Really. I wouldn't want it any other way. I can promise you. This- you're everything I could ever want."

Aaron's hand found your thigh, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. "I love you too, sweetheart."

You beamed in response - you'd never get tired of the words leaving his lips.

"That one guy though," Aaron raised his eyebrows, taking a quick glance at you. Envy began creeping back, "He seemed interested. Wasn't a fan of that."

You scoffed, unbothered. "I'm into men, not boys. Which again, you are the utmost depiction of." Your delightful smirk resurfaced, admirably looking him over. "Believe me, I couldn't be more satisfied."

He wanted to play into your suggestive remarks, but he needed further confirmation. Once more. "You sure?"

"Oh, I'm positive."

Finally satisfied himself, he surrendered, "Okay."

"In fact, I can think of a few ways to show you just how much later."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

623 notes · View notes

rebelfell · 3 days

Text

rub one out┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

a cheeky (pun intended) bit of filth based on part of my blurb series. I was trying to keep the snippets short, but this just kinda poured out of me over the past couple days.

cw: sex work, simulated adultery, oral (fem receiving)

18+, MDNI┃2.8k

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You couldn’t escape the nagging thought as you stepped outside, tightening the belt on your fluffy white bathrobe, tugging at the terrycloth tail and twisting it in your fingers. Your eyes flitted to each member of your crew, all of them in position waiting to get this show on the road.

Why were you so nervous? You’d certainly done this enough times before not to get stage fright. So why did your stomach feel more tangled than the box of electrical cords in Lenny’s truck?

Part of you almost wished it would rain, or the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you didn’t have to go through with this. But the concrete remained solid under your feet, and the sky overhead showed no signs of altering its radiant blue color. Perfect.

It’s gonna be fine, you thought in an attempt to soothe yourself. It’s all gonna be fine.

And you almost believed it would be.

Sammy, who was barely a step up from an intern, had swiftly been promoted once the plan for you to replace your no-show leading lady was set in motion. You weren’t worried about her, though—she was smart and a quick study; she knew all the shots you needed, and she had a good eye.

If you couldn’t be behind the camera yourself, she was pretty much the only one you trusted.

Well…maybe not the only one.

Eddie’s eyes met yours as soon as you stepped out of the trailer. The sunlight hit his deep brown irises, making them glow the color of rich honey. But behind the liquid gold, you could see his own nerves and it made your stomach flip, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he came up next to you. “You good?”

For a moment, you considered lying. Flashing him a thumbs up or shooting him finger guns like one of those tools you used to do this with. But you knew better by now when it came to Eddie.

“Nope,” you chuckled. “I’m kinda shitting myself.”

“Well, that’s just what the guy about to fuck you wants to hear,” he chuckled back.

A real smile breaks through your tense, fake one and a genuine laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine when he hears it and the sight makes your chest feel all warm inside.

“No, you’re right,” you said. “I’m okay, I just…don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

His plush pink lips pressed into a straight line, his tongue poking out as he licked them. He reached out a reassuring hand and placed it on your shoulder, rubbing it through your robe.

“You’re gonna be great,” he assured, sounding a lot more certain than you felt.

Easy for him to say. He’s a fucking natural.

Even on your best day doing this, you never felt like you were great at it—competent, sure. Maybe even above average. But not great. Not at all the way you felt since getting behind the camera.

You nodded tightly, your hesitation still written all over your face. His eyes scanned over you and he swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. He then leaned in and placed his lips beside your ear.

“You look…really beautiful,” he said.

His warm breath rushed across your neck, the heat coming off his skin making your ears buzz. An explosion of fluttering began in your stomach, like there were butterfly cocoons in your cereal that morning and now they were all hatching.

“We should get moving,” you said, pulling back. “Burning daylight.”

Eddie straightened. He nodded and you nodded back, sliding past him to do final checks before you started rolling. Telling yourself he must have pumped or popped a Viagra to explain away that bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there before he came over to talk to you.

The nerves didn’t disappear once you started working, but your body and brain did snap into a kind of performance mode you remembered well.

You started with some still photography for the VHS box art—shots of you in progressing states of undress, your robe dropping off your shoulder, Eddie pulling it open to reveal your body, his hand running up your thigh in a slow caress.

He let it trail all the way up your stomach and chest until he curled his finger under your chin and tipped your face toward his, letting his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart raced, thinking he might close the gap and actually kiss you—

But after the shutter snapped, he simply let his hand drop and backed away.

The loss of his body heat sent a chill down your spine and you shivered despite the blazing sun overhead. Eddie’s eyes caught yours, the nearly imperceptible lift of his brow asking, ‘you okay?’ You nodded and another shiver skittered across your skin as you pulled your robe back up.

For the next shot, you climbed up on the massage table and he got into position behind you. His body pressed yours down, your back arching under him as he dipped his head low to take the lobe of your ear between his teeth, palming your exposed breast with his large, strong hand.

You let your mouth hang open, not even needing to fake the look of desperation on your face. And let yourself believe Eddie’s excitement you could feel digging into the fat of your ass was real too. The little grunts and whines he let out when you wriggled against him certainly didn’t sound fake.

After the photos, there was nothing left to do but move on to the main event.

You and Eddie reset—him standing in frame, you just outside of it. Sammy panned the camera around, establishing the setting, zooming in on the fountain feature in the pool and then coming around to film Eddie as he snapped a fresh towel and laid it out on the massage table.

From your spot off-camera, it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by the sight. Biceps rippling, tendons in his arms flexing as he smoothed the towel flat. His tattoos stood out even more than normal with him in white slacks and a white polo meant to give the impression of him being an employee of the resort. And the little twist your hair and make-up girl Jael did is something new that only further accentuates the thick column of his neck and his angular jaw.

He’d left off his rings and bracelets, as was typical when he was filming, and you couldn’t help but think about that day in the editing suite. When he’d touched your knee, and you felt the silver ridges press into your flesh. It had jarred you somewhat, how right it felt to have his hand there and how you’d nearly leaned in to meet his lips when you saw his face getting closer.

You hadn’t kissed him that day—promptly removing yourself from temptation in an attempt to salvage some shred of your professionalism. And you (mostly) felt good about that decision. It would have been reckless and destructive and your entire working relationship might have been compromised. You’d made the right call that day, you were sure of it. Mostly…

But today was different. Today, it wasn’t going to derail your career. If anything, your career was mandating you give in to those urges that had plagued you so relentlessly. And that was when it hit you all at once—the realization about as subtle as a train crashing through a wall.

You were going to fuck Eddie.

You’re going to feel firsthand what it’s like to have his face and cock buried between your legs; what it’s like to suck on his fingers and soak them with your spit before he presses them to your clit; what he sounds like when he comes all over your stomach or tits (you can’t quite recall what the script specifies, you just know it’s meant to be outside so he can dotingly clean you up after).

The barrage of thoughts that storm through your mind are so consuming, you nearly miss your cue to enter the scene. But once you do, you’re rather grateful for the distraction of the set-up dialogue:

“It’ll just be me, today. My husband has a meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“No, no, it’s not his fault. I got it as a surprise for our anniversary—I should have known better than to book it without checking his schedule.”

“I’m afraid I never know how much to take off for a massage…what do you suggest?”

Eddie answered your last question with a smooth, “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” and a smile so warm it would melt the ice caps.

Giving him a smile of your own, you slowly pulled at the tie of your robe. It fell to the ground in a heap at your feet and Eddie’s dark eyes roved over you hungrily. Now revealed to be completely naked, you feigned some degree of shyness: ducking your head low, looking up at him from underneath your lashes, brushing your hand over your stomach as though to hide it while really drawing his eyes to its plush softness.

“Is this alright?” you asked him with a coy smirk. Eddie grinned, still drinking you in.

“Absolutely,” he breathed. And the raptness in his eyes almost had you believing him.

You took your time getting up on the table, propping yourself up on all fours, letting him (and the camera) take a good, long look at the fullness of your hips before you settled in place. Arms at your side, you took a deep breath as you laid flat on your stomach, relieved there wouldn’t be much dialogue needed for this next part.

Through the little donut headrest at the end of the table, you saw Sammy’s feet as she moved in close—filming tight on Eddie’s hands while he pumped massage oil onto them and warmed it by spreading it between his palms.

Your chest tightened, nerves coiling in your stomach as you anticipated his touch, forcing your body to keep still so you didn’t pull focus.

He smoothed some oil over your skin, starting at the ankles and thoroughly coating your calves. The smell of clary sage filled the air, earthy and warm. And underneath it, a clean and woodsy scent you recognized as Eddie’s soap wafted up to your nose when he leaned in closer.

His fingertips began to knead your muscles, slipping and sliding easily over your skin that was slick with the oil. He made tiny circles with his thumbs, alternating back and forth as they moved in a steady pattern up your calf.

Oh, that’s right…

In all the hubbub, you’d forgotten the whole concept for this shoot was borne on the fact that Eddie went to massage school for real. He’d told you before, after he left his hometown (shit, what was it again? Hawk-something…) that he started collecting different jobs like merit badges.

Just bounced from thing to thing, trying his hand (sometimes both) at whatever life presented. And that included porn. He’d said he only auditioned for that first film he did because someone he’d slept with a handful of times knew a casting director and suggested he’d be good at it.

“He certainly had the dick for it” were her exact words, if you recalled. Strange to think in a way, you might owe that girl your career.

Through the pleasurable haze your mind dipped into having Eddie’s capable hands erasing every ounce of stress you carried in your muscles, you realized he was moving the scene right along while you just lay there humming and moaning with relief at his practiced touch.

He’d lowered his voice to that deep, rumbly register he always used when he was building towards the next phase. His DM voice, as he so affectionately dubbed it. Rough and gravely, yet even and tempered, guiding both you and the audience along on the journey of this fuck.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying…but your husband’s a jackass for missings out on this.”

Your heartbeat picked up in your chest as he moved to your thighs. His fingertips dug into your flesh, kneading it like dough, letting his thumbs swerve dangerously close to your center.

“You deserve someone who puts you first…who knows what he has and worships you…”

One of his thumbs swiped briefly over your puffy lips, and you knew he felt how wet you were.

“You know, I’d never let you out of my sight if you were mine…”

His words dripped slowly and intentionally past his lips, his hands creeping higher and higher up your legs. At last, they slid over the globes of your ass and he groaned as he squeezed one in each hand, spreading you apart to see your center, soaked with arousal that had been pooling there, truth be told, from the moment Eddie had told you how beautiful you looked.

You heard Eddie’s next line in your head before he said it, “If you really want to relax, I can try a very special technique. I don’t do it for just anyone. It’s a little bit…unorthodox…”

And you were more than ready to take him up on his offer once he delivered the line.

But Eddie went off script.

Instead of hearing words, you felt the wet heat of his tongue glide through your folds as he buried his face between your spread ass cheeks. Your head popped out of the headrest, letting out a breathy moan of surprise and delight.

The shock on your face was evident as Sammy pushed in close to capture your expression, but so was your pure and utter elation. You’d never felt anything so good in your life…

And it seemed you weren’t the only one.

Eddie groaned loudly as he lapped messily at your folds, his spit mixing with your slick that covered the bottom half of his face. And it was only after a few blissful seconds of eager licking that he even realize what he’d done.

“I’m—mmph—sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” He panted out in between sinful swirls of his tongue, his he words muffled by your ass cheeks because he couldn’t stand to pull away even a little, even long enough to speak. “I had to taste you…”

”It’s okay,” you answered, voice already wrecked beyond belief. “It’s okay, just keep going—”

The command is directed at him as much as it is the crew, who only panicked slightly. Eddie never did stuff like this and they just weren’t ready.

They got back on track quickly enough, Sammy signaling the boom mic to get as close as he can without dipping into frame in order to pick up every lurid slurp and suck of Eddie’s mouth.

After no more than a few minutes, the fluffy towel under you was bunched in your fists and your hips squirmed as Eddie continued to eat you out like a mad man. His tight grip on your ass cheeks held fast, spreading you wider still so his tongue could probe deeper. The sounds he pulled out of you didn’t even sound human to your ears, let alone recognizable as your own voice.

But you didn’t care.

However you sounded, however you looked, it was superfluous to what Eddie was doing and the precipice he brought you to. Your orgasm hit harder than any drug, than any physical blow. It had you shaking uncontrollably, reaching back to grip the hair at the crown of his head as your hips pushed back to meet every thrust of his tongue while you rode out your exceptional high.

You felt its tingling sensation spread to every inconsequential inch of your body, like an ocean of fire that crashed over you in wave after wave of scorching pleasure. Drowning you in it.

When you finally found the strength in your limp limbs to roll over onto your back, Eddie’s eyes were waiting to meet yours. You could see on his face how sorry he was, how worried he was he’d fucked up. And you tried to communicate with him in that mind-melding, wordless sort of way you and he always did that it was fine—that people were going to love it.

Cocking your brow at him, dipping into a more salacious tone to really sell the transformation from demure housewife to lusty adulterer, you threw in a little adlib of your own.

“That’s some technique you’ve got there,” you teased him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “My husband’s certainly never done that before.”

Eddie’s sly smile returned, his lips curling as he reached out to grip your waist. He hauled you closer with one jerk, bringing you to the edge of the table so your hips were flush with his. The bulge in his white pants was harder than ever when it pressed against your cunt, and he grinned wickedly when he felt just how ready you were for more. He yanked up the shirttail of his polo and whipped it off his body, tossing it behind him where it landed half in the pool.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted softly, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Tysm for reading! 🛸 comments and reblogs keep your skin clear and your crops watered 🫶🏻

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things au

758 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 3 days

Note

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him.

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey.

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward.

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his.

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout.

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go.

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door.

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall.

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.”

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans.

This was so wrong, on so many levels.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that.

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

You hated how much you needed this.

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air.

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you.

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

“You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in.

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.”

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies.

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you."

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in.

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

701 notes · View notes

selfcarecap · 2 days

Text

Cat & Dog [L.H.]

✧ Logan Howlett x kitty hybrid!reader

✧ summary: Logan rescues you, a kitty hybrid, on a mission and you become infatuated with him. (that’s all the plot you get, the rest is porn lol <3)

✧ warnings: smut 18+, unequal power dynamics bc Logan saves reader (and she’s a bit naive and inexperienced), kitty hybrid!reader (human with kitty ears, a tail, claws and kind of fangs and she purrs), reader’s first time, unprotected piv, oral sex, Logan teases reader a lot, slight daddy kink (like two mentions – still figuring out whether i like it for Logan), implied age gap, pet names (baby, bub, kid (not during sex), sweetheart, kitty — at first mockingly but then not), reader making biscuits on Logan w/ her claws lol, slight pain kink, Logan teaches reader about consent, uh i ignored that the reader’s probably gone through some trauma lool, Logan is indifferent to reader’s feelings for him at first but it changes, reader wears Logan’s hoodie; alternative summary that i thought was too cringe to use: Logan’s a nasty dog and you’re his pretty kitty.

✧ word count: 5.2k

Logan Howlett is your saviour — the most handsome hero to ever exist.

He finds you on a mission, abandoned like the runt of the litter. The only reason he knows you’re still alive as he carefully approaches you, curled into a ball, is because his strengthened senses allow him to hear your dull heartbeat, and the matted tail at your lower back bristles when you hear him come closer.

“I’ll get you out of here, kid. You’re safe now,” he says, telling you his name and that he’s part of the X-Men. You turn slightly at the sound of one of his claws unsheathing, and watch him use it to pick the lock of the cage you’re being held in.

He opens the door and takes more steps backwards than necessary, “There you go.”

You’d be able to dart straight past him and escape. You trust him. He smells different from the men that locked you in here, too. Sure, he smells a bit doggish, or like a wolf maybe, but he’s sweaty from fighting men to get to you so you’re not going to complain.

You slowly crawl through the cage door on all fours, feeling his eyes rake over your body. You don’t know why he’s staring – apart from your tail, and, sure, your ears, you have the body of a human – but you don’t mind it. You immediately feel warm in his presence. Everything is about to get better, all thanks to him.

He carries you in his arms when you’re too weak to even stand and you’ve never felt as peaceful and protected as when he holds you, and you cling to him with all the energy you have left. You can’t help but hiss when he puts you down in the seat next to him instead of in his lap to get you home.

It’s now been two weeks since you last saw Logan. He gave you his zip hoodie to keep you warm as soon as you got to the mansion and he didn’t leave your side until you were safely in the infirmary. You wish he never left.

They’re insisting on keeping you in here to heal, ignoring every time you ask for Logan. You feel healthy – they’ve even made your tail all pretty and fluffy again – so you take it upon yourself to find him.

You sneak out of the infirmary late at night, and all you have to do to find Logan is follow your senses.

Once you’ve located his room, you push the door open without any thought. He’s in bed but he’s still awake. The light on his nightstand casts a glow over the room and you smile when you finally see him again.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” he asks, sitting up slightly. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers, and you eye the muscles from his chest down to his abdomen, noticing the delicious layer of hair he has all over.

“Can’t sleep,” you take a step over the threshold, holding onto the door shyly.

Logan smiles, more to himself, “Was wondering when I’d see you again, bub.”

“Was waiting for you to come visit me,” you pout. You jut out your hip to one side, your tail curling upwards and peeking out behind your legs. You’re showing off. Last time he saw your tail, it was all tattered, but now it’s soft and bouncy again. You see Logan looking at it, smiling slightly, but he doesn’t compliment it like you hoped.

“We barely know each other. It’s nothing personal, kid. It was a standard mission. Anyone from our team could have got you first.” It stings that he doesn’t find your bond as special as you do, but you don’t mind if you have to do some convincing. He’s worth it.

“But we do know each other,” you close the door and make your way to his bed, “You saved me. I wouldn’t be alive without you. I just want to show you my appreciation.” You’re at the foot of his bed, crawling onto it on all fours. You’d never normally be this blunt but you can’t help yourself around him. Your need for him has taken over your entire being in the last two weeks.

You watch him taking you in. Your movements are sensual and sleek – feline. You know he’s never been with someone like you, and you’re happy for him to take his time if he needs it. Perching on his bed, between his spread legs, you slowly unzip the hoodie of his that you’re still wearing.

His eyes follow the languid movement as you drag the zipper down, revealing your simple black top underneath. It clings to your skin in all the right places in the same way that your soft, tight, black shorts do.

“Looks good on you,” he nods towards the hoodie.

“Do you want me to keep it on?” You ask, but he shakes his head, smiling.

“It’ll look better off.”

You unzip it fully, throwing it to the side of the bed.

“Can I stay with you?” you lean over him. He’s about to open his mouth, and you have a feeling he’s going to tell you no.

“Please,” you cut him off.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he huffs, moving to give your ears a light scratch, “you can stay for a bit”. He’s intrigued enough to let you stay – you can hear it in his elevated heartbeat – and you don’t mind if curiosity is the only reason he’s keeping you with him for now.

He paws at your fluffy ears, almost groping you, unsure how to treat you, but you haven’t been touched there in so long that it feels like heaven anyway.

“Who’s a good kitty?” he mocks as he gets the sweet spot behind your ear, but you don’t realise he’s teasing you, pushing your head further against his hand in bliss as you begin to purr.

Logan isn’t sure how you’re making the noise, but it turns him on. He wants to hear more of it, “Well, don’t you sound pretty?”

Your purring intensifies. You move down his body and settle over his legs, your head in his lap as his hand stays on your head. It’s then that Logan realises he’s already half-hard. The only reason he let you in was because he’s sexually intrigued by you, your cute demeanour and that fluffy tail somehow doing it for him. But he wasn’t planning on actually doing anything — not until now.

Your face is mere inches from his cock and he’s starting to ache to do something about it, getting harder. You’re still trying to find the most comfortable position as you rub your cheek across his lap like a little cat. You stop when you feel his erection.

“Are you hard?” you ask bluntly, eyes all wide.

“I am, bub.”

“For me?” you purr quietly.

“All for you.” Logan tips his head to the side, waiting to see your reaction. He can tell that whatever you’re asking him next is taking you a bit more courage. He watches you gnaw on your lip all cutely.

“I’ve never seen a cock before…” you confess, and Logan stifles a laugh.

“Y’wanna?” He surprises himself when he says it. At first, he thought your affection was simply that of the saved towards her saviour, or familial maybe, but he’s not mad at this.

Logan gets fully hard as you nod at him in such awe, your tail curling around his bare leg, and it’s even softer than it looks.

He pushes his boxers down just enough to pull out his cock, jerking himself off for just a few seconds to get some friction. You’re staring at it as you move your legs back, instinctively arching your back with your ass up.

Your tail bobs behind you Logan can’t resist giving it a light tug, curling his finger around it. “Mmh,” you huff, pulling your tail away by instinct.

“Sorry, kitty,” he chuckles, “just wanted to feel it.” Your cheeks warm at his confession and you move your tail back in the direction of his hand so he can reach for it when he wants to. Your tail is your pride and you won’t let just anyone touch it – Logan’s the exception. He can gladly dominate you by tugging at your tail all day if he wants.

He smiles as he touches your tail again, letting it glide through his fist from the bottom to the tip of your fur. “Such a pretty kitty,” he hums as he bites his lip.

Hearing that he likes it pleases you more than you would’ve thought and you begin to purr again. You’re not exactly sure how to go down on a man, but you let your intuition guide you as you lower your face to press a wet kiss to the tip of Logan’s cock.

Suddenly, he’s pulling you back up by the scruff of your neck.

“Ah-ah. Manners, bub. You gotta ask first, you don’t know that?” Logan scolds.

His expression goes soft as you shake your head all sadly and apologetically, “‘S okay, kitty. I’ll teach you. Say please.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You look at him as you get back up on all fours, leaning close to his face. You want to kiss him so bad but you gather you’re not allowed to do that without asking either.

“Please can I kiss you, daddy?” you ask.

Logan is surprised, not unpleasantly, at the word, “Where’d you get that from?”

You shrug, and even that movement is fluid and smooth. “Just wanted to call you that. ‘S that okay?” You slur, head already clouded with pleasure and Logan.

He nods and places his hand back on your neck, pulling you towards him as your face reaches his in a searing kiss. He’s hungry for you, devouring you with his mouth and tongue and teeth immediately. His hand glides down your spine and to the side of your ass, grabbing you there.

You purr against his lips as his other hand squeezes the flesh at your waist, and the vibration feels so good to him. You lower yourself against him so you’re chest to chest, and your belly rubs against his cock as some of his precum spills between you two, rubbing up against your skin and dripping onto his own abs.

Logan gently pulls you off, “Be a good girl and suck daddy’s dick now, alright?” You nod so adorably it makes his heart clench – you’re so eager to please him, all wide-eyed as you get between his legs, your ass up in the air.

On your way down, you give tiny licks to his skin; your tongue is all over his chest hair and his happy trail. Your tongue glides through his pubic hair, ignoring his throbbing cock, and you make your way to his thighs. He watches you lick through the dark hair there, and he realises what you’re doing.

You’re acting like a cat, taking care of him. You’re bonding with him, and grooming him. He lets you do it some more, but it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore how hard he is, leaking precum. He slides a hand down to his dick, jerking off right next to your face.

“Mhh,” you pout, pushing his hand away with your head and giving him a cross look.

He smirks, “you gonna start sucking at some point then, baby?” It’s not that he doesn’t like you playing around but he’s getting desperate. He places a hand on your face to make you look at him.

“I don’t know how to.” Your cheeks are hot under his touch.

Logan smiles, “Start with kisses. Or lick, like you’ve been doing.”

You nod and curl your tail around his knee, your hands to the sides of his hips. You press a wet kiss to the underside of his cock and Logan sighs in pleasure; you immediately want to hear more of it. You press quick kisses all over him, remembering what he said about using your tongue.

You begin to lick all over his dick, his balls too, until you’re drooling over him. But he’s stopped making pretty sounds and you’re not sure what you’re doing wrong. You hear a quiet chuckle from above you.

“Come up here,” Logan says. You sit up and straddle his waist. He takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth.

“Like this,” he tells you, taking one of your fingers between his lips. He wets it with his spit, sucking it into his mouth, tongue moving over your fingertip. You grin – you like the look of it. You like the way his cheeks hollow as he sucks on your finger, wishing your hands were as big as his.

As you move to push another finger past his lips, Logan takes your wrist. “Uh-uh. Your turn, kitty.”

You pout but then feel his hard cock against your ass, your tail brushing it, and you get excited.

“And none of those sharp teeth,” Logan tells you as you move down his body again. You bare your smile to him, letting your fangs retract. They’re a special part of you and you’re glad you could finally show them off to someone who deserves to see. Logan awards your little show with a grin.

“Good girl.” Those words make you put your mouth on him immediately, swallowing him down your throat as deeply as you can. You pull away when you almost gag, heat spreading over your face, but Logan is unbothered.

You settle between his legs as you press a few more open-mouthed kisses to his cock with spit-slicked lips. You take the tip in your mouth, staying for a bit as you suck on it, spit dripping down his length and over your lips.

You start purring when you take him a little deeper, and Logan’s breath catches in his throat when you do, the vibration turning him on even more.

“Keep doing that,” he mumbles absent-mindedly, eyes on you but mind evidently gone. You smile around his cock, moving your mouth up and down as the spit begins to make a crude sound against your lips, but you like it. You’re feeling more and more of an urge to touch yourself between your legs, but you want to make Logan feel good first.

Your purring gets louder as you take him even deeper, and Logan lets out a sharp gasp. You pull your mouth off him, wondering if you’ve hurt him, sliding your tongue over your teeth to make sure the sharp fangs aren’t out.

Following Logan’s eyes, you see what you’ve done. Your claws have come out, and you’ve been scratching his thighs open. You feel tears prick your eyes as you bend down to lick over the wounds apologetically, wondering in awe as they heal up immediately.

“Don’t worry, just surprised me. You won’t hurt me.”

“Sorry, ‘s just how I show that I like you. Don’t wanna let you go”, you hang your head low in shame despite his words.

“It’s okay, kitty,” he lightly scratches at your ear, making you purr and forget all about hurting him, “Do your worst.”

You’re not sure if he’s teasing you. “Know they’re not as big as yours.”

Logan huffs, taking a hand away from you, pressing his elbow into the bed and his claws come shooting out. You only saw one of them briefly, when he saved you. They’re majestic up close and in all their glory, glinting against the low light.

You reach out, “Pretty.” Logan smiles at your sparkling eyes, but retracts his claws before you can touch them.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”

You give him the meanest look you can muster for not letting you touch, sinking your own, much tinier, claws into his abs to hurt him. But Logan lets out a soft moan instead, and you marvel at the pleasure he takes in the pain, forgetting all about why you’re mad at him.

Your eyes light up when you realise he likes you scratching him open. It’s a dream come true – someone who likes the way you show affection. You bite your lip as you scratch over his abs, his hips, and his thighs, watching as the wounds close up just before you draw blood. You hook your tiny claws into the flesh of his thighs as you wrap your lips around his cock again.

Logan lets out a string of moans as you have your claws in him and your mouth on him. You begin to purr, and with the way his cock flexes in your mouth you know he’s close.

“Just a little more for me, can you do that, baby?” he gently nudges your head down some more, and with the praise coming from his lips you can definitely take him – you feel like you could do anything.

“Yeah, just like that.” Logan’s voice gets shaky as you take his cock deeper, spit running down to his balls as you take almost all of him in your warm, wet mouth.

You swallow everything Logan gives you as he cums in your mouth, shooting strings of his warm load down your throat. You don’t stop until he’s gently pulling you off him, and you look up at him.

“Again,” you plead, eyes wide, taking in how his cock is still hard.

Logan chuckles, “Don’t get used to the idea of that. Most men can’t go more than once.”

You look at him strangely – what do other men matter to you? Before you can ask, Logan manhandles you into a different position, and you don’t notice until then that you’ve been grinding your clothed pussy against his knee, and you whine at the loss of contact.

You’re on your knees as Logan gets up to fully remove his boxers, and you see the skin at his knee glistening from where you’ve soaked it. The sight makes your cheeks heat up but also makes you press your thighs together.

He’s standing in front of you like a god, and you put a hand on his thigh to suck his cock again. Before your mouth can reach him, he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Your turn now, kitty.”

“Oh,” you say as he lies you on your back.

“Gonna play with you now. Can I take this off?” he’s holding the bottom of your top, and you nod as he pulls it off you. Logan gets on the bed again, taking in the sight of you half-naked. You’ve never felt so good about yourself. He looks as if he’s seen God herself.

“Look at you, kitty, so fucking pretty,” he whispers more to himself, touching and kissing you there as his knees sink into the mattress. You arch your back when he wraps his lips around your nipple, and the action makes your pussy rub up against him. He looks down between your thighs, pushing his mouth there.

You’re not wearing any underwear, so his face against your thin shorts makes you squirm. “Smell so good,” he breathes, rubbing his nose up against your clit. It makes you moan.

He begins to pull down your pants, stopping as they catch on your tail. The nurses cut a hole into the back of the material for it, and your cheeks glow when Logan carefully pulls your sensitive tail out of the way before he slides your shorts all the way down your legs, spreading them to get a look of you afterwards.

“Look at you, kitty. Prettiest kitty I’ve ever seen,” you miss his joke, placing your feet on Logan’s broad shoulders, as he says “Can I?”

You’re appalled that he even has to ask, pushing his head down between your legs.

He begins to eat you like a man starved, moaning against your skin at the taste of your wet pussy. He doesn’t even tease you, licking through all your wetness, licking over your clit in circles.

Logan pushes two fingers in without any preparation, but you still feel too empty, grinding your hips against him.

“I got you,” he promises, lapping up all of you, “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He grabs one of your thighs, holding it so that you don’t squeeze his ears any more. Your knees are still pressing against his temples, but he doesn’t mind them there. He can feel you tremble when he licks and sucks and when he curls his fingers.

Logan has you cumming on his tongue quickly, sucking on your clit until you’re seeing stars, whining for him to stop. He pulls his lips off you, sitting up to push his fingers into your mouth.

“You taste good, huh?” he smirks as you suck your own arousal off him, humming around his fingers in agreement. He slowly fucks his fingers into you again, bringing them up to his own lips. He moves his hand between your legs again, fingers going over the hair above your pussy.

“You’re so soft here, kitty,” he says, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek against your pubic hair, making you giggle.

You’re still wet, and he’s still hard, and you don’t want to be too direct but you want to know when he’s finally going to fuck you. You tell him “I’ve never done this before either,” hoping he’ll catch what you’re getting at.

He places a kiss above your pussy, into the soft hair, smirking up at you and kneeling between your spread thighs, “I know. I’ll go slow.”

“Don’t want you to go slow,” you mumble, watching his eyes darken a bit.

“Don’t say that to me. Y’don’t know what you’re saying.”

You don’t reply, smiling to yourself. He is big – very big – you remind yourself, but you still want him to be rough with you if that’s what he needs. You want him to use you. But maybe you should wait before you tell him that.

Logan wraps a hand around his cock, fucking his fist for a few moments before he leans down to rub the tip against your clit. You mewl at the sensation, ready for more.

“You sure?” he asks, head already beginning to push in.

“Yeah,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. Logan pushes himself halfway in, both of you moaning with pleasure. The stretch already stings, but you tell him you want more.

“So fucking tight for me, baby,” he grunts as he fucks into you deeper, bottoming out with an almost pathetic groan that makes you smile through the slight pain.

“You’re so big,” you moan, leaning your head back against his pillow.

“I know. Think you can take me?” he kisses up the side of your neck, hand sneaking between your bodies to play with your clit.

“Yes–yeah. I want you.”

“That’s a good kitty,” he whispers from above you, beginning to thrust into you slowly, rocking your whole body with his movement. He feels so big in your pussy, but you like the feeling of being stretched out for him. Even if it hurts, you want him to take what he needs.

It helps when your claws come out, scratching at his back to relieve some of the pain.

“Hurt me, baby. Hurt me as much as you need,” he moans into your ear, fucking into you at a bit of a rougher pace. You sink your claws into him, feeling how you draw tiny drops of blood from his big muscles, dragging your fingertips down his shoulders and over his big arms.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan moans against your mouth, kissing you sloppily, thrusts becoming messy, and you grunt in a mix of pain and pleasure that feels so good. He looks down at you, hips getting slower as he takes your tail in his hand.

“Does your tail hurt like this?” he asks, tugging at it lightly. You’re lying on your tail, technically, but it doesn’t hurt. You shake your head. Still, Logan tips your hips to the side a bit, lifting your thigh to fuck you sideways. But this way you can’t reach his back, and you don’t like not being able to squeeze around him with your thighs.

“Wanna sit on top,” you say, and he pulls away to look at you, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“You can’t take me like that yet, bub. Trust me.”

“M-mh,” you mumble, and with a bite to his lip Logan lifts his hands in defeat, slipping out of you and obeying you. He flips you around so that he’s on his back and you straddle him.

His dick looks bigger when you hold it in your hand, raising yourself to your knees to line him up with your pussy. Logan chuckles and you smile too, but you want to show him that you can take him.

You struggle to even get the angle right because you have to sit up so high, but when you’ve got the tip in your pussy, you just slowly lower yourself, hands leaning on Logan’s chest.

“Go slow, baby,” Logan says, suddenly gentle, seeing the pain on your features as he goes deeper. His fingers draw circles on your hips and on your ass, and he almost cums from the way you moan when he won’t fit in all the way in this position. He reaches out to rub at your fluffy ears, loving the way you lean into his touch, purring again.

“Sounds so pretty when you do that.” He’s less and less sure about the thing he said earlier, telling you not to get used to him, about you fucking other men. He’s not sure it’ll be relevant after all. He’s going to keep you all to himself.

“Hurts so bad,” you moan, pussy straining around him.

“Then stop. Y’don’t have to,” Logan coos, pulling you up by your hips but you take his hands off you.

“Don’t wanna stop. Wanna cum.” You grind your hips against Logan’s, his cock pulsing inside you. It drives him fucking crazy seeing you struggling to take him, fucking yourself stupid in his lap nevertheless.

He rubs his thumb over your clit, in circles to match the movement of your hips on him.

“Lo–Logan,” you moan, hands back on his chest as you start to fuck him again, your claws coming out against his chest to scratch him there, and he revels in it.

“Yeah, that’s it, kitty. Don’t stop,” he keeps playing with your clit, starting to become breathless himself as your pussy squeezes around his cock.

You cum with a whimper so animalistic it sets off his own orgasm, pulsing his cum into your pussy that clenches around him hard. Logan’s hand on your hip helps you grind on him as the pleasure spreads through your body and he’s grabbing at your flesh.

You come down from your highs together, a fucked out smile on your lips as you bend down to kiss Logan. He pulls you off his cock, not wanting you to hurt any more, but from the way you kiss him back lazily, hurt is the last thing you are.

“Did such a good job for me,” Logan tells you, holding onto your face, “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, “Didn’t mind it,” and you kiss him again, liking the way he devours you like a hungry animal every time his lips are on you.

As he’s kissing you fervently, with tongue and spit, you let your fangs come out, nicking his bottom lip carefully. He hisses into your mouth, and you draw two drops of blood – one for each tooth – before the wounds heal shut.

Logan grins, “Feisty kitty,” he squeezes you at the waist, making you giggle.

“See, you like pain and I like it too.”

Logan hums at your words, hand moving up to play with one of your ears. You move to lie down on your side, Logan turning to face you. You watch him.

“Can I stay?” you ask shyly, quietly, and he doesn’t understand the man he was only an hour ago. How could he not want you entirely? He hates that he made you feel unsure for even a second.

“Of course, bub. You’re staying with me from now on.” You purr at his words, cuddling into him.

He puts his arm around you, holding you close as you begin to lick all over his face. He giggles as you make your way over his beard and his neck too, grooming him like a kitty. Your claws hook into the muscle of his arm and, as much as he enjoyed it during sex, this is definitely something he still has to get used to, gasping at the contact. The way you purr louder makes it more than worth it.

You’re pawing at his hair, smoothing it back into place from where you’ve messed it up. Logan closes his eyes from how good it feels. Suddenly, he hears you giggle.

“Your hair is kind of like kitty ears,” you grin.

He deadpans. “Don’t ever say that again.”

Your fluffy tail bounces up and sways a bit as you giggle mischievously. You pretend to zip your mouth shut but he knows he’s never hearing the end of that. Maybe he doesn’t even mind it coming from you.

“So, did you escape just to come see me or d’you get permission?” He asks, remembering how you’re probably not even supposed to be here.

You panic for a second, beginning to sit up, but Logan holds you down, “I won’t tell anyone you’re here, kitty. Told you you’re staying with me. Would just be good to know if you’re making me break the rules.”

The way you smile at him sheepishly tells him everything he needs to know. He presses another kiss to your adorable face.

“You coulda told them you’re leaving. I’m sure they’ll be looking for you, bub,” he tells you. You turn around so that you’re spooning, with him at your back and your tail wrapped around his thigh.

“Hmpfh, don’t care,” you begin to purr, closing your eyes, “Just wanna be with my daddy.”

Logan wants the same.

You don’t stop purring as you drift off to sleep, held safely in Logan’s arms.

P.S. Logan thinks that hot readers leave a reblog and a comment and let the writer know what they enjoyed about the fic <333 🫣🤭

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #Logan Howlett x hybrid!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #Logan Howlett x you #kitty hybrid!reader #Logan Howlett x kitty hybrid!reader #hybrid!reader #wolverine x hybrid!reader #selfcarecap

686 notes · View notes

rafecameronsslut4ever · 1 day

Text

CASUAL — lando norris (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: whatever you and lando have, it's anything but 'casual'. warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), (situationship?) a/n: i lowkey want chappell roan's casual to be inserted into my brain and OMG this one is too sad

"nah, nah. the two of us... it's complicated, y'know? just a casual thing, honestly."

the words echoed in your mind on the flight from london, replaying as the seatbelt sign dinged off.

casual.

the word had always carried a negative connotation, but hearing him say it made you feel so much worse. it made you feel insignificant, as if the months that had passed meant nothing to him, while it had meant so much more to you.

you were anything but casual.

all those nights, the mornings after, the kisses, the rendezvouses. they meant something, didn't they? you thought they did, at least.

the way he'd look at you when the lights dimmed and his voice would turn soft. the way he'd kiss you as if it was what he was made to do.

he knew every inch of you. every freckle, every curve. he knew you better than he knew the tracks he raced on.

but, then again, lando norris was never known for being reliable.

he was young and wild and carefree, a bachelor to be envied by all. a party boy, a flirt, a ladies' man. he was charming and he knew it.

he was good at making people believe that they were special.

everyone loved him. the oh-so charming lando norris. the young driver who had a bright future ahead of him. he was bound to get whatever he wanted, right?

the first night he touched you, the two of you had come to an agreement—no attachment. he made it clear that he didn't have time for anything serious, but that he would love to have fun with you.

you, of course, had agreed to that.

in the beginning it was nothing. 'accidentally' crashing into each other at parties, accompanying the other into hotel rooms, and then disappearing as soon as the sun rose.

but do these 'no attachments' things ever work? it wasn't even a complete month before the two of you became more and more involved and realised you weren't just having fun.

as you exited the airplane, your heart clenched at the thought. the two of you had never actually said anything, but it was there, hanging in the air, almost suffocating you.

the first time you realised it wasn't just fun, you were in the passenger seat of his mclaren. he was on his knees, big blue eyes staring into yours as he flicked his tongue in you. you were so close, you had been for a while. he could tell. his eyes were locked onto yours, a glint of smugness in them. and then, with the tip of his finger, he brought you over the edge.

after you both came, he had crawled into the driver's seat and smiled at you. his lips glistened, his chin damp, and his hair sticking up in places.

"you look beautiful." he said, a hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i think i like you." his voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn't been staring right into his eyes you might've missed what he said.

"yeah, me too." your voice was breathless.

and that was the only time either of you'd ever said anything about it.

was it casual?

then, that one time when you had flown to his family home in the uk and met his parents. they'd welcomed you with open arms and treated you like one of their own, and lando's face had glowed with joy the whole time.

"i still can't believe that lando has such a pretty girlfriend." his mom had said to you, giggling as the two of you shared a bottle of wine.

"mom!" lando had whined from the other room. "can't you just shut up for once?"

"oh, hush! i'm just saying it as it is." she shrugged.

you had blushed furiously at her words, looking down at your feet as you took another sip of the expensive italian wine.

you had thought he would deny the 'girlfriend' title, or at least laugh it off, but he didn't. instead, he grinned like an idiot and you wondered if the wine had gone to his head.

"yeah, guess i got lucky." he'd muttered, and his mom had smiled, nodding knowingly.

when the day ended, you had fallen asleep curled up next to him, his body warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

now, your eyes stung as you walked through the airport, a million thoughts running through your mind.

you'd spent the rest of the week there and it was the best time you'd had in a while. he'd taken you on a day-trip to oxford, but the two of you ended up staying the night at some cottage. he'd held you closer, kissed you harder. you slept together as many times as you could.

fuck, you weren't just casual.

and the time the you woke up in each other's arms, his face buried in your hair, hands wrapped around your waist. he had asked you what your plans for the future were.

"get an apartment in monaco right next to yours so that i can stalk you everyday. binoculars and everything." you had joked.

"really? not gonna say you're going to marry me and have a billion kids and we're gonna grow old together?"

you'd looked up at him, eyebrows raised. and then the two of you had burst out laughing.

"what the fuck, lando. i'm not having a billion kids with you."

he just smirked in response.

or the time when the two of you vacationed in italy with his friends, and at the pier he had introduced you as his 'hotshot pr girl'.

"he's paying me a million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend because he doesn't like being called a virgin."

"hey!" he'd laughed, nudging you.

"shut up, loser."

and then you'd pushed him into the water.

"i'm never talking to you again." he'd pouted.

"oh yeah, find someone else to have your billion kids with. my uterus will be happy."

or the countless times he would call you in the middle of the night and tell you about his new merch drop, and you'd whine about how it was 2 in the morning and you couldn't give a flying fuck.

and when you had just gotten off the phone with his sister, "flo is such a sweetheart, i love her."

"my sister talks to you more than she talks to me. you know she likes you better, right?" he'd mumbled, looking offended.

"what can i say, i'm such a charmer." you'd said in the most british accent you could muster, and he'd rolled his eyes and shoved your face away.

december came, and cisca invited you to celebrate christmas with them.

"if he doesn't ask you to be his girlfriend, promise me you'll tell him it's over." your best friend has said, looking at you sternly.

you had just sighed in response, shaking your head.

"i'm serious. you don't deserve someone like that. not if he doesn't think you're worth the commitment."

"you're right. i know. i'm just... i'm just scared. i like him so much. i don't know what to do."

the morning of christmas, you'd landed in london and gone straight to his place. he was all dressed up, and you'd almost cried at how gorgeous he looked.

"merry christmas, darling." he'd murmured, and you'd melted at his words. he welcomed you with a kiss, the way he always did.

the day was spent exchanging gifts with his family, watching christmas movies and cuddling under blankets.

his family adored you.

"i'm glad you're here." he said.

"where else would i be?"

"anywhere else."

you smiled at him, and he returned it with a cheshire cat one.

that night, the two of you had been invited to dinner with his parents, and halfway through the meal you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

as you stood there washing your hands, you'd heard the door swing open, and the familiar figure appeared next to you, locking the door behind him.

"lando."

"yeah?"

"what are you doing?"

"i need to wash my hands." he'd shrugged.

you raised a brow at him, looking at him pointedly.

he shrugged again, taking a step towards you.

"you look too good in this dress, can't help it."

you rolled your eyes as he stepped closer to you, fingers about to grasp your waist before you told him to back off.

"what?"

"wash your hands first. didn't you come here to wash your hands? there's no way in hell i'm letting greasy salmon fingers touch me."

and then the two of you had laughed before his lips found yours lips. it felt so natural, the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your lips melted into his.

"lando, we shouldn't." you protested, neck arching as he pressed kisses everwhere.

"shut up." he grabbed your waist before pushing you against the counter, his lips crashing back into yours.

"what happened to your hands? i told you to wash them."

"fuck the hands."

"technically-"

"shut the fuck up." he groaned, dipping a finger between your thighs. "you're dripping. fucking hell."

pulling his fingers out, his knee pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs apart.

you gasped, shifting your hands as you balanced yourself against the counter. his eyes locked in yours as his finger dragged across your core.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty." he whispered, eyes digging into yours.

"lando, please."

"please what?" he asked as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning against the mirror behind you. "oh, fuck."

"i asked a question."

you were quick to answer, fisting his shirt as his fingers moved inside you. "please fuck me, oh my god."

he smirked before dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his tongue onto your clit. you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth sucking at your clit; eyes rolling back.

his hands grabbed your legs, swinging them over his shoulder. hand sprawled over your stomach, pushing you back against the counter.

when his tongue curled into you, brushing that spot he never failed to miss, you couldn't help but let a loud moan escape you.

lando hushed you; tapping your thigh. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando said through heavy breaths before pushing his face back into you.

biting into your lip, your fingers ran through his curls, admiring the sight of his head moving between your thighs.

your moans filled the small bathroom, the sound like music to his ears.

"lando," your voice was shaky, breath hitching as he picked up the pace, his hands pushing your hips down.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending waves throughout your body.

"oh, god, lando. right there, right there. oh fuck."

and then your body was trembling, and you were gripping his hair, his tongue still moving.

you were seeing stars, vision going white as your legs quivered around his face.

"oh, god." you sighed, chest rising and falling as he pulled his fingers out, smirking up at you.

"c'mon baby, give me one more."

it wasn't casual.

now, walking through the terminal, dragging your suitcase behind you, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

maybe he said 'casual' just to tell his friends he was still a player. or maybe, he was referring to the fact that the two of you were just friends who hooked up sometimes.

but whatever he meant, it wasn't the truth.

both of you knew it.

casual wasn't the way he held you close during thunderstorms, wasn't the way he'd make sure coffee was the perfect temperature, wasn't the way he'd look at you as if the world stopped turning.

the way he'd stare into your eyes as the lights turned off, the way he'd press a kiss onto your temple, the way he'd say your name.

it wasn't casual.

576 notes · View notes

onlyhereforthestories · 3 days

Text

Worth It? Or Not? (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hi guys! It's been too long. Please enjoy this long ramble that slightly resembles writing 😂. I have a few more things written and I am trying to finish Chica for you all. Happy weekend.

It was a new season, and you were so ready for what it was going to throw at you. The last season you participated in had been your best yet you think, although that was most likely due to the fact that it was your first with your girlfriend. You and Alexia had been dancing around your feeling for each other for a few years and in the off-season last year the older woman had finally asked you out. By the time the season just gone had started you were already official, and it had made last year that much more special. You got to share your achievements with the one you loved and that really was wonderful.

Now for a new season and possibly a new step for your relationship with Alexia, she had been hinting at moving in together for the last few weeks. Little off hand comments like “That would look nice in a master bedroom.” And “I wonder if we would have a feature wall if we had our own living space.” You thought it was about time you started hinting back. You needed to be sure it was something she actually wanted before you out right asked her if she was ready to move in together.

You were currently waiting for Aitana to pick you up, Alexia had to be in earlier than everyone else this morning for a meeting and so you had slept separately, at your own apartments last night. This was the first time in weeks that you could remember not sharing a bed with the older woman. She said she didn’t want to wake you as early as she needed to be up and after trying to argue with her for 10 minutes you had given up, she just wasn’t getting that you would happily wake up early if it meant spending the extra time with her.

“So why do I have to come get your whipped ass? Where’s the wifey?” You rolled your eyes at the woman as you climbed into the passenger seat of her car. Aitana had been one of the first people you had talked to about your crush on Alexia and now the slightly younger woman took every opportunity she could to tease you about your obvious love for the team captain.

“I’m telling her you called her that, but in answer to your poorly asked question, she had an early meeting and didn’t want to wake me up at the early time she had to be up.” You shrugged your shoulders in a gesture you knew was for your benefit not hers, you had been up half the night letting your anxiety get the best of you.

“It’s Alexia, you know her, she is probably just nervous for the new season and how the new signings will fit in.” You knew that Aitana was most likely right but you also couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that she was already getting bored of being with you. You knew you shouldn’t let these thoughts get the better of you but that was easier to say than actually do, it wasn’t that you doubted Alexia at all, it was more your growing anxiety over your own worth in your head. In fact you knew it was you and your head and that just made it even more frustrating, it was another thing that made you question yourself.

“Yeah, you are probably right, she has been feeling the captain pressure a lot over the last week or so. She has been watching tapes of the new girls and talking a lot with the staff after weights. Sometimes I wish she would just switch off from work and be a little more present with me, but she’s Alexia queen of Barca. She puts 110% into this club and that’s what I signed up for happily.”

After that the conversation switched to a lighter topic and by the time you pulled up at the training ground you were feeling a lot lighter and laughing with one of your best friends. Any thoughts of Alexia not wanting you any more were long gone and all you wanted to do now was get your cleats on. Football would always be a great escape for you, it was like your mind could relax whilst you had a ball at your feet.

After getting ready in the changing room, without the appearance of your love, you headed out with the rest of the girls to find Alexia in the middle of the field with another woman you didn’t recognise. Your attention was pulled from them when Pere spoke, “Okay ladies, we have a new signing starting with us today. Alexia has been getting to know her a little bit so it’s easier for her to settle in. Please be welcoming.” You all nodded your heads in agreement and followed him over to the two women.

“Hi it’s nice to meet you all, I’m Chloe.” You could tell the woman was nervous and so could Alexia as she moved everyone onto warm-ups rather quickly. Over the course of the session everyone introduced themselves to the new girl individually so that she felt as comfortable as possible.

You had just got out of the shower and was putting the last items in your bag when Alexia approached you for the first time today. “Hola, can I ask you for a favour por favor?” You could tell she was sort of in a hurry by the lack of affection she gave you. You would normally at least get a peck to the cheek, but she barely even got close enough to you for you to hear her properly.

“Si of course.” You would do anything for the woman in front of you and everyone knew it.

“I’m taking Chloe out to see the city so she knows her way around a bit better, but I didn’t get to walk Nala this morning. Can you run round mine and do it for me? I asked Alba but she is working.” There was a lot to pick out of that passage of one-sided conversation. First you were hurt that she had gone to Alba first when Nala was like your own dog too. Second, she must have forgotten your lunch plans with Claudia and Patri that had been made a while back and you knew was on her calendar as you put it there. Something you decided not to bring up, she was just trying to help the new girl settle in you understood that.

“Yes of course. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You thought at least you could have some time with her that evening being as you’ve barely interacted all day.

“I won’t be back for dinner, I told Chloe I would help her sort her apartment out after showing her the sights. I don’t know what time I’ll be back y/n so maybe we should sleep in our own apartments again tonight.” You really didn’t know what to say to this, so you just nodded. You got a lot of the women’s time, so you didn’t think it was fair for you to be upset over a couple days, especially not when she was just trying to help someone out.

“Okay, I’ll see you at training tomorrow then.” You turned round and walked out of training with a slight weight on your chest and your mind running with thoughts you wish you didn’t have.

After you walked Nala and dropped her back into Alexia’s apartment, an apartment that started to feel like your own until the last 24 hours. Part of you knew this was silly to think but you couldn’t help it, you are always an overthinker and this was something that you struggled with. You didn’t even take the time to make sure Nala was settled you just open the door let her in, checked her water bowl was full and left again. Being there just felt wrong today. Deciding that your mood was really not good enough to go out and have a lunch with your two friends you texted Patri to cancel, and after assuring her you were okay just a little extra tired today, she wished you a good evening and said she would pick you up for training if you needed the next morning.

An offer you ended up taking when your texts to Alexia the next morning went unanswered. You were tired and starting to get a little annoyed with the older woman, you were trying to reason as to why she wasn’t replying to your texts and even when she did it was so spaced out it felt like she didn’t care or want to talk to you. You were trying to change that thought process, but it was hard when that’s where your mind had gone.

“Hola, you don’t look so good. Should you be coming to training.” Patri’s concerned voice almost sent you into a wave of sobs, but you held it together, your thoughts were stupid so you know you couldn’t show you were sad. You didn’t want Patri to think you were an idiot for the way you were feeling about your current situation, if it was even a situation.

“I’m just tired Pats, I’ve not slept well the last few nights and I think its just caught up to me a bit today.” You sighed in relief when she didn’t push you any further just gave you a once over and then pulled away from the outside of your apartment complex.

You were hoping the journey to training would help your mood and thoughts, but it didn’t much. Patri tried her best to cheer you up and you really appreciated the younger woman’s efforts, but you were struggling. You made your way into the changing room behind your best friend and didn’t both to look up as you made your way to your cubby. You placed your stuff down and changed into your boots, leaving the changing room straight after as the first out.

You decided some air and keepy ups might help sort your head out before training. Pere and the staff were out setting up when you went to ask for a ball, they gladly gave you one and you headed to the far end of the field to have your space. The sun beating down on you felt good and a ball at your feet always helped.

Your peace was short lived as you heard the chatter of the rest of the girls and Pere calling you all in. You grabbed your ball and headed over, looking at the group for the first time. What you saw hurt your heart more than you would say to anyone, Alexia was stood near Pere like normal. That obviously wasn’t the upsetting part, the upsetting part was that Chloe was pretty much pressed against Ale. You tried not to look too long or think too much but you struggled. You really struggled.

Training started and your thoughts just kept going. You couldn’t concentrate, you couldn’t pass right, your touches were off and none of the shots you took even went close to the goal. By the end of the first half of training everyone could tell something wasn’t okay with you, so much so that Pere called you over in the drinks break.

“What’s up today? This is very unlike you. If your sick you should have just let us know I don’t want to see you get injured if you are pushing yourself too much and then end up being out for longer than you need to be. Health is important y/n.” The way he said it wasn’t scolding which you were thankful for, you were slightly worried that he would be annoyed with you for your performance.

“I’m sorry coach. I’m not feeling my best today, I thought I’d be okay to train but I think maybe I was wrong.” You wouldn’t normally miss training unless really necessary, but you were too far gone mentally and staying here wasn’t what you needed right now.

“That’s okay some days we just need the break and to rest. Go home and we will see you hopefully tomorrow. Please pop and see the medical staff on the way out to check in with them.” With that he patted your shoulder and went back to call the team back to training.

As you walked past the group Patri caught your eye and gave you the are you okay look. You waved her off with a half-smile and continued to the changing rooms. You decided that a shower at home would be the best for you and so just changed your shoes, grabbed your stuff and headed to the medical room.

They just did some basic checks on your temperature and blood pressure before sending you off with the promise to come in first thing tomorrow if you were planning on training just to have another check before you did.

You half expected Alexia to be waiting for you outside the medical room when you walked out but she wasn’t. You walked out of the grounds to remember that you got a lift, you were just about to walk home when your name was called. For a second your body warmed thinking it was who you really wanted it to be before your shoulders slump slightly. You knew that was Patri.

“I’ll drive you home come on.” You didn’t argue you just hopped in the passenger seat. You were quiet the whole way back to your place, the only words you said to the younger woman was thank you when you got out the car.

You took your shower turning the water to as hot as you could handle. Going for comfort after that you changed into your (Alexias) comfiest hoodie and a pair of tracksuits that you really weren’t sure whose they were. You settled yourself onto your sofa and turned on a random old show you didn’t need to concentrate on.

You have no idea when you fell asleep, but you must have at some point because you were blinking yourself awake in the now pitch blackness of your living space. The only light you had was coming from your phone on the table that you now realised was ringing and must have been the reason you were currently waking up.

You reached over to grab it off the table to see who it was, glancing at the screen you were faced with your favourite photo you had ever taken. Ale had this smile that reached her eyes as she stared at you through the camera, it was taken last month when you were on vacation before the season was due to start.

You were stuck in a sort of daze so you didn’t answer the call, after it rang off you were faced with 5 miss calls from the woman. You noticed the time, you had missed lunch and dinner. You almost missed bedtime if you were being truthful to yourself, so you got up off the sofa and turned the tv off. You grabbed your phone again and headed to your bathroom to clean your teeth and get into your pjs. Once in bed you called Alexia back, who picked up after a couple rings.

“Y/n where did you go? Why did you miss training?” Her words were rushed as soon as she answered, which you felt a little bad about as she had been trying to get hold of you for a while now.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before answering Alexia’s question. You could hear the concern in her voice, which only made your heart ache more. It wasn’t anger or frustration—it was genuine worry. And yet, the events of the past couple of days had left you feeling vulnerable and disconnected.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you started quietly, not wanting your voice to crack. “Pere told me to go home, and I guess I just needed some time to rest. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls before I fell asleep on the sofa.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You could hear Alexia shifting slightly, probably trying to figure out the right words. She was good at taking a moment to make sure she said the correct thing, that she said everything she wanted and in a way that would be understood for what it was.

“I would’ve come with you if I knew,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Or at least text me when you got home?”

“I did try to talk to you,” you replied, a bit sharper than you intended. You quickly softened your tone before continuing. “I was going to tell you before I left the training grounds but when I went to go over, I saw you were in a conversation with Chloe and I didn’t want to interrupt. I know what making her feel welcome into the team means to you so I just left, Patri dropped me home.”

Alexia was silent again, and you hated that your mind immediately went back to the image of Chloe standing so close to her earlier. You knew it was unreasonable to feel threatened, but the distance you’d been feeling from Alexia over the last couple of days was making everything worse. You knew Alexia and you knew that if she was even thinking about someone else in the way she thought about you, she would end things. It was a conversation the both of you had had very early in the relationship, it was better to say and end things than cause more heartache with something like cheating.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “I’ve been caught up with the new signings, especially Chloe. I wanted to help her settle in, but I didn’t realize I was neglecting you in the process.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as you listened to her. The fact that she acknowledged it made you feel a bit better, but it didn’t completely erase the weight that had been sitting on your chest. It still has happened.

“I get it, Ale. You’re the captain, and you’ve got responsibilities, but…” You trailed off, not sure how to express what you were feeling without coming across as needy or insecure.

“But what?” she asked gently, encouraging you to keep going.

“I just… I don’t know. It feels like we haven’t really been us these past few days. Like we’re slipping apart, and I don’t want that.”

Alexia sighed softly, and you could almost picture her rubbing the back of her neck the way she always did when she was thinking hard about something.

“I don’t want that either,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry, really. I’ve been so focused on the new season and everything happening with the team that I haven’t been present with you. That’s not fair.”

Tears stung your eyes at her words. You hated that you had been feeling so anxious and unsure about where you stood with her. The logical part of your brain knew that Alexia loved you deeply, but sometimes, your emotions got the better of you.

“I just miss you,” you whispered, finally letting a bit of the hurt spill out.

“I miss you too,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “I promise, when I get back, we’ll spend some real time together. Just the two of us.”

You wanted to believe her, to hold onto the comfort her words should have brought you, but as you lay there, phone pressed to your ear, something still felt off. The doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day didn’t vanish—they just simmered beneath the surface, waiting for another moment to creep back in. You tried to smile, to let her words sink in, but it felt hollow.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice weaker than you intended. There was a pause on the line, and for a second, you wondered if she could hear the uncertainty that was sitting heavy on your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. I love you,” Alexia said, her tone soft but distant, and somehow it made you feel even worse.

“I love you too, Ale,” you replied automatically, though the words felt like they got caught in your throat. You wanted to believe them, wanted to believe her. But as you hung up the phone, the heavy silence in your room returned, and with it, the creeping feeling that maybe things weren’t as solid as you hoped.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tighter around you, but instead of the calm you craved, a lingering unease settled deep in your chest. The conversation hadn’t been enough to ease your mind, and the distance between you two felt more real than ever. Alexia cared, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the doubts from pulling you under.

As much as you tried to push it aside, the little voice in your head that had been whispering insecurities all day grew louder. What if she’s getting tired of me? What if this distance between us is because she doesn’t want to be with me anymore? The more you thought about it, the more it felt like Alexia was slipping away, even though she’d just promised to spend more time with you. The doubts began to swirl again, faster now, and the pit in your stomach deepened.

Sure, Alexia had apologized, but what if it wasn’t just about her being busy with the new signings? What if she was using that as an excuse? You started picking apart every little detail from the past few days—how she barely interacted with you this morning, how she chose to spend time with Chloe instead of you, how easily she’d forgotten your plans for lunch with Patri and Claudia. Maybe she wasn’t as invested in the relationship anymore. Maybe she was realizing that being with you wasn’t what she wanted.

You buried your face in your pillow, fighting the creeping sense of rejection. No, this is just the anxiety talking. She loves you. She said she loves you, you reminded yourself, but it felt like a hollow reassurance. Even as you repeated it, the lingering doubt wouldn’t leave you. You wanted so badly to believe her words, to take them at face value, but the overthinking was louder than reason right now.

The phone in your hand vibrated again, pulling you out of your spiral for a moment. Alexia had sent you a text: I really don’t like how we left things. Can I come over? I’ll bring dinner. We can talk.

Your heart skipped at the message. On one hand, you wanted her here. You wanted her arms around you, her presence to quiet the storm in your mind. But on the other hand, you felt like having her here would only make your insecurities worse. What if she could see right through you? What if she could tell that you weren’t okay, that you doubted her? What if she was already tired of dealing with your anxieties, your overthinking?

Before you could stop yourself, you typed back: I think it’s better if I stay alone tonight. I might be getting sick, and I don’t want to give you anything. You’ve got enough on your plate with the new season and all.

You stared at the message, second-guessing every word. It wasn’t entirely a lie—you did feel off, emotionally and physically, but that wasn’t the real reason you didn’t want her to come over. You were scared. Scared that spending time with her would only confirm the worst of your fears. That she was growing tired of you, tired of your relationship.

After a few moments, your phone buzzed again with Alexia’s response: Are you sure? I can bring soup or tea, whatever you need. I don’t mind at all.

Her willingness to drop everything and come over only made you feel worse. How could you doubt someone who was so thoughtful, so caring? But the voice in your head persisted—what if she was just doing this out of obligation? What if she felt guilty? It wasn’t long before you convinced yourself that Alexia was only offering out of a sense of duty, not because she actually wanted to be with you tonight.

Yeah, I’m sure. You replied, forcing yourself to hit send before you could change your mind. I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.

You stared at your phone, waiting for her response, hoping she would fight harder to come over, hoping she would insist. But her next message came quickly, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Okay, rest up. Let me know if you need anything, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow at training.

Simple. Kind. But it wasn’t the push you had been hoping for. She wasn’t coming over. Maybe she was relieved, you thought bitterly. Maybe she didn’t actually want to spend time with you after all. You hated that your mind kept going there, but the doubts kept clawing at you, relentless and cruel.

Curling up tighter in your bed, you told yourself that some space was good. Maybe tomorrow would be better, maybe by then, you’d feel less overwhelmed, and Alexia would feel closer again. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, the weight of your insecurities was heavier than ever. You didn’t want to lose her, but right now, it felt like that’s exactly what was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you need anything. I love you. Get some good sleep, okay?

You read the message over and over, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Alexia wasn’t pushing you to talk when you didn’t feel ready. Disappointment, because a part of you had hoped she would sense your need for more; more reassurance, more connection, more confirmation that everything between you two was still okay. But she didn’t press further, and that left you with an emptiness that was hard to shake. Part of you knew that was silly, she had texted after your call and that should have helped but it just left you with a half full feeling. Like you were only worth that small extra effort.

As you lay there, your mind kept spiralling. You wanted to believe that this was just a rough patch, a phase, something that would pass after the season got into full swing. But the fear that something had shifted between you and Alexia lingered. You tried to push it away, to focus on the fact that she had said she loved you, that she was willing to drop everything for you. But the overthinking kept creeping back, whispering that maybe this was the beginning of the end.

You closed your eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around you, willing yourself to sleep. But even as exhaustion tugged at your body, your mind wouldn’t let go of the nagging doubts. You kept replaying the last few days in your head, every moment where Alexia had seemed distant, every conversation that had felt stilted or rushed. You hated how insecure it made you feel, but you couldn’t help it.

Alexia sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, fingers hovering over the screen. She wants to call you, wants to check in, but hesitates. There’s a lump in her throat, a weight in her chest that won’t shift. You’d asked her for space, asked her not to hover, and she’s been trying, really trying, to respect that. But it’s hard. It’s so damn hard. It feels wrong to stay away, especially when she knows you’re not feeling well.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated with herself. She’s been distant lately and she understands that she’s not been around as much as she should have. Training, media obligations, new signings, everything’s been pulling her in different directions, and now, when you need her the most, she’s afraid she’s failing you. Alexia’s not used to feeling this way, like she’s not enough. But here she is, second-guessing everything and wondering why she let it get to this point.

What if you don’t even want her around anymore?

The thought hits her harder than she expects, and she feels a pang of guilt. You deserve someone better, someone who can be there, be present, and she’s been anything but lately. And now, with you sick, the fear creeps in even more. She worries that her attempts to give you space that you asked for might just be making things worse, that you might feel abandoned, even if that’s the last thing she ever wanted.

She presses her palms against her knees, trying to calm the whirlwind in her mind. The idea that she might not be enough, that she might not be the perfect girlfriend you deserve, gnaws at her. She’s scared she’s messing this up, that every move she makes might be the wrong one.

What if she’s not what you need right now? What if she’s been too caught up in her own world, too wrapped up in everything else to see what’s really going on with you?

Her phone buzzes, and for a moment, she thinks about texting you. But what would she even say? She feels torn, pulled between wanting to rush to your side and the fear that doing so would push you away.

She exhales sharply, setting the phone down, her hands now trembling slightly. She loves you, that much is very clear to her. But loving you and being there for you the way you deserve; it feels like two different things right now. She’s scared of being inadequate, of not living up to what you need.

In her heart, she wants to be the perfect girlfriend for you, the one who knows how to navigate all this with ease. Wants to know what you need without you having to say, wants to show you that there isn’t anyone better for you than her. But she’s scared, scared that she’s already failed.

That night, Alexia drives to your place. The streets are quiet, dimly lit by the occasional streetlamp, and the familiar route feels strange tonight, like she’s seeing it through a different lens. Her heart races the closer she gets, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual.

When she finally pulls up outside, she kills the engine but doesn’t move. The silence in the car feels thick, almost oppressive, like it's pressing down on her chest. She knows she should get out, knock on your door, and just be there for you. It’s why she came, after all. But something keeps her glued to the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the dashboard, mind spinning with uncertainty.

What if you don’t want her here?

She takes a deep breath and glances up at your window. The lights are off, maybe you’re already asleep, maybe you’ve had a long day. Her mind starts to drift even further. Maybe she’s too late. But even if you're still awake, there’s that nagging voice in her head that tells her she’s crossing a line, that you’d rather be alone. That she should have done this a few days ago not now, not when you asked her to stay away.

I shouldn’t have come.

She exhales, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. Every part of her wants to be close to you, to show up the way she should have sooner. She even reaches for the door handle, her heart pounding as she tells herself, Just get out, Ale. Just go inside and talk to her. Be there for her.

But her grip on the handle loosens, and she pulls her hand back.

What if showing up makes things worse? What if you’re still upset, still needing space, and all she does by being here is prove that she can’t respect that?

She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the doubts away, but they only get louder. She’s scared, scared that you’ll see right through her. Scared that, no matter how hard she tries, she’s already failed you.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushes the door open and steps out of the car. The night air hits her, cool and crisp, and she stands there, staring at your front door. Her feet move her a few steps closer, but then she stops, frozen halfway across the street. To any passerby she would look slightly crazy, standing in the middle of the street, car door open behind her and staring at a closed door. But alexia didn’t care, she couldn’t think about anything else other than you.

She could knock, could tell you everything that’s been going through her head, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s too soon?

Alexia takes a deep breath and steps back, retreating to the safety of her car. She sits there, hands resting on the wheel again, feeling like a coward. But the thought of doing the wrong thing, of making things harder for you, keeps her from getting back out the car.

Tomorrow, she thinks. Tomorrow I’ll speak to her.

It’s a promise she makes to herself, hoping that maybe, with a little more time, she’ll find the right words.

The next morning, you woke up feeling no better than the night before. If anything, the pit in your stomach had only grown. You glanced at your phone, half-expecting to see a message from Alexia, but there was nothing. No good morning text, no follow-up to check on you. That left a really bitter feeling inside of you, one that you hated feeling for two reasons. One, you knew in your heart she wasn’t trying to make you feel that way, and two because you felt that way.

As you dragged yourself out of bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You tried to convince yourself that Alexia was just busy, that she was giving you space like you asked. But deep down, the doubt gnawed at you. What if the space you asked for was pushing her further away?

You knew you needed to talk to her, to clear the air, but the thought of confronting your feelings made you anxious. What if she confirmed your worst fears? What if she said she wasn’t sure about the relationship anymore? You weren’t sure you could handle that.

Still, as you got ready for training, you decided to talk to her today. No more avoiding the conversation. You needed to know what was happening, you needed to clear things up. Not only for your relationship but for your own mind. There was a small voice at the back of your head telling you that speaking to Alexia about why this has happened might be a good idea, but you ignored that for the moment. That would mean showing those deep insecurities. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

With the decision made, you grabbed your things and headed out the door, hoping that today would bring some clarity and maybe, just maybe, the reassurance you desperately needed.

Stepping out of the building, you're caught off guard. Alexia is there, leaning against her car, arms folded, sunglasses perched on her nose. She straightens up the moment she spots you, waving casually as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Which a week ago it would have been.

"Hey," she says lightly, her tone casual, maybe a little too casual. Stop reading so much into it y/n.

"Hey," you respond, trying to hide your confusion. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

She shrugs, unlocking the car with a beep. "Thought I’d give you a lift to training. I know Patri picked you up and dropped you home yesterday. I also wanted to check on you properly. How’re you feeling?"

There’s a pause, you are unsure if she’s asking about how you're feeling physically or mentally. "I’m... fine. Maybe a bit tired." Short and sweet, that will do for now.

"Yeah, it’s been a long week," she comments, sliding into the driver’s seat. You follow, buckling in, and the car hums to life as she pulls out onto the road. For a moment, the silence sits between you two, neither of you quite sure how to fill it.

"Traffic’s light today," she notes, glancing briefly at you. "Should get there in no time."

You nod, grateful for the small talk. "Yeah, that’s good."

Another beat of quiet passes.

"Did you see the new kit design?" she asks, her tone light, as if she’s trying to keep the conversation safe.

"Yeah, I did. Looks pretty sharp, though I’m not sure about the neon stripes," you reply, relaxing into the seat a little.

She chuckles softly. "Not a fan?"

You crack a small smile. "Not really my thing. Maybe it’ll grow on me."

The conversation fades again, but this time it feels easier, more comfortable. She’s not pushing, not prying into anything deeper. It feels like both of you are skirting around something bigger, but for now, the surface level is just fine.

Before long, you arrive at the training centre. Alexia leads you inside, where the trainers are waiting. The check-up is routine, some stretches, a few prods here and there and soon, they clear you to train.

"You’re good to go," the head trainer tells you with a nod.

As you step out onto the pitch, Alexia lingers nearby, not hovering, but subtly making sure you’re all right. During the water breaks, she’s quick to hand you a bottle, reminding you to stay hydrated. It's nothing overt, just small gestures that don’t go unnoticed by you.

Training passes, and as you finish up, wiping the sweat from your face and stretching out your tired muscles, you see her approaching again. This time, there’s something different in her expression.

"You did well today," she says with a small, approving smile.

"Thanks," you reply, sensing the shift in the air, the conversation about to take a more serious turn.

She hesitates for a second, then takes a deep breath. "Look... do you want to come back to mine? We need to talk. I think we’re overdue for it."

Her words hang between you both, but the way she says it feels less like a confrontation and more like an invitation. There’s no pressure, no demand, just a simple request.

You meet her gaze, unsure of what this conversation will bring, but knowing it’s inevitable. Whatever is currently going on with you two needs to be addressed and soon. Neither of you enjoying your current situation and definitely not wanting it to continue on this way.

"Yeah," you say, surprising yourself with how quickly the word comes out. "Let’s go."

You hesitate to take the hand Alexia reaches out in front of you, but when she gives you that small smile and slight tilt of her head you can’t help but grab on. You are once again conflicted when she lets go once you are on your feet, but when she awkwardly scratches at her neck as she gestures for you to start walking you can’t help the affection for her that rises in your chest.

The drive to Alexia’s is quiet, not awkward, but there’s a tension that hangs in the air. The radio plays softly in the background, a low hum of noise filling the silence as neither of you speaks much. You glance at her now and then, noticing how her hands grip the wheel just a little too tight, how her jaw seems tense. She’s trying to seem calm, but you know her well enough to see the nerves beneath the surface.

When you arrive at her apartment, Alexia unlocks the door and once again gestures for you to go inside first. You step in, and the familiarity of her space washes over you, a space that’s been shared so many times, but tonight feels different. She lingers by the door for a moment, taking a breath before following you in.

You both sit down on the couch, a little distance between you. Alexia fidgets with her fingers, playing with her rings, clearly trying to gather her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her voice softer than usual, almost unsure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she says, her eyes not quite meeting yours. “I wanted to, but... I didn’t know if you’d want me there.”

You sit quietly, listening, waiting for her to continue. You know it is only fair to let her finish without interrupting, your time to speak will come.

“I know I haven’t been... the best lately. I’ve been distant, and I can’t even explain why in a way that makes sense,” she admits, her voice wavering slightly. “And then when you got sick... I wanted to be there for you. I should have been there, but you asked for space, and I didn’t want to make things worse.” You could hear the sadness and longing in her voice as she spoke, it made your heart hurt a little more thinking about how this has negatively affected her as well as you.

She looks down, her fingers twisting together nervously. “But I just kept second-guessing everything. Like, if I showed up, I’d be doing the wrong thing. And maybe... maybe you don’t even want me around anymore.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with uncertainty and vulnerability. She’s never said anything like this before, never doubted herself like this when it came to your relationship. When it came to you.

You feel the weight of her worry, and it’s clear that she’s been wrestling with this more than you realized. Had you not been the best girlfriend either? Had she been worrying about this for more than just the last few days? There’s a long pause before she speaks again.

“I’m scared I’m not the girlfriend you deserve,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m failing you... like I haven’t been there when you needed me most.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and they’re filled with doubt, something you’re not used to seeing in her. Alexia, who’s always so composed, so sure of herself, now looks like she’s bracing for something, maybe rejection, maybe confirmation that her fears are true.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. You know this talk has been coming, but hearing her say it, seeing her so vulnerable, hits you differently. There's a part of you that wants to just reach out and hold her, to tell her it’s all okay, but you know this conversation needs to happen. You know that the both of you need to communicate these feelings and work on how you can do it without it getting to this stage again, if there is going to be again.

“Alexia...” you start, choosing your words carefully, “I never said I didn’t want you around. I asked for space because I needed it, not because I wanted you out of my life.”

She nods slowly, but her expression remains uncertain. You continue, “I’ve been going through a lot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you here. It’s just... sometimes I need to figure things out on my own. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Alexia exhales, her shoulders sagging a little in relief, but the tension is still there. “I just... I feel like I haven’t been enough lately. I’ve been so focused on everything else that I haven’t made time for us, for you, and then when you needed me most, I just... froze.”

You shift closer to her, your hand gently resting on hers. “I know you’re busy. I never expected you to be around all the time, Ale. I don’t need you to be. I just need you to be... present. To be you.”

Her eyes soften at your words, and she looks down at your hand that is soft on top of hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice steadier now. “I’ll do better. I want to be better, for you. For us.”

You nod, understanding the weight of what she’s saying. It’s not about perfection, not about always getting it right. It’s about showing up, about trying, even when it’s hard, even when doubts creep in.

“I just need us to be open with each other,” you say. “If you’re feeling off or distant, tell me. If you’re unsure about something, we’ll figure it out together. But don’t shut me out, and don’t shut yourself down thinking you’re not enough. And I’ll do better too. I have had so many insecure thoughts over the last few days and I’m sorry for those. I’m sorry that you get affected by them and I’m sorry I didn’t communicate with you about them. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You take a second to think about what you want to say next. Alexia’s eyes stay locked on yours, her expression softening even more as she listens. Her hand tightens just slightly around yours, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of what you’re both sharing. The tension between you eases further, but the conversation isn’t over yet.

You take a breath, choosing your next words carefully, wanting to make sure she understands where you're coming from.

“I’ve been in my head a lot,” you admit, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I thought that maybe you weren’t showing up because I wasn’t... worth it. That you were pulling away because I’ve been too much to handle. And instead of talking to you about how I was feeling, I just let it build up. I guess I was scared that saying it out loud would make it real.”

Alexia’s brow furrows as she shakes her head gently. “You’re never too much,” she says quietly, her thumb still brushing softly over your hand. “I never want you to feel that way. I hate that you’ve been carrying that, and I didn’t know. That I couldn’t help.”

You nod, grateful for her words but also aware of how important it is to keep the lines of communication open moving forward. “I know you care, I do. I just... I need to trust that more. And I need to talk to you when I’m struggling, not shut you out. I’m sorry for that.”

Alexia leans in closer, her voice filled with sincerity. “We’ll both do better. We’ll figure this out together. You’re not alone in this. I want to be there for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I wasn’t.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, and for the first time in days, it feels like the distance that had crept between you is finally closing. There’s a warmth in the room now, a sense of mutual understanding and a willingness to do better, together.

“I don’t need us to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That we can lean on each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

Alexia nods, her eyes shining with emotion. “We are. I promise. I love you, and I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers. The silence that falls between you now isn’t heavy or filled with uncertainty. It’s peaceful, comforting.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

For now, the words are enough. There’s more to work through, more conversations to be had, but you know that you’re both committed to making this work. And for the first time in a while, you both feel like you're on solid ground again.

Alexia pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you, and you sink into the embrace. The weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of hope for what comes next.

After the heaviness of the conversation finally lifts, you and Alexia share a soft smile, the tension replaced by a quiet, comforting peace. The air between you feels lighter, and as if sensing the shift, Alexia’s lips curve into a small grin.

“How about we get some takeout?” she suggests, her voice playful yet warm. “I don’t feel like cooking, and I think we both deserve a break tonight.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect. I could definitely go for some comfort food.”

It doesn’t take long before you’ve both decided on your usual, something easy and satisfying. The soft glow of the kitchen light reflects off Alexia’s face as she places the order, her expression more relaxed than it’s been in days. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief, like things are finally settling back into place.

Not long after, the smell of freshly delivered food fills the room, and you both settle on the sofa, plates balanced on your laps, the comfort of being together in the small, familiar space wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Movie?” Alexia asks, already flicking through the streaming options.

“Nothing too heavy,” you say with a smile. “Something we can just zone out to.”

She nods in agreement, finally settling on a classic comedy that always makes you both laugh. As the opening credits roll, you finish your food and tuck yourself into her side, her arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

As the movie plays, the light from the screen flickers softly against the walls, casting a warm glow over the room. You’re snuggled close into Alexia’s side, her arm still draped around your shoulders, fingers lazily tracing small patterns on your arm. The comfort of it all makes you feel more at ease than you’ve felt in days.

At some point, the film becomes background noise. You’re more focused on the way Alexia’s thumb brushes your skin or the occasional glance you catch of her watching you instead of the movie. You shift slightly, turning your face up toward her, and her gaze softens as your eyes meet.

Alexia smiles, a tender warmth in her expression, and you can’t help but lean in. The first kiss is soft, almost shy, like you’re both still figuring out the rhythm after the tension of the last few days. Her lips linger against yours for a moment longer than usual, and when you pull back, you see the quiet joy in her eyes, a silent thank you for being open and honest with her, for being here.

Without a word, you lean in again, your lips meeting hers in a series of soft, gentle kisses. They’re unhurried, sweet, filled with a quiet kind of affection that says more than words could in this moment. Alexia’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her thumb grazing your jawline as she deepens the kiss slightly, but it’s still slow, still soft.

When you finally pull away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours as you both smile, the movie all but forgotten now.

“I missed this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the quiet moment.

“Me too,” you whisper back, brushing a kiss on the corner of her lips, your hands finding their way into hers.

She presses another kiss to your lips, this one lingering, and you both relax into the warmth of each other, the world outside fading as the night slips by.

There’s no rush, just the two of you, lost in the soft comfort of being close, the rest of the night spent in quiet kisses and shared smiles, wrapped up in each other as the movie plays on in the background. There is no need for more words tonight. You both know you’re in this together, that the promise made earlier will be something you will both work at together. And for right now, that’s enough.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso fic #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

457 notes · View notes

scarletcomalies · 1 day

Text

Hear. Me. Out! Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,129

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step and you don't have to distract yourself by reading or writing," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

#marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

374 notes · View notes

r0se1111 · 2 days

Note

just found your page and you’re so talented! I love me some Stanford Pines.

I’m in the mood for some angst and fluff so how about reader getting courage to confess to Ford, but he rejects reader because he’s scared and reader tries to move on, and Ford ends up regretting rejecting reader and after much convincing, Dipper, Mabel, and Stan help ford win reader back with a grand gesture and they get together?

Thank you so much! S/o to the ppl who get the title reference :P

Too Sweet

Stanford Pines x Reader

You take a deep breath through your nose, feeling the cold air flow to the back of your mouth, down, down, down, until it settles in the warzone that is your fluttering stomach, bolstering your nerves into a full-fledged shaky-handed, sweaty-palmed fit.

The hot cup of coffee jostles in your grip as you stood before the door of the Mystery Shack. You fix an intense stare on it as if you could telepathically keep the warm liquid from spilling. This is it. You chew your bottom lip and climb the stairs to the front door. I'm gonna tell him.

You knock a few times before the door swung open, revealing a familiar brown mop of hair and niche handmade sweater.

"Y/N!" Mabel beams. You swore you saw a little rainbow arch above her head for a second with the amount of joy she put into your name. You smile back warmly.

"Hey kid. Would your Uncle Ford happen to be home?"

A whip of her head and a call of his name down the hall confirmed that the man of the hour was home and decidedly not currently occupied. Soon enough his oh so comfy looking sweater, crooked glasses, and friendly smile were in your view.

"Y/N! What brings you here?"

You give a quick sidelong glance to where Mabel was standing beside the doorframe, watching the two of you with bright eyes and a bitten back smile. As much as you love her, having an audience to what you were about to do wasn't exactly ideal. You take another steadying breath before thrusting the coffee forward.

"This is for you."

Ford blinks and amusement pulls his mouth into a close-lipped but genuine smile. He takes the cup from your hands, fingers brushing yours. His touch was so warm that when you withdrew your own hand, you glanced down to look at where your skin had met, convinced there must be some sort of mark signaling that electric shock he gave you.

"Thank you!" He pries off the lid to blow some of the heat away and smell the deep, earthy aroma. "I'm never one to complain about free coffee, but what's the occasion?"

"Well!" You start a lot louder than you meant to, slapping your palms down onto the sides of your thighs in a fit of nervous energy. Shit. Start over. "Well," You repeat in a quieter tone. "I wanted to see you and ask you if you would possibly be interested in. Well. In a date?"

You try to overlook the squeal you hear from Mabel as you watch Ford's expression. His face goes a little slack with shock, and he tilts his head in an achingly endearing manner in what looks like thoughtful confusion.

"With me!" You clarify. "A date with me."

"Oh."

You wince at the word, then watch in anticipation as Ford does that thing he always does when he feels stuck with a problem. Rolling around the idea in his head as he tries to look at it from every angle. His mouth opened and shut a few times, and every time he opened as if to reply your body tensed. Finally, he seemed to settle on his response.

"Y/N," He spoke in a gentle tone. "I'm really flattered, but I'm not one for relationships. And I-" He paused and his eyes flitted to the top of the doorframe as if he was searching for some script there, some guide to turning down half-assed attempts at confessing long-held feelings. "I value our friendship as it is too much to jeopardize ruining it because of my own...er... situation. Feelings." He clarified with some vague hand motions you'll definitely read too much into at a later time.

You reminded yourself to blink and bit out a polite chuckle, pressing your nails into the palms of your hands and nodding as you forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. "Right! Of course, I understand. I really value our friendship too so this is... this is good probably. Just us staying friends. Good friends."

You could feel the blood rising to color your cheeks, and the embarrassment of rejection arriving to clench at your heart. As Ford furrowed his brows and started to speak again, you abruptly interrupted, unwilling to endure any other placating excuse he could give you. "I should actually get going. Lots of errands to run. But you- you enjoy your coffee!" You wave and back down off the porch. "Bye Mabel!"

As you walk away you can't help the frown from decorating your face, and the weight of disappointment from weighing down your shoulders until they slumped forward. All the slow-kindled courage you had summoned to ask Ford out had escaped your body like helium from a sad balloon, descending to the ground at a meandering, melancholy pace. He has a point though. I'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

Shaking your hair back from where it had dropped into your line of sight, you shove your shoulders back and initiate the grim process familiar to many a rejected lover, the dreaded moving on phase. I can do this. I can do this.

Back at the open front door of the Mystery Shack, Ford stands in gaping wonder at your disappearing form. You wanted to go on a date with him? A weird old man with six fingers and an obsession with fantasy-math-based board games?

"What the heck was that?" Mabel's borderline shriek of horror interrupted his brief bout of self-doubt.

"What... was what?"

"The girl of your dreams asks you on a date and you say no? How am I supposed to be the flower girl at your future wedding if you can't even say yes to one date!"

Ford stutters and stares at the girl before composing himself to reply. "Mabel, this is much more complicated than that. Y/N is a close friend of mine and someone I admire and care about greatly. I can't just go on a date with her. Not when so much could do wrong!"

"All I'm hearing are excuses getting in the way of true love! What could go so wrong?"

What couldn't go wrong, Ford considered the possibilities grimly. "Well, I could scare her off with my immense knowledge of interdimensional travel, or we could be on the date and get attacked by some half-man-half-car-half-horse for all I know, or she could want to hold hands and our hands would fit together weird and she'll realize she's much too good for me and deserves someone else-" He's cut off by the sad look on his niece's face.

"You know you're a good person, right Great Uncle Ford?"

"Um, well, yes. Yes I suppose I try to be."

"And don't you think good people deserve to be happy?"

"I suppose so."

"And go on dates with pretty ladies who are so totally into them?"

Ford smiled crookedly. "I think I know where this is going." Out of fear of the surprisingly stern look on Mabel's face, and out of love for his niece who he never wanted to cause unhappiness for, he sighed. "Yes, they do deserve that."

"Aha! So you admit that you deserve to give dating Y/N a shot?"

The man flusters. "Admitting that doesn't change the fact that I said no. Why would she give me the time of day now?"

The look on Mabel's face looks eerily similar to Stan when he's come up with a new way to scam tourists, a vaguely threatening sort of manically joyous ambition. "Because you've got me, my brother, and your brother to help you come up with the best apology-slash-confession ever!"

A few days into your abstention from thinking about Ford under the threat of tears and self-pity, you hear a knock on the door and open it to reveal none other than his twin brother, Stanley. He had his hands shoved into his pockets as he leans against your doorframe and stretches his leg across to kick at the other side in casual indifference. "Hey kid. You busy?"

"... no?"

"Well I need a favor done for me back at the Shack. Think you could help me out?"

You pause and take him in. Something about this seems fishy. "You want me to help? Don't you have Soos for that?"

"It's his day off."

"What about the kids?"

Stan shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. "The kids are bein' kids. They don't wanna help their poor old Grunkle out. Spoiled, really."

"What about-"

Stan crosses his arms and looks at you pointedly. "Look, I wouldn't have stopped by if I didn't need your help specifically for an undisclosed reason back at the Shack. You coming or not?"

Maybe it'll be good for me to do something. Get me out of my funk. You think. The devil on your shoulder whispers back, but what if you run into Ford? Frowning, you ponder for a bit as Stan drums his fingers on your door obnoxiously. You're a big girl. You can handle it!

You sigh and move past Stan to close the door behind you. "Alright. What's the damage?"

When you make it to the Mystery Shack everything looks pretty normal. You peek around at the generator and inside the gift shop as Stan leads you, searching for whatever he could possibly need your assistance for. Suddenly, two pairs of hands grab your own and tug you around excitedly.

"Y/N! Why don't we all walk into the kitchen together for a totally mundane and normal reason!" Dipper's voice cracks a bit and you narrow your eyes in suspicion. You look over to Mabel for clarification, but are only met with a giggle and the glimmer of the sparkly heart patches on her newest sweater as she ushers you forward.

"You Pines are up to something." You eye Stan, who simply holds his hands in front of him in an act of faux innocence which you might have believed if you didn't know the guy.

Your investigation of this new strange behavior which has gripped the Pines clan is cut short as you are pushed into the kitchen and abruptly stumble to a stop.

"Ford?" Any residual embarrassment you might have felt was overshadowed by the sight in front of you. Ford, standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a mug of hot coffee. In his other hand, he holds what looks to be a handmade poster proclaiming the words "I'm sorry" in glittery gel pen. Little cupids and swirly heart doodles frame the phrase, and you're charmed to notice that Mabel obviously helped make it.

"Y/N." He breathes your name out like he'd been punched in the gut. He stares at you for a beat before shaking himself out of whatever trance he'd been in. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. About the way I acted when you asked me on... a date the other day."

Ah. There's the embarrassment. You flush at his mention of your failed flirting. "Ford, it's really fine. You don't feel the same, you don't need to apologize for that." The words sting your throat a little, but you desperately want him to understand you'd forgive anything for him, just to be with him at all.

"No it's not fine." His voice starts to verge into the passionate tone he gets when explaining his newest discoveries. "I can tell I hurt you, and you don't deserve that. Also..." He clears his throat, suddenly looking a little shy. "I never said I didn't feel the same."

You swear your heart freezes in its quick motions within your chest. "Oh?" Your voice squeaks out as a near whisper.

Ford nods as he continues. "I do... feel the same. For you, that is." He clears his throat and sets the poster to the side before moving forward with his mug of coffee. "I was a fool to try to hide it. I was blinded by my own self-doubt, and worried about things I had no real way of knowing for sure. But I can see now that us being just friends isn't the best solution to my problem."

Holding out the mug, he smiles and your breath gets stuck in your throat. "I would love to go on that date with you, if the offer still stands."

You reach forward to grasp the mug with two hands, fingers overlapping Ford's on the warm ceramic. You hold them there for a moment, his confession enough to embolden you to savor the shimmering feeling of his skin under yours. Slowly, he works his fingers out from under yours, with purposeful and slow movements where he traces your hands and presses them closer to the mug, as if urging you towards the comforting heat.

Once his hands have retreated to gather together in front of his chest, you bring the mug to your lips and sip at the coffee. Of course it's perfect. Of course he knows exactly how I like it. You pull the drink up to your chest, basking in the warmth you feel not just from the drink itself bleeding through your top and into the skin over your heart, but also in the sincerity of the gesture, and the confession that had breached Ford's lips.

You nod and smile, a small, coy thing. "The offer still stands."

Ford visibly relaxes and you almost giggle at the fact that he'd felt just as nervous and tense as you. "Thank you-I mean- that's great! I know a wonderful cafe downtown where they make the best coffee. Of course, I am of the belief that my recipe is superior, but they are a close second. In fact..."

As you work on downing your own mug, you watch Ford in pure adoring pleasure. Your mirth and affection only grow as you see Stan, Dipper, and Mabel exchanging high-fives from the corner of your eye. Those sneaky Pines.

#stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #ford pines #gravity falls

198 notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 10 hours

Text

Be Sure Of It

Here we are with Eunha. In the end, I kept it as only her because I had this idea. Honestly, though, I may use the building mentioned for some other smuts. It would be pretty easy to insert other idols there and just have a universe around it. Also, it was a little tricky to write this because I had to think about whether to refer to Eunha using the stage name versus her real name.

Length 3.2K

Eunha X Mreader

You waited nervously at the restaurant, tapping your fingers on the table as you waited for your date's arrival. You peered out the large windows, hoping to spot her; her profile was on your phone, so you didn’t mistake someone else for her. Then, you saw her across the street, her bag slung over her shoulder as she hurried towards you. Relief washed over you as you recognized her, and she noticed you, too, waving with a bright smile. She walked around the corner, stepped inside, and headed straight toward you. “Hi! I’m Eunbi; sorry for keeping you waiting!” She exclaimed, slightly out of breath, as she sat down and reached over the table to shake your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I was a little worried you wouldn’t show up,” you admit, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. Your heart was pounding, and you couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same way.

“I’d never no-show a date. It’s hard enough to get one with my job.”

You nod your head, trying to remember what her job was. “It was as a-”

“A health girl,” Eunbi interrupts, “I’m glad you remember,”

“Yeah, I tried to remember everything you had on your profile. I must have gone over it a hundred times before today.” You feel immediate embarrassment as those words leave your mouth, and you hang your head, feeling like you just made a big mistake.

Eunbi laughs, though, “Really? Were you that interested in me?” Looking up, you see Eunbi resting her head on her hand, her cheek squished.

“Um, yes,” You say quietly, feeling a warm flush spread across your cheeks as Eunbi's laughter fills the air. You could feel your cheeks turning red, and you were sure she could see it, too.

“Don’t be shy; that makes me pretty happy. I don’t get many matches because of my profession. Those that I do get usually only want one thing. So, what made you interested in me?

“I thought you were cute and saw all the pictures of you cosplaying. I thought it was cool.” You say shyly.

“Ah! You looked at them?!” The excitement in her voice was evident, “Which one was your favorite?”

“I liked you as Haruko from Slam Dunk,” you reply, pulling up the picture. “I liked your smile; you looked really happy in it.”

Eunbi purses her lips, trying to hide her smile. “Thanks,” she giggles. “No one really likes those old shows anymore, but I think they’re pretty fun.” You and Eunbi spent the date discussing old shows and sharing that interest. It was enjoyable; the two of you enjoyed sharing your thoughts about which shows should be remade and which should remain classics. As your time together came to a close, you ordered an ice cream and headed out the door together. You walked around, continuing your chat until you found yourselves in the city’s central park.

Eunbi came to a stop, sitting on a nearby bench and waiting for you to sit next to her. “Tonight has been really fun, and I want to go on another date.” She says quietly, her happy energy from earlier fading as she becomes serious. “But are you sure you are okay with dating someone like me? It’s just- I mean, a lot of guys say they’re okay with it, but they really aren’t. They try to get me to quit as soon as we’re together.” It’s clear to you this was something Eunbi had gone through multiple times; the anxiety in her voice and the fact she was staring at the ground the entire time she spoke was enough. “I-I just…”

“Eunbi, I’m okay with it.” You say, placing your hand on hers. Eunbi raises her head, turning to face you. “It must be hard on you, looking for someone, but I’m okay with you having that sort of job. I’ll never make you quit; that’s your decision.” You take a deep breath, “I’d like to take you on another date, Eunbi.”

Eunbi sniffles, and a small smile appears on her face. “Thanks for saying that, but,” she pulls her hand away and reaches into her bag, pulling out a small business card. “I think you should see me at work before you decide if you want to go on another date with me.” Eunbi pushes herself off the bench and stands up. “Anyway, thanks for tonight. I had a lot of fun. You know where to find me, " she says softly.

You rise slowly and walk over to Eunbi with the business card still in hand. “Yes, I do. Thanks for tonight, Eunbi.” You wrap your arms around her and hug her, feeling her arms hesitantly wrap around you before cinching in. After a moment, the two of you break apart and head separate ways for the night.

That night, you looked at the card before going to bed, feeling excited about the next step. You wanted to go on another date with Eunbi, so you had to visit her first. You notice the name change on it; she didn’t use her real name. She used Eunha.

A few nights passed when you decided to visit Eunbi at her workplace. While the place was open all day, Eunbi worked in the evenings and nights, so that’s when you had to go. It was in the red-light district. You weren’t familiar with it and wandered around, trying to find the place. Neon lights glowed from every building, painting the street with various colors. You continued past the barkers, trying to get you to walk into their establishment. You turn your head, viewing both sides so you won’t have to do another lap. Then you spotted it; it was a large building that took up an entire block. Much like the other buildings in the area, it bathed the street in bright pink neon lights. You cross the street, getting closer, when you notice the women dancing inside, inviting men to enter. They wore revealing outfits, from bunny suits and sexy maids to wedding dresses, with some just in lingerie. The ground level had them separated into their own rooms. You come to a stop, though, as you pass by a crowd; glancing at the window, you see one of the women having sex, fucking like a rabbit in heat with her breasts pressed against the glance. You pry your eyes away and look ahead, noticing she isn’t the only one. Other women in the rooms ahead were also having sex.

You refocused yourself and continued toward the entrance, heading inside and finding a similar situation, with women in rooms, some dancing and others having sex. On occasion, there would be room blacked out, giving you the hint that some people wanted to be watched. Once down the hall, you found a board of faces—a picture of a woman and their face on it. Some were greyed out, signifying they were with a client. “You have to put money in first, sir.” You hear from behind you. Turning around, you find a staff member sharply dressed in a suit behind the counter. The man repeats himself, pointing to the bottom left of the giant screen. You notice a smaller pad was there to take payment. “If you’d like any information about the ladies before choosing, please feel free to ask me.”

“Is Eunha here?” You ask nervously.

The staff member looked down at something before meeting your gaze and responding matter-of-factly, “Yes, she is. She is on the top left-hand side of the board.” You nod and pay for an hour's session before returning to the larger screen and looking for Eunha. You spot her picture at the top and press it, confirming your choice after.

“Good choice, sir. Here is your room key, " the staff member says, pulling out a keycard. “She is on the second floor; once up the stairs, go to the right side at the end of the hall, turn to the left, and she will be at the end of that hall.” The man extends his arm, showing you the staircase. You take the keycard and give the man a nod before heading up the spiral staircase, finding a large lounge with a couple of men sitting idly. You glance at the other two hallways before heading to the right. You feel your heart beat faster as you make the final turn and head to the end of the hall. You stand outside the door and take a deep breath before tapping the keycard and opening it. You step inside and find Eunha waiting on the other side. She’s in a school uniform that’s been cropped and is wrinkled. The skirt, if you could call it that at this point, ended a few inches from the waist. Eunha had on a pair of crotchless panties, and you could see how slick her thighs were with her; there was cum running down her legs. On the top half of her body was an open button-up shirt that she had tied together in a loose knot, her nipples poking through the thin fabric.

“Oh! It’s you!” Eunha says with a smile on her face. “You actually came.”

You nod, “I said I would.”

Eunha chuckles, “I guess you did.” You both stand there awkwardly, unable to continue. “Please have a seat.” Eunha moved back to the kingsized bed. She throws herself on it and pats the spot next to her. After sitting beside her, Eunha places her hand on your thigh. “I guess you can see what my last customer did to me,” Eunha says, looking between her legs. “I barely had time to get the room ready again.” She sighs, looking down at the floor and kicking her feet softly. “This is what I meant; I understand if you don’t want to date me. Who would want to have a girlfriend that’s constantly getting fucked by others.” You feel the sadness begin to seep through into her voice.

You shake your head, “Eunbi, I told you I don’t care. I knew that going into this, I’d have to be okay with you having this job. Look, I know we’ve just been on a single date, but I like you, and I want to see where this goes.”

“You mean that?” Eunha asks, her voice wavering. You nod at Eunha and place your other hand on hers. Though small, your action was enough to give Eunha some confidence in you. She sniffles before giving you a bright smile. “I guess we should get started then, right?”

“I guess so.” Eunha presses her lips against yours, pushing you onto the bed and straddling you. You feel the passion behind the kiss, the corners of her mouth pulled into a smile. She lifts your shirt past your arms and over your head. Eunha was confident in every action. She moved down slowly, raising her ass in the air as she worked at getting your pants down, unbuckling your belt, and unbuttoning your pants. She stares you down as she bites down on the zipper tab and pulls it down. You can see a growing hunger in her eyes as she crawls over you and steals another kiss from you. You feel her hands move down your side as she tries to pull your pants off you.

You help her get them off, along with your underwear. Eunha’s hand grasps your shaft, moving up and down slowly as she meets your gaze. “You’re already nice and hard for me.” She whispers, her grip growing tighter. You see her smile grow as you moan her name. Eunha moves her other hand down, cupping your balls. “These are so big and heavy. I haven’t eaten all day. You have a lot of cum for me, right?” She gives you a pout before moving down your body and pressing her face against your cock, letting the tip rest against her forehead. She kisses the shaft and takes in your scent before wrapping her hand around it again. Eunha shuts her eyes and presses her lips against the base of your cock, inching upward toward the tip. She was moving toward more sensitive areas, and with each kiss, precum leaks from the tip of your cock.

Finally reaching the tip, Eunha opens her eyes again. She smiles at you before pushing the tip against her lips, slowly spreading them and allowing you inside her warm mouth. You feel her tongue run up and down your shaft as she rubs the head against the inside of your cheek. Her hand strokes the base of your cock, ensuring you’re getting the most out of it. She pulls back slowly, letting her saliva drip onto your cock, her tongue sticking out.

Running her hand up and down your shaft, Eunha spreads her saliva across your cock. “This is going to be good,” she mutters, leaning down and wrapping her lips around your cock. You groan, enjoying as Eunha bobs her head, her tongue running along the underside of your shaft. You rest on your elbows, watching Eunha, noticing as she moves one hand down and fingers herself, occasionally pulling out to rub her clit. You place your hand on her head, earning you a glance from Eunha. She continued, slowly down and taking more of you in. You lean back and groan loudly as you feel yourself hit the back of her throat.

Eunha pulls back slowly, slobber running down her chin and onto your cock. She slaps herself with it, dirtying herself further. She strokes your cock quickly as she speaks, “You’re so close; I felt your cock twitch. You can cum whenever you want; you don’t even have to warn me. I’ll be able to drink it all up.” Eunha smiles at you before making your cock disappear again.

You struggle to hold on as her tongue lashes at the tip of your cock. Eventually, you’re forced to cum; you buck your hips upward into Eunha’s mouth and cum inside. She presses her hand against your pelvis, pushing you down as her lips form a seal around your cock, and she drinks every drop. She bobs her head slightly as you cool down from your climax. Eunha slowly comes to a halt and leaves your cock with a pop, “Ahh, that was so good,” She moans, licking her lips.

Eunha places her hand on your cock, stroking it to get you hard again. “That must’ve felt really good for you; you came a lot.”

“It was amazing,” you groan, her grip tightening as you get hard again.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now it’s time for the best part.” Eunha straddles you, rubbing your cock between her folds as she aligns you to her entrance. She reaches forward, grabbing your hands and interlacing her fingers with yours as she lowers herself onto your cock. You slip in easily, her warm and slippery walls snuggly wrapping around your cock as she rests against your pelvis. Eunha’s soft moan fills the room, and you move up her body until you meet Eunha’s gaze. She gives you a soft smile that you can’t help but return. She keeps her hands with yours as she begins to bounce on your cock, soft moans flowing from her lips. Eunha leans against you, your hand holding becoming the only thing keeping her up. You lowered your eyes, noticing the knot that kept her shirt together come loose. Your eyes became glued to Eunha’s chest, watching her tits bounce as she rode you. “Ah, hold on,” she moaned, letting you off your hands to throw off her shirt. Eunha placed her hands on your chest and began moving again, her slow movements picking up speed with time. You placed your hands on her waist, holding her as she rode you. Eunha kept her eyes shut and threw her head back, groaning as she felt your cock go deep inside her. “You’re…going to… make me cum,” Eunha said, struggling to get her words out.

“I’m going to cum too.” You grunted, your cock throbbing against her tightening walls. You begin thrusting into Eunha, going deeper as your bodies collide. “I want us to cum together,” Eunha nods her head, biting her bottom lip as she nears her climax. You both cry out as you reach your peak; Eunha slams herself down on you, impaling herself on your cock and cumming with you. You pull Eunha into a kiss as she collapses on top of you, her chest heaving as you both slowly come down.

“That was amazing,” she says, still out of breath. Eunha unmounts you and places herself on your bicep, taking a few deep breaths before looking into your eyes as you lay there together.

“I’ve seen you at your work now. So I can ask you out on another date, right?” After a few minutes of staring into your eyes, her face turns red. She covers it with her hands and turns her back to you. “Eunbi? What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to turn her back around.

“It’s embarrassing!” She shouts into her hands.

“What?”

“Ahh! I said all those things in front of you!” Eunbi buries her face into the mattress and kicks her feet.

“Those things?” You ask curiously.

“Those things about your cock and balls. It’s so dirty!” You laugh at her answer, making her raise her head. “Don’t laugh! I only say those things here because people like to hear that!” She explains, her tiny fists knocking on your chest. “You’re never going to hear me repeat those things! They’re too embarrassing to say to someone I’m dating!”

You laugh again, enjoying how embarrassed she was. “So, does that mean we’re going on another date?” Eunbi pauses her tantrum, realizing what she said. She peers up at you, and you ask again, “Eunbi, would you like to go out on another date?”

Eunbi feels a warmth in her heart as she hears your question being asked so sincerely and nods. “I’d like that; yeah, let’s go on another date,” she says softly before embracing you. You spend the rest of your time lying together. When your time runs out, and you're forced to separate, Eunbi kisses you on the cheek. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You respond before kissing Eunbi one more time before you go. “Have a good day at work.” She smiles and waves as you shut the door behind you. You get home sometime past midnight and lay in bed. You couldn’t sleep, though; your body was filled with energy after your night with Eunbi. You thought you would feel tired, but that wasn't the case, and just as your mind began to drift, you got a single-word message from Eunbi.

“Breakfast?” It made you chuckle, and you agreed to meet her for breakfast in the morning. The two of you met for breakfast, chatting about old cartoons like you had on your first date. Eunbi felt content, happy to have found you, and hoping the relationship continues. The wariness of a new relationship was still on her mind, but seeing that you went further than many others had dared to, she felt a sense of comfort with you.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut

233 notes · View notes

hanniesluvr · 2 days

Text

drunk in love | yjh

NSFW | MDNI!!

genre: friends -> fwb -> lovers, angst, smut, fluff

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

WC: 6.7k

cw: drinking, angry jeonghan bc i said so, smut, exhibitionism pretty much, spanking, degradation (he calls you a "slut" and "whore" a couple times :3), unprotected sex, creampie, choking, cucking (poor josh but also he had it coming), pet names ("pretty girl", "baby", and "princess"), oral (f rec), little bit of butt stuff, mc has a LOT of internal thoughts/ dialog lol, possessive jeonghan, possessive jeonghan, and possessive jeonghan. lmk if i missed anything !!

synopsis: when a game of truth, dare, or drink with the boys turns to shit (thanks to hoshi and josh), jeonghan has no choice but to prove himself to be the best dick you've ever had ): (SPOILER: he is. oh he most definitely IS the best dick you've ever had)

! nsfw content below the cut. mdni !

you’ve known the boys for years.

you’d met mingyu back in your senior year of highschool. both of you being on the friendly, outgoing side of introversion, he knew he had to introduce you to his rather large group of friends once you guys graduated.

and wow was your life was never the same.

you had a group of down to earth boys (men) who all looked after you like no one else had. a friend group that people could only ever dream of. no one got upset if you chose to hang out with only one of them for a day, rather than the whole group. if you wanted to go out clubbing with your girlfriends, they all knew you had 13 body guard options to call before heading out. and the best part, your best friend of the group might as well be a professional chef. you never had to worry about going hungry or even cooking as long as you had mingyu around.

other than mingyu, you ended up gravitating toward minghao, jihoon, seungcheol, and jeonghan. almost entirely separate, but sometimes you, seungcheol, and jeonghan would go out on a weeknight for some 2am ihop.

the last thing you or anyone else had expected however, was for you and jeonghan to develop a “situationship” of sorts together.

over the last couple months, you both started developing what you thought were strictly sexual feelings toward each other. now, you weren’t so sure. you knew your feelings were turning into something far deeper than just lust, but you quickly tried to shut them down in fear of ruining your initial friendship with him. tried to. you also were terrified to face those feelings because… you had no idea how he felt. other than the occasional secret or rant that he needed to share with you that he couldn’t share with the boys, jeonghan was pretty emotionally reserved. you had NO idea how he actually felt about you beyond friendly and horny.

until that night.

truth, dare, or drink was a game that you played with the boys every once in awhile when you guys were feeling frisky. normally, it came to one of your brains once you guys had already been drinking through the night.

in tonight’s game, jeonghan thought it’d be funny to dare jihoon to lean over and give you a kiss. childish. so childish. you could tell he just didn’t have any better idea in his buzzed brain.

“awww don’t be a pussy, jihoon!” jeonghan taunted him. he was leaning backward due to you being sandwiched between the two boys at the table, jihoon to your left, jeonghan to your right.

“nah i’m not touching her, hannie. you’re funny” jihoon chuckled, throwing back the clear liquid.

“heyyyy rude!” you pouted, crossing your arms playfully, a smile threatening to pull at your mouth.

“tsss…” jihoon put down the shot glass. “jeonghan would kill me, y/n” he chuckled. then, “ow!” he yelled, still laughing.

you whipped your head to jeonghan who was… glaring at jihoon? he’d smacked him upside the head and you had no idea why. you thought jihoon making that comment was just to poke fun at the fact that everyone knew you and jeonghan were basically fuck buddies. however, jeonghan didn’t find it very funny for whatever reason. you playfully pushed his face telling him to lighten up. to that he faintly smiled before putting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together in front of his face. he looked like a cartoon villain. what was he so upset about?

“anyways…” you were the next to talk. “soonyoung! your turn!” you enthused leaning back in your seat to look at the boy to the right of jeonghan.

soonyoung jumped out of his seat before nearly screaming, “Y/N!”

“oh fuck.” jihoon mumbled looking into his lap. you broke eye contact with soonyoung to look at jihoon in confusion.

“i’m so sorry to do this.” you looked back up at soonyoung. what the fuck is going on?

“man i swear, if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” jihoon stood up from his chair.

“what? i have to ask!”

“no, no you don’t.” jihoon’s voice was threateningly low, and you now thought you had a hunch as to what’s about to happen. your heart started to race.

“is it true that you and hoon hooked up at last year’s halloween party?!”

“i’m gonna beat your fucking ass-“

you pushed your chair out blocking jihoon’s path before he could follow through. you shot your arm out for good measure to make sure he didn’t try to pass you. he silently turned around and sat back in his chair.

when you turned back around to face soonyoung, you couldn’t help but feel jeonghan’s eyes burning holes into you along with everyone else’s.

“dude, why?” you asked in a low tone.

“whaaaat the game was getting boring! i had to spice things up a bit,” he teased putting a hand on his hip before pointing his finger in your face over jeonghan’s head. “now answer the question or take a shot missy. either way, we’ll know the answer.”

you glared at him intensely sitting back down in your chair and quietly saying “it’s true,” before reaching for the shot in front of you and slamming it anyways. you needed it. you felt jeonghan’s eyes on the side of your face and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. you just locked eyes with mingyu across the table, knowing that even with his shock, his gaze would comfort you nonetheless. it worked. his face quickly went from a “what the fuck?” expression to a reassuring “we’ll talk about this later” look.

“ahem”

no.

“that’s interesting,” josh said from the head of the table.

“josh!” you, seungcheol and mingyu yelled at the same time. they also knew what joshua had to have been thinking, and didn’t want you to endure more embarrassment.

“ i thought i was your only little secret,” he said in a condescending tone, crossing his arms.

your face was hot. “it happened years ago josh!” you were yelling from your seat. “and we haven’t talked about it since! why are you even bringing it up? who cares!”

SLAM! you flinched. jeonghan had punched the table.

“i fucking do!” he yelled shooting up from his chair. “while we’re here,” his voice dropped, placing his palms on the table, leaning forward glancing at everyone. “would anyone else like to confess to fucking y/n?”

“jeonghan,” you reached your hand up to rest on his arm and you felt his muscles stiffen.

“it’s not like that,” jihoon followed up, trying to reassure him. jeonghan wouldn’t look at him. “it was over a year ago. it wasn’t important then, and it’s not important now.”

“it still fucking happened,” he looked over his shoulder down at you. “and you didn’t tell me about it.” his tone was laced with what could only be described as anguish.

“doesn’t seem like she’s told anyone,” josh pettily adds before taking a sip of whatever drink he’d made for himself before the game started.

now you were the one to punch the table but you didn’t stand up. “dammit josh! jihoon and i both agreed we’d pretend like it never happened. it was a mistake. and it happened years after you and i hooked up so why would i tell you out of everyone?! i didn’t even tell mingyu!” you were shaking in your seat. your breath rapid as you were hitting the peak of your anger induced high. shitfaced josh didn’t know when to stop. sober josh would never even slightly push anyone’s buttons the way drunk josh was vigorously punching yours right now (and jeonghan’s).

“well it seems you told mingyu and cheol about us, so what’s the reason for that? was i too good to forget?”

before jeonghan could even start to move toward him you stood up, forcefully holding him back by his shoulder. he froze. “josh…” you started, still keeping your hand on jeonghan to make sure he didn’t try anything. “i told them because i was fucking humiliated, and couldn’t believe that i fucked you.” you spat. “is that what you wanted to hear?” you could’ve sworn in that moment, all of jeonghan’s tension shifted to josh because as jeonghan found his way back into his chair, josh stood up. it didn’t phase you in the slightest.

“you’re fucking lying, y/n. i had to have been the best you ever-”

“fucking watch yourself man,” seungcheol warned, also getting out of his seat to defend you and jeonghan, his best friend.

“oh what? did you fuck her too?”

“that’s it!” jeonghan shot back out of his chair charging toward him.

luckily seungcheol was at the chair right next to josh and managed to get to him before jeonghan, stepping in front of him as some sort of human shield. jeonghan stopped in his tracks, mere inches away from his best friend.

“cheol, move.” he growled.

“walk away jeonghan.” seungcheol tried to calm him down.

“i’m not walking the fuck away. move or i’ll move you myself.”

“hannie, it’s not worth it,” you chimed in, making your way to him. “he [josh] isn’t worth it. what we did isn’t worth it.” joshua scoffed at your comment. you tried to ignore him, knowing that if sober josh was in there somewhere, he was telling his drunk self to just shut the fuck up and go along with all of it. although you really were ashamed of that hookup. you guys were like 19 at the time after all.

“look,” jeonghan turns around to face you. “jihoon? i get it. don’t ask me how or why, but it’s not much of a shock to me. i can suck it up over that.” he pointed his arm out behind him straight at josh, still looking at you. “but him? fucking joshua?” his voice nearly breaking at the end.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” josh mumbled.

you and jeonghan ignored him.

“it happened years ago hannie.” it suddenly dawned on you how intense this simple game of truth or dare had turned. as you and jeonghan stared at each other in silence, everyone else waiting for what was gonna happen next, you had a million thoughts running through your mind. why does he care so much ? is it because josh is one of his best friends and he can’t believe josh didn’t tell him? is he… jealous? no. maybe?

it was almost like jeonghan could hear the questions in your head. his face turned into something small and ashamed as he slowly lowered his head looking down at the ground. one last thought was about to run through your head. is he like in lo-

then seungkwan broke the silence, clearing his throat. you both whipped your heads to the other end of the table. everyone else still staring at the two of you. “why don’t we just continue the game. no more stupid bullshit, soonyoung.”

you took a deep breath. “i think i like the sound of that boo,” you held your hand out for jeonghan to take and he did so hesitantly. not until the two of you were fully seated did seungcheol make his way back to his seat. everyone’s eyes moved to josh still standing at the end of table… waiting for him to sit.

“josh?” mingyu spoke up. it was almost like he snapped him out of a trance.

“yeah! yeah let’s keep playing,” he blurted sitting back down.

“alright well i guess it’s my turn then,” seungcheol nervously chuckled. “jun! i dare you to take a shot!”

“what?” jun laughed. collectively the tension in the room withered away as everyone started laughing softly, giving seungcheol confused looks, except for josh. he just sat, straight faced.

“yeah, you’ve barely drank tonight! cmon! either way you have to take a shot soooo…” seokmin added.

“okay okay,” jun smiled while leaning over the table for the bottle.

once he took the shot, everyone carefully looked to joshua who was clearly faking his enthusiasm now. “okay well… i gotta go with y/n!” he said in such a deceptively happy tone, you knew he wasn’t over what had just finally ended for you and literally everyone else at the table.

vernon spoke up for the first time since his last turn probably 15 minutes ago, “please don’t be a dick dude.” he casually took a sip of his drink.

“don’t worry, don’t worryyyy. i just gotta ask her something.”

you watched jeonghan’s face as he stared at his drink in front of him. his jaw was clenched so tight you thought he might shatter his teeth. you put your hand on his thigh under the table to silently tell him you wish josh would shut up just as bad as he did. “why don’t you just leave her alone man?” jeonghan asked calmly not looking away from his glass.

“well i would but there’s just this burning question i have in my head that i can’t shake,” josh was slurring a bit but still thinking about his next words wisely. “y/n,” he was staring into your soul, and you did the same to him, not backing down. “was i not the best you’ve ever had?”

“no,” you immediately answered. “no you weren’t. why do you think i never mentioned it again?” jeonghan smiled to himself looking down in his lap, grabbing your hand that was on his thigh. the gesture was oddly sweet in this bitter situation.

“oh? well then who was the best hm?” josh followed up.

“oh, jeonghan! hands down,” you didn’t even hesitate. his grip on your hand tightened, the grin on his face widening as his eyes stayed locked in his lap. you even heard jihoon softly chuckle behind you.

“bullshit,” josh accused. jeonghan quickly looked up at him, tilting his head ever so slightly. “no way he’s giving it to you better than i did.”

after that comment, everyone collectively started yelling at him to just go to sleep or leave the game, anything to get him to stop his petty remarks. including you. you were still yelling when jeonghan turned to you, cupping your face, “shut the fuck up,” he whispered before grabbing your wrist and forcefully pulling you away from the table. he stopped at the end by josh’s chair.

“fine!” jeonghan exclaimed, silencing everyone. he then leaned in to josh’s ear, “i’ll just let you hear how much better im giving it to her.” and with that jeonghan was dragging you up the stairs at an aggressive pace, not even giving anyone the opportunity to respond.

once you reached the top of the stair case he spun you around in front of him so you were walking backwards. you passed the banister as he started taking off your shirt. your bare chest on display for anyone to see had they looked up from the table down below. you couldn’t care less.

“kiss me,” you whimpered trying not to stumble backward as he’s fondling with the button of your pants. he obeyed, eagerly crashing his lips into yours as you both neared his room. he started turning you to the left and you knew you’d reached your destination. he didn’t push you all the way into his room though.

“if it gets to be too much say ‘stop’,” he breathed before pushing you against his open door and dropping to his knees, immediately pulling your pants down. you stepped out of them without a second thought. is he just gonna fuck me against his open bedroom door?

“fuck!” you gasped out as he dove in after your clothed core. i guess the answer is yes.

“jesus y/n,” he growled moving your underwear to the side. “you’re fucking soaked already,” he continued to lap at your pussy, the annoying fabric now out of the way.

“mmm liked you getting m-mad,” you whispered, not wanting the others to hear your confession. you knew it sounded pathetic.

jeonghan groaned into you in response. you liked him fuming over the thought of someone else fucking you better than he did? if his dick wasn’t pushing to break free from his sweats before, it sure was now.

“fuck, you’re such a slut y/n,” he slurred, now grabbing at your underwear, ripping it on each side down the seams and throwing them right across the hall into josh’s open room.

“hannie what the fuck?” you bemoaned. you’d just bought the lacy fabric the other day for him to admire, not ruin. the fact that he threw them in josh’s room couldn’t be less of a concern to you right now.

he stood up putting his hand around your neck, firmly pressing you against the door. “what?” he asked innocently, taunting you before crashing his lips back into yours. you moaned into the kiss, desperate for him to touch you again.

as if he’d read your mind, he used his free hand to pull down the waistband of his sweats, finally letting his dick breathe. he put his cock in between your legs, basically fucking your thighs. the subtle friction against your clit was enough to send you spiraling. you were over his teasing and torture.

“hannie, please,” you panted.

“please what?” he mocked, still rutting against the heat between your legs.

“please fuck me,” you whined.

it wasn’t good enough for him. “what? i’m sorry baby,” baby? “i don’t think josh can hear you.”

you were suddenly reminded of the circumstances surrounding the current situation you were in. you felt yourself turn beet red.

“remember, you can tell me to stop,” he whispered to you, noticing your complexion.

“no, no don’t stop,” you begged.

he smiled maniacally. “okay. so again, i don’t think josh could hear what you said,” his voice rising in the second half.

“please jeonghan, please fuck me. please!” you cried, knowing damn well that josh and unfortunately, everyone else could hear your desperate words.

“such a good little whore for me aren’t you?” his grip on your neck tightened, his other hand grabbing his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. you lifted your leg to give him easier access.

he pushed past your folds and you winced at the slight stretch, but you fit jeonghan like a glove. ever since the first time you guys had sex it almost felt like you were… made for each other in a way.

“you okay?” he nearly wheezed, trying to hold himself back from going completely animalistic on you in this moment. wanting to claim you as his for everyone to hear… for josh to hear.

fuck josh…

he barely let you nod your head before snapping his hips, thrusting his cock into you so fast you swear you saw stars. the squeal that escaped your throat was something of pure filth and you knew that by this point, josh had to have felt like a fucking idiot for everything he said.

jeonghan moved his hands to your thighs, hoisting you up, your back still flat against his door, his cock buried deep inside you. “i’m going to absolutely ruin you and your pretty little pussy,” he fucked himself deeper into you if that was even possible, “not even gonna be able to walk back down these stairs without my help,” he panted.

“mmmph hannie~” were your last whimpering words before he started brutally fucking himself in and out of your sopping cunt. you were a blubbering mess, whining and crying out like a bitch in heat.

“dammit y/n how are you always this t-tight,” jeonghan groaned before swallowing your sounds in a sloppy, wet kiss. his tongue desperately darted into your mouth to dance with yours and you were more than willing to let it in. your tongues danced together not so elegantly as his dick was thrusting into you with determination, his door thudding against the wall to the rhythm he’d set, and you moaning uncontrollably into his mouth.

you started to wonder what everyone downstairs was doing. especially josh.

“mmm wait wait wait hannie wait,” you put your hands on his shoulders putting enough distance between your bodies just to speak.

“i-i feel bad for everyone downstairs. should we keep doing this?” you whispered, giggling a little as the gravity of the situation really started weighing on you.

“i really don’t give a fuck about everyone downstairs.” he kissed you deeply. “unless it really makes you uncomfortable, then we’ll stop.”

“i’m not really uncomfortable just… feel bad.”

“well don’t. and remember how this all started?”

he was right.

“you’re right,” you threw your arms around his neck, attacking his lips with your own, taking control of the situation.

he let your legs down, now gripping your waist, pulling your naked body closer to him. you spun the two of you around so he was against the door. you pulled away from your kiss to lift his shirt over his head and throw it into his room. you then dropped to your knees, almost mirroring his actions from earlier. you pulled his sweats and underwear down to his ankles and he kicked them off to the side.

“fuck hannie,” you moaned, clenched around nothing as you were eye level with his cock. jeonghan could’ve came just at the sight of you gawking over his dick beneath him.

“y/n as much as i’d love to feel your mouth around me, i need to fuck you properly and i need to do it now,” he cooed cupping your face. he traced his thumb across your lip and you took it into you mouth, sucking on it like a binkie. “fuck, you’re such a fucking slut y/n,” he ripped his hand from your mouth. “on the bed. now.”

you started to stand up but he stopped you, “no, crawl.” you did exactly as you were told and crawled your way to the foot of his bed.

you could predict he’d want you on all fours, but you didn’t want to assume, so you sat on the edge of his bed waiting for further instructions.

“you know how i want you.” he was making his way toward you.

you quickly turned around on your knees and lowered yourself so your face and arms were flat on the bed and your ass was in the air.

when jeonghan got within arms length of your body, without hesitation he slapped your right ass cheek before grabbing it tightly, his left hand doing the same to the other side. you just yelped and balled up the sheets in your fists.

spreading you so wide you thought you might split, he speaks again. “there’s so much more of you that i want to explore, y/n,” he mumbled lining himself up with your aching core once again.

“s-so explore me, jeonghan,” your voice was rather shaky as you waited for his cock to be shoved into you at any moment.

“fuck baby…” baby again? you didn’t have time to process the pet name once again before jeonghan picked up where you guys had left off.

his hands were holding onto your waist for dear life as he railed you into his bed with no mercy.

“f-f-fuck hann-nie!” you cried out, every stutter on beat with his hips. a string of the most lewd whimpers, whines and groans you’ve every let fly from your mouth followed.

“uh huh, that’s r-right. how g-good do i-fuck~ fuck you huh?” he boasted.

something about jeonghan’s feral tendencies to “claim” you had you tightening around him over and over, that familiar knot forming in your tummy.

“g-god hannie i’m c-close!” you warned, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

he pulled his dick out of you instantly. you started pouting, “noooo hannie why did you-“

you heard a pop from his mouth and couldn’t help but turn your head around as far as you could. “hannie?”

“if you don’t like it, or it’s too much, what do you say?”

“‘stop’… what are you- fuck!”

jeonghan’s thumb was prodding at your other hole, barely being granted access due to it never being messed with. “too much?” he asked as the tip of his thumb slipped in.

the groan that escaped your mouth was all he needed but you tried to respond anyway, “n-no hannie~ fffuck…” your voice trailed off, the new sensation sending your body into a blissfully painful new level of pleasure.

jeonghan lined himself back up, slipping inside of you with ease at this point. the sensation of being able to feel his cock sliding in and out of you through your ass with his thumb was a feeling he didn’t know he needed. he threw his head back, slowly pulling himself out almost entirely before steadily pushing himself back into you, pushing down with his thumb to feel every inch through your gummy walls. “god dammit, y/n. you’re gonna be the death of me,” he snarled before once again picking back up to his animalistic pace from before.

you both were a moaning mess, in your own bubble of euphoria when suddenly, you were rudely interrupted by an annoyingly familiar voice.

“okay you fucking psychopaths, your point has been made. can you shut the fuck up now?!” josh yelled from down below. if you two were being honest, the moment jeonghan had you crawling across the floor to his bed, you’d forgotten all about josh and the others.

“no. you can come close the fucking door!” jeonghan yelled back trying to keep his voice steady when in reality, he could fall apart here and now. fall to his knees and cry at how amazing you were making him feel. you’re the reason he can fuck you so good. you make it impossible not to.

“god you guys are fucking obnoxious…” josh’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence as he reached jeonghan’s door. he froze in his tracks. his drunken state didn’t really allow him to comprehend that he was going to be walking in on jeonghan absolutely wrecking you. he was just coming up to close the door, but he couldn’t stop staring.

he was snapped out of his daze when jeonghan whipped his head around, making immediate eye contact with him, not slowing down his thrusts in the slightest, completely unfazed.

“the fuck do you want?” he spat. you managed to turn your head to the side to catch a glimpse of the boy in the doorway. your vision blurry from being completely fucked out of your mind. you knew it felt wrong that he was seeing all of this, but your brain was so fuzzy you couldn’t really focus on anything else other than jeonghan.

“i- i was just closing the door,” josh managed to mutter out. as he reached for the doorknob, jeonghan spoke up again.

“no. you wanna watch so bad?” he slowly took his thumb out of you first, then his cock. you subconsciously whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. you knew you should move, knew you should adjust so you weren’t so exposed for josh to see but you couldn’t bring yourself to in your sex drunk (and still literally tipsy) state.

jeonghan, dick still out, made his way over to josh. “then come have a seat,” his tone was bitter as he grabbed him by the shoulder and walked him to his desk chair, nearly throwing him down.

“dude i don’t-“

“i dont want to hear it. you’re the one that stopped to watch so im giving you what you want, yeah?” suddenly jeonghan had dominance over everyone in the room. all josh could do was nod in response.

with the main reason for all of this absurdity now sitting in the room, jeonghan felt it was appropriate to shut the door. he did so forcefully, then made his was back over to you.

your head already being turned to your left where jeonghan’s desk was, you were looking right at josh. you quickly flipped your head the other way, embarrassed by your state. jeonghan took a fistful of your hair and slowly pulled you up so your back was flat against chest.

“i want him to watch me make you fall apart,” he whispered so gently in your ear for no one else to hear. “is that okay pretty girl?” the nickname making your tummy do flips all over again. of course that was okay. sure it would be embarrassing for the first 5 seconds, but josh pissed you off tonight more than anyone. so yes, yes of course he could be put in his place with a front row seat to the show.

“jeonghan yes,” you breathed desperately, clenching around nothing.

“good,” you wish you could see the smile on his face that you could hear when he spoke. “now, when you lay back down, turn your head back toward him so he can watch your face while i claim what’s mine.”

what’s his?

you did as you were told and when jeonghan loosened his grip on your hair, you lowered yourself back down with your face in the sheets facing joshua once again. he looked at you with a stare that was incomprehensible. was it lust? embarrassment? anger? probably all of the above, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was jeonghan filling you back up.

jeonghan started to make a snarky comment to joshua when you interrupted him.

“hannie p-please who fucking cares i need you to fuck me please please please!” you were on the brink of tears. so desperate for him, to feel his cock deep inside you again.

“oh someone’s needy hm? good girl asking so nicely.” his voice something carnal. he took barely two seconds to line himself up with your soaked, swollen, reddened and abused core.

you didn’t think he was holding back before but holy shit were you wrong. his hands were basically imbedded into your waist. his hips snapping with even more determination and vigor than before. it took no more than 20 seconds for him to get that knot forming in your tummy again.

“is this what you wanted, you fucking whore? such a whore for my cock aren’t you.” he growled. “tell me baby, has anyone ever fucked you this good?” he whined out, his own orgasm approaching.

you must’ve taken a millisecond too long to answer him because he harshly smacked your ass making you cry out in pain (in a good way of course). “answer me.”

“yes!” your voice coming out in a mix of whimpers and pure air. “no one c-can f-fuck… fuck me like you do hannie!”

“not even josh over here?”

your eyes had been shut since jeonghan started fucking you again… you forgot josh was in the room. when you opened them you were met with the sight of him shamelessly palming himself through his sweats. “especially not josh,” you managed to spit out rather clearly. it was a somewhat mean statement but the mother fucker was getting off to watching jeonghan literally prove that he can fuck you better than josh ever could’ve, so why not humiliate him a little more?

sure enough, josh groaned out in pleasure. sick.

“that’s fucking right.” jeonghan managed to pull out, flip you onto your back, and start fucking you again so fast you got dizzy. the new angle allowing him to hit a new spot, one that was bringing you closer to the edge, much faster than before.

“mmmmffff h-hannieee~” was all you could manage to get out, but he knew exactly what it meant.

“gonna make a mess all over my cock baby? hm? gonna show josh what a fucking idiot he is?” he whined once again. he moved his hand down and began rubbing circles on your clit, bringing you to your breaking point.

you turned into an illiterate wreck. somewhere laced in your desperate noises were traces of jeonghan’s name. you physically couldn’t bring yourself to unscrew your eyes to look at him. you knew he loved it when you made eye contact whenever you came undone for him, but you just couldn’t. you suddenly felt a soft hand gently grab your neck.

“i fucking love your face, y/n,” he whispered as his hips started to stutter. you managed to open your eyes to look at him right before he started to come undone himself, you still coming down from your own state of euphoria. when your eyes locked, he immediately crashed his lips into yours, his hand on your neck tightening as his hips thrusted into you one last time. you couldn’t help but clench around him when you felt his warm seed fill you up. his mouth fell open letting out a feral noise as you two lay forehead to forehead, jeonghan slowly moving himself in and out of you letting you milk his cock for all it’s worth. his hand that was around your neck moved up to cup your face instead, wiping your tears that you didn’t even realize had fallen from your eyes during all of… that.

“josh?” jeonghan’s voice was low, and he never broke eye contact with you. “get out.”

you heard josh shuffle out of the room shutting the door behind him. it was nice for it to just be the two of you again… not that you didn’t enjoy the game you two just played.

jeonghan’s eyes were piercing into yours with something different than you’d ever seen. it was a content look which you were used to but…

“i-“ he paused, scanning your eyes to see if he should even say such a foolish thing.

“you what, jeonghan?” you said delicately, running your fingers through your hair.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispered. he sunk his head down to the rook of your neck as if to hide. it was the most precious thing you’ve ever seen this boy do.

“jeonghan…” you shifted to grab his face and bring it back up to look at you. “i love you too.”

how were you two sharing the most soft, comforting moment with each other right after having sex that you felt would have the devil himself appalled?

“really?” his eyes lit up, a smile growing on his face. he showered every inch of your face in kisses as you giggled through every second of it. once he finally stopped you nodded silently with a soft smile plastered across your face.

most normal people in such a situation would be asking all sorts of questions, but you didn’t care to. you knew you guys would talk about it at the right time for both of you, that time just wasn’t now.

“BREAKFAST!!” mingyu yelled from the kitchen. you were barely managing to open your eyes as you heard footsteps running down the hall. for these men being well past their teenage years, you always found yourself thinking of them as boys. always so cheerful and full of energy, even first thing in the morning.

once you “came to” if you will, you realized you were being spooned by the boy that confessed his love for you last night… or early this morning. the moment he ripped you away from the table you’d lost track of all time.

you both were naked but you felt clean. you vaguely remember in your post-fucked-out state, that jeonghan had carried you to the bathroom with him to shower.

“hannie,” you spoke just above a whisper.

“hmmmmmm,” he groaned, pulling you closer to him.

“gyu just said breakfast is ready and.. i’m hungry.”

“i don’t blame you.” you could hear the smile on his face even tho your back was turned to him. his morning voice was husky, the sound of it immediately going to your core, but you were too hungry to do anything about it.

“shutup,” you giggled. “let’s get dressed.”

“ugggggh okay fine, fine.”

he let you slip out of his arms to sit on the edge of his bed before… attempting to get up. your legs were so physically weak, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand. in that moment you knew jeonghan was watching you because he bursted out laughing.

“oh i’m so sorry,” he sighed once he finished his laughing session.

“for laughing at the fact that i can’t stand? or for being the fucking reason that i can’t stand?” you jokingly scolded.

“both,” he shrugged with a smug smirk on his face before getting up and grabbing two pairs of briefs from his drawer, one for you and one for him. he put on a pair, then threw a baggy t-shirt on and called it good. “i hope you’re okay twinning with me,” he teased as he got on his knees to slide the underwear he grabbed for you onto your legs. once he got to your thighs you took over.

“i don’t mind in the slightest,” you gave him a cheeky smile. he shifted closer to you on his knees so he was between your legs, then gave you a tender kiss before he spoke again.

“good. now what shirt of mine do you want to wear, princess?”

you looked up at the ceiling, cartoonishly thinking even though you both knew what shirt you wanted to wear.

“maybe that really really baggy sweater with that ‘message of’ whatever on it?”

he gave you another kiss with a smile before moving to his closet. “message of ames it is, pretty girl.”

once he helped you put the sweatshirt on, you still sitting on the bed, he kneeled backwards in front of you so you could hop on his back.

“we were taking bets on if you two were gonna come down,” minghao deadpanned from the table, taking a bite of one of mingyu’s pancakes.

“the princess was hungry.” you lightly hit him upside the head before he carefully set you down right next to the chair he just pulled out for you. once you sat, he pushed you in.

minghao smiled at you. he spoke up once jeonghan walked into the kitchen to fetch your plates. “i’m glad he treats someone nicely.”

you two giggled together. “and i’m glad it’s me.”

“oh… something happened last night.” he paused with his forkful of hash browns in front of his face. “well, beside the obvious.”

your face grew hot. “ha, yeah you wouldn’t believe.”

“can’t wait to hear about it,” he whispered, then shoveling the hash browns into his mouth.

“hey,” jeonghan blurted setting your plate down in front of you. “you guys, where’s josh?” he asked casually as he sat with his own plate as if what happened last night just simply… didn’t happen. you could imagine he was hesitant to face you both.

but then…

“y/n! jeonghan!” josh yelled from his room. “what the fuck are these?!”

you and jeonghan slowly turned to look at each other, both wearing the words “oh fuck” on your faces without muttering a word. jeonghan shot out of his chair and ran up the stairs to save both of your asses.

you turned to your food, silently poking at a piece of your scrambled eggs. minghao leaned in close, so you turned to him. “what did he find?” he whispered.

as if on cue, mingyu ran over from the kitchen to lean his head in. you leaned close to the boys so you knew any lingering ears wouldn’t hear. “jeonghan threw my underwear in his room,” you whispered back.

minghao bursted out laughing, mingyu stood up dumbfounded. exaggerated shock displayed on his face. anyone else in the room who was trying to mind their own business was now staring.

“you guys are too fucking much,” minghao sighed while holding a smile on his face. mingyu silently kissed you on the top of your head before walking back into the kitchen.

“you have no idea,” you smiled back, taking a bite of your best friend’s homemade pancakes.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱‧₊˚

tag list: (i tagged everyone who reblogged the teaser) @jenoslutie @goblynnrockz @iluvhoshi @shinaely @squishysquishjimin @sana-is-ms-rmty @wonusfavgf @httpjeia @chanichanvhan @133456789000000000000 @4shypotato @meowwiie @lethia-killua @asyre @jeonghnie @starcandybby

#jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #hanniesluvr

227 notes · View notes

forhappysake · 21 hours

Text

Never Forget a Face

A/N - Why is titling fics so hard? I used a Hunger Games quote because it fit so well so lmk if you can pick it out. Nearly 5K words, not proofread.

Summary - After the end of a bloody case, Emily tasks a begrudging Spencer with checking in on the newbie. Warnings - Spencer x fem!reader, typical BAU-level violence, murder, kn!ves, season 12/13 spoilers, extensive handwashing (?), a bitter post-prison reid with a grumpy x sunshine plot

My hands are stained red.

That was your first coherent thought as you stared in the bathroom mirror. The fluorescent lighting cast a pale glow over your face, making you look more ghostly than you already did. Your once blue shirt was covered in splotches. Your hands, dangling over the sink, were the color of burnt rust.

As you turned on the faucet and applied soap to your hands, your brain replayed the events that brought you here.

This was only your second case with the team. Hell, it was only your fourth case with the bureau. All you wanted to do was fit in. You’d heard great things about the BAU: the highly decorated Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, the face of the FBI - Jennifer Jareau, and the sought-after genius of Dr. Spencer Reid.

The first case with the BAU had gone well. You’d done a lot of the grunt work, putting in an intense number of hours in a dingy police precinct pouring over paperwork with Dr. Reid, who kept telling you to call him Spencer. Despite this faux friendliness, you couldn’t help but get the feeling he was tired of working with you.

Not that you could blame him. You were, by all definitions, a newbie. He had over a decade of experience and a serious reputation. A genius to boot, his sighs and looks often made you feel like you were in his way more than you were actually helping. Hence why, when Emily had asked for two volunteers to tail a suspect for the day, you’d quickly volunteered to go with the charming Luke Alvez.

Six hours later, Luke, along with yourself, had tracked an unsub while he was taking his latest victim back to his home in a rural area. Back-up, which was supposed to be on the way, wouldn’t be there for at least twenty minutes. When the first blood-curdling scream rang out from the house, the two of you knew you had no choice but to act alone.

Luke went in through the front door, making his presence known as you tiptoed around the side of the house to enter undetected. When you found a cracked window, you were able to slip inside without much issue.

In that moment, you remembered hearing Luke attempting to talk down the unsub. You approached their voices, careful not to let anyone know you were inside.

“How do you think this is going to end?” Luke asked the unsub, his voice firm.

The unsub had laughed and the muffled cries of his victim could be heard from your spot. You tucked yourself quietly behind a hallway entrance into the room Luke was in. You peeked around the corner to let him know you were there. His only acknowledgment of you was a brief glance, but that was all you needed to know that he wanted you to stay in place.

“I think,” the unsub started, with more cries coming from his captive, “that she’ll probably die before this is all over.”

You tried to recall the profile. Emily’s voice replayed in your mind.

“He kills with a knife and dumps the body in a secondary location, meaning he gets the women alone and gets close to them before he kills them. Based on the demographics of this region, he’s probably a white man. Likely in his 30s. Attractive but single, most definitely living alone. That’s his selling point. That’s how he’s managed to lure all these women into his vehicle.”

Nothing stuck out to you about him. There was nothing you could think to do to help in this situation besides hide behind the wall. You were waiting for a signal from Luke or the sound of backup approaching.

Luke cleared his throat and you could picture him shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this, man. Let her go and I can help you.”

The unsub laughed again and you cringed. There was something so unsettling about his voice and his laughter.

The unsub started to speak, but his voice was cut off by the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. This was your moment.

You whirled around the corner, gun drawn. “FBI, don’t move,” you warned. The unsub turned to look at you. His cold blue eyes bore a hole in your head. A shiver ran through your spine. “Drop the knife.”

He appeared irritated, rolling his neck as if trying to work out a kink. He glanced down at his victim. Her eyes were wide and frantic, tears streaming down her face. She was bound and a piece of cloth was tied around her face as a makeshift gag. He pulled her up to his height by her hair, eliciting more cries.

“Well sweetheart, this isn’t how I pictured this ending for us. I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said as he raised the knife to her throat.

“Wait!” Luke shouted.

It was too late. What followed next was nothing short of chaos.

Luke let off two shots, both of which connected with the unsub. His body cascaded to the floor. You lunged forward at the poor victim. Her throat, now cut, was bleeding at an alarming rate. However, her eyes remained open and the gasps coming from her mouth told you she was still breathing.

You threw yourself on the floor next to her, removing the gag from her mouth and placing it over her neck as a makeshift tourniquet.

“Do you hear that?” you asked, the sirens were right outside the house. “Help is almost here, okay? You have to keep your eyes on me.” Her glassy eyes were locked on yours, but the panic was fading from them with the little life she had left. The cloth in your hands was soaked with blood and your hands were turning a deep shade of crimson.

You shook your head. “No, no. Come on. Look at me,” you tried to encourage her to hold on just for another moment.

In the midst of your mumbling, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around to see Luke crouched behind you.

“She’s gone, Y/N,” he said gently. His eyes were locked on her lifeless body. You furrowed your brow, denial coursing through your veins.

Just as you were about to protest, the EMTs burst through the door with Emily and Dr. Reid in tow. Luke pulled you out of the way as they tended to both the victim and the unsub.

The four of you watched helplessly from the corner of the room. You felt your body shake gently, adrenaline getting the best of you. You could feel Reid’s eyes on you. His judgement making you more anxious.

You watched as one of the EMTs working on the victim turned to look at you. He shook his head gently, a sign that she really was gone.

You'd never forget her face.

A sigh of defeat left your lips and tears welled up in your eyes. In a moment driven by pure emotion, you shot out of the house and back towards the SUV.

Luke sprinted out the front door after you. “Where are you going?” he shouted, clearly confused by your sudden burst of determination.

“Back to the hotel,” you said matter-of-factly, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car. He rushed over to the driver’s door, holding it open so you couldn’t slam it shut.

He looked incredulous. “And who am I supposed to ride with?”

You rolled your eyes. “Luke, two people just died and you’re worried about who your chauffeur is going to be.”

Luke seemed to get the message he pulled back from the door, allowing you to shut it. You started the SUV, cracking the window just enough to shout, “Catch a ride with Reid and Emily.”

You pulled out onto the highway, foot heavy on the pedal as adrenaline still run through you.

Nearly half an hour later and still covered in blood, you stumbled into the hotel lobby. The desk lady, panicked, quickly rushed in front of you. The lady, presumably Linda based on her nametag, asked you if she needed to call the police. You’d shown her your badge with a bitter laugh, explaining that you were the police. The smell of her floral perfume was making your head spin more than it already was. Thankfully, with a sympathetic smile, she’d moved out of your way and allowed you to proceed to your room.

Which was how you ended up here, trying to scrub blood off of your still-shaky hands. You weren’t sure how long you’d been at this, but you couldn’t quit now. The dark evidence was still embedded deep beneath your fingernails.

-SPENCER’S POV-

Walking into the house behind Emily, I could already see the mess that had unraveled. There was blood on the wall, where the unsub lay propped up but clearly dead as if he’d landed sitting up. There was blood on the floor, covering the lifeless body of the last victim.

And there was blood all over her, the new girl, who was standing in the corner. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and she looked like she could faint at any moment.

She was nice. Too innocent for the job, clearly. If I hadn’t been sure about that from the other case we worked together, it was evident now.

Emily and I walked over to the corner, standing beside Y/N and Luke as the EMTs worked on both the unsub and the victim on the other side of the room. Despite the gory scene before us, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off Y/N yet. Thoughts laced with sympathy crept into my mind and I resisted the urge to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder.

Just as I was about to do just that, the closest EMT turned to her and shook his head. The victim, as the unsub, was dead. She let out a sound that I could only describe as a shudder before she raced out the front door.

“What the hell?” Luke asked, following her out.

Emily sighed, staring at the two bodies before us as the EMTs packed up their things. “Kind of a harsh second case for the kid, huh?” she asked.

I thought for a moment and shrugged, pushing sympathy away. “It’s not like it gets any easier from here on out, she might as well get used to it now.” I turned and started to walk out of the house, just in time to watch the new girl whip the SUV out of the driveway and hightail it back towards town. Though I wasn’t looking at her, I felt Emily shoot me a look.

“You’d have never said a thing like that before you went away, Spencer,” she scolded.

I took a deep breath. She was probably right. “No, I wouldn’t have, but things are different now,” I said plainly.

I walked down the front porch steps and out on to the lawn where Luke was waiting for us, impatiently resting a hand on the handle of the SUV’s door.

“Where’s your ride?” I quipped sarcastically.

He shook his head. “Don’t start. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

Emily caught up to me, pulling the SUV keys out of her pocket and unlocking the door so Luke could climb inside. As he did, she turned to me.

“When we get back to the hotel, I want you to go check on Y/N.”

I felt my face contort in a scoff. “Why would I be the one to do that?”

“Because,” Emily said, staring at the SUV before us, “someone needs to.”

“So why don’t you?” I challenged, growing more exasperated by the second.

Emily snapped her head to the side, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “Spencer,” she said sharply. I looked at her, trying to read her microexpressions. “I worry about you. Do you get that?”

That wasn’t the reply I was expecting.

I averted my eyes to the ground, somewhat ashamed of my previous attitude. “Yeah, I know.”

“I want you to check on her because she needs someone who has seen bad things to explain to her that those bad things are survivable,” she started, eyes still locked on my face. I glanced up at her as she continued.

“And, I want you to check on her because I think it would be good for you,” she finished.

“Good for me?” I asked, with less attitude and more curiosity this time.

Emily sensed the shift in my demeanor and I could see her shoulders relax. “Yes, good for you. Ever since you came back, you never stay out after cases anymore. Remember how we all used to go out together? Have a couple drinks? Relax?”

I nodded because I did remember. Those were some of the best memories of my life.

“All you do anymore is go home or back to the hotels and hide in your room until the next morning, reading Vigotsky or Tarkovsky or whatever you do.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was reading the works of Dostoyevsky, so I let her continue uninterrupted.

“It’s time for you to do some socializing. I think talking about yourself might do you some good for once. Besides, Y/N really is a ray of sunshine once you get to know her. I think her company will be good for you.”

I thought about what she said for a moment. She wasn’t entirely wrong. “Alright,” I said, “I’ll stop by her room before I go to bed for the night.”

Satisfied with my answer, Emily proceeded to the SUV.

Soon enough, we were back at the hotel. I thought about how to proceed. Should I go to her room immediately? Should I wait and change out of my work clothes first?

Absolutely not. Talking is one thing. Wearing my pajamas in front of her? That’s too personal.

I decided to head straight to her room. Ripping the bandaid off seemed like the best option.

I strolled down the hall and stopped in front of her door. I placed three quick knocks on the door and waited. And waited. I knocked again. Nothing.

Maybe she’d gone out for the evening, I reasoned. Or, maybe she was asleep. Regardless, I was ready to turn and go back to my room when I heard the faintest sound of running water coming from inside.

My mind raced. She was surely just in the shower, right? Or maybe running a bath? The FBI agent in me freaked out. What if she’d went off the deep end and was trying to drown herself? Or what if-

I tried to run through my options, the first obvious one being to try the door handle, which was miraculously unlocked. Who the hell leaves their door unlocked in a cheap hotel like this?

“Y/N?” I called out as I stepped into the room. The bathroom door was wide open to the left of the main door I just entered, and I peered around the corner.

She stood before the sink, eyes locked on her hands which appeared to be scrubbed nearly raw. I walked inside, concern building by the moment. “What are you doing?” I asked.

She didn’t hear me - or she ignored me if she did. She continued scrubbing her hands diligently. I leaned forward to get a better look. A few red streaks ran off her hand and down the sink, but I wasn’t so sure what she was washing off was the victim’s blood anymore.

“Y/N, stop. You’re hurting yourself,” I scolded. Her motions continued. She seemed dazed and unaware of my presence. She was surely in some kind of shock.

As I stood behind her, I felt as though the scrubbing intensified. I made a snap decision. Stepping forward, I placed my arms on either side of her body, caging her in around the sink as I firmly grabbed her forearms and separated her hands.

She jumped violently, enough for me to release her arms from my grip and back away quickly.

“My god, Dr. Reid. How long have you been here?” she asked as her voice shook. She looked exhausted and her hands were bright red. Red lines where she’d repeatedly used her nails to scrape at the skin caught my eye. I pulled my gaze away from her hands, making eye contact with her for the first time. “I came to check on you, after everything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

She looked down at her hands, the realization of what she had done became apparent as she flexed her fingers and winced.

“Looks like I came at the right time,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her.

She shook her head incredulously before she began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Reid. I have no idea why I was doing that. You shouldn’t have had to-”

I shrugged. “It happens.”

Silence filled the room as I noticed she was still in her blood-soaked clothes. Thoughts whirled through my mind, but I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Words were pouring out of my mouth without my approval.

“Here’s what I purpose,” I said before I could stop myself. “Take a shower, get changed, and meet me in my room for a few minutes. I just want to talk to you about a some things.”

She stared at the floor. I almost thought she was going to say no.

“Okay,” she whispered.

I nodded, heading for the bathroom door. “Room 91A. And please, call me Spencer,” I stated. Not waiting for her response, I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked her hotel door on my way out.

-READER POV-

You felt like you were in trouble.

You know when you’re merely a child and you get in trouble in the middle of class? You know the feeling of your stomach sinking as you walk to the principal’s office?

That was the only way you could describe walking to Dr. Reid’s - Spencer’s - room.

After a shower that stung your hands and brought tears to your eyes, you slipped into some comfy clothes and wrapped gauze around the rawest parts of your palms, before heading to his room.

Room 91A. You tapped your knuckles on the door twice. You heard shuffling from inside the room. Spencer stood before you, also showered, also in his pajamas.

This caught you by surprise. He could tell by the way your eyebrows shot up at his appearance. “I figured we might as well be comfortable with one another,” he said before stepping out of the way. “Come in.”

You brushed past him as you walked inside. Though it was just a hotel room, something about the stack of books on the side table and paperwork scattered on the desk brought a small smile to your face.

One book in particular laid face up on the edge of the bed. “Dostoyevsky?” you asked.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your question. “Yes. Have you read his work?”

You nodded, glancing up at him as you ran your hand over the cover of the book, tracing the engraving on the cover of the antique copy. “Everybody knows Crime and Punishment, but I prefer White Nights.”

You’d caught him off guard. “I didn’t know you were interested in Russian literature,” he said, walking to the other side of the room and taking a seat in one of the two armchairs positioned in the corner, “or any literature, for that matter.”

You shrugged. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks. I’m not sure why you’d have any idea.”

His stare faltered, and you caught him averting his eyes to the floor as he leaned back in the chair. “I should have asked. I haven’t been very kind to you. I haven’t done a very good job of making you feel welcome here,” he started cautiously.

That caught your attention. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but your first response was to reassure him. “It’s no problem, Spencer. It’s been so busy that I haven’t had time to get to know anyone very well.” You perched yourself on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully.

“That isn’t true,” he said matter of factly.

“Excuse me?” you asked, genuinely confused as to if you heard him right.

Spencer cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs. His hands folded and he used them as a rest for his chin. You could see the gears turning in his head.

“I said that it isn’t true. You have gotten to know everyone quite well, from what I gather,” Spencer said.

Before you could respond, he started in again. “I’ve seen pictures of you with Luke and Penelope at the club after the last case. I know you went to lunch with Will and JJ. She says you’re fantastic with Henry and Michael. Tara told me you helped Rossi finish the thousand piece puzzle he’s had splayed out on his office table for two months. All this while Emily claims you’re a ray of sunshine.”

Your mouth had fallen open a bit in the midst of his confession. You tried to think of an appropriate response. “Well, yes. That’s all true. But I don’t expect you to go out of your way to get to know me. I’m a people person.” You pointed to the books on his side table. “You, on the other hand, seem to prefer quiet time alone. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The room was silent for a moment. The sound of Spencer’s foot tapping quietly against the floor kept the time. One, two, three…

“I didn’t used to be this way,” he said frankly.

You glanced at him, trying to read his expression. His face was stoic. He didn’t look particularly upset, though he surely wasn’t happy either. He ran a lone hand through his hair and brushed a few solitary curls from his eyes.

“I know,” you responded.

He furrowed his brow at you, confusion written all over his face. You rose from the bed and approached him before plopping down in the armchair next to his.

“You know how, for us normal people, we spend a few years in training before we actually get a real assignment?” you asked.

He nodded.

“I’ve been with the Bureau in that capacity going on four years,” you started, eyes locked on the wall across from you. “My third year, there were rumors about an FBI agent spending time in prison for some high-level crime. People theorized it was connected to drug running, treason, even murder.”

Spencer cringed.

“For the longest time, I thought it was a rumor. I forgot about it and I got an internship in Internal Affairs,” you continued. “One day, my boss handed me this huge file, full of reports going back over a decade.”

He was curious now, staring at you intensely as you did your best not to melt under his gaze.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, that was your file. One section was full of every report you’d ever written. The other section was what the Department of Justice had collected in an attempt to convict you in the fall.”

This was new information to Spencer, who felt himself let out a bitter laugh. You paused to look at him.

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised by that,” he said sourly. “I knew then they would want to be as far away from the case as possible. No wonder it was easier for them to try to keep me in there.”

You shrugged, continuing. “I guess Emily had called in a favor with Internal Affairs. I was tasked with finding proof of innocence.”

“And?” Spencer asked.

“I couldn’t find any,” you stated simply. He nodded. “But I never forgot the file, especially the pictures inside. I never forget a face. Reading through your life with the Bureau, seeing the sequence of ID images each year as you got older, maybe even colder. That stuck with me for some reason.”

He appeared intrigued and was clearly doing his best not to interrupt.

“When I woke up one morning and saw this huge CBS headline about the DOJ dropping the charges against a wrongly accused agent, I felt a strange kind of vindication,” you admitted. “Nine months later I got a call from Emily, asking me to come in for an interview. Two months later, now we’re here.”

“Now we’re here,” he repeated.

You cleared your throat. “What I didn’t bank on when I joined the BAU, was the same face from that file would be across from me at the table every day.”

You turned to him to find he was already looking at you, and you offered him a small smile. “All this to say,” you whispered, “I think you have every reason not to be friendly with the new hire.”

The room was silent once more, the two of you sneaking glances at each other. Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“Emily sent me to check on you because she thought it would be good for both of us,” he confessed. “She said you should see me as an example that people can get through bad things, and that I needed to get out of my head and into the real world.”

You were quiet for a moment before shifting in the chair. You thought of everything you’d seen over the last twelve hours.

“I never forget a face,” you whispered again, thinking back to the victim on the floor. Her glassy eyes staring up at your own.

Spencer nodded. “Me either.”

“So how do you do it?” you asked him.

He turned to you. You swore you could see tears forming in his eyes.

“I find that there's always that little moment right when you wake up in the morning, when everything's good, because your mind has temporarily forgotten the bad stuff.”

You smiled as he continued. “At night, when I can’t sleep, I make a list in my head of all the good things I've seen someone do. Every little thing I can remember. It's like a game.”

You tried to think about every good thing you’d ever seen someone do and tears welled in your eyes. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you said.

“It works sometimes,” Spencer smiled. He moved forward, placing a hand on your knee. You looked up at him. The two of you stared at each other.

“You have to know that you’ll never fully forget these things, but we get through it as a team,” he finished.

The tears welled up in your eyes spilled over, and you noticed that a few of his own had to. The hand on your knee moved up, wiping the fallen tears from your cheeks.

After a moment of letting the tears dry, you rose from the chair. “I really appreciate this, Spencer. I’m sorry that you had to go out of your way to help me, but I am very grateful.”

He stood, towering over you. “It’s not a problem. I enjoyed talking to you.”

“I enjoyed talking to you too,” you said with a smile. You stood next to him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his close proximity before you snapped out of it. “Well, I should probably go back to my room and let you get back to your work.”

You turned from him and walked towards the door, pausing only when you heard his voice call after you.

“Y/N,” he said, taking a few steps in your direction to where you’d crossed the room.

“Yeah, Spencer?” you said, turning to face him.

He faltered, his eyes finding the floor again. “I just,” Spencer stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his cool. “I was wondering if you wanted to stay. Stay and talk, of course. I-” he paused a moment more. Spencer took a deep breath. “I think Emily was right. I do enjoy your company and I’d like you to stay for a while,” he said firmly.

You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. Spencer saw it, too, quickly rushing to give you an out.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he rushed. His cheeks burned red.

“No, I don’t have to,” you said. “But I’d like to.”

You saw his shoulders relax as the tension left his body.

“Great,” Spencer nodded. He sounded relieved.

You walked over to the armchair, plopping back down next to him. “Right, so,” you started, “What’s your topic of choice, Spence?”

The use of his nickname brought the blush back to his cheeks as he scurried back into the chair next to you.

He glanced at the books on the side table, the topic of conversation coming to him quickly. “Tell me,” Spencer started, “What resonates with you about the White Lady?”

You smiled before diving into a summary that not only analyzed the text but connected it to your own life. You thought your heart skipped a beat when you caught a glimpse of Spencer smiling warmly at you as you rambled.

It was a long, interesting, conversation-filled night.

200 notes · View notes

enreveriee · 3 days

Text

. , lilac , p.js (☂️)

IN WHICH: you liked jay a lot, but your innocent crush soon spiraled into an obsession, blurring the line between fantasy and reality, as your thoughts twisted into something darker than you expected. GENRE: fluff, slightly dark (?). WARNING(S): obsession, stalking, mentions of accident, kissing, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything. WORD COUNT: 7.8k

LIKE THE FLOATING CLOUD — Changing schools wasn’t on your wishlist, but here you were. It had been a long time since you’d recovered from the accident, and life had thrown you yet another curveball—starting over in a new place. Just weeks ago, you'd woken up from a coma, expecting some form of respite from life’s relentless challenges. But the world doesn’t pause, does it? You were thrust into yet another whirlwind, this time, school. New faces, new halls, and new pressures to bear.

The morning sunlight gleamed off the freshly polished windows of the sprawling campus, casting reflections that danced across the pavement. The building loomed before you—its modern glass façade glimmering in stark contrast to the worn, familiar bricks of your old school. You stopped for a moment, taking in its sheer size. “Damn,” you muttered under your breath, barely aware of the words slipping from your mouth. “They have a better infrastructure than my previous school.”

Stepping inside, the scent of fresh paint and newly waxed floors hit you, a stark reminder of just how new everything was. The halls were alive with the buzz of students rushing to get to their first classes. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked against the tile floors, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. You watched them—groups of friends laughing, others buried in their phones or textbooks, weaving through the maze of hallways like they’d been doing it forever.

It felt strange, seeing all this after months confined to the stillness of a hospital bed. A stark contrast to the sterile walls and cold, white lights you had grown so familiar with. The vibrant chaos of school was both overwhelming and comforting in a way. You stood there for a moment, just observing, soaking in the life you’d almost forgotten. The sight of students hurrying to their classes, backpacks bouncing against their shoulders, gave you a sense of normalcy. The halls were bright, lined with posters of school events, sports team victories, and upcoming dances—everything you’d missed out on for what felt like a lifetime.

You clutched the straps of your bag a little tighter, pulling it further up your shoulder, almost as if it would anchor you in this unfamiliar place. You could feel the faintest bit of nervous energy rising within you, the kind that makes your heart beat just a little faster. But you weren’t going to let it overwhelm you. Not today.

As you passed by a few students gathered in the corridor, you could hear bits of their conversation. “Did you finish the homework for Mr. Park's class?” one asked, flipping through her notebook. The other girl nodded, her head buried in a thick textbook. You glanced at them, envy prickling the edges of your mind. They belonged here, and you… well, you were still finding your place.

“Alright,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “New school, new start.” With one last glance at the crowded hallway, you made your way toward your first class, determined to make this day yours, no matter how alien everything felt.

HELLO, HELLO LIKE A PETAL — Not even a week into your new school, you saw him for the first time—the class president. You didn’t know his name yet, but something about him drew your attention. He moved with quiet confidence, guiding students through their doubts with ease, his voice calm, yet commanding. His presence was magnetic, the way he gestured with his hands as he explained a complex problem, or the soft smile he gave when someone finally understood.

“Do you like him?” Semi, the girl sitting next to you, nudged your arm gently, her teasing grin barely concealed behind her hand. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the heat creeping up your neck. How could you like someone this early? It was ridiculous.

“I’ve never even seen him before today,” you muttered, pretending to focus on the scribbles in your notebook, though the lines blurred together as your thoughts wandered. “I don’t like him… not yet, at least.” You added a nervous chuckle, but your eyes refused to stray from him.

It wasn’t until he glanced back—straight at you—that your heart betrayed you, hammering against your chest as if it had been caught in the act. He walked over, each step deliberate, his posture straight and assured. You could feel Semi's gaze burning into the side of your face, her amusement at your sudden silence barely restrained.

“You haven’t submitted your assignment yet,” he said, his tone polite but firm, snapping you out of your daze. His eyes were kind, though, like he didn’t even notice the way your hands fumbled nervously with your pen as you nodded, barely able to form words.

“I’ll, uh, get that to you… soon,” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself. Of course, a guy like him wouldn’t even blink in your direction beyond official school matters. He was the class president, for crying out loud—probably too busy managing a thousand other things to even notice you.

As he turned to walk away, Semi was quick to jump in with a teasing whisper, “Girl, you’re down bad.” She let out a soft snicker as you glared at her, your heart still racing from the brief encounter.

Your eyes followed him despite yourself, as if they couldn’t tear away from the sight of him—his tall figure moving with that same effortless grace. It was just a simple conversation, nothing more than a sentence or two exchanged. But it left a mark, one that you knew would linger. Something about him seemed like a beacon, and you weren’t ready to look away.

“Well, that’s one way to make an impression,” you murmured to yourself, sighing quietly. It was ridiculous how so little could feel like so much.

LIKE THE SPRING BREEZE — You were still new at school, trying to adjust to the routine, but at least you had made one friend—Semi. She was your lifeline in this sea of unfamiliar faces, and with her by your side, school didn’t seem as daunting anymore. And then, there was Jay. You’d finally learned his name, not that it had been hard. He was popular, almost too popular.

One search of his Instagram, and you were greeted with hundreds of likes and comments from not just your school but people outside as well. He had that effortless charm, the kind that made people gravitate toward him. Maybe that was why you were crushing on him so hard—or maybe it was the way his smile seemed to light up the hallway whenever he passed by.

You found yourself scrolling through his feed late at night, learning everything you could without actually knowing him. You knew when his birthday was, how he liked his coffee, and what his favorite band was. And today, you decided to make a move, something small but hopefully memorable. You bought him a pastry, a cute little cupcake from the bakery down the street, wrapped it in a box with a neat little bow, and headed straight for his locker before school started.

Standing in front of his locker, you took a deep breath, placing the box inside. The nerves were eating you alive, but you didn’t want to back out now. Just as you turned around to leave, you froze. There he was. Jay, standing right behind you, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion.

His voice broke the silence. “What are you doing?” He asked, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the box. The contact sent a jolt up your spine, making your heart race even faster.

Your mouth went dry, but you managed to stammer out, “It’s your birthday, right? I, uh... got you these.” You held out the cupcake, your smile shaky as you tried to mask how flustered you were.

Jay blinked, glancing between you and the cupcake before offering a polite smile. “Thanks, but... do I know you?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You felt your heart drop into your stomach, the awkwardness thick in the air. He didn’t even know you? All this time, you’d been working up the courage to talk to him, and he didn’t even recognize you. Ouch. You forced a smile, trying to save face, but the sting of embarrassment was hard to shake off.

“We’re in the same class. I’m the new student,” you muttered, your voice a little quieter, hoping this wouldn’t be as humiliating as it felt.

Jay’s eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. “Oh, right. I must’ve forgotten. Sorry about that.” He gave you another smile, the kind that was polite but distant. “Thanks for this.” He held up the box, gave you a nod, and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there with your pride in pieces.

You couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that escaped your lips as you watched him go. “Such a bastard,” you mumbled under your breath, though there wasn’t any real anger behind it. Just exasperation. Despite the awkwardness, you still found yourself drawn to him. How could you not? The way he walked, the way his shoulders moved with an effortless swagger—there was something about him that just pulled you in.

But then again, you weren’t the only one. You’d seen the way other girls looked at him, the way they’d flock to him like moths to a flame. You were just another admirer in a sea of them. And yet, here you were, feeling like this tiny interaction, awkward as it was, was something special. Maybe it was your first real conversation with him, but it was something.

LOVE RESEMBLES MISTY DREAMS — Love, for you, felt like one of those foggy dreams you have just before waking up—the kind where everything is hazy, but you can still remember the emotions. It was no longer just a feeling but a reality you crafted for yourself. Everything was deliberate, including the way you “accidentally” bumped into Jay in the hallways or “coincidentally” ended up in places where he usually went after school. Some might call it stalking, but you thought of it as strategic planning. After all, you just wanted to talk to him—get to know him.

And then, one day, you got your golden opportunity. How? You joined the History Club. You absolutely loathed history. Memorizing dates, names, and ancient events was the last thing you wanted to do, but none of that mattered when Jay was the club leader. You’d force yourself to endure it, just for a few moments with him.

Today was one of those long club meetings, the kind that dragged on forever as Jay led the discussion while you sat across the room, your eyes barely leaving him. The topic was something about ancient dynasties—honestly, you weren’t paying attention. Instead, you had focused on making your notes look as neat and perfect as possible, hoping to catch his eye with the colorful highlighters and meticulous doodles. When you finished, you slid over to where he was sitting, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Jay, how does this look?” you asked, handing over your notebook with a hopeful smile.

Jay barely glanced at the notes before his brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s... nice. But, um, you shouldn’t have used so many highlighters. It’s kinda hard to read with all the colors.” His tone was polite, but it still stung a little. Semi, who was sitting beside you, covered her mouth to hide her laughter, shaking her head as she continued working on her own notes.

“Oh... okay.” You tried not to let your disappointment show, but it was hard. Your enthusiasm had deflated like a balloon, and the frown tugging at your lips was a clear giveaway. Trying to keep your cool, you casually pulled out a small, wrapped box from your bag and slid it toward him, as if this were a completely normal thing to do.

Semi’s eyes widened, her shock evident. She was always amused by how bold you were when it came to Jay, but this—this was a new level. Jay blinked in confusion, his gaze flickering between you and the box now in front of him.

“What’s this for?” he asked, a small crease forming on his forehead. He picked up the box, turning it over in his hands as if trying to figure out why you’d given it to him.

You swallowed nervously. “I, uh, made some cookies for you.”

There. You said it. No going back now. You could practically hear Semi holding back her laugh, but you didn’t dare look at her. Your eyes were glued to Jay, waiting for his reaction. He stared at the box for a moment, looking almost... awkward. His smile was tight, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the situation.

“Oh... thanks,” he said, his voice uncertain, like he was trying to be nice but wasn’t sure how to accept this gesture. He shifted his weight, glancing around the room as if searching for an escape route, and that small gesture hit you harder than you expected.

Your heart sank. The realization washed over you like a cold wave—he wasn’t interested. He probably had girls giving him gifts all the time, and you were just another admirer in the crowd. The worst part? He was too polite to brush you off outright, which only made you feel worse. The room began to clear out, and soon, it was just the two of you left, the silence hanging heavy between you.

You fiddled with the edge of your notebook, finally breaking the quiet with a question you dreaded asking but couldn’t keep inside any longer. “Do I... do I annoy you?”

Jay’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes wide with surprise. “What? No! Of course not.”

But you could tell from the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He was trying to be kind, but his discomfort was impossible to ignore. You forced a smile, but the hurt still crept into your voice.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, waving it off as if it didn’t matter. As if your heart wasn’t breaking a little.

Jay hesitated, his fingers tightening around the box of cookies you had given him. He looked almost guilty now, as if he knew how much his reaction had affected you. Without saying anything, he opened the box and took one of the heart-shaped cookies, biting into it quietly. You watched as he chewed slowly, his gaze drifting to the floor.

The silence that followed felt heavy, awkward, and filled with all the unsaid things that lingered in the air between you. It wasn’t much, but seeing him eat the cookies you made—even though you knew they weren’t going to change anything—was enough to make you feel a small flicker of hope again, even if just for a moment.

I LIKE THE SCENT OF TODAY — As if life had its own twisted way of pulling strings, you eventually grew closer to Jay—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Bonding over history wasn’t something you ever anticipated, but somehow, there you were. It had been five months. Five months of stolen glances, hushed conversations, and countless moments where you felt your heart skip a beat just from being near him.

Five months of wondering why Jay didn’t push you away. Despite knowing your feelings, he had never told you to stop. Sure, you had followed him home once or twice—okay, maybe more than once. But the strange thing was, he noticed. He noticed and he never did anything to stop you. Instead, he fed your one-sided affection with smiles that lingered a bit too long and conversations that bordered on intimate. It confused you. Sometimes you wondered why he acted as if he was leading you on, yet at other times, it felt like he was just being kind out of some sort of obligation.

You remembered one afternoon clearly. It was just the two of you in the History Club room. The other members had gone out for a break, and the quiet settled between you like a soft, suffocating blanket. Jay was engrossed in some text about ancient civilizations, flipping through the pages with a look of calm concentration. You, on the other hand, couldn’t focus. Your eyes kept drifting toward him, your mind racing with the questions you had been holding in for weeks.

“Jay? Stop talking about historical monuments,” you muttered softly, breaking the silence. You’d lost track of how long he’d been going on about some ancient ruin. Normally, you’d let him talk—it was one of the things you liked about him. But today was different. There was something bubbling inside you, a feeling that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Jay blinked, startled by your interruption. He looked up from his book, his dark eyes meeting yours with a curious glint. “Oh?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. He set the book aside, leaning back in his chair, and raised an eyebrow. “Then, what do you want to talk about?”

Before you could respond, he casually reached out, gripping the arm of your chair and pulling it closer to his. The sudden movement caught you off guard, and now your knees almost brushed his. You felt a blush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in your chest as you looked down, avoiding his gaze.

But you had to ask. You had to know. Swallowing your nerves, you looked back up at him, eyes searching his for some kind of answer. “Jay? Why are you doing this?”

He frowned, clearly not understanding what you meant. “Doing what?” he asked, his tone casual, but you could tell he was puzzled. His gaze flickered to the small, wrapped gift boxes and notes that littered his desk—tokens of affection from his admirers, yourself included. You watched his eyes settle on the trinkets, as if they might hold the answer.

You followed his gaze, feeling a knot of frustration tightening in your chest. “Accepting my gifts, I mean… and talking to me,” you clarified, your voice quieter now, but firm. You hated the way your heart felt heavy, as if you were bracing for a truth you didn’t want to hear. “Why do you talk to me like this? Why do you make me feel like there’s something between us?”

Jay seemed taken aback by your bluntness. He glanced back at you, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips as he looked away again, his fingers tracing the edge of the nearest gift box. “Oh, that… they were nice,” he muttered after a moment, his tone flat.

Nice? That was it? You felt the sting of his words, the casual way he dismissed what meant so much to you. “That’s the only reason?” you asked, frowning as you leaned back slightly, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in.

“Yeah.” His response came without hesitation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your frustration simmered, but more than that, there was a growing ache in your chest. How could he be so oblivious? You stood up, pushing your chair back with a scrape that echoed through the empty room. “Jay, don’t you think someone might not give this kind of stuff to just a friend?” You didn’t care if you sounded angry now—hell, you were angry. Angry, hurt, and confused.

Jay met your gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn’t flinch. “I know.”

You blinked, your frown deepening. “You know?” The words felt like a punch, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Then why are you leading me on?”

Jay lowered his head, his hair falling slightly over his eyes as he let out another sigh. His voice was quieter when he spoke, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I know that you like me,” he admitted. “But… I don’t think I want to love anyone anytime soon.”

You froze, the air between you thick with unsaid words. The way he said it was like a door closing—a gentle but firm rejection. He wasn’t even trying to keep you there, to stop you from walking out. He just sat there, looking down, his hands resting on the table as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest, but then curiosity took over. “Why not?” you asked, stepping closer. The hurt was still there, but now there was something else—an ache to understand. “Why don’t you want to love someone?”

Jay looked up, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before they darted away again. He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. “I’m afraid of loving someone… and getting hurt.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. There was a vulnerability in his tone that made you hesitate, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you took a deep breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you stepped even closer, a sudden idea forming in your mind.

“Then…” You paused, feeling the weight of your words. “How about you date me until graduation? And once the spring comes, we’ll part ways.” You smiled softly, the sadness lingering behind it as you met his eyes again. “Love me only until this spring.”

Jay’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by your proposal. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the way he wanted to say no but hesitated. He looked down at the pile of gifts again, his fingers brushing the edge of one of the boxes before he finally sighed, shaking his head softly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he murmured, his voice unsure.

You bit your lip, stepping even closer. “Oh, c’mon! Please?” You knew how desperate you sounded, how much like a lovestruck fool you must’ve appeared. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t let this chance slip away—not when you were this close.

Jay looked up at you, really looked at you this time. His eyes searched yours for something, and after a long pause, he let out a resigned sigh. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice soft but clear. “I’ll love you… only until this spring.”

And as he spoke, he gazed at you, his expression unreadable as his eyes flickered to the gifts on his desk—reminders of the fleeting nature of the affection people offered him. You couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, this was the start of something that could last longer than a single season.

LOVE ME ONLY ‘TIL THIS SPRING — Spring had barely begun to unfurl its vibrant colors, but you already felt the weight of an unspoken clock ticking down. Two months remained until graduation, and with it, the end of your deal with Jay—no strings, no lasting attachments, just a fleeting experience of dating. But for you, it was never just that. You had been attached long before this "spring romance" ever started, yet here you were, clinging to his arm like a lifeline, trying to savor each moment despite the cold reality of an expiration date.

Walking down the crowded hallway, your grip on his arm tightened. The judgmental glances from other students followed you both, sharp and filled with disdain, as though they couldn't understand why Jay, the untouchable, mysterious boy, was with you. You knew the looks well—they stung, but they didn’t surprise you. This whole thing was supposed to be temporary, just a silly experiment. Yet, the knot in your chest told a different story. You were already in too deep.

Jay, on the other hand, remained indifferent. His usual stoic expression hadn't changed much since the two of you began this strange arrangement. He didn't stop you from holding his hand, from clinging to his arm, but he didn’t make any gestures that suggested anything deeper. He had agreed to this—dating until spring, no more, no less—but you couldn’t help but wonder: Was this all just a façade?

“Don’t you dare hurt her.” Semi, your friend, shot Jay a warning glance as the two of you passed by her near the lockers. The sharpness in her voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. You almost winced at her words, remembering how you’d bragged about dating Jay. What would she say if she knew this was all temporary?

Jay glanced down at you, sensing your discomfort, and squeezed your hand gently. It was a small gesture, but one that momentarily eased your embarrassment. For a second, you allowed yourself to imagine that this wasn’t just for show, that maybe—just maybe—he felt something too.

The walk home after school was quiet, as usual. Jay walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, while you clutched your bag, the silence between you growing heavier with each step. Even though you had been dating for a month, it was nothing like the relationships you’d imagined. There were no sweet goodnight texts, no surprise visits, no real affection beyond holding hands. He never let you into his world—into his home or his heart.

Finally, when you reached the school gates, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. The words spilled out before you could stop them.

“Jay...” You called his name softly, biting your lip, your hand clutching your bag tighter.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Mm?” was all he hummed in response, his voice low and casual.

You felt your heart race, unsure if you were being too bold or foolish, but you pressed on. “Can you kiss me?” The words came out rushed, your face heating up instantly. You almost couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “I mean—I'm your girlfriend, right... So, can you kiss me? A peck is fine too.”

Jay froze, blinking in surprise. His eyes widened slightly as if he hadn’t expected such a request from you. “Huh?” He coughed, nearly choking on his breath, clearly caught off guard by your sudden boldness. The corner of his lips twitched as though he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be serious.

You immediately regretted it, feeling your face burn even more. The silence that followed felt agonizing. You could practically hear your own heart pounding in your chest. “Nevermind,” you mumbled, waving it off as you turned away, your shoulders slumping in defeat. Why did I say that? Embarrassment flooded through you, and you started to walk ahead, putting distance between the two of you.

But then, before you could take more than two steps, you felt a sudden tug on your wrist. Jay had grabbed you from behind, his hand firm yet gentle as he pulled you back toward him. You barely had time to turn around before he was there—his lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss was sudden, forceful, and filled with an intensity you hadn’t anticipated. His lips were soft, warm against yours, but there was something almost desperate in the way he kissed you, as if he was letting out something he had been holding back for too long. You were momentarily stunned, eyes wide in shock, but your body responded instinctively, your hands coming up to gently hold onto his shirt for support.

Jay's other hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch delicate but firm, pulling you closer as though he needed to feel your presence, to make the moment real. The world around you seemed to blur, the whispers of students, the hum of cars in the distance—all of it faded as the kiss deepened. You could feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest, but it wasn’t just because of the kiss—it was the realization that, in this brief moment, something shifted. This wasn’t the kiss of someone merely fulfilling a temporary deal.

After what felt like an eternity, Jay slowly pulled back, his breath warm against your lips. He gazed down at you, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. His hand lingered on your wrist for a second longer, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“I... I didn’t expect that,” you breathed out, still dazed from the kiss, your cheeks flushed as you stared up at him.

Jay didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes searching yours, as if debating whether to speak or to leave things unsaid. Finally, he muttered, “You asked for it.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

He shrugged, his lips quirking up in a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe I wanted to.” His voice was low, almost as if he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

For a moment, you stood there, staring at each other, the weight of the unspoken emotions between you heavy in the air. Maybe this spring wasn’t just a fleeting experience. Maybe, just maybe, something real was growing between the two of you. But neither of you dared to say it aloud.

THE DAY THE LILAC FLOWERS FALL — The weekend sun shone brightly, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets as you wandered aimlessly with Semi by your side. It was a rare day of freedom, a chance to escape from the chaos of school and simply relax. Laughter filled the air as the two of you shared stories and jokes, weaving through the crowd in search of the next spot to explore.

But then, everything shifted in an instant.

Distracted by Semi's teasing, you hadn’t noticed the tall figure walking toward you until it was too late. Your shoulder brushed against his, and before you knew it, the man was glaring down at you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Sorry,” you muttered quickly, lowering your head in hopes that your apology would be enough to diffuse the situation.

It wasn’t.

“Girls like you always do this.” His voice was a low, menacing growl, filled with disdain. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he suddenly reached out, grabbing your wrists with a force that made you wince. The sudden, painful grip startled you, your breath catching in your throat as fear surged through your veins.

Semi, ever the protective friend, immediately rushed forward. “Hey, let go of her!” she demanded, her voice firm despite the obvious tension. But even she hesitated slightly, clearly aware of how much stronger the guy was.

You struggled against his hold, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened, making you feel more trapped with each passing second. Panic set in, and just as you were about to call out for help, a blur of movement caught your eye.

A sharp, powerful punch connected with the man’s face, and the sound echoed in your ears, causing everyone around to freeze. You gasped as you realized who had thrown the punch—Jay.

Your eyes widened as you watched in stunned silence. Jay had appeared out of nowhere, and now, he was standing protectively in front of you, his fists clenched and his expression dark, far more intense than you’d ever seen before. The guy stumbled back, groaning in pain, but Jay wasn’t done. He lunged forward, landing another punch, and then another, each hit more brutal than the last.

“Jay, stop!” you cried out, rushing toward him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You had never seen him like this before, this fierce and angry. He was relentless, and the guy, now bleeding and terrified, tried to shield himself, but Jay didn’t let up.

You reached out, grabbing onto Jay’s arm from behind, desperately trying to pull him away. “Jay, please!” you pleaded, your voice shaky. “That’s enough. Please…”

At your touch, Jay finally froze. His body stiffened as if suddenly aware of what he had done. The guy on the receiving end of his punches scrambled to his feet and fled, not daring to look back, his face bloodied and bruised. You stood there, still gripping Jay’s arm, your breath shaky as you tried to process what had just happened.

Before you could say anything else, Jay turned toward you. In an instant, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. The suddenness of it made your heart skip a beat. His embrace was tight, protective, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the world. One of his hands gently stroked your hair, his touch surprisingly tender considering the fury that had consumed him moments before.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” he muttered, his voice low and filled with concern as he buried his face into your hair, breathing deeply as if needing to calm himself down.

You stood there in his arms, completely speechless. This wasn’t the Jay you were used to—the distant, indifferent guy who rarely showed emotion. This was different. The way he held you, the way he had rushed to your side without hesitation… it felt real, it felt genuine. For the first time, he felt like a real boyfriend, and the warmth that spread through you at that realization was almost overwhelming.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around him in return, hugging him tightly. His scent, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it all made you feel safe, like nothing in the world could hurt you as long as he was there. You wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But then, of course, Semi broke the silence with a loud, exaggerated cough. You could hear the barely-contained giggles bubbling up in her throat, and when you looked over, she was smirking, clearly enjoying the display of "live romance" that had unfolded before her eyes.

You felt a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your cheeks heating up as you quickly pulled away from Jay’s embrace, though part of you didn’t really want to let go. Jay cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he glanced between you and Semi.

“Um…” you started, but you weren’t even sure what to say. How could you even begin to explain all of this?

Semi, however, wasn’t going to let you off that easily. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Well, that was… something,” she teased, folding her arms across her chest. “Didn’t know Jay had it in him to be a knight in shining armor.”

Jay rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t trying to be anything,” he muttered under his breath, but his hand found its way to yours again, fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt so natural, it made your heart flutter.

“You definitely looked the part,” Semi added, winking at you. “Seriously though, you okay? That guy was a creep.”

You nodded, still a little shaken but grateful. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to Jay.” You glanced up at him, unable to hide the soft smile on your face. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Good,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer. There was something in his gaze, something unspoken that made you wonder if this moment had changed things between you two—if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just for show anymore.

CLIMAX OF OUR WHITE SPRING DAYS — Graduation day had arrived like a ticking clock you couldn’t silence. The weight of finality pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You stood in the sea of students, watching the world pass by in slow motion as the sun bathed everything in warm light, but inside, you felt cold.

Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your gown as you glanced over at him—Jay—standing with his friends, laughing about something that seemed distant and unreachable. The end of your three-month dating experiment loomed over you like a dark cloud. It wasn’t just the end of school. It was the end of him, of being close to him, even if it was just pretend.

“Go talk to him.” Semi’s voice broke through the haze as she nudged you, her eyes filled with that encouraging spark she always had. But you didn’t move. How could you? You weren’t his girlfriend anymore, not even in the superficial way you'd been for these past few months.

You had no right to approach him.

Your chest tightened as you tried to steady your breath, but your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to him once more. The laughter, the movement, the noise—it all blurred, dimming around the edges until it seemed like everyone was fading away, disappearing like smoke in the wind. And then there was just him.

Only him.

The background turned white, stark and empty. The vividness of the graduation, the bright colors of everyone’s robes and caps, the cheerful chaos—all of it vanished, leaving you standing in this surreal silence.

Jay stood alone now, the only one left in this strange world that suddenly felt more dream than reality. He started walking toward you, every step deliberate, but there was something different—something ethereal.

You blinked, unsure of what you were seeing. There was a faint shimmer behind him, something soft and luminous, like wings. Wings? You blinked again, and there they were, delicate and translucent, fluttering gently with each step he took. His face was calm, serene, almost unrecognizable from the boy you'd dated. He was... otherworldly.

Your heart pounded in your chest, confusion twisting through you. “What…?” you muttered to yourself, trying to make sense of it, but nothing made sense anymore.

Jay stopped in front of you, his gaze soft and yet so intense, locking onto yours with an emotion you couldn’t place. Slowly, as if afraid he might shatter the moment, he reached up and grazed his fingers across your cheek, his touch light as a feather.

“You need to wake up now,” he whispered, his voice deeper, gentler than you'd ever heard before. “It’s been too long since you’ve been in the dark.”

His words cut through you, leaving you more confused than ever. Wake up? What did that mean? What darkness was he talking about?

You flinched at his touch, stepping back as your breath hitched. “What are you saying?” The tremor in your voice betrayed your panic. You looked around, desperate to find something familiar, something to cling to. But all you could see was the white, stretching endlessly around you. You couldn’t make sense of anything. Nothing was real.

Your hands flew to your head as a sudden pain pulsed in your temples. Flashes of light blinked before your eyes—images you couldn’t fully grasp, memories or maybe dreams, flashing too fast for you to catch. You dropped to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you, confusion and frustration mixing until you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t—” Your voice cracked as you clawed at the air, scratching your head as if trying to tear away the confusion. “What’s happening?”

The ground felt soft beneath you, like clouds, but the pressure in your chest grew tighter, heavier, as if the world itself was closing in.

Jay knelt down beside you, his movements slow and calm, his eyes filled with something deep, something almost tender. He reached for you again, but you flinched, not wanting to feel the foreignness of his touch.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly, his voice like a lullaby, as his hand hovered over your head. He didn't push. He simply waited, his presence both grounding and terrifying at once. You wanted to push him away, to demand answers, but at the same time, a strange comfort wrapped around you, like a blanket in the middle of a storm.

The world flickered around you, the white light growing brighter, almost blinding.

Jay leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “It’s time to say goodnight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could protest, before you could even think, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips gentle and reassuring.

And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, the world around you shifted. The soft white light began to darken, curling at the edges, growing darker and darker until it swallowed everything whole. The last thing you felt was Jay’s warmth before it, too, faded into the blackness. You were alone.

Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes as the darkness wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, pulling you under.

THE END OF LILAC SPRING — The world felt like it was spinning, even though you were lying still. Blinding light from the overhead lamp above your hospital bed seeped into your barely-open eyes, burning your retinas. The persistent beep of a heart monitor echoed in the room, in time with the erratic pounding of your heart. But the voice that broke through it all— Semi's voice—was frantic, pulling you back to the surface.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Your eyelids fluttered open fully, only to meet the concerned face of your best friend, Semi. Her hands hovered just above your blanket-covered arms, as if afraid to touch you. Her wide eyes, framed by disheveled strands of hair, looked both relieved and shaken. This wasn’t the Semi you’d known for years. There was something different about her—something less familiar, almost like she was a stranger. And that strange feeling twisted in your chest like a knife.

You blinked, trying to adjust to the light, to the sudden rush of sensations hitting you all at once—the smell of antiseptic, the sound of footsteps outside the door, the faint chatter of doctors and nurses.

But none of that mattered. Where was Jay?

“W-where’s Jay?” you gasped out, sitting up too quickly, causing a sharp tug on the tubes attached to your arms. You barely registered the IV drip dangling beside you or the oxygen clip on your finger. Your mind was racing, your heart thundering against your ribcage as you searched the sterile, white room. He had to be here. He always was.

Semi blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Jay?” she echoed, her voice hesitant as she sat down on the chair beside your hospital bed, shifting uncomfortably. You could see the confusion written all over her face, like she was trying to solve a puzzle but missing the pieces.

Your heart lurched. Why wasn’t she answering? Why wasn’t he here?

“Jay!” you nearly shouted this time, the panic rising in your throat, making your voice crack. “The class leader! He was in the history club too—he was my boyfriend!” Your words tumbled out, desperate, almost pleading with her to remember.

But Semi’s expression only grew more puzzled, her lips parting slightly as if trying to find the right words. She didn’t know him.

“There’s no Jay,” she said, her voice flat, her eyes searching yours as if waiting for a reaction. “What are you even talking about? You’ve been in a coma for almost a year, and the first thing you ask about is some guy?”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. No Jay? No Jay?! You stared at her, wide-eyed, the room tilting dangerously around you. Your breath caught in your throat, and you glanced around again, your head pounding as if your brain couldn’t process what she was saying. You could barely hear the doctors' voices outside, your parents’ relieved murmurs from the corner of the room.

“I—I don’t understand.” Your voice trembled, and your fingers clutched the thin hospital blanket in a white-knuckled grip. How could Jay not exist? How could she not know him when every single day had been filled with him? “We were together, Semi. He was real. He was real!”

But Semi wasn’t budging. She leaned back, crossing her arms, frustration flickering in her eyes. “You were in a car accident. Do you remember that?” she asked, her voice softening slightly, though there was still a hint of disbelief. “A car crash. Blood everywhere. That’s why you’ve been in a coma.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as her eyes flickered to the tubes attached to your body. “That’s why you’re here.”

Your body went cold. A coma? Blood? The words bounced around in your head, but they didn’t stick. Your hands trembled as they reached for the bed’s railing, trying to anchor yourself. You could still feel Jay’s presence, still remember his smile, his touch, the way he’d whispered goodnight to you... before everything went dark.

A cold shiver ran down your spine, and your throat tightened as you managed to ask, “W-what date is it?”

“September 20, 2024,” Semi replied, her voice barely audible, but it hit you like a tidal wave. September.

Your eyes widened as the pieces began to fall apart in your mind, crumbling like ash in your hands. The school year, the three months with Jay, the spring—none of it had been real. None of it.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of it all settled in your chest like a boulder, pressing down, squeezing the air from your lungs. A quiet tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, turning to look out the window as if the outside world could give you some semblance of reality.

Beyond the glass, the sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange, the setting sun casting a warm glow over everything. Lilac flowers fluttered from a nearby tree, caught in the gentle breeze. They swirled in the air, delicate and fleeting, just like the memories of Jay.

You watched them fall, your heart aching with a bittersweet pang. Was it all just a dream? Had Jay been nothing more than a figment of your comatose mind, created to fill the emptiness while you lay in the dark? The thought was unbearable, but the more you tried to hold onto him, the more he slipped away—like the lilac petals, fading from your reach.

But somewhere deep inside, beneath the confusion and pain, a small part of you hoped—hoped that he was real. That maybe, somewhere, in some other world, Jay existed, waiting with that final page of your story. And though you couldn’t be sure, you held onto that hope, because the goodbye—his goodnight—had been too sweet, too tender to be nothing at all.

With trembling hands, you let the last tear fall, watching as the petals danced in the wind, disappearing into the horizon. Even if it was just a dream, you wished for one more chapter—one more part in the story that had been left unfinished.

197 notes · View notes

papercorgiworld · 3 days

Text

I don't need space, I need you

This is the requested Draco and Enzo version

Read the Mattheo and Theo version here.

I present you cuteness overload with needy Draco and Enzo and some sassy insults towards Matt and Theo, because I can't resist adding banter and jokes. To the person that requested this, thank you! ☺️ To the people that have sent in requests or casual small talk I'm slowly working through my inbox... I will get to it one day... just know that I love all you darlings and I'm very grateful for your messages. Now, time to get to some reading, I hope you enjoy it, sending you all lots of love! 💛

Draco

“What’s the point of having a girlfriend if I can’t find her.” Draco complains, approaching his friends relaxing by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. “Have any of you seen here?” Enzo looks up at the impatient blond. “I think she said something about studying with Granger.” Draco is about to start whining about you not being there and instead spending time with Hermione Granger of all people, when he’s interrupted by a snorting Mattheo. “Finally a moment of peace for my fallen brother. Sit and enjoy your freedom before miss clingy returns.” Theodore and Enzo chuckle and Draco feels forced to at least smile at Mattheo’s comment. “Yeeah-, finally peace.” Draco tries his best to sound convincing, but to him peace was cuddling with you, not hanging out with mister mommy and daddy issues, the Italian manwhore and Enzo. The latter picked up on Draco’s reluctance to sit down. “If you miss her so much, maybe you should go look for her?” Theo laughed at Enzo’s suggestion thinking it was a joke and Draco feels the need to make it absolutely clear that he doesn’t miss you at all. “No! If she gets any more cuddly and clingy I’m gonna need to hide from her. And she’s always so nosy, why does she always need to know how my day was? I'll tell her if she needs to know anything.” Mattheo chuckles and offers his friend a drink, but to Draco that did not make up for missing out on time with you.

Your excitement to tell Draco about your day was replaced by a wrecking sadness that made your tears well up. Clingy. Too cuddly. Nosy. As you turn on your heels to leave the common room before anyone notices you, you almost bump into someone because your eyes are getting blurry. Worried that you had been the most annoying girlfriend ever you decided to do better. Draco had been a wonderful boyfriend so far and you really didn’t want to screw this up by being overwhelming.

***

“He’s a guy and it’s Draco. I’m just giving him some space.” You explained to Luna and Hermione, who both frowned as you joined them in the stands of the quidditch stadium without wishing your boyfriend luck as he left the barracks. Normally you would kiss him passionately in front of everyone and he would hug you tight before he hopped on his broom, but today you wished him luck at breakfast and that was it. You thought you were giving him space as you smiled at him from the stands, but instead you were giving your boyfriend a heart attack as he spotted you so far away. “Hey, Malfoy! The game is about to start. Get on your broom.” Theodore yelled annoyed. “But- but-” Draco’s eyes moved from you to Theo and back to you. The game could not possibly start without you wishing him luck. Confused Draco eventually got on his broom, but his head was nowhere near the game.

***

Fred and George cheerfully ran up to you and George even picked you up for a moment, making you laugh. Gryffindor had won and the boys were convinced you aided in their victory. “Never wish Draco luck anymore!” Fred yelled and George put you back down as he noticed how confused you were. “I’ve known chickens who fly better than he flew today.” You frowned at the statement. “You think it was because I didn’t wish him any luck before the game?” Both nodded and then left as they were distracted by other people cheering.

A little worried you slowly made your way in the direction of the changing room. Most of the slytherin team had already made their way to the common room, mainly to keep a pissed off Mattheo from throwing punches, but Draco wasn’t with them so you guessed he was sulking by himself.

You gently push the door open and it reveals a defeated, sweaty and shirtless Draco sitting in an empty room. He hadn’t even made it to the showers yet, his head resting against the wall behind him like it would fall off if it didn’t have any support. His eyelids slowly open and he ssees your worried figure standing at the door. Why is she not rushing to be by my side? Why is she being so distant? Is she going to break up with me? His head was spinning and his heart was aching. “Bad game, huh.” You eventually speak up and Draco just huffs in response. “If you’re going to break up with me just do it already. I’m having a bad day, but I can handle it.” Draco’s eyes look dull and his voice sounds soulless. He gets up and takes a few steps towards you, studying you as you look absolutely shocked. Once you process his words you immediately rush towards him, your eyes pained at the idea of breaking up with the man you so love.

“I’m not breaking up with you!”. Your voice is surprisingly loud and there is a hint of fear in your words as you worry he was going to end things with you. Your hands rest on Draco’s arms and he shakes his head, not understanding why you were so distant earlier. “Then why didn’t you wish me luck?” You're baffled at the question, it was obvious to you why and you didn’t expect him to care for it. “You said I was too cuddly and too clingy. So I thought it best to give you some space and not overwhelm you before a game. I wished you luck this morning.”

Draco looks at you like you had just said the dumbest thing ever. “Space? I don’t want space! I want you. I need you! I love you.” Your eyebrows knit together. “But I clearly heard you say-” Draco shakes his head. “When did I ever say you were too clingy… or cuddly. It’s why I love you so much.” You take a step back from your boyfriend. “Yesterday, in the common room, you were talking with Riddle, Berkshire and Nott.” Draco opens his mouth in realisation and then clenches his jaw as he curses himself. He takes a step and closes the distance you had created between you two. “Yeah… I said that… but I didn’t mean it. I said it because I felt that the truth was a bit embarrassing.” You look at your boyfriend with questioning eyes. “Not really cool to tell your mates that you’re looking for your girlfriend because you want to snuggle and watch the stars from the astronomy tower.” You give him a soft smack on the head and he looks at you with apologetic eyes. “I felt horrible after hearing you say those things.” Draco pulls you into his chest. “Shouldn’t have listened in.” He jokes, but you don’t think it’s funny at all and you try to push free from his arms. However you are unsuccessful but Draco apologises. “I shouldn’t have said those things, because I’m just one big softy for you. Nothing tough about me when it comes down to you.” Gently his lips search yours and you’re hesitant at first to kiss your idiotic boyfriend, but when he apologises again you let his lips meet yours for a sweet kiss.

“So next game, kisses and hugs?” You ask and Draco nods. “Yes. And I don’t think a single slytherin is going to mock us for being too clingy since the only chance we have at winning the quidditch cup is with you by my side.” Nothing tough about Draco at all. Just a needy boyfriend. You think to yourself as you kiss him.

Enzo

“Pans!” Enzo squeals dramatically as he enters the slytherin common room. “Where is the future missus Berkshire? Can’t find her anywhere.” Before Pansy can answer Enzo’s question Mattheo puts his book down grinning at his friend. “Can’t be without her for even a second?” Enzo’s excitement drops as he notices everyone is looking up now, curious what Enzo’s answer will be. Enzo was always a bit different from his nonchalant and stoic friends. He knew the tough act didn’t suit him and he was confident enough to just be himself, but right now he was a bit worried. He felt himself get nervous and chuckled at Riddle’s question. “Told you, he’s absolutely whipped.” Draco says with an arrogant tone as he raises his eyebrows, challenging Enzo.

“She was at the Library with Luna, but I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” Pansy finally answers, after rolling her eyes at Draco’s arrogance. “Good, that gives me a few more minutes free of her… because I am not whipped. She’s the one that always wants to be near me.” Mattheo leans back and nods along, pretending to believe Enzo. “Oh really, so why do you keep putting up with it?” Enzo sits down, lounging casually. “I like her so I put up with her clinginess, but honestly I don’t need her around all the time. The hugs and kisses… that’s all her… not me.”

You had only taken three steps in the common room before stopping. You felt your legs get wobbly at your boyfriend’s words. You take quiet steps backwards and hurry out of the common room. Obviously you were not wanted there.

However, you missed out on Pansy’s loud snickering. “Oh please, Enzo! You liar!” Enzo is absolutely shocked at Pansy’s accusations, but no one else is as all his friends start laughing. “You couldn’t go a day with her.” Draco says, shaking his head at Enzo’ sad attempt at trying to act indifferent towards you. “Alright, alright. I can’t stand being without her! I love her. I need her.” Mattheo laughs, satisfied with Enzo’s confession. “There’s the real Berkshire I know.” Enzo lets his head fall back, bracing for days of mocking and jokes about his attachment to you.

***

“Oh yeah! Sounds fun. I’ll be there.” Enzo overhears you agreeing to go to Hogsmeade with the golden trio and leans over his desk towards you. “Hey, hey! You can’t go to Hogsmeade with them on Saturday, we were going.” You turn in your seat towards your boyfriend and kiss him on the cheek. “You can go with your friends. We don’t have to do everything together.” Your answer hurts Enzo and his eyebrows knit together. Yes we do, what else is the purpose of a relationship. But before your boyfriend can protest out loud the professor enters the classroom.

***

“Look at her.” Enzo complains to an uncaring Theodore Nott. “The entire week she’s been distant, always better things to do than being with me and now this.” A frustrated Enzo gestures your way and Theo shrugs. “What am I supposed to do?” Enzo whines.

“Kidnap her and lock her up, then you have her all to yourself.” Mattheo suggests, making Theo frown and offer his own advice on the matter. “No, don’t listen to abandonment issues over here. Just get a new girlfriend.” Blaise just facepalms at the realisation he is the only sane one in his friend group. “Ignore both abandonment issues and attachment issues and just go talk to your girlfriend like a normal person.” Blaise emphasises the last words as he glares judgingly at Mattheo and Theo who both act offended. Enzo nods, realising that Blaise was right.

You notice your boyfriend strutting over to you and your friends from across the street and excuse yourself to meet him halfway. “Hey you.” You whisper and Enzo immediately smiles, feeling relieved that you're still your sweet self. “I miss you.” Your boyfriend blurs, even surprising himself with his honesty. “You wanna have dinner together tonight?” You offer, but Enzo shakes his head making you frown. “No. I mean yes, obviously I would like that, but it’s not just that I want to do just one thing with you. We’ve barely spent time together this week.” An uncomfortable laugh escapes you, but you repress it when you notice how sad Enzo’s eyes are. “We’ve spent plenty of time together, besides you’re a guy, you need your space. I don’t want to suffocate you with hugs and kisses all the time.”

Enzo is baffled at your words. “I’m a guy so I need space. What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a slight tone of agitation in his voice that made you take a step back, but he was quick to close the distance by taking a step closer. “Who put all these crazy ideas in your head of needing to give me space and suffocating me with love?” Your face falls at his harsh tone, but you bite back. “It was you. You were the one that said you wanted to be free of me for a few minutes and that I was the needy one and you had to put up with my clinginess. It was you, Enzo Berkshire, you idiot. So you have no right to complain about me giving you space, since you asked for it.” Enzo’s jaw clenches at your accusation. “I did not!” You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows. “I heard you with Pansy, Matt and Draco.”

Enzo frowns for a moment, but when he remembers his eyes widen and a laugh escapes his lips. “You believed that?” He asks and you just stare at him in confusion. “They didn’t believe any of it. I was trying to convince them I wasn’t some whipped guy that couldn’t be without his girlfriend for a second, but they saw right through me.” You unfold your arms and Enzo takes your hands in his. “I don’t need space, I need you. So please don’t force me to go days without your hugs and kisses. You don’t suffocate me, if anything I suffocate without you.” You kiss him tenderly and out of excitement Enzo picks you up, making you squeal softly. “Please spend the day with me?” You nod and kiss your boyfriend’s pouty lips.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #papercorgiworldwritings #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy

196 notes · View notes