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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: SMUT, fluff, MINORS DNI 18+

Word count:..... 12k...

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to lead you to his bed every night of the week.

Warnings: So many 💀, oral (M and F receiving), public sex multiple times, multiple creampies, protection never mentioned, fingering, car sex, alcohol consumption, pet names, degradation, sir kink I think at some point, choking, mentions of spit and other bodily fluids, I'm sure there are more, too.

A/N: Well. Here it is. Big thank you to Jungkook for releasing the song that gave me this fic idea that I was fully convinced was just going to be a nice little song about the number seven. Here's my masterlist, and my requests and asks are open if you want to shout at me for writing 12,000 words of filth! Settle down somewhere comfy for this one 💀 Song inspo:

Monday

The jet was calm and quiet with just the two of you on it as you stretched yourself out over the seats, desperate to find a comfortable position to curl up in and find some sleep. You had been out the entire weekend on a death-row interview, and after three days of dealing with high security prison inmates and their guards, you were feeling a bit restless. You hated the feeling of being cooped up in there, even if you knew you’d be getting out eventually.

You were just thankful that they’d sent you in the jet, because you sure as hell couldn’t imagine driving back right now. And as your only company was Reid, who wasn’t a fan of driving himself, especially over such long distances, it would have been a crappy end to an even crappier weekend. You looked up at the man now, and realised he was also trying his best to fall asleep, but he had a tense look on his face, and he was shifting in his seat, unable to get comfortable.

“Can’t sleep either?” you asked him, finally accepting that you probably weren’t going to get any relief any time soon. His eyes shot open, and he looked at you, finally registering that it was you that had spoken to him and not some figment of his imagination.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said, and looked away, letting the silence fall over you again.

“Do you want to maybe play cards or something?” you asked hopefully, desperate to find something to do for the last hour of your flight. From everything you’d learned about the man opposite you in your six months as a member of the BAU, you knew it probably wasn’t a good idea challenging him. But between being absolutely destroyed at cards and being caught in the discomfort of exhaustion with no ability to sleep, you’d choose the card games any day.

Besides, you could do with learning a little bit more about your coworker anyway. Despite earning your place on the team, and befriending most of the others pretty easily, Reid had always seemed a bit standoffish to you. He was always polite, of course, but the others had warned you that he didn’t take well to change, and your addition to the team was a pretty notable change in your team dynamic.

You were now the youngest member of the team, and you’d been trained in press liaising as a part of your training at the academy, so you took on a different role from the others to allow JJ to get out into the field more now that she was officially an agent. It wasn’t that you thought he disliked you, it was just that he needed to get used to you. Or at least that was what you were telling yourself.

It was why you were on the jet in the first palace, having asked Hotch for the opportunity to shadow Reid while he was working on the interview. He’d given you a look when you lied that it was to gain more experience, but he didn’t have anything against you trying to get Reid to warm up to you a little bit more, so he didn’t complain, and let the two of you go. But you hadn’t realised just how busy you would be with the work, and you hadn’t exactly become the best of friends either.

“You don’t want to play cards with me, Y/N,” he replied coolly, not even looking at you.

“Emily said you usually try to swindle people when you first play cards with them, why aren’t you trying that with me?” you asked, growing a little frustrated that your attempts were being blocked. It’d been the same when you’d invited him out for a drink the night before, and when you’d asked if he wanted to share a takeout in your hotel room the night before that. Polite rejections and the feeling of incompetence that left you wondering if you’d done something wrong.

“You’re too innocent for me to swindle, Y/N. It’d be too easy.”

“That’s pretty arrogant, don’t you think?” As a last ditch attempt to get him to bite, you thought insulting him couldn’t possibly hurt.

“Shit, okay, one game, the cards are in the cupboard over there.” He acquiesced and nodded behind him to the small kitchenette at the end of the jet.

“Why do I have to grab them, you’re closer?” you pouted a little bit, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away again.

“You’re the one who wanted to play,” he grumbled. Rolling your eyes you threw off the blanket you’d wrapped around yourself and stumbled over to grab the cards.

On your way back however, the plane lurched to the side and you stumbled, dropping the cards everywhere and falling straight into the lap of Doctor Spencer Reid. He tried to catch you in his arms, but you’re position made it difficult for him to help you further. Having fallen face first, your torso was now pressed into the seat next to him, the rest of your body bent over his knee as if he were getting ready to spank you any minute.

One of his hands was pinned under your body weight, and the other that had come out to steady you was gripping dangerously close to your chest, not exactly helping with the mental images you were already fighting.

“Shit, I’m sorry I think we hit some turbulence,” you winced and tried to standup, and he groaned at the loss of contact as you moved.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he let out the curse as you stood up, but you weren’t upright for long before your legs gave out underneath you, another lurch from the plane depositing you directly into his lap, your legs straddling either side of his and your chest pressed up against his. This closer position allowed you to feel more of him pressed against you, and your eyes widened in realisation.

“Fuck, Spencer are you hard right now?” You groaned from on top of him, stilled by the realisaton. He scowled at you, again, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, it’s just been a long weekend, and I couldn’t…” he let out a frustrated sigh and you waited for him to continue, suddenly not so eager to get out of the embarrassing position.

“Have you been hard this entire time? Shit, that’s why you didn’t want to grab the playing cards, didn’t want me to see you like that, right?” you could hear the grin in your voice, and you knew you were being risky but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Shut up, Y/L/N, I really don’t need this right now,” he groaned out again, but made no move to push you off.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I know what you need right now.”

“Don’t fucking tease, Y/N, I’m serious. Let’s just pretend that this never happened, okay?” His mouth was saying one thing, but you were pretty sure from the hands that were gripping your hips now that he wasn’t exactly being the most honest with himself in that moment.

“What if I…. helped you out?” you whispered it out almost silently, and Reid’s eyes snapped open to look at you.

“Don’t joke with me right now, Y/N, it isn’t funny and it isn’t cute.”

“I’m not joking.” Your eyes locked and you didn’t say anything else, content to watch him wage a war in his own mind, curious about which side would win.

“Get on your knees,” he said eventually, and you did, climbing out of his lap and kneeling next to his seat, your heart-beating out of your chest now. “Good girl.”

The heat pooled between your legs with those words, and you let out a small whimper as he popped the button on his pants. He pulled out his dick and you stared at it in wonder. You could see the precum shining on his tip as he gave it a few preliminary pumps, his mouth open as he finally found some relief.

You slid your hands up his legs and rested them on his thighs, watching his face and ready to pounce on him the moment he gave you the word.

“Look at you, desperate little whore. You want to suck me off that bad, baby?” he crooned at you, and you found yourself unable to answer.

“Bet you’ve been trying to do this all weekend. Trying to get me back to that hotel room of yours, trying to get me to drink with you, when what you really wanted was for me to stuff my cock down your throat, right?”

It was taking all of your willpower to not just reach your tongue out and lick your way up his shaft, now, your body practically begging for you to touch him.

“Well, go ahead princess. Go ahead and show me what a needy little whore you are.” You waited for no further instruction, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and your tongue around the tip.

You played with it for a few seconds, giving him a few strokes while you waited to see his reactions. He grabbed a fist of your hair, making sure to push it away from your face so he could see exactly what you were doing at all times. With that, you started pushing your head down on more and more of him, seeing how far you could manage to get before hitting the back of your throat.

When you hit your max, you pulled off of him and did it again, starting to pick up pace as you worked your hands over the few inches that couldnt fit.

“Fuck that’s it, princess, just like that.” He moaned, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

You bobbed your head up and down on him now, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each noise he let out.

“Sucking me off right here on the jet, such a little slut, aren’t you?” he said down at you and you couldn’t help the moan you let out around his cock, the vibrations causing him to tighten his grip on your hair and hiss out a curse.

“That’s it keep going, just like that baby,” he whispered, his hand now starting to push you down a little further on his dick each time, his head thrown back in ecstasy. You knew he was getting close, and you were desperate to feel his cum down your throat.

“Fuck, yes, just like that baby, just like that keep going.” The muscles in his legs were tense under your hand as you pushed your head down right to the base of his cock, stretching yourself past your limits and breathing him in deeply. After that, it was only a few more seconds until you could feel the hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat.

You looked up at him through his orgasm, and you swore it was the best view you’d seen before in your life. His mouth was open in a moan, and the hand that wasn’t controlling your movements was raked through his own tousled locks.

Eventually, he pulled you off of him, and you swallowed the remaining cum still inside your mouth, going as far as to catch the few drops spilling out with your fingertips and delicately lick it off, knowing he was back to watching your every move.

He pulled you up to a standing position, his eyes still locked on yours, and you could see he was getting ready to give you another instruction, to use you again to find his own pleasure. Before he had the chance though, an announcement on the PA system had him jumping as far away from you as possible.

“Hey, sorry about that earlier turbulence folks. We’re about ten minutes out of Quantico, so we’re about to descend. You know the drill, seatbelts, please.” The pilot was off the line as quickly as he came on it, and you were left in silence once more.

Fumbling with his pants, Reid put himself together again before guiding you into your seat and taking up his place again in the seat opposite.

“I didn’t mean for it to end like this, shit we don’t have time for me to return the favor…” he seemed apologetic about that and you were finally snapped out of your daze.

“Reid, you really don’t have to do that… I just helped you out a little, is all.”

“No, I’m going to pay you back for this. I swear.” And there it was again, the pounding of your heart as he looked at you like that. You unintentionally clenched around nothing, your frustration almost doubling knowing there could’ve been more if you’d had more time.

“Feel free to say no, of course, but how do you feel about making this a regular thing?” you asked, your voice low, trying not to reveal how desperate you were to be under him right now, certain it would put him off.

“Like a… friends with benefits, thing?” He asked, his head perking up in curiosity.

“Yeah. If you want.” You gulped down. “Obviously, you can say no. We’re coworkers, so it could become weird, but it could also be really convenient to have someone on cases to help you out if you’re ever, you know…”

“Y/N, you’re rambling,” he smiled at you.

“I know, I really want you to say yes,” you admitted then immediately cursed your lack of filter.

“Yes.” He said. And that was that.

Tuesday

To say that stepping off of the jet had bought you back down to reality would be an understatement. After parting from Spencer with a terse wave and a strained smile, you’d spent your entire commute home thinking you’d just fucked up in the most major way possible.

As far as you could tell, the man didn’t even like being in your company and was just okay with you being his coworker, and then you’d suggested you give him a blow job on government property? Yeah, you were insane. That was the only possible explanation.

Needless to say, you got no sleep that night. You could only imagine how shitty you looked dragging yourself into the bullpen the next morning, coffee in hand and twitching like a rabbit that knew it was being followed by a wolf.

“God, Y/N, you look like you’ve been through hell and back. I thought you and Reid only went for an inmate interview?” Emily questioned you as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Yeah, yeah, it was okay,” you squeaked out, not quite adept at hiding your emotions just yet. “I just didn’t get much sleep is all. Shitty hotel beds, you know?” You smiled at her, and she nodded from experience.

“Oh, tell me about it, this one time I was sharing a room with JJ and the metal springs in the mattress we’re just sticking out the top. It’s a miracle these places make any money.”

“Well, they always have FBI Agents blasting through desperate for a room, I guess,” you joked with her half-heartedly, still feeling the tension in the room.

“What are you guys talking about?” He creeps up behind you to join the conversation, but you know it’s him. You turn around and finally get a look at him. Reid stood there, looking relaxed, with a small smirk on his face. His hands in his pants pockets, leaned back against Emily’s desk next to his, effectively cutting off your route to your own desk behind him.

“Y/N was telling me about the crappy motel you guys got lumped in this weekend. Bummer right?”

“I don’t know, I slept just fine. You do look a little tense, Y/N,” he looked at you again, and you couldn’t help the glare you shot at him. He was messing with you. The fucker was actually messing with you.

“I must’ve just pulled the short straw.” You send him a strained smile, trying to end the conversation there.

“You should’ve said something about it on the jet, I would’ve let you rest instead.” You freeze then. Surely he wasn’t going to reveal to the entire office, or at least to Emily, what the two of you did on the jet.

“You didn’t have to play cards with me, you know. I know how exhausting it can be to keep up with me. I have pretty good stamina.” This time you didn’t hold back and you did shoot daggers at him, which only achieved bringing him one step closer to laughter.

“Ooh, rookie mistake. Don’t play with Reid, Y/N, he’ll take you for all you’re worth.” Emily shot back before making her way to the kitchen area, content with the advice she had given.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” You mumbled, eyes still locked with Reid’s as you made to push past him. His hand brushed yours as you did, and you almost jumped at the contact. God, why was he doing this to you. Up until yesterday, he hadn’t ever bothered to even look in your direction, and now he was making you dizzy at work and you didn’t know how to deal with it.

The rest of the day you did your best to ignore him, and you really had to try. Everytime you went to grab yourself another drink, he’d trail along behind you, leaving you to make a U-turn to ask Morgan or Prentiss questions instead. If you went to get some files, he’d do the same, and you found yourself grabbing the wrong files in your haste to avoid talking to him again.

It was a ridiculous game of cat and mouse, and you knew that eventually he would catch up to you, and then you would have to come face to face with the man who had consumed your thoughts for the last 24 hours. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if it was dread you were feeling or anticipation.

In the end, he resorted to a more direct method that you couldn’t ignore.

“Hey, Y/N, I need to discuss some of the files from this weekends interview, do you have five minutes?” he said it loud enough for those around you to hear, so there was no escape. You took a deep breath and acquiesced,

“Great, let’s go grab the files and we can get started.” From all your self-defence training, you knew you should never let your assailant get you to a secondary location, but with him, you knew there was no escape. You let him guide you to the storage room, not even bothering to make small talk on the way down.

The door wasn’t even closed before he turned on you and started talking.

“If yesterday was bad for you, then we don’t have to ever do it again, but if you keep ignoring me like that, they’re going to realise that something is wrong.”

“Take a second to think about why I’m ignoring you, Reid. You’ve practically been on top of me all day, I can’t think when you’re around and I have work to do,” you whisper shout at him, even though theres no one in the file room he’s pulled you into.

“I wasn’t on top of you, I’d have enjoyed it very much had I been on top of you. Instead, I’ve been trailing behind you because you won’t talk to me.” He replied, shoulders lifting to his ears in his defense.

“Do you not want to do this anymore?” he asked you and you took in a sharp inhale of breath. He was giving you an out. You logically knew that you should take it, push down whatever it was you were feeling and pretend like yesterday had never happened. But all thoughts of doing just that left your head as he moved one step closer to you.

“Spencer…” you whispered into the room, as he moved closer still, eventually coming to cage you in against the wall.

“Do you really not want me to repay you?” he moved his hands down your body, a ghost of a touch really, not at all enough for what you wanted and getting nowhere near where you needed.

“Spencer, we shouldn’t be doing this at work. What if someone comes down here?”

“Doing what? I’m just asking you a question.” He gripped your thighs and pulled you again him, and you could feel the length of him against your stomach. “And besides, that didn’t matter to you yesterday.”

“Fuck, Spencer…” you groaned out, screwing your eyes shut. He trailed his hands further still and they finally found your ass over your skirt.

“I felt just as unsure about this earlier, you know. Thought it was going to create a weird tension in the office. Then you walked in this morning, wearing this skirt and suddenly I didn’t care. Just needed to have you.” He pulls your leg up, pressing his in between your thighs before you can think of closing your legs in modesty.

“I just want to feel you, will you let me do that?” He whispers against your skin and you whimper as his lips ghost over you.

“Yes, yes Spencer, please…” your brain shuts off and you give in, and suddenly he has your skirt around your waist and you tights and panties aorund your ankles in what seems like only a flash of a second.

“So fucking perfect and obedient for me, aren’t you, pet?” You whimper as he trails a finger along your sensitive clit, and you twitch as he begins his movements, rubbing slow circles into you.

“Fuck, look at you, clenching around nothing. I was just going to come in here and make you cum on my fingers but you’re begging to be filled, aren’t you, Princess?” He murmurs finally pushing on finger into you as he continues to to rub your clit with his thumb. You bury your head into his shoulder and try your best to muffle the disgusting moans dripping from your mouth as you plead with your coworker.

“What was that, pet? You’re going to have to say it a bit louder, I can’t hear you?” He picks up his pace and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your face.

“Fuck me. Please, Reid.” Not removing his hand from between your legs, he unbuttons his pants and you see his cock again for the second time in two days. You can’t believe you managed to get the entire thing down your throat yesterday. You stare at him with lust-clouded eyes, begging him silently.

“I haven’t got a condom, princess. Are you on the pill?” He asks, giving himself a few terse strokes, too far from your reach to help out. You nod vigorously, unable to form actual words now and not trusting yourself to keep quiet as your anticipation builds.

“Perfect baby, now relax and I’ll take care of you, okay?” He gently pulled his hand away from your core, quickly replacing it with his pulsating cock, pushing in slowly and deep.

“So tight for me, baby, you feel amazing.” He pauses for a second to allow you to adjust to his size, but all too soon he’s hammering into you, not caring to control his speed or his strength, just using you like he’s a man delirious with lust and you love it.

You clutch his shirt, and with each and every thrust you scream a little bit, unable to hold yourself back from the pleasure thats ripping through you. You’re making so much noise that after a few minutes, he brings a hand to your mouth, closing it over you and effectively cutting off any noises you make from escaping.

“You need to be quiet, honey, as much as I want to hear you, we don’t need anyone to come around here asking questions.” But you’re too far gone to care, your judgement too clouded, your head and body too full of him and what he’s doing to you to care at all who knows about it. You know he’s right, but you just keep moaning into his hand until finally, your body can’t take the stimulation anymore and you feel yourself tip over the edge, tightening around him as you ride out your high.

“Fuck, that’s it princess, I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” He says and you use what feels like the last of your strength to nod as you feel him shoot his load inside of you.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay joined there, but the post-sex clarity hits you like a tonne of bricks again as he pulls out and you genuinely start questioning your sanity as he cleans you up and pulls your panties back up into the right position.

“Shit Spencer, we can’t do that again,” you say. “What if someone had caught us?”

“Don’t say that as if you weren’t just turned on by the very thought of that happening,” he shot back. “But yes, we’re going to need some rules if we’re going to keep this up.” You nod at him, and the two of you make for the exit of the room, aware that you’d already been away for suspiciously long.

Luckily, your teammates are all too busy to notice that neither of you return with the files you went to look for.

Wednesday

The knock at your door was sharp and insistent, but you were tired so it took you a few minutes to cross your apartment to reach the door. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to greet you there at 9pm on a wednesday evening, but it sure as hell wasn’t Spencer Reid, looking a little damp from the rain.

“I’m glad you’re home. I thought you would be considering you told Penelope you had no plans when you left earlier, but there was always the possibility that you wouldn’t be and then I would be stuck out here in the rain again and I wouldn’t get to see you and I really needed to see you.” He got the jumble of words out as quickly as he could, not even leaving you enough time to say hello before he was rambling.

“Spencer, slow down. What are you doing here?” You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Truthfully, you’d spent the last half an hour doing your best not to fall asleep on your couch as you tried to get some reading in, so you weren't exactly the best prepared for guests. You’d rid yourself of your work clothes as soon as you reached your house, the discarded clothes still laying in a pile in your bedroom, and you’d changed into an oversized t-shirt you’d bought a few years ago that was becoming a bit threadbare with constant use.

“I thought we could talk.” He said and offered no further explanation. It was cold and you wrapped your arms around yourself, but the door was letting in the cold breeze that accompanied the rain so you moved aside and gestured for him to make himself at home.

He took stock of your apartment as he walked in and you felt so exposed as he started taking everything in. He was a profiler, a really good one at that, and he was looking now at your bookshelves, the pictures around your apartment, the little trinkets you’d collected over the years. You should have been squirming under the surveillance of it all, but you almost wanted to show him around, talk him through it all and show you every part of you that he hadn’t seen yet. God, you must’ve been crazy.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you asked, returning to your seat on your couch and gesturing for Reid to sit down, too. He took up a chair on the opposite side of the room, sitting only on the edge of the seat, body tense and shoulders set in a tight line.

“Us. I thought it’d be best if we set some… ground rules you know. After yesterday and the jet…” you sat up then, too and tried not to avoid looking at the mirror you knew was on your shelf, knowing that all you’d see was the crimson staining your face and wondering what he would learn from that.

“Yeah… Yeah of course, we should talk about that. That sounds… smart, I think.”

“I did some research, and apparently we should start with setting boundaries. Things we won’t do, things that would make this easier for us.”

“Right, what kind of… boundaries were you thinking?” Your heart was beating out of your chest waiting for him to continue. The sex between you was so easy that you forgot that neither of you was the best at communicating with the other, that your brain seemed to switch off in his presence and refused to turn itself back on until you’d ended up underneath him.

“There are certain things I won’t do in the bedroom. I don’t like being choked and I don’t…” he trailed off, his face going bright red, “I don’t like not being in control.” He finally finished, looking very shy for a man who just admitted that he took an exclusively dominant role in the bedroom.

“That’s fine with me. Just for the sake of transparency, I’m okay with that. Choking that is. And not being dominant.” You tripped over your words, trying to convey your meaning.

“Great, that’s totally great.” You sat there in silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Is there anything you won’t do?”

“Oh right,” you thought about it for a few seconds and then gave him your reply. “As exciting as that was yesterday, I think we shouldn’t be doing that in the office again. I’m not… against public sex, but I’d prefer not to get arrested for public indecency by one of our colleagues.”

He nodded vigorously and looked like he was about to say something else, but you continued.

“Other than that, I’m pretty open. No threesomes though,” You blushed, trying to find the right words to use. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t really want to share you.”

“That’s a good point. We should be exclusive for however long we do this for. The increased risk of attaining a sexually transmitted disease when actively engaging with two or more sexual partners is around 11%, so it’d be safer for us both to just use each other.”

The way he said it was so clinical that you almost flinched, but he didn’t notice your reaction and kept going.

“Is that everything? No other objections?” You thought on his question for a few minutes, and then shook your head.

“Nothing I can think of, but maybe we should keep checking in? Just in case, you know.”

“Yeah, communication is really important in relationships.” He paused for a second, as if realising what he said. “Not that this is a relationship, in the traditional sense, but every human connection can be described as a relationship, so I guess this is a relationship as well. You know what I mean.” You laughed a little at him then, his over-explaination relaxing you a bit, glad you weren’t the only one who was finding this situation unavoidably awkward.

“Spencer, calm down, I understand. Is that all you wanted to discuss?” You look at him with a smile, crossing and uncrossing your legs on the couch, finally falling back into a comfortable position. His eyes trailed down to your legs then, finally taking in your appearance. He raked his eyes up your bare legs, your t-shirt barely hitting the tops of your thighs, his gaze lingering there for a few seconds before he forced himself to meet your eyes again.

“I never did get to pay you back for your help, you know?” He licked his lips, and you felt your pussy clench in anticipation. If this was how you reacted to a simple question, you were well and truly fucked if you thought you’d ever be able to function correctly with him around.

“I said you didn’t have to, remember?” You tried to keep your voice even and low, but your body was alert in anticipation now

“But I want to. Will you let me?” He asked, finally moving himself off of the chair and walking over to you. He knelt at your feet and ran his hands up your still crossed legs, grabbing them and gently coaxing them open.

“Please, princess, let me show you my appreciation.” he begged you and you nodded, giving in so easily to his pleas.

“Use your words.” He said, still letting you know who was in control of this situation, even if he was below you right now.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, you can do it.” His hands were trailing up the inside of your leg now, sending goosebumps up your arms, and growing the pit of desire that was burning for him.

“Do what? You need to tell me exactly what you want, right princess? Isn’t that what we discussed?” He placed a chaste kiss to your knee now and your body was begging you to just twine your hands in his hair and press him between your legs.

“Spencer, please use your tongue and make me cum,” you begged him, and his hands instantly moved to pull your panties down. Once he’d rid you of the garments, he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you into him, spreading your legs apart and finally looking at you.

“This wet for me already, princess?” he smiled up at you, a devastatingly sweet smile from his devilish position. You whimpered slightly and he finally, finally lowered his head, extending his tongue and taking his first swipe at your core.

You grabbed at his hair then, but he pulled away, grabbed your hands and pinned them at either side at you with his own and then went down again, beginning to lick and suck at your centre once more.

When he reached your centre, it was all you could do not to buck up into his face, involuntarily fighting his grip so you could get closer still to his tongue, feel even more friction as he drew small circles, before closing his entire mouth around it and giving you all the attention you had been craving since your interruption two days ago.

You knew from your experience in the file room that Spencer was somewhat naturally gifted in the bedroom, but you put that mostly down to the fact that he was a good size and had pretty notable stamina. But now you realised he was probably the best you were ever going to get. Most men you’d been with hadn’t even wanted to entertain the idea of giving you head, let alone begged you for the opportunity and then drinking you in like you were the last drop of water in the desert and he was a man parched with thirst.

You writhed and moaned into him, feeling your orgasm gain on you as you felt his pace pick up. Looking down at him and catching his eye was the last thing you could do before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, the smile in his eyes so bright, enjoying having you on his tongue so much that you couldn’t handle it anymore.

He didn’t pull off of you immediately, letting you ride his face through your orgasm, your thighs squeazing him slightly before he let go of his grip on your hands and pulled himself away from you. You gasped for breath on the sofa, still softly twitching in pleasure, as he lifted himself off the ground.

“You did so good, princess,” he said patting your head, and you became instantly aware of the painful erection he was sporting through his pants, face to face with it now he was standing up. You opened your mouth, readying yourself to ask for more of him when you heard a phone ring from the other side of the room.

You didn’t recognise the ringtone, but it seemed like Reid did, as he dropped a curse and quickly moved himself back to the chair he’d previously occupied and picked it up quickly.

“Hotch, what is it?” Spencer murmured into the line, and with that you knew you weren’t getting anything else that night. After a short conversation, Reid hung up, and turned to you again.

“We’ve got a case. You’ll probably get the call in a few minutes. We didn’t discuss this earlier, but it’s best if no one else finds out about this.” He said, gathering all of his things, as you covered yourself again. You made to pull your panties up your legs again, but he got to them first.

“No, these are mine now.” He said, so confidently that you just nodded, slightly dumbfounded, and did your best to not pull him back over you again. You were seriously contemplating it, seeing how quickly you could make him cum when another phone rang, and you recognised it as your own.

He petted your hair again, grabbed the last of his things and stuffed your panties inside of his jacket pocket, and said a final goodnight, leaving you to answer the phone alone in your apartment. You sat there subdued in the moment as you realised you were in love with the man, and couldn’t do a thing about it.

You were in love with him, and he hadn’t even once kissed you.

Thursday

Alaska. The case had taken you all the way to Alaska, and you were suddenly desperate to get back to the rain you’d left behind in Virginia. You were cold and the wetness had seeped into your body from the day traipsing around the dumpsite of your newest unsub and your motel room was cold and you were miserable.

Your motel was small, but still large enough to afford each of you your own room, considering there was no one else passing through town at this time of the year, so you didn’t feel bad about turning your light back on at 2am and grabbing the book off your nightstand, hoping it would help lull you to sleep.

Not even five words into the page, a quiet knock interrupted the unending quiet, faint but recognisable from when he’d knocked on your door only the previous night. Your heart raced as you moved to the door and you opened it for him quickly.

“Hi,” you said as you saw him there, looking just as cold as you felt.

“Hey. My room was cold, and I saw your light on…” he whispered, letting his voice trail off. You opened the door for him and he came in quickly, not waiting to risk anyone seeing the two of you, even if it was the middle of the night.

“Yeah, it’s not just you. I’m one cool draft away from piling all of my luggage over me and hoping it helps me warm up. You’d think they’d have extra blankets or something.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did, I saw Prentiss walking up to her room with a pile earlier,” he laughed and you laughed with him, his smile infectious and the temperature leaving you deliriously sleepy.

“You know, we could probably get warm if we got in together,” he suggested, and before he could explain the science behind it, you jumped at the idea.

“Yes, please, I’m willing to try anything right now.” You dove back under the covers, still wrapped in your fluffy pajamas, lifting up the covers to let him under too. He climbed in after you, and for a second you were wondering if he was just going to lie beside you for a while and then leave when he was warm enough. He quashed those thoughts the second he put his head on the pillow next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, holding you as if you were a teddy bear.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth as his breath tickled the back of your neck, huddling closer into him until your legs were tangled and your chests were flush against each other.

“Stop giggling and get some sleep,” he whispered down at you through a smile, his eyes closed, unaware of the look of adoration you couldn’t wipe from your face.

“You know if we really wanted to huddle for warmth, skin-to-skin contact would be much more effective,” you teased him, and he groaned into you, gripping you that much tighter.

“Do not tempt me, Y/N. It’s 2am and we’re working a case, we need some sleep,” he whispered down at you, but you were enjoying teasing him, so you continued, unrelenting.

“It didn’t take us very long any of the other times, Spencer,” you burrowed your head into his neck so he couldn’t see you as you knew he was about to react to your challenge.

“You’re a brat, you know that right?” he sighed, looking down at the top of your head and waiting for you to meet his eyes, but you just nodded into him, and he rolled his eyes and fell back into a comfortable position, but the insinuation in your words stuck to him. You felt him shift next to you, and started slowly trailing your hand down his chest.

“Unless you really want to be working this case tomorrow on one hour of sleep, I’d suggest you stop this before you can’t anymore,” he growled into your ear.

“I think I’ll take my chances, you say, your hand finally reaching his waistband and snapping it against his skin once, showing him exactly what it was you wanted. He grabbed your hands to stop your movements, but from the way he shifted his weight, you could feel that he’d already taken your words to heart.

“So fucking desperate for it, can’t even leave you alone for twenty-four hours before you’re sticking your hands in my pants, huh, princess?” His voice was a low grumble in your ear, and that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach was back.

“Well, I’m tired tonight, so how about you show me just how much you want this?” He rolled you over, still pinning your hands with one of his larger ones, and started rolling your pajamas down your legs, just enough to access your pussy.

“Touch yourself, baby, get yourself ready for me,” he let go of your hands now and even in the dark you knew he would be watching your every movement. Lying on your side, you moved one hand down to your clit, beginning to rub slow circles into yourself, letting little gasps and moans escape from your mouth for his benefit.

After a few minutes of touching yourself, getting yourself ready, you reached behind you to Reid’s crotch, fumbling for a second before finally grabbing his dick through his pajamas. He didn’t make a sound in protest, so you continued, stroking his half hard dick until he was fully erect for you.

You gathered some of your wetness on your fingers and pushed two of them inside your pussy, stretching yourself out, beginning to synchronise your two hands so you’d both feel the pleasure together. Spencer was still frustratingly silent, not even moving further than he needed to to allow you better access. Desperate for his attention, you decide to tease him a little bit.

“Do you like that, sir?” You feel his dick twitch in your hand, and throwing a glance over your shoulder, you can see that his jaw is clenched. You panic for a second, thinking maybe he wasn’t into the pet name you’d just dropped from your lips, but he finally responds.

“You just keep working hard to make me happy, princess, okay?” He says and you grin in triumph.

“Yes, sir.” You respond. Instead of picking up your pace, you decide you’ve gone long enough without him inside you so you release him and pull your fingers out of your pussy, licking your juices off your fingers. You push your ass back into position again, lining his tip up with your core as you reach behind you to grab the base of his dick and finally feel him enter you.

Unlike the first time he’d been in you, you didn’t want this to end fast. You wanted to feel him filling you up forever, hold him inside of you. You started thrusting back in torurously slow movements, letting him get so far out of you that he feared he was going to fall out and then pushing yourself back on so deep there was nowhere else he could go.

Refusing to pick up the pace, you continue your movements for the next few minutes, but you feel him growing restless beside you. He lets out little hisses each time he feels the cold on his skin, and he’s breathing deeply, hands bawled into the sheets so he doesn’t touch you like he promised he wouldn’t.

But this feels too much like giving you control, so he starts talking to you again, trying to tease more movement out of you.

“So content to be filled with my cock, huh, baby? You want to savor it, right?” You whimper at every question, the feeling of him inside you and his gravelly voice driving you insane.

“Such a little whore, using my dick to get off when you should be sleeping.” Your pace increased after that, your body desperate to show him how eager you were to be taking all of him inside you.

“Oh? Thought you wanted to keep it slow tonight, slut, you’re getting sloppier.” You were pushing back fervently now, desperate for release, begging him for more and more until you couldn’t take it. Reaching back, you grabbed one of his hands and placed it over your breast, silently begging him to take control.

“Should I give my little whore what she wants?” You simply moaned in reply, unable to do anything else. But that was all he needed and he started matching your thrusts with his own, forcing your pace to increase until your vision was blurry with need.

You were hanging on by a thread now, his fingers rolling the nipple of the breast in his hand around, pinching it hard every few strokes.

“Spencer, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, please, please, please…” you had no idea what you were begging him for, but it seemed like he did, unrelenting in his thrusts.

“It’s okay baby, you can do it. You have my permission.” Once again, you came undone in his arms, and he wasn’t far behind. You fell asleep there in his arms, not even bothering to clean yourself off or make him pull out, just the two of you holding each other on a cold night.

When you woke up, he was gone, and even though you knew it was what was best, you still felt a little crack in your heart start to form.

Friday

It had been over a week since Spencer had sneaked into your room in Alaska and he hadn’t touched you since. With the case in full swing, you hadn’t had the time to sneak off together, and the hotel had since fixed their heating system after a few timely complaints from Rossi and Prentiss, so you had no excuses to gravitate to each other either.

You were back from Alaska now though, and stuffed into a booth at your favorite bar with your team for a post-case celebration. The booth was round, and you were stuck in the middle with nowhere to move, flanked on either side by Morgan and JJ, who respectively had Reid and Prentiss on either side of them, Garcia, currently at the bar, rounding out the bunch.

“Okay, one round of shots for my favorite team of Special Supervisory Agents, and the Good Doctor of course - do not try to back out of this, it’s happening.” Garcia returned with six shots of tequila and you winced. You’d never drank tequila and come out unscathed.

“Penelope I love you, but you know what tequila does to me,” you groan, trying to blink back the memories of the last time the poison had passed your lips. You’d been out on a girls night out, and after a few rounds of tequila and not a care in the world, you’d started answering any and every question the girls had put to you like you were under the influence of a truth serum.

“Exactly, sweetie, and it’s because I know that I want you to drink up, you’ve been secretive these last couple of days and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

“What happens when you drink, Y/N?” Reid asked. You could heart the curiosity in his voice, and like everytime you’d felt his attention on you in the last week and a half, your chest thumped painfully, trying to burst from your chest and reach out to him.

“Oh, it was hilarious. She was a venerable chatterbox, and she was so open with her opinions on everything. She was answering every question with the cutest sincerity.” Garcia filled him in on the details and you wanted to melt into the couch.

“We asked her what drink she wanted next and she monologued for ten minutes about some of the different choices on the menu and whether she thought they would taste good.” JJ continued.

“And when we asked more probing questions, she’d start by saying ‘I’m only telling you this because it’s you three and I love you,’” Emily finished for them.

Thankfully, the three of them had noticed that you were quite a bit past it that day, and that they shouldn’t be really asking you anything inappropriate that you’d regret answering. You were especially thankful for it now though, as you could only imagine the things you’d say about Reid if your tongue loosened. About how he felt when he was inside you, about how he’d given you the best orgasm of your life, about how you were in love with him and afraid that if you told him you’d never have him in your arms again.

“One shot won’t hurt, Y/N. You had like five last time before you started spouting wisdom, what’s the worst that one could do?” You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t say no to Penelope Garcia, and thinking that maybe you didn’t even want to.

“Okay, one shot, and no more.” You grabbed the salt and the lime, got ready for your shot as the others did the same, and then with one quick tip up, it was burning a trail down your throat.

“Great, now that that’s finished, I’m going to get us some real drinks, any requests?” After a few shouts for beers and cocktails, Prentiss left the table and went to order the next round.

“How about a game?” Garcia suggested innocently enough, “maybe two truths, one lie? Truth or dare?” You rolled your eyes at her probing, knowing that she only had good intentions. She’d checked in on you a few times during your time in Alaska as well, after you started moping about the loss of Reid in your bed. It had only been the fact that he’d made you promise to keep your relationship to yourselves that had stopped you from spilling everything to Garcia the morning you woke up and realised he was gone.

“Baby girl, you’re scaring the kid,” Morgan laughed from his place at your side, and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he opened his mouth again. “That being said, is there something you need to get off your chest, Y/N? You’ve been acting all sad recently.”

“I’m fine! Totally fine, just not getting enough sleep, I think.”

“Oh, is it nightmares? We’ve all had them, I think it’s part of the job description now.” Emily returned with the drinks and latched on to the end of your conversation.

“Not nightmares, mostly dreams if I’m being honest,” you sighed out, unable to catch yourself as she handed you your drink. You cursed yourself as you looked up to see the grin on her face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you telling me that you’ve been running on minimum hours of sleep because you’ve been getting some action?” Whenever Emily full-named you, you felt like a little kid being pulled into a principal's office. You gulped and sent her a panicked look, unable to deny but not wanting to say another word. From the corner of your eye, you tried to catch Reid’s reaction to all of this. He was nursing his drink on the sidelines, not saying anything, but a small twitch in the corner of his mouth filled in the gaps for him.

“Oh, that’s my girl.” Emily whistled at you from the other side of the table, and for the next half hour you did your best to melt into the table and not make eye-contact with Reid.

Eventually, Morgan made his way to the bar to start flirting with some girls, and JJ, Emily and Prentiss made their way to the dancefloor, leaving you and Reid alone at the table. They’d tried to convince you to get up with them, but you’d convinced them to leave you behind, with promises to join them shortly.

“So, you’re a truthful drunk, then?” Reid asked. He’d moved closer to you when Morgan had exited the booth, but not close enough to draw anyone's attention. Now with the girls gone too, he took his chances and pushed up against your side, your thighs touching, and his arm resting on the back of the booth.

“Don’t start, I barely survived that with my life, Reid, now they think I’m seeing someone,” you groaned into your hands.

“You are seeing someone. Granted it’s just me, and its not what they think…” he trailed off, still staring at you with that smile on his lips, but you barely noticed burying your head further into your hands. It was almost infuriating that he didn’t know that he’d never be ‘just’ anything to you.

“Not helping, Reid.” He chuckled and took another swig of his drink. Obviously the alcohol was starting to have some effect on him, because when he returned his glass to his coaster, the hand that was holding it fell directly onto your thigh. With his other arm practically wrapped around your shoulders, and this movement now, you could only imagine that the two of you looked like a couple having an intimate discussion to anyone walking past.

“What are you doing, Spencer?” You panic a bit, worrying that any second a coworker of yours would catch sight of the two of you and realise just who you’d been dreaming about these past few days. But your back was to the booth and it wasn’t in their line of sight at all.

“Oh, it’s Spencer again, is it? Thought you liked calling me sir,” he whispered in your ear and the feeling of his hot breath on your neck was enough to disable the brain cells that remained.

“Spencer!” You hissed under your breath at him, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Can we not do this here?” You asked, exasperated.

“Would you prefer to do this at my apartment, or yours instead? Or your car is outside, if you just want to get straight to it.” You weren’t used to this from him. Sure he was dominant when you were in the middle of the act, but before and after he was almost ten times more awkward than usual. But with a bit of liquid courage, he’d had you trapped in a corner, unable to escape, and not caring who saw you.

“Spencer, they’re going to see us. That was the rule, they can’t see us.” You whispered in a low voice, not wanting to take it any higher, despite the pounding music in the bar.

“And they won’t but you need to answer me baby, my place, your place or your car?” Your heart-race picked up as you saw the serious expression on his face. He needed this. Needed you so badly, that he couldn’t even wait for a natural exit, needing to carry you off to the nearest convenient location and have his way with you. You realised in that moment that you would drop anything just to give him what he needed.

“Car.” You said, letting go of your worries, and just letting him take care of the situation.

“Perfect, princess. Now, you’re going to lean on my arm and act like you have a headache while I go and make our excuses to the others, okay? Do not say a word, and maybe I’ll give you a nice reward, how does that sound?” You nodded vigorously at his instructions, suddenly very excited for whatever he had in store for you.

You stumbled your way to the dancefloor, tracking down Garcia and the others as Spencer informed them of your condition. The three of them tried to ask you questions, but you were sure that Spencer was serious about that reward, so you kept your mouth shut, leaning against Reid innocently and just nodding your head at the appropriate times. Morgan was still chatting at the bar, and Reid gave him a nod on the way out, knowing that he’d soon be filled in as well, and you were suddenly out the door.

“Good job, princess, you did so good for me in there.” He cooed into your ear as he guided you back to your own car. Unlocking the doors, he threw your bag into the front seats and immediately climbed into the back, pulling you along with him by your hand.

He pulled you over him, making you straddle him. You knew he wasn’t going to take his time with you, not here, but that didn’t matter. You needed it just as much as he did. You wondered for a second if his reward was going to finally be him pressing his lips to yours. You’d changed into a short skirt before joining your friends at a bar, that material so tight over your ass and thighs that in your new position, he didn’t even have to move it out of the way to gain access to you, having already ridden up all the way to your stomach.

“So beautiful baby. If you need to stop for whatever reason, you need to tap my shoulder here two times, okay?” You were confused about the introduction of a new safety gesture, but when he wrapped one of his hands around your neck and squeezed just as he starting rubbing your soaking cunt you suddenly realised it was necessary.

The strong grip on your throat was limiting your breath, the lack of oxygen you were getting intensifying every stroke he made. It was only a few minutes before he was pushing a finger into you, and beginning to pump it in and out quickly. You grabbed at the arm attached to your throat, using it for balance as you used your remaining energy to grind down desperately into his hand. He stilled his movements then, letting you use his hand to get off, humping yourself into him like a bitch in heat.

“You said you liked this, but if I’d have known you meant this much, I’d have done this much sooner.” He tightened his grip around your throat a little bit, still doing his best not to hurt you. You were seeing stars now, the car windows were fogged up from your desperate pants, and you were so close to just finishing right there on his hand.

You felt your vision go black as you finally tipped over the edge, tapping his shoulder quickly as you felt your orgasm rip through you. He instantly let go of you and caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you, and instantly doing everything to make sure you were okay.

“What’s wrong, are you okay? Did I squeeze too hard?” There was a panic in his tone, but you let your breathing even out before you replied, content with the feeling of him stroking your hair as your head rested against his chest.

“It’s okay, Spencer, it was just getting a little bit too intense for me, is all…” you let out a small yawn then and nuzzled into him in the backseat, your eyes drooping closed.

“Princess, I’m going to get you home now, okay? No more tonight.” He whispered sweetly into your hair, as you fell asleep in his arms once again. The last thing you felt before you fell under was his lips press a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

Saturday

When you woke up again, you knew you were in his arms, and your heart practically sang at the contact. Your eyes opened and there he was, next to you in your bed, face inches from yours, arms wrapped tightly around you and legs tangled in yours.

You stared at him for a few moments, not wanting to wake him and shatter the peace with awkward exits, not wanting to distance yourself from him for even a second. Your eyes drank all of him in. His messy hair, his long, delicate eyelashes, his lips. You found yourself staring at them for more than a few moments.

What would they feel like pressed into yours? You tried to bury the thought, but you just couldn’t. He was asleep, and you’d not talked about kissing when you’d discussed things you wouldn’t do. It was human nature to be curious, but the need to know him, to experience him and everything he had was consuming you from the inside, and you couldn’t help yourself.

Just as you were about to let your impulses control your movements and press a kiss to his lips, you felt him stir next to you, instantly snapping your eyes shut and laying as still as possible as he roused himself from sleep.

You felt him shift, but you could hear nothing over the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Did he know you were awake? Was he going to leave without waking you? Was he going to try to wake you up?

You felt his fingers against your cheek now, tracing a faint line down your face, and then he did something unexpected, and he cupped your face in his hand, and you felt him growing closer and closer until you felt the softest of touches against your lips and realised that he was finally kissing you.

Completely forgetting you were supposed to be asleep, you responded to his kiss, angling your head to better match his and pushing your lips back into his as he made to depart, encouraging him to keep going. He did, with each connection of your lips growing more and more passionate and loving, and like if he was given the chance he’d never stop holding you there in that moment. He only pulled away when he ran out of breath, and you were thankful that he did, as when you opened your eyes, the sight of him robbed you of yours too.

“Good morning, princess.” He whispered, tenderly, letting his forehead come to rest on yours, pressing another chaste kiss to your nose as he did so, and drawing out a giggle from you.

“Good morning, Spencer.” He drops another kiss to your lips then, almost as if now that he’s started he can’t stop.

“Spencer, please, why are you so touchy this morning?” you giggle up at him between kisses.

“I don’t know, you just looked so beautiful, is that a crime?” He smiles at you agan, continuing his kisses down your neck.

“We’ve never kissed before,” you vocalise your fear, and he stopped his movements before you could rush to backtrack.

“We haven’t? Oh god, we haven’t,” his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, his expression mirroring yours. “Shit, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just assumed after everything these past two weeks that we’d kissed at some point.”

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologise,” you try to speak, but he keeps going, rushing to get the words out all at once.

“I think I was misremembering kissing you, maybe I thought my dreams were real or something, so if I overstepped a boundary or something about this makes you uncomfortable, say the word and I’ll never do it again.” There was a ringing in your ears as you took in his words.

“You dreamed about kissing me?” you asked in a whisper, almost scared to hear the answer. He struggled to find the right words to say for a moment, but then he nodded.

“I thought you’d have guessed by now from my enthusiasm about all of this,” he replied, still holding you, his hands hot on your waist.

“Wait, Spencer, for how long?”

“Promise you won’t be freaked out?” He groaned, looking like he’d rather bury his face in your pillows than admit what he was about tp.

“I promise, now spill.”

“Since you joined the team. Like since the exact second. I saw you when you walked in and it was like a bomb went off in my head or something, and I had to avoid you for most of that first day so you didn’t notice I was being a creep and just imagining what it would feel like to kiss you.” The grin on your face grew with each of his words, hope sprouting there and taking root.

“God, Spencer, I thought you were uncomfortable around me. I thought you hated me a little because I threw off the group dynamic!” you laughed at your own stupidity now, raking a hand through your hair as his behaviour became more understandable, now.

“No, god no. It does take me a little bit of time to warm up to change, I’ll admit, but by the end of the first week, the change I was imagining what our kids would look like.” You froze with his words, and the roots in your heart grew deeper, twining around themselves and holding you with a fervid strength.

“Kids?” was the only word you managed to gasp out, as Spencer realised what he’d said.

“Fuck… That is, I didn’t mean to… It was just a stupid thought, if you don’t feel the same way, it’s totally fine.”

“Feel what way, Spencer?” you had to hear it from his lips, had to hear the words you so desperately needed.

“Y/N, you have to know by now that I’m obsessed with you. I can’t get enough of you, I’ve been following you around like a lost puppy for the last two weeks. I’m completely devoted to you, Y/N. I love you.” The flower in your chest bloomed, and the tears from your eyes spilled to water it.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he kissed the tears away from your cheeks, happy to continue showing you his adoration from earlier, but you pulled him away, needing to look him in the eye when you said it.

“Spencer, I love you, too. Maybe I didn’t realise as soon as you did, but somewhere in my subconscious I was so aware of you, I wanted your approval so badly, wanted you to smile and laugh with me the way you were with the rest of the team. I’ve spent this last week with the words stuck in my throat because I thought you couldn’t possibly feel the same, because Spencer you deserve all the love in the world.” Your tears were free flowing now, with your confession, and you could see some moisture forming in his as well.

The two of you didn’t need to say anything more after that, your lips doing all the communicating for you.

These kisses were different, so much deeper, more romantic, more needy. He moved his leg over you and pressed some of his weight down into you, wrapping you in his warmth. He pulled away from your lips to continue further down your neck. Each time he pulled away, he whispered a confession into your skin.

“Spencer, I want to feel you inside of me, please.” You moaned into his touch, and he quickly agreed. Now that you two knew you had each other, you wanted to waste no time. He was hard already, having woken up with the perfect reason to hold you. He carefully lifted your legs up and apart, giving himself all the space he needed to make love to you.

“God, you’re so perfect for me,” he said, pausing to spit down on your pussy, spreading the wetness with his heavy cock. He sat there rubbing himself against you for a few minutes, his lips having reconnected with yours, swallowing every moan you made, along with any he couldn’t control from himself.

The two of you were so lost in each other, in the moment, that it felt like it lasted forever. With one last rub to your sensitive areas, he lined himself up with your hole, and slowly lowered himself in. Encouraging you to hold your knees up into a tighter position, he grabbed your hips and began setting a relentless pace. It wasn’t the slow sensual fuck from your motel room, or even the hard and fast mess of your first time in the file room, but somewhere in the middle. You could feel the passion and the love he held for you in his kisses, and the lust you had cultivated over the weeks in each thrust, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.

“Yes, Spencer just like that, fuck,” you moaned out when he finally moved away from your lips, pressing his mouth into your neck again and biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but just hard enough that the pain heightened your pleasure.

With each thrust, your arms became weaker and weaker, your legs shaking furiously as he gave you all of him.

“Come on baby, just a few more, you can hold out for a few more,” he whispered in your ear, licking and sucking at the place he’d left his bite mark.

“I don’t think I can, I don’t think I can for musch longer, Spencer, please,” you whimpered your arms falling away from your legs. He replaced yours with his, pushing your body further into the bed, doing all the work and letting you just experience it.

“Okay, baby, you did great, you think you can come on my cock now, baby?” He asked and you immediately nodded, feeling the tell-tale bubbling of your orgasm beginning to rush through you. Your whole body stiffened as you screamed, his pace unrelenting as he rode you through the orgasm. He moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing you through it and keeping you sensitive, and even though you’d just had one of the most powerful orgasms of your life, you knew he meant to make you do it again.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. I love you, sweetie, you’re doing so perfect for me,” you gasped and moaned into his ear, unable to think for the twitching in your cunt, driven slowly insane by the sensitivity.

“I’m almost there, baby, gonna fill your cunt with my seed.” He grunted in your ear, grabbing either side of your neck in his hands, resting his forehead against yours and thrusting harder and harder into you. You felt the second wave start to hit then, more drawn out than the first as he did his best to breed you, to plant himself firmly inside of you. He lasted only a few more thrusts before his hips stilled, bottomed out inside of you, and you felt rope after rope of his cum spurt into you.

“Fuck, princess, I love you.” He pressed another quick kiss y=to your lips, but you were whimpering from the continued contact now, and he quickly pulled out. He stopped to watch his cum drip out of you, knowing that he’d fully claimed you now, that you were his forever, and, resisting the urge to push into you again, left to grab something to clean you up with.

You laid there, gently coaxing your legs back into a comfortable position until he came back. He cleaned you up, bundled you up in some fresh pajamas, and returned you to the bed, wrapping you up in his arms once again, almost as if nothing had happened.

“It’s saturday, so we can just relax for the rest of the day, okay, princess?” You hid your face in his chest and nodded your approval, gently shutting out the rest of the world. It was you and him now, everyday of the week it was you and him.

Sunday

After two weeks of constant attention, you had to set a boundary with your new boyfriend very quickly, and you chose breakfast on the sunday morning to do it.

“Spencer, you know I love you, right?” you opened the conversation, filling up his coffee mug as he set the small table in the corner of your kitchen.

“Yes, you said it 246 times yesterday. I said it 274 times, but whose keeping count, right?” You laughed at him, and pulled him into a hug quickly, pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips.

“I love you, but we need to talk again.” You smiled up at him, trying your best to keep your poker face as you threatened to crack seeing his eyebrows knit together.

“Did I do something wrong?” he quickly asked, but you stroked his hair reassuringly, signaling for him to just listen to you.

“I really like my job, you know. I like working out in the field.” You smiled up at him, watching his confusion deepen.

“But if you keep fucking me like I’m a little whore everyday of the week, it’s only going to be a matter of time until I can’t walk, you know?”

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sweetlemontart · 10 months

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call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

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Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath.

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on.

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease.

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago.

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend.

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification.

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck.

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan.

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious.

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by.

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier.

"Is that it?" you asked him.

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head.

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you.

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest.

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name.

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes.

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further.

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show.

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal.

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more.

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow.

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to.

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit.

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut.

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge.

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in.

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much?

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it.

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you.

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer.

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising.

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants.

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light.

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you.

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet.

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum.

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back.

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath.

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes.

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips.

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting.

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening.

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all.

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better.

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him.

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh.

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips.

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole.

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt.

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit.

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up.

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow.

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt.

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name.

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know.

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle.

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy.

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it.

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours.

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp.

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt.

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow.

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

"Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him.

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full.

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess."

"W-What?" you squeak out.

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans.

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest.

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you.

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin.

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air.

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?"

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs.

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst.

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors.

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind.

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance.

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry?

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes.

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again.

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high.

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet.

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it.

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal.

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck.

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing.

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk.

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly.

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out.

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago.

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair.

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind.

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes.

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..."

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—"

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once.

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head.

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush.

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open.

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer.

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him.

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath.

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..."

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly.

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his.

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss.

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine.

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes.

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice.

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek.

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom.

3K notes · View notes

theoreticslut · 2 years

Text

「 jealousy, jealously 」

eddie munson x henderson!fem reader

summary: you were a part of hellfire long before your brother and his friends got to high school, yet they fit right into the club while you get pushed aside.

requested: no

word count: 6.4k

warnings: light angst, jealousy, brief arguing/raised voices, lots of fluff, kissing, fake gagging, few curse words

a/n: i apparently can’t write short fics for eddie, but i don’t think anyone is complaining about it. plus, i think the fics are freaking adorable & i’m highkey kinda proud of them. so i hope you continue enjoying them, as i’ve got plenty of ideas for him with more coming daily. if you’ve got an idea you’d like done (for eddie or any other st character) feel free to send it my way & i’ll give it a go. also, i couldn’t think of a better title than this, but the actual fic has no purposeful inpsiration from the olivia rodrigo song. i hope you enjoy it regardless! Xx

Part 2 out now!

You groan as you see your brother and his friends make their way through the cafeteria towards you. Knowing it was their first day of high school, you had no doubt they’d try to sit with you. It’s not that you don’t want them to, but you’re terrified that they’ll embarrass you in front of your long-standing crush and dungeon master.

It had been a few months into your freshman year of high school when the small group of friends you’d found yourself in started ranting about how weird and creepy the Hellfire club - and their leader, Eddie Munson - was. You didn’t quite hold the same opinions, though, since you’d been playing the game for a few years by then. In fact, you had only recently given it up when the friend you played with moved towns.

It was during one of your free periods when their ranting became a bit annoying to you. You had started correcting and fact-checking them, forgetting that Eddie shared the study hall with you. You never even gave it a thought that he could hear the four of you talking until he stopped you at your locker after that period - the day, luckily, being over.

He wanted to know how you knew so much about the game which is when you admitted you had played. Of course that knowledge completely floored him.

When he was able to pull himself back together, though, he offered for you to join them at lunch the following day to meet the group and see if you wanted to become their newest member. You agreed, and within the week found yourself a permanent part of hellfire with your own shirt and everything.

It’s been two and a half years since then and you were still a part of the group, happily devoting your Thursday evenings to play the game. Within these past couple years and all the Thursdays you’ve spent in his presence, though, you found yourself falling hard for Eddie.

It’s nearly impossible not to when he’s so charismatic and funny. Not to mention how kind, passionate, and beautiful he is. You’d swear he was a fucking angel, regardless of the image he tries to portray.

“Y/n! Can we sit here with you? Please?” You hear your brother almost beg, catching your attention as your heart starts to race.

You’ve never mentioned to the group that you have a younger brother, especially not a younger brother that also plays D&D. You knew they’d want to be introduced to him, and you fear that he'd slowly come to replace you in the group.

“Who’re these kids?” Eddie questions, hands clasped in front of his face as he looks between you and the three younger boys standing behind you.

“Uh, Dustin, here, is my brother.” You start, nodding towards him as he smiles.

“A-and these are his friends, Mike and Lucas.”

“A young Henderson…hmm? Tell me, do you guys play?” Eddie asks the three boys, catching them off guard, their mouths opening and closing as they figure out how to answer.

“They do. They’ve been playing for a few years.” You answer for them, motioning for them to just sit down.

“Thank you.” Mike and Lucas mouth, having sat on the same side of the table as you with Dustin.

You sigh, smiling lightly as you nod to them. Of course you don’t want to upset Eddie, but you’re also not going to leave your brother and his friends to fend for themselves.

Wanting to move on, you take a bite of your lunch, hoping that Eddie leaves the topic of the boys joining you alone. Having known him for three years, though, you should know that he can’t.

“You’ve never mentioned having a brother, Henderson.” He comments, and you can practically feel his eyes on you as you stare at your food.

“The topic never really came up.”

“Not even when I’ve mentioned wanting to find new members?” He lightly smirks, curious as to why you’d keep such a thing secret.

Surely you realize how great having a brother that plays D&D is? Within the year most of you will be graduating, and he needs someone to pass the dungeon master title on to. Your younger brother and his friends just starting high school couldn’t be a better option.

“Figured you’d find him and his friends soon enough anyways.” you comment, still not looking up to the curly-haired adonis.

“Hmm, well they’ve saved me the work of searching them out by coming over here. Welcome to hellfire, boys.”

“Wait, you’re just letting them join?” Gareth questions.

“Yeah. You’ve seen Henderson play. If they know her then they’ve got to be good.” Eddie smiles, making your cheeks flush.

“They’re good, but not on my account.” You mumble.

“Nonsense. Still can’t believe you wouldn’t tell us about them before now, though.”

“How come you haven’t, y/n? I mean, you talk about them all the time.” Dustin asks, before taking a bite of his food.

At his statement, the rest of the group seem to perk up, curious to know what you say about each of them.

“I do not. I’ve only mentioned the club a few times.” You huff, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit more.

“Only a few times to mom and I, but I hear you on the phone with your friend talking about them every week.”

“First off, why’re you even listening to me on the phone? Secondly, the only reason I talk about the club is because I’m updating her on my life.”

“Got a rather boring life then.” Dustin quips and you simply gawk at him, not believing him right now as a few surprised chuckles leave the rest of the boys.

“Shut up and eat, Dustin. No one asked for your input.”

You watch him shrug before turning to Mike and Lucas while you stick to staring at your food, feeling the group's eyes on you. It’s bad enough you’re the only girl in the group, you didn’t need them to know you talk about them on a weekly basis.

Little do you realize that Eddie can’t help but find himself smiling at this new side of you. He’s been intrigued by you ever since he first heard you correcting your friends back in your freshman year. He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful girl would play the game he loved.

Of course, after watching you play and just spending time with you during lunch, he’s found himself crushing on you, even if you still remained a bit of a mystery to him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you of his feelings, though. Not once in the three years he’s known you.

Hearing that you talk about the club, though, makes his heart race. You really enjoy their company so much that you’d talk about them to a friend? It’s insane to him, and yet it makes him feel giddy. He can’t help but wonder what you’ve said - about the club or about him.

~.~

“Lauren, I’m telling you! For as long as I’ve been a part of the club, my brother joins and suddenly that’s all they care about. They all like my brother and his friends better than me.” You sigh, turning onto your back as you stare at the ceiling.

“I highly doubt that, y/n. I’m sure it’s just that your brother and his friends are still new.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Laur. I mean, it’s not like I really bring anything to the group.”

“Y/n, you’re the only girl.”

“That doesn’t mean anything though.” You almost whine.

You hate to admit it, but you’ve been feeling left out of the club ever since your brother and his friends joined a few months ago. You had the feeling that this would happen, even though you hoped it wouldn’t.

It’s not like you really bring anything to the group, though, now that you’ve introduced Dustin, Lucas, and Mike to the club. Your character isn’t super powerful or helpful or anything. You’re not the best roller. You’re just there...seemingly wasting space.

“Pretty sure it does. I mean, the way you’ve talked about…what’s his name, Eddie?”

“What about him?”

“The way you’ve talked about him, it sounds like he likes you.”

“No. No, he doesn’t. I’m sure of that. He barely talks to me.” You sigh, rolling over onto your stomach as you bury your head into the pillows.

“Y/n, hon, boys are terrible at talking to the girls they like!” Lauren laughs, and you know she’s shaking her head at you.

“Not Eddie. He usually can’t stop flirting, and yet he doesn’t flirt with me. I don’t even think he’s ever actually called me by my name, Laur. I’m just...Henderson to him.”

“Maybe you make him nervous.”

“Me? Make him nervous? Laur, you’ve lost your mind!” You scoff, knowing you could never make a guy nervous.

Guys don’t even notice you, for crying out loud. How can you make them nervous?

“I don’t make guys nervous. Guys don’t even notice me, Laur. I’m not you.”

“Okay, now you’re just being down on yourself and I’m not going to have that. If this Eddie guy can’t see how fucking amazing you are, then he just doesn’t deserve you. Alright?”

“Not alright. I want him to like me. Like, a lot.” You pout.

“I’m telling you he does. If I’m wrong then I’ll drive myself down there and let you have free go at me. How’s that?”

“You know I’d never do that to you, but I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”

“Sure, I like him, but I know it’s never going to happen.” You sigh, twirling the cord as you stare at your bedspread, still laying on your stomach.

“What’s never going to happen?” You hear Dustin ask, making you jump and drop the phone.

“Dustin, get out of my room!”

“But it’s time to go! We’re going to be late if we don’t leave, y/n, and I don’t want to upset Eddie by being late.” He rambles, and all you can do is roll your eyes.

“Fine. Go get in the car. I’ll be right down.”

“Don’t forget that we’re picking up Mike and Lucas. And don’t forget your folder!”

“I won’t. Now go.” You groan, rolling back onto your stomach and grabbing the phone.

“I’m sorry, Laur. I’ve got to go.”

“Time to go see your man, huh?” She teases and you roll your eyes, attempting to fight back a blush.

“He’s not my man. Never will be. I’ll call you later, though, okay?”

“You better! Love you.”

With a ‘love you’ of your own you hang up the phone and roll off of your bed. Grabbing your backpack and a sweater, you slip your shoes on before grabbing your keys and leaving the room.

You really kind of hope tonight’s game goes by quickly, not wanting to be in Eddie’s presence longer than necessary.

~.~

Eddie can’t help but frown as he watches you tonight. He’s been noticing how you’ve been seeming more and more down, almost seeming to pull into yourself and away from the group this past month.

You’ve been quiet lately, which isn’t terribly out of character for you, but it seems different than normal. You don’t quite have that same brightness to you that Eddie’s come to look forward to each day.

“Henderson, is everything alright?”

At his voice you’re pulled from your thoughts, turning to look at the beautiful, curly-haired man that makes your heart race and palms sweat.

“Mhm. Fine.” You hum, nodding and sending a small smile in his direction.

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm.”

As you hum, you turn your attention back to your clasped hands on the table as you zone back out to Dustin and the rest of the group chattering around you.

“Little Henderson, is something up with your sister?” you hear Eddie question as he turns his attention to your brother.

“Unbelievable.” You huff, shaking your head and crossing your arms as you slump back in your chair.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” You mumble, staring at the table in front of you as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

All you did was zone out for a moment. You don’t understand why he’d have to ask Dustin what’s wrong when that’s all you did. It’s not like he’s ever actually taken notice of your emotions before to know that something is wrong.

“I think she’s upset about a guy.” Dustin speaks up after a moment and you can’t help but scowl at him, brows furrowed in shocked anger.

“A guy?” Eddie questions, almost seeming surprised.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not about a guy, Dustin. Maybe try keeping your head out of my business.” You retort, jaw tensing in anger.

“But you were saying something about liking someone and how it’s not going to happen.”

“And I told you to stop listening in on me when I’m on the phone.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Dustin questions, seeming like he genuinely wants to know which irritates you slightly. Why does he have to be so caring when you’re trying to be angry with him?

“Doesn’t matter.” you state, wanting the conversation to be over.

“Yes, it does.”

“If I wanted to tell you, Dustin, I would. Just leave it.”

“G-guys, can we…can we get playing again?” You hear Mike stutter out and you let out a deep breath.

“Yeah. Sorry for getting off topic. Let’s play.”

“Are you going to be alright to play?” Eddie questions, looking you over, seemingly studying your body language.

He’s never seen you upset before, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going on. It’s not like you to be angry and short with others. Not when he’s always seen you as the happy, upbeat one of the group.

Could it be a guy like Dustin suggested? Or is it just that you’re not feeling well? Either way he can’t help but want to know.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this going again.” you answer, not bothering to look at anyone but rather as the table and your hands.

“Henderson-“ Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off, taking him by surprise at the sheer frustration coming from you.

“Do you not want me playing right now? I said I’ll be fine. Believe me, will you?”

“Alright. Where were we?”

You let out a breath as you all slowly get back to the game, although you can feel the tenseness of the air still lingering. Attempting to ignore it, you force yourself to focus on what Eddie and everyone else is saying, hoping to god the campaign isn’t much longer.

~.~

Taking your seat at the lunch table, you feel Gareth and Jeff’s eyes on you. It’s like they’re not sure how to talk to you, almost afraid that you’re still as touchy as you were last night during the game.

“I’m not going to bite your heads off, you know.” You comment, not bothering to look up at them as you shove a forkful of food into your mouth.

“You’re sure?” Gareth questions, eyes wider than normal as he still seems cautious.

“Mhm. I just wasn’t feeling great last night.”

“Okay. You’ve just…never been like this.” He states and you know he’s not wrong. Ever since you first joined the club you’ve been quiet and almost demure, not wanting to create any issues.

You shrug, acknowledging his statement, but leave it unanswered. There’s not really anything to say to that. Not when the entire reason for your irritation is kind of embarrassing and childish.

The two of them don’t seem to mind though, going back to talking amongst themselves as you eat in silence, waiting for everyone else to join the table.

It’s not like anything really changes once everyone is there. They all chat amongst themselves while you keep to yourself, only giving short replies when talked to. You simply eat in silence as you let yourself fall into your thoughts, not wanting to make the atmosphere tense like you had last night.

No one seems to mind, though. At least you don’t think they do. Not until Eddie slides into the empty desk next to yours in your shared study hall at the end of the day.

“Hey, Henderson.” He greets, voice lowered so as to not get yelled at by the teacher or to potentially get on your bad side.

“Hey.”

“What’s…what’s going on lately?”

“What do y’mean?”

“You’ve been quieter than usual. Not as happy either.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Eddie.” You mumble, not wanting to share what’s been going on.

“No? See, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Something’s bothering you.”

“So what if there is? I’m not telling you unless I want to.”

At your reply, Eddie simply sighs, and you can’t help but feel a little rude. It’s not like he’s done anything, it’s just your stupid thoughts and feelings getting in the way.

“Alright then. I’m not going to push for an answer. I just...I need to know that whatever it is won’t be interfering with the campaign.”

“It won’t be. Not from here on out.”

“Here on out?”

“I’m quitting the club. Been thinking about it for a while now.” You admit, watching his face fall at your words.

“Henderson-“

“It’s y/n, Eddie.“

As the words leave your lips, the bell rings to signal that the day is finally over. Without hesitating a second, you’re up from your seat and walking away, leaving Eddie confused and scrambling to catch up to you.

“Y/n?” He calls, chasing you from the classroom and towards the doors, not caring that he needed to stop at his locker.

You see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike waiting by the trash can at the edge of the parking lot, and you sigh. You really can’t wait to get home.

“Y/n?! What’s brought this on? Why do you wanna leave the club?” Eddie calls as he continues to follow you towards the parking lot.

“You’re leaving hellfire?” Dustin questions, him and the other two boys having heard Eddie.

“Just get in the car, Dustin.”

“But you’re leaving hellfire?! You can’t just do that!”

“Exactly! Why’re you trying to leave?” Eddie questions, panting lightly as he finally catches up to you at your car.

“I’m not trying to leave, Eddie. I am leaving. I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. Sorry.”

“No. You can’t just leave. We haven’t finished the campaign yet.”

“You’ll figure out how to continue it without me, I’m sure.”

Of course he’d just be upset about the game getting messed up and not about you actually leaving. Why would he care when he’s still got Little Henderson there?

“I’ll return my shirt next week.” You state, moving to get into the car.

“Th-that’s not necessary. Hold onto the shirt. Keep it for memory’s sake, I mean.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Eddie nods, watching you, seeming as if he wants to say something else but he can’t bring himself to.

“Is that everything?” You question, wanting nothing more than to leave.

“Yeah...Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around. Come on now, Dustin.”

“You two need rides?” You question Mike and Lucas, almost seeming to ignore Eddie as you get in the car. They shake their heads and you nod, closing your door as you wait for Dustin to do the same.

Soon as he does, you’re putting the car in reverse and backing out as you had already started it. You really didn’t want to be there any longer than you already had been.

As you pull out of the parking lot, though, you can feel Dustin wanting to ask questions, but he seems scared to anger you, so he stays quiet. His questions simply swirling around his head, instead.

~.~

“Wait, you did what now?!” Lauren questions, almost screaming into the receiver.

“I quit the club. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

“But you enjoyed it.”

“I enjoyed it when I hadn’t been shoved to the background. I enjoyed it when I actually felt like a part of the club.”

“So talk to them? You don’t just quit something because it stopped being fun.”

“I think that’s precisely what you do when a club stops being fun, Laur. Besides, it’s not like they miss me.” You huff, pulling your feet towards your body as you lay on your stomach, softly kicking them in the air.

It’s been just about a month since you quit the club, and while it saddens you a little, you’ve also felt the tiniest bit of relief. You don’t have to try so hard to keep your crush on Eddie hidden anymore. You don’t have to spend every lunch period listening to the guys talk about whatever it is they do while you sit to the side. You don’t have to feel like the outcast in the group of outcasts.

Sure you miss playing the game, but it’s not the end of the world. You’ve found other things to keep yourself preoccupied. Mostly just listening to music and doing your homework, but you’ve found yourself picking up art as a hobby as the days dragged on, slowly starting to fill and old sketchbook you’ve had lying around.

~.~

“It’s still so weird that y/n isn’t here.” Gareth comments as the boys watch you sit at a different table once again. They don’t know why, but they keep hoping this has just been some kind of nightmare and that any day you’ll actually sit back down with them. It just doesn’t make sense why you’d leave them all so abruptly.

“Yeah. It is.” Jeff agrees, sighing as they see a smile form on your face with a laugh falling out right after. It’s been way too long since any of them have seen you like this, and it kind of hurts.

“She still wears her shirt a lot.” Dustin informs, looking at the older boys - Eddie included - as they watch you.

“She does?” Eddie questions, the bit of knowledge somehow lifting him up a little.

He hated hearing you say you were quitting, and he hated it even more when Monday came around the week after and you didn’t sit with them. Nearly three years you had sat by his side and suddenly you weren’t there anymore. It felt beyond wrong, but he didn’t know what to do to fix it, if there even was anything that he could do.

“Yeah. She seems to wear it all the time now. I’m honestly not sure when the last time was that she didn’t wear it.”

Eddie nods, smiling lightly at the thought. He can’t help but wonder if there’s anything different he could have done to keep you from leaving. Was it something he had said? Or done? Was it just him?

“She’s been acting weird since she left. I heard her on the phone the other day-“

“You really should stop that, Dustin.” Eddie pipes up, but the younger boy doesn’t seem to hear.

“She said something about how she couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine after mentioning to her friend that she quit.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never known her to pretend about anything. I don’t know what she was talking about.”

“Because then she said something about enjoying the club when she felt like a part of it? She’s always been a part of it though.” Dustin continues, frowning as he eats his food.

He may not understand what you were talking about, but Eddie has a sinking feeling that he does. He really hopes he’s wrong though.

He doesn’t want to admit that he was giving your brother and his friends more attention than he’s ever really gave you. It’s not that they’re better than you in any way, honestly. It’s just that they’re boys.

He’s always hesitated in giving you attention during meetings or at lunch, because he didn’t want anyone to catch onto the crush he has on you. He was afraid that if Gareth or Jeff knew he liked you, that it’d make the atmosphere awkward.

Even by keeping you at a distance, though, the two guys picked up on Eddie’s crush. It’s not in his character to be quiet or reserved in the slightest, so when they noticed how he constrained himself in conversation with you, they knew something was up.

Still, Eddie could never allow himself to act the same way with you like he does with Gareth and Jeff, and now your brother and his friends. He wanted you to like him, so he kept himself from being sarcastic and outspoken with you. Hearing Dustin talk though, Eddie has the suspicion that his plan may have backfired.

“Your sister still picks you up from the meetings, doesn’t she?” Eddie questions, already planning out what he wants to say to you when he can get you aside for a moment.

“No. Nancy’s been dropping me off or I’ve just been riding my bike.”

“I’ll be driving you home tonight then.”

“O-okay?!”

Eddie chuckles lightly at Dustin’s excitement, but he never takes his eyes off of you across the cafeteria. He needs to talk to you, and he’s hoping that tonight he can do just that.

~.~

“You know it ain’t easy, running out of thrills. You know it ain’t easy when you don’t know what you want.”

You hum, laying on your bed as you listen to the drums, guitar, and vocals of Europe fill your room.

“What do you want?” You question, mirroring the song, your foot tapping against your bedspread as you close your eyes.

“Woah-oh-oh, you want to rock now, rock the night, ‘til early in the morning light. Rock now, rock the night.”

“Woah-oh, woah-oh, yeah!” You sing, smiling lightly.

It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just relax and enjoy listening to your music without worrying about homework or being late to hellfire. One of the plus sides of quitting the club - you finally get time just for yourself.

Hearing a knock on your door, you hum loud enough to acknowledge whoever is at the door.

“y/n? You’ve got a visitor.” Dustin calls, gently opening your door.

“Who?” You question, sitting up on your bed, nodding as Eddie comes into view behind Dustin.

“Oh…hi.”

“Hi. I-is it alright if I come in?” He questions, pausing in your doorway.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

As he makes his way inside, you situate yourself in your bed so you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Do you…”

At Eddie’s voice, you look up to see him questioning you about your door, going to close it before swinging it open.

“You can close it if you want. I don’t care.”

He nods, softly shoving the door to close it, not quite giving it enough force to close all the way so there’s a little crack left open.

“So what’re you doing here?” You question him, watching him as he looks around, seeming a bit out of place with your soft white walls and contradicting decor.

While he may fit into the plethora of rock band posters covering your walls and the many records and cassettes you’ve got laying around, he doesn’t fit in with the florals and stuffed animals you’ve got elsewhere in your room.

“I, uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

You can’t help but chuckle as he spots the bralette hanging out of your dresser, you having been too lazy to tuck it back in earlier, and seems to pale in horror. For seeming so confident and cocky, he sure doesn’t look it being in a girl’s room.

“You can sit, you know.” You offer, motioning to the chair you’ve got in the corner of your room.

“Yeah, okay.” He mumbles, taking a few steps over towards the chair before sitting on the edge of the seat.

You watch as he takes in your room, fidgeting with his hands and rings as he does so. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous to be here.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Uh, well, w-we really miss you being in the club. G-gareth, Jeff, and I. I mean, s-so do the younger ones, but…”

“But you three miss me more?” You question, eyebrow cocking in disbelief.

“Well, yeah…yeah.”

“Okay.” You deadpan, not sure what he wants in reply to that. It’s nice to hear that they miss you, but it doesn’t really change anything.

A brief moment passes where you watch Eddie, waiting for him to say something else. Taking in his mannerisms and body language, you can’t remember a time when Eddie’s ever looked so nervous and unsure of himself.

“D-dustin was saying you felt left out? Of the club?” Eddie clarifies, drawing up just enough courage to look at you.

“He was listening to me on the phone again, wasn’t he?”

“Y-yeah. I tried telling him to stop, but I don’t think he heard me.” he sighs, chuckling lightly in nerves as you shake your head.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop, if I’m honest. He’ll be traumatized one day or another I’m sure.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought as you smile.

“It’s true though? You…you felt left out?”

“Yeah. It’s dumb, I know, but you guys took so easily to Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.”

“I get it, they’re great kids, and they play D&D…but it’s like they didn’t even have to try to fit into the group.” You sigh, knowing it’s about time you share at least part of the problem.

“No. No, it’s not dumb. I’m sorry we made you - I made you - feel that way.” Eddie sighs, catching your line of sight in his, wanting you to realize how sincere he’s being.

He never wanted to make you feel left out, it’s just his stupid feelings that got in the way.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.”

“It does matter, though. We’d - I’d - really like you to join the group again. It’s not the same without you there, y/n.”

“I’m sorry. I just, I really don’t think joining again would be good, though.” You admit, knowing that if you joined again you’d still just be upset that nothing will ever come from your crush on him.

“How come? I-is there something else that’s been bothering you about the club? I want you to feel welcome.”

“No. No, It’s nothing about the club, Eddie. There’s just a lot of things going on personally that’d make it hard.”

“That guy issue?”

“What?”

“Is it anything to do with that guy issue Dustin mentioned?” Eddie questions, and you can’t help but gawk at him.

“Does he not like you playing or something?”

“What? No.” you answer, shaking your head incredulously, wondering how Eddie got it into his head that you’d ever be wanted by someone. Has he never actually watched how other guys interact with you?

“Then what is it? Why won’t you come back to the club?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just...can’t. It’s better if I let you guys enjoy it yourselves.”

“It’s not better, though. We all want you back, y/n.”

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, not knowing what else you can say.

A moment passes where neither of you say anything and you start to think that maybe you’re done talking. Before you can say anything of the sort though, Eddie’s asking a question.

“Tell me, is there anything I can do? Anything that would make you want to come back?”

“No…no, there’s nothing you could do, eddie, I promise y-“

“There must be.” He argues, wanting nothing more than to find something he can do to get you to come back.

He misses you more than he thought possible, and he just needs there to be something - anything - he can do.

“There’s not, though.”

“How come?”

“What?”

“How come there’s nothing I can do? Are you just that dead set on not coming back? Even though we all miss you?”

“If I could, trust me that I would join the group again. I just, I can’t right now, Eddie. I’m sor-“

“Why can’t you?”

“Because…because of you.” You sigh, fed up with him pushing for an answer.

“Me?”

“You, Eddie. I can’t come back because of you. Because if I did then I’d just get all upset again because my heart is dumb and doesn’t know how to listen.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath as you look at him. You can’t seriously be getting ready to tell him this, but you are. You don’t see any other option right now.

“I like you, Eddie.” You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I like you, but you don’t like me. I mean, it’s obvious between you never talking to me or looking at me and how you’ve always called me Hender-“

You gasp, moaning lightly as you get cut off by a pair of lips on yours. Eddie was kissing you to shut you up.

At the realization you can’t help but panic, not understanding why he’d do this when he doesn’t like you.

“Eddie!”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just, you were rambling and saying I didn’t like you but I do! I do. I like y-“

It’s his turn to gasp and groan into the kiss as you pull him to your lips, one hand tightly grasped in the front of his shirt while the other drapes around his shoulders, holding him close to you.

As he realizes what’s happening, he relaxes into the kiss, his one hand coming up to caress your cheek as the other holds himself up on the bed.

It’s not until you’re both out of breath and gasping for air do you actually pull away from each other, your hand relaxing against his chest as he lowers his from your cheek.

“Woah.” He sighs, trying to catch his breath as he chuckles lightly, studying your face.

“Yeah.” You murmur, ghosting your fingers over your lips as if trying to remember if that actually just happened.

“Uhm, so I like you. If-if that wasn’t obvious.” He stutters and you chuckle, smiling at the curly-haired dork.

“I like you too.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. Made you feel left out when I was just too nervous to admit I liked you.”

“I’m sorry I got all moody and quit the club because I was jealous of my brother instead of just telling you how I felt.”

“So…does this mean you’ll come back?” He asks, hopeful, as he kneels in front of you.

“You’ll stop treating me differently?”

“Mhm. Trust me when I say there’ll be no pushing you away after that.”

“Mm. Don’t be treating me specially either just because we kissed.” you lightly chuckle, cocking a brow as you chew on your lip to hold back the smile wanting to light up your face.

“Can I treat you differently if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” he questions, a wide, goofy smile filling his face as he looks at you.

A smile grows on your face at his sheer happiness, drawing a light chuckle from you as you reply to his question.

“Not during game play. We don’t wanna be unfair to the guys, do we?”

“Mm, you’re right. If I promise to not treat you specially during gameplay then will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, really wanting to hear you say yes. He’s only liked you for nearly three years, frequently imagining you as his girlfriend the entire time.

“I would really love for you to be my girlfriend, and I your boyfriend. It just. It sounds really nice.”

“You ramble a lot. You know that?” You giggle, tucking some hair behind his ear as a blush dusts over his cheeks.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.” You smile, biting your lip to keep from kissing him again.

“So…?”

“If you promise not to treat me specially during the game, then I’d love to be your girlfriend, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He questions, as if he doesn’t believe that you’d agree.

“Yeah.”

With the word out of your mouth, his lips find yours again, pulling a chuckle from your body as he slowly lowers himself on top of you, pinning you against your mattress as he kisses you, one hand cupping your cheek as the other rests on your waist.

“Did you-ew!” You hear Dustin call from your doorway, fake gagging as he sees Eddie on top of you, effectively startling the man back into kneeling at the end of your bed.

“Did we what, dustin?” You ask, leaning around Eddie’s body to look at your brother still standing at your doorway, one hand plastered over his eyes.

“I wanted to see if you two had figured things out, but it seems like you did.”

“Yeah, we did, little henderson. Your sister is coming back to the club.” Eddie shares, smiling at you as he situates himself on the bed beside you, Dustin uncovering his eyes in excitement at the exact same time.

“Can you please get off of my sister?” he begs, shielding his eyes again as eddie places a soft kiss to your lips in his own happiness of you coming back to the club.

“But I like being close to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?! You’re dating my sister?!” Dustin exclaims, a look of pure shock and disgust on his face.

“Is there a problem with it, Dustin?” You question, watching your brother almost seeming to pout.

“I guess not. Just…don’t be gross when I’m around. Please?”

“We’ll try not to be.” Eddie states, smiling at you as Dustin nods, giving a small okay before leaving the two of you alone.

As the door closes, Eddie’s looking back at you, both of you chuckling.

“Guess you were right in saying he’d be traumatized one day.” He chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss, never realizing just how amazing it’d feel to have your lips on his.

You can’t help but smile into it, enjoying the feel of his body on yours. You’ve only been imaging this moment for nearly four years. You’ve got to say that nothing you imagined could ever live up to the reality, though. Kissing Eddie is like a little slice of heaven, you swear.

It certainly took you long enough to get here, but now that you’re here, you don’t ever want to go back.

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sunsburns · 2 days

Text

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him.

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis.

Which he didn't.

You let him win.

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together.

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise.

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one.

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right?

Right?

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief.

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker.

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you.

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette.

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips.

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you.

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art.

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back.

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you.

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin.

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past.

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread.

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room.

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too.

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair.

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see.

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you.

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath.

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back.

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head.

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face.

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly.

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you.

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips.

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below.

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes.

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own.

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache.

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction.

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake.

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you."

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips.

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer.

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop.

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger.

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch.

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard.

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man."

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm.

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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fadedin2u · 5 months

Text

big flirt!

MDNI 18+

summary: your friends force you to go out to a gay bar with them, and ellie buys you a drink.

content/tw: alcohol mention, subtop!ellie, slightly dom/switch!reader, reader and ellie are both drunk, face sitting(r!receiving), tribbing, strap-on(r!recieving), reader is called “girl” once or twice, afab!reader, reader is neither masc nor fem, college!ellie and reader, astrophysics major!ellie

notes: i left the ending written in away that i might add another part to this fic! lmk if u want that lol

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

“hey, 6 o’clock, there’s a certified hottie staring at you-“ one of your well-meaning friends tells you, motioning (not very) discreetly behind you.

you turn around and your jaw nearly drops. the girl staring at you is stunning, with her dark auburn hair and flannel worn over a wife-beater, sitting at the bar and sipping her drink. you make eye contact with her momentarily, and turn back to your friend, mary, with wide eyes.

mary laughs, “are you gonna go for it?”

your friends had forced you to go out to this gay bar with the intention of meeting new people after a break up that left you a complete wreck. it’d been about 3 months since your ex broke the news that they weren’t in love with you anymore, and it made any kind of romantic prospects leave a bitter taste in your mouth till this day. not to mention, you’re wayyy too drunk at this point to be on your A-game with flirting. you make a face and mary groans.

“come on, dude! she’s gorgeous, clearly interested, what else could you ask for?”

you make another face, “just because she’s staring doesn’t mean that she’s necessarily interested-“

“how about if she’s walking over to you right now? does that make her interested?”

you hear someone clear their throat behind you, and you give mary a murderous look before turning to the stranger with a smile.

she gives you a slightly awkward smile in return, “hey. i, um, i’m sorry if this is forward, but could i buy you a drink?”

your stomach is absolutely in knots, but you nod. “yeah, i’d love that.”

the stranger gives you a relieved smile in return, extending her hand to you, “i’m ellie. what’s your drink?”

you give her your name, “-and just a rum and coke, thank you so much.”

ellie’s clearly pretty drunk as well, which makes you feel a little better. she leads you back over to the spot at the bar she was sitting at, giving you her hand to help as you hop onto the excessively tall bar seats. she gives the bar tender your drink order and orders another whiskey on the rocks for herself.

“so, do you come to this bar a lot?” you ask, and inwardly cringe at yourself. ‘i basically just asked “so, you come here often?” great.’

ellie makes a so-so motion with her hand, “sometimes, not very often though. i study astrophysics so i don’t usually have the free time to deal with a hangover.”

your eyebrows raise and your drunk brain speaks before you think, “wow, smart girl.”

ellie’s cheeks flush a little, and she looks down, “i don’t know about that, but i’m really passionate about it, which is more than half the battle, i think.”

you scoff, “please, you’re literally studying rocket science. you can’t convince me that you’re not smart now.”

ellie laughs a little, “okay, then i’ll just shut up and take the compliment. thank you.”

the bar tender gives you two your drinks and ellie takes a sip of her own, “so, what do you do?”

you take a sip of your own drink, “i’m a student right now too, i’m actually studying-“

suddenly, you hear a familiar beat in the background, and you stop talking, a (likely goofy) smile growing on your face, “oh my god, i fucking love this song. nicki minaj literally cannot miss.”

ellie laughs brightly at that, raising an eyebrow, “i absolutely fucking agree. do you wanna dance?”

“really?”

ellie nods, taking a large gulp of her whiskey, “for sure. i couldn’t live with myself knowing i cheated a pretty girl like you out of a dance break.”

you giggle and nod, chugging the rest of your drink faster than you probably should. ellie takes your hand and leads you out the the dance floor where there’s a large crowd of people dancing together. you pull ellie against you, your actions emboldened by the alcohol in your system. ellie immediately goes to hold on your hips, your bodies moving against each other.

you don’t really think to much about how you’re dancing, just letting your body move how it wants to. before you even realize what you’re doing, you’ve turned around in ellie’s hold, grinding your ass back against her hips. when you realize what’s happening, you nearly stop, but when you feel the tight grip of ellie’s hands on your hips and the way she’s grinding back into you, you relax. you stand back up straight, and wrap your arm up and behind you, holding onto the back of ellie’s head, which is now tucked against your neck. when you feel her lips against your jugular, you inhale sharply, pressing more into her.

you feel her kisses trail down to your shoulder, and you thank your good luck for deciding to wear a tank top. you feel her pelvis digging into your ass, and you can’t be sure because the music is so loud, but you swear you hear her moan.

you turn back around in her arms, and before either of you realize what’s happening, you’re locked into a heated kiss. your arms wrap around her neck, and one of her hands sneaks down from your hips to squeeze your ass. you moan into her mouth, and she takes the opportunity for her tongue to explore your mouth. when you separate, you’re both panting.

“wanna get an uber back to mine?” she asks loudly over the blasting music, and you nod right away.

——

the uber driver for the ride back will likely leave ellie with a low rating, thanks to the two of you not being able to detach your mouths from each other for longer than 5 seconds, but you two eventually make it back to ellie’s apartment.

once you’re in her bathroom, you push her back onto her bed between kisses and straddle her. she kisses your neck and chest, pushing your tank top up. you take it off for her and you’re left in your bra. ellie grins and starts kissing the exposed parts of your breasts.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty-“ ellie says as she takes off your bra, immediately latching onto one of your nipples. you moan softly and hold onto her head, your fingers threading through her hair.

you feel her warm tongue smooth over the hardened bud before switching to the other to give it the same attention. as she does, her hands come up to squeeze your tits. she’s still sucking and nipping gently as she looks up at you, her doe eyes stirring the heat in your belly. when she unlatches; her lips are a little swollen and wet with saliva.

“what am i allowed to do? what do you need?” ellie asks, smoothing her hands down your waist and hips.

you shiver slightly, “anything.”

ellie starts kissing your neck again, sucking a hickey into the crook of your neck, “you’re gonna need to be more detailed then that, doll.”

you bite your lip, your tipsy brain racing, “i need you to fuck me.”

ellie pulls back, a wide grin growing on her face, and she kisses your collarbone. “jesus christ, i’d fucking love too… can you sit on my face first?”

your exhale sharply and nod. ellie lies back on the bed and you slide off ellie, kicking off your jeans, leaving your underwear on, before crawling back up ellie’s body.

ellie grips your thighs as you position yourself over her face. “fuck, you smell good… you this wet for me, babe?”

you nod again, your cheeks hot.

her smile is a little cocky as she looks up at your face, and licks over the wet fabric of your underwear. your legs jolt a little and you let out a shaky breath.

ellie shoves her face further between your legs, and you swear you hear her whimper. she pulls your underwear to the side, and licks a broad stripe up your cunt.

you moan, your eyes falling shut as you hold onto her headboard.

she pulls back, “i said sit on my face, babe, not hover-“

ellie’s hands pull on your thighs so you rest your weight on her face fully. ellie becomes borderline ravenous, her tongue lapping at your pussy, slurping you up as her fingers dig into the fat of your ass and thighs.

you bite on your fist to muffle your loud moans, but ellie will have none of that, her arm reaching up to pull yours away from your face.

after a moment, ellie sticks her tongue fully out, letting you rub your clit against it as you please. your breaths become more and more unsteady.

ellie’s hands on your ass help guide your hips, and when she moves to suck on your clit, the suction makes your orgasm hit you like a freight train, bucking your hips against ellie’s face.

when you’ve come down, ellie helps you off of your face, and rummages through her drawer to grab her strap.

you stop her, your hand against her chest, “i wanna feel you against me first.”

ellie doesn’t need to hear anymore, and quickly starts taking off her clothes as you take off your underwear. she moves so she’s on top of you, hiking one of your legs over her shoulder. the moment her wet cunt grinds into yours, you both moan, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“you feel so fucking perfect, so fuckin good for me-“ she rambles

ellie starts thrusting her hips against yours, and you watch her small, perky tits bounce with each movement. your hand trails up to squeeze one of them and she whimpers softly. when you pinch her nipple between your fingers, she moans gutturally and moves against you faster. you’re not at all in control of how loud you’re moaning at this point.

“look at you, sweet girl, so fucking gorgeous-“

it isn’t long before your oversensitive clit is being brought closer to another orgasm. you make obscene noises as you cum again, ellie’s eyes trained on your face the whole time.

“there you go- let me cum all over that pretty- ah, fucking- mmmh, pussy-“ ellie grunts before cumming a few moments after you.

you both take about 5 seconds to recover before she’s scrambling to grab the strap. once ellie has it on, you lick your lips, staring at it.

“can i ride it?”

ellie’s eyes go big, and she basically throws herself onto the bed, lying back and patting her thigh.

you giggle and climb on top of her, kissing her lips again. she kisses you back eagerly, grabbing your hips and thrusting her hips up, but you pull back.

“nope. hands off and stay still.” you order, and her already very dilated eyes look like pools of black at this point. she nods, biting her lip.

you take the strap and run the tip of it through your folds. ellie whines as she watches this, her hips bucking a little with her fists clenching the sheets below her.

“hey, what did i just say?” you ask, a mischievous smile on your face.

she takes a shaky breath, “sorry.”

you laugh a little, “so needy, ellie.”

you make eye contact with her as your hand travels down your own body, taking the time to squeeze and play with your own breasts. meanwhile, ellie looks like she’s practically salivating.

your hand travels down your stomach to your cunt, rubbing your own clit for a second as ellie watches, her mouth agape.

your fingers spread your folds and dip inside you for a moment, curling up and making you moan.

ellie is desperate at this point, “please, jesus fucking christ, i need you so bad, you don’t under-“

you withdraw your fingers, giving ellie a look. “hmmm… sounds like you need something to keep that mouth of yours busy, huh?”

you bring your slick-covered fingers up to her mouth. “open.”

ellie immediately opens her mouth and starts sucking off your fingers, whimpers muffled.

you giggle, “awww, you’re too fucking cute… now keep sucking on those, yeah?”

without warning, you sink down onto ellie’s strap and start bouncing. ellie whines, her eyes fixated on your tits as they bounce with you, still eagerly sucking on your fingers. ellie’s eyes fall shut for a moment as the base of the harness gives her clit the friction she’s craving.

you keep bouncing on her strap, watching the fucked out glaze in ellie’s eyes, half-lidded and fully dilated.

“awww… you just needed to get fucked, that’s all… look how pretty you are…” you tease and ellie starts whimpering like she’s gonna come from your words alone.

after a few minutes, you start to tire and you take out the fingers in her mouth, slowing down, “now, fuck me like you mean it, ellie.”

those words are all the permission ellie need before flipping you over and drilling her hips into yours.

“-pussy’s so fuckin- fuck, so fuckin’ tight for me, babe-“ ellie whimpers, tucking her face into your neck.

you would find it more amusing that ellie is acting like this strap is physically attached to her if she wasn’t making you feel so fucking good. you cling onto her as she fucks you, slamming into you just right, over and over.

“i need to cum, please let me cum- i can’t fucking-“ ellie rambles, and you cut her off

“i’m close too, baby, it’s okay-“ you pant, your eyes clenching shut as she fucks you into your third orgasm.

ellie’s hips bottom out and she grinds herself deep into you as she cums against the base of the harness, her moans needy and breathy.

when you both start coming down, she pulls out and tosses the strap away wordlessly, going back to cuddle against you.

you’re completely exhausted (and both of you still slightly drunk) as you let her spoon you, barely saying anything before slipping into a deep sleep.

———

“so you just… left? without even saying goodbye?” mary asks over the phone as you walk into the music building on your college campus, lugging your beat up guitar with you.

“what was i supposed to do? make her breakfast and thank her for the 3 orgasms?” you ask, holding the door open for a girl running in behind you.

the girl gives you a look and your face gets hot, realizing she overheard what you said.

“i mean… maybe? she was super hot,” mary responds, slightly agitated

you groan, “yeah, she was hot, but i barely learned anything about her and we were both drunk. not necessarily promising grounds for a budding relationship.”

you walk up the steps to the room you’re headed to, checking your phone again for the right room number.

“yeah, but still. she seemed like she would be cool,” mary justifies and you sigh.

“well, if i ever see her again while we’re not drunk and horny, maybe i’ll ask her out. but right now, that’s really not a priority.” you say, finding the right practice room.

mary starts to talk again but you interrupt her, “i’m sorry, mary, but i have to go.”

“wait, why? i know you don’t have class right now.”

“i’m taking those private guitar lessons to satisfy that extracurricular credit, remember? it’s my first lesson, so i really don’t wanna be late,“ you say, and mary sighs.

“okay, whatever. have fun, and i’ll talk to you after?”

you agree and end the phone call, looking to check the room number again before you walk in.

your forced, ‘make a good impression’ smile is immediately wiped off your face when you see the familiar auburnette playing the guitar in front of you.

she looks up at you and her cheeks go red almost instantaneously.

you say, “sorry, i must be in the wrong room- i have a lesson-“

ellie’s eyebrows raise and she lets out a slow sigh, “you, uh, you have a lesson?”

you nod, gripping your guitar case.

ellie laughs a little, like this is some sort of prank that was pulled on her:

“then you’re in the right room, because i’m pretty sure i’m supposed to teach you guitar this semester.”

you sharply exhale the breath you were holding in as the realization of what’s going on sets in, “but… you’re an astrophysics major?”

ellie chuckles again, “and a music minor, babe.”

you restrain the groan that you desperately want to make, your stomach sinking.

ellie pats the empty seat next to her, “well… let’s get started then. you know any bar chords yet?”

#rose writes #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x masc reader

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Text

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 2/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 here. Word count: 5.1 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Part two! I don't usually rec music for my fics but if this fic was a song, it would be Dead can Dance’s In Power we Entrust the Love Advocated.

You wake up with a giant plastered on your back.

His bed is far more comfortable than your own, soft and cushy, and there must be flowers somewhere in the hay because there is a surprisingly pleasant odour lingering in the air as you come to. The mattress overall doesn’t reek of too much sweat: some poor slave must change the fillings often enough for König’s stench not to settle on the bed. Actually, you’ve slept quite nicely, despite being embraced by an ogre the whole night.

König has slept like a stone, too, but stirs when you start to shift. You turn on your back and find his drowsy stare on you: it’s generous and warm as he pulls you closer to him. You could roll your eyes when you notice he’s hard down there again – he’s probably hard all the time, whether in bed with a woman or raging on the battlefield, sticking his swords into some poor man’s gut.

“Gut geschlafen?” He asks, and you reckon he’s trying to ask if you’ve slept well – in his domain, in his embrace, after he just slaughtered half of your village.

You give him another pout, which is starting to become your signature expression now. He replies to your grumpiness with a smile, his own trademark move, the one that threatens to strip you from all your arms. He squeezes you fondly against his chest, and then his hand starts to wander: he plays with your tits again, then slinks further down to brush your navel. When he crosses the border and heads straight toward your womanhood, you seize his arm.

He whines softly at your refusal, but to your surprise, he actually stops. You let him go as he moves back up and stay immobile under his touch, amidst the flowery scent and the faint stench of dirt and man sweat, sighing as he cups your breast again. He doesn’t seem to get enough of them, and they’re beginning to feel sore: he gave them so much attention last night already and is now at them again.

You pull his hand away, but this time, he doesn’t respect your wishes but resists you. Trying to hinder a man who’s as strong as a bull is futile, but you have an attempt at it anyway. It turns into a play fight: you wrench his hand down, he drags it back up. Up and down and up and down, as if your breast is a hill he needs to conquer at all costs. But he’s the only one who finds any amusement in your silly game: eyes narrowing again with a smile, a few soft chuckles under that hood telling you he enjoys it when you fight him a little.

It all ends when you finally slap him.

It’s neither a good nor a hard slap, and his mask muffles whatever sound was supposed to give you at least some measure of satisfaction.

But he stops... And laughs.

“Ja, ich weiß. Ich habe deine Leute getötet. Ich verdiene eine Ohrfeige.”

His language is harsh and throaty, abrupt, and you tell him that, safe with the knowledge that he can’t understand a word you say either.

“You talk ugly,” you complain and watch him up and down, searching for a clue that would tell you that he somehow understands your insult. König simply thunders with another mirthful laugh at your morning crank.

“Es ist schön, mit dir zu reden. Aber jetzt muss ich weg.”

He looks down at you like he’s the Sun God now, thoroughly life-giving and kind. Then he dares to bend forward and press a kiss on your forehead.

“Go away,” you try to push him back with your hands - the hood prevents you from feeling his skin and breath and lips, but the… intimacy is still too much.

“Brute,” you want to spit the word out but end up sounding like a child attempting to quarrel instead. And he’s laughing at you again, both with his eyes and his mouth, covered by that darned hood. You don’t know why on earth you would think that such a charming laugh must come from an equally charming mouth.

He finally retreats and rises from the bed, stretching out his arms. The broad muscles on his back are exposed to the frigid air and his cock is jutting out, long and veined, completely unaffected by the cold. This beast is ripe and ready for another day, and you swallow when you see him in his full glory again, tall and wide and strong, looking like he’s about to eat an entire boar and fuck ten women in the process.

“Schön,” he comments as he turns to look down at you, lying naked and sweet there in his bed. He looks at you like you are the most lovely, adorable, difficult little thing. He even gives his horse cock a few good strokes while taking your sleepy little pouts in.

“Ugly,” you slur back, and he winks at you.

Gods… You’re too hot and riled to even speak.

You choose to vehemently stay in bed as König starts his day: eats some fruit from the table - still naked - pours himself some wine and washes his mouth with it, tears a handful of bread from a loaf and starts to eat with his mouth open, munching loudly under that hood, walking around without bothering to cover himself and that ungodly erection that is bouncing in the air without a care in the world.

You, on the other hand, escape back under the warm covers of the furs, but your eyes never leave König. He draws the draping flap of his tent aside - still naked - giving his soldiers a good view of his morning wood, a lovely chance to get a look at their champion. Perhaps it’s his way of saying good morning, you think bitterly. Then he leaves, probably to take a piss, and you’re more and more convinced that this man is the worst beast that has ever walked this earth.

You’re still under the furs when he returns and finally gives you the grace of clothing himself. It’s stupid that you mourn losing the sight of those shoulders and feel a bit disappointed when his cock disappears under the red tunic. His manhood doesn’t look any less intimidating even when growing soft; it’s still long and veiny and thick, and you find yourself… curious. Just curious.

He doesn’t put his armour on this time, chooses to wear only his tunic and sandals and a pair of hard-boiled leather cuffs to protect the vital veins on the wrists. He does take one Gladius with him, though - a sign of distrust in his own men or a Roman custom, you can’t tell.

He’s already at the mouth of the tent when he turns and points at you, now with a good amount of sternness in his voice.

“Du. Bleibst.”

…

He’s away the whole day. Probably drawing plans at some field war council, eating and drinking and bouncing some poor girl on his knee.

Even the thought makes your nose wrinkle and your stomach churn. Of course there are other trophies, and of course men want to show them off, pass them around, give their commanders a chance to give each woman a good squeeze. König has probably stuck that cock into a few women by now. Moaning, screaming women.

Or then he just settles for annoying their poor senses out of them…

You can’t deny that you’re relieved he hasn’t thrown you to the wolves yet, not even after you denied him. Wondering why on earth he would even want to listen to your wishes gives you an awful headache, and the image of him laughing at - or with - some other shy captive girl is making you uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that you throw the skins away after noon, and decide you’re not going to just succumb to your fate, least of all give in to sadness and apathy.

You eat this and that from his table like you’re not a slave girl but an honoured guest, a queen. You eat his figs and his bread and some smoked meat; you even drink some of his wine, as sour as it is. You’re a bit tipsy when you go through all his belongings, which are not as abundant or exciting as you thought they would be.

You thought you’d find tiny chests filled with gold coins and rings. You thought you’d come by dried body parts taken as trophies, perhaps the crown of some long-forgotten Hibernian king. But there are only a few trinkets under his bed, a huge bow and some arrows, his armour and the second Gladius, perfectly stored above the ground so that rust and mould wouldn’t bite them. There are jugs of wine and some firewood and oil for the braziers, there’s water and benches and the table and lots and lots of candles in different shapes and sizes… But that’s it. There’s no hoard, no treasure, nothing to prove to you that this brute is just another Roman soldier trying to gather a fortune by raping and pillaging so that he can go and retire early from all the bloodshed.

And it makes you shiver. Does he do this just for the sake of it, only because he enjoys killing so much? What is his reason to fight?

The only item that sends an odd sting in your heart is a small wooden statue. You feel like a thief when you rummage through a small satchel you find next to his breastplate, the only place you didn’t feel like peeking into because it looked so… personal.

Proving to yourself that you don’t care about his privacy or feelings, you end up pushing your fingers inside it anyway, meeting this peculiar carved piece of wood. There is nothing else there in the satchel, just the statue, and you feel yourself swallow a lump in your throat as you see it depicts a lush, buxom woman. Her breasts are nearly the size of her belly, larger than her head, and you realize that it is clearly the statue of the Great Mother this brute carries with him.

You put it back quickly, feeling a tingling in your fingers and a rapid flutter in your heart, as if you had just poked into something quite sacred. And it is sacred, the Mother. You wonder why, for the love of all the gods, this man would keep such a divine and fertile amulet near him. The statue is supposed to be a vessel for wishes and fortune; it is an idol of worship. König seems like the last man on earth to take up worshipping women.

You just want to get out of this place but can’t. There’s no one to go back to: your chief is dead, the people have fled, the rest of the warriors are scattered across the land. You have no idea where your brother might even be.

You have no wish to escape this tent; you have no desire whatsoever to step a foot outside and show yourself to his hungry men.

König comes back after nightfall and is not surprised at all to find you haven’t escaped. He’s not surprised that you have eaten some of his food either; he doesn’t even scold you. But then the eternal groping starts again as he gets undressed and lays himself down next to you.

You don’t even know why you allow him to touch you. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s better to just let him caress you if he wants; it’s better to suffer the weight of his hands on you if it means he won’t rape you with that cock. If you don’t complain, perhaps he will settle for squeezing and petting and stroking you.

But your body is a traitor: it’s hungry for him, for some ungodly reason, and always craves for more. You say to yourself that you only allow this to happen because it’s a condition, a compromise, a meeting in the middle. You never acknowledge the way your nether lips puff up like a fat flower every time he fondles your breasts. You pay no attention to how wet you get when he caresses your face, your waist, even your thighs, every part of you except the place between your legs, the place you kind of want him to touch... If only he would be gentle and didn’t get too excited, you’d let him touch you there, too, as sick and accursed as it is.

And it’s all good until he starts to hum.

It may be some song from his homeland, the land of ugly brutes, but it’s not a crude giant song… In fact, it’s a rather beautiful, melancholy tune. Your body is relaxed and your pussy is wet; your nipples are tight and pleased as he pets you slowly, lovingly - but that song is too much. You don’t want him to see you cry, not even a single tear, and now there’s an entire flood about to occur.

“Don’t touch me,” you whisper, trying not to choke on your sorrow. He doesn’t stop - of course he doesn’t. He gets bolder by the day, and he can see that you’re enjoying yourself. In a way.

"Magst du es gestreichelt zu werden?" He asks, soft and tender, so incredibly gentle that the tears are about to burst forth at any given moment now.

“Ich glaube das tust du,” he rumbles when you don’t answer him. His hand is heavy and broad on your hip as he finally stops caressing you. You squeeze your eyes shut, and it causes the glimmer in your eyes to fall. Tears roll down your cheeks and into your hair, as you lie there next to a titan, about to shatter into a million pieces.

“Wurdest du schon einmal berührt…?”

You want to shout at him to shut up already, to stop talking so gently, asking you questions you don’t understand, to stop trying to find a way to communicate with you through song and hum and touch. The hand on your hip moves, slowly, with devastating cunning towards your core. He’s about to touch you there, to try and feel if you’re wet... If you’d like it that he pounded you a little. You wonder if he would do that gently too, and almost laugh through your tears. It will be your undoing if he finds out that you’re soaked all the way to your thighs, aching to feel him inside you, even a finger, just something…

“No… Nein,” you rule out sternly, opening a new way of communication. You don’t know if the word is correct, but he catches it immediately and stops.

“Nein?”

He sounds both happy and sad; happy that you try to use his language, sad that you use it to give him such a disappointing command.

“No touching,” you repeat and open your eyes, finding his hazy figure hovering above you. You barely discern the gulf of sadness in his eyes, but it is there: undisguised, trying to reach out and join with yours. Gods… How strangely appropriate it is that you are both so very alive, wanting to be devoured by each other’s hunger and lust, only to find yourselves on the brink of tears and hollow loss.

“No... No touching…”

“Verstanden.”

He takes his hand away from you and turns, not even joining you under the fur tonight.

…

The next morning, you wake up attached to him.

Somehow you’ve managed to wriggle under his furs and, on top of that, crawled to hug his side like this. You blame the spring cold for it, of course. Your heart bangs against your ribs as you notice how tightly you’re squeezing him, breasts pressed flush against his hard middle, belly fluttering against his hip. You’ve even draped your leg across his so that your poor, lonely cunt is resting right there over his thigh.

You swear in your mind with all the words and terms you know and can think of.

How the hell are you supposed to detach from a giant without waking him up? His arm is around you, holding you loosely in a warm, pleasing shackle. He feels so, so good - blazing, big and safe, so incredibly nice. You never knew sleeping next to a man could feel so nice. You’re half asleep still, mainly because his body and scent make you feel like you’ve had too much wine again.

You allow yourself a few more moments before you rip yourself off him. Or at least, try to: the arm snares you the instant you attempt to move. It prevents you from leaving him, and you end up hovering awkwardly there, almost on top of him, tits pointing straight at his face, panicked, doe-eyed stare guided to his unwavering blue eyes, open, and regarding you with warm love.

And the damned man smirks again.

“No touching?” He inquires with silly, completely feigned shyness.

“Shut up,” you breathe and try to get off of him, but his other hand comes to brush your cheek next, and you freeze.

“Schön… Pretty,” he tries, and you nearly whimper at the sound of your native tongue in his mouth.

Pretty… Is that what the word means, the odd ugly word he has repeated ever since he stole you?

His eyes are warm and his hand is gentle as he caresses your cheek, and the snare around your waist tightens. Softly… Invitingly.

“Stop it,” you whisper, on the brink of tears again, because this time, your shields and armour and weapons are gone. You just woke up to a feeling of odd contentment, fulfilment, even joy.

And it’s not right.

He has no right to be this gentle with you.

You sniffle and sigh, and cast your eyes down to the chest that belongs to a giant. But you can’t deny that there must be a heart under there. A human heart under your palm. Your hand is right there over the strong beat because you’ve tried to push yourself away, and he won’t let you go. Another tear falls somewhere in the hair of his chest, and he rumbles with such compassion that you want to slap him again, hit his chest with your tiny little fists and bawl.

What you do instead is break down and let the ocean take you. You cry and sob and wail, right there in front of him, until he turns you on your stomach and comes to rest halfway on top of you. Through your tears, you understand that he’s trying to soothe you with his weight. It’s pure insanity how well it works. It releases a whole well of grief, and you start to shake with the cries; your whole body shudders with the sorrow as you retch it all out while König continues to caress you like a pet. He strokes your hair, pets your back, he even pats your ass as if you’re just a baby.

You cry long and hard, so long that he eventually lets out a long, deep sigh. When you’ve calmed down a bit and remain still, sniffling occasionally while squeezing the furs in your fist, trying to remember what it is to be an animal with feelings other than just sorrow, he leaves you.

He simply rises, and gets dressed, and leaves.

That is very much what you don’t need right now, much to your surprise. He was good at consoling you, as odd as it sounds.

Cold starts to creep in when there is no warm body next to you, and your skin misses the calloused gentleness of his palms. You wouldn’t mind if he wanted to hum that song to you now. But the darned bastard had to leave just when you were about to turn and cup his hooded face in return...

König comes back after a short while, but he’s not alone. You gather the furs against your chest, horrified and angry when you notice he returns to the tent with a short old man, vigorous and busy, but so tiny in stature that you doubt he was ever a warrior. You wonder if this is another foreigner or if you have the dubious pleasure of meeting your first genuine Roman.

They both stare at you, quite nonchalantly, while you sit there on the bed and try to cover your nakedness with animal skins while having red eyes and a pair of uninviting, quivering, puffed-up lips.

The short fellow looks you up and down, then turns to talk to König in what appears to be this giant’s mother tongue. It’s a curt suggestion, muttered under his breath, and you realize König must’ve fetched a translator for you.

Oh, good Mother... Great Mother.

You watch these two men before you in a state of stunned shock, as König looks at you, then back at the old man, and nods. The Roman looks slightly vexed as if he just got up too. Then he starts to speak.

“Excuse our manners... We are men at war. If you wish to get dressed, we will wait outside.”

You blink at your own language being spoken to you, perfectly discernable but accompanied by a thick accent. You nod, and the men leave, returning only after you’ve dressed and cleared your throat in the tent.

“He asks if he killed your husband,” the translator starts immediately while König goes to sit on his favourite Roman bench. You’re wide awake now, and the nauseating feeling of being suddenly in the middle of an interrogation rises to your throat with a clot.

“He… What? No,” your eyes dart to König, who is looking at you with his undying ardour. For a man with so much sadness in his soul, he’s surprisingly carefree when he wants to.

“Do you have a husband?”

You gulp at the questions levelled at you. König keeps watching you intently, and you choose to look at the old translator instead, shaking your head slowly. The men exchange a few words, and the Roman turns to scold you with his stare.

“Master reminds you that it is wrong to lie,” he says, putting a lot more weight on his words this time. Roman or not, he calls this giant master, which means that he is just another slave in this camp. You swallow again and try to think, think, think; all the while König’s stare strips you of all your pretences, garments and words.

He thinks you’re trying to hide some imaginary husband, you understand and consider whether you should say that you have a husband: if there is any benefit you could gain from such a lie. König would only probably try to hunt him down… But what if he found out you were telling him tales? Would he feed you to his horny war dogs then?

“I’m not lying,” you say through slightly gritted teeth.

There is another exchange of words before the translator turns to you again.

“Are you untouched?”

“What…?”

“Master asks if you are a virgin.”

The translator is utterly unfazed, and mainly looks like he has better things to do than get to the bottom of whether there has been a cock inside you yet.

“That’s none of his business,” you hiss. The old man turns and starts to translate your words with a dull look.

“Wait—don’t tell him that,” you take a panicked step forward.

Oh good Father in the Sky… Strike these men down so that I may be freed from them.

They pay you no attention; a few sentences pass from mouth to mouth, and the old man nods.

“Master says you are clearly a maiden,” he declares. You peek a glance at König, who is looking at you with hunger, and not the kind of hunger people look at their breakfasts with. Your breathing is getting out of hand, and when he opens his legs wider, clearly making more room for a rising cock, you decide to throw caution in the wind.

“You know what? Your master can go fuck himself with a stick for all I care…!”

The old man turns. He doesn’t even care to sigh; he merely opens his mouth to give your words to König.

“Don’t you dare translate that!”

Finally, the old man sighs. He looks at the ceiling as if begging his gods to take him away from this tent. König’s stare flashes between you two, and he is evidently curious. Clearly, this is the most exciting conversation he’s ever had.

“Was sagt sie?”

“Tell him that I want to be freed,” you hurry to say before the translator can tell your insults to König. After a brief conversation, König leans forward in his chair to see the effect his words have on you.

“He says he can’t do that,” the Roman informs. “His soldiers will find you and take you.”

You close your mouth and try to even your breaths. No one says, You don’t want that. Everybody in this tent knows you don’t want that.

“He asks if he killed your brother or your father.”

You sniffle, quite involuntarily.

“No. He didn’t.”

“Then why are you angry and sad?”

There is a hint of genuine interest in the man’s voice. Both of these men are confused as to why you would bawl your eyes out after the massacre of your people.

"Because… Because he…"

“He says it is a man’s duty to die in battle. You should be proud of your fallen ones, not cry and feel sorry for them.”

“Tell him that he can go fuck himself,” you shout, not giving a single shit anymore about whether he translates the words or not.

To no one’s surprise, he does.

“He says he’d rather fuck you,” he returns to you with König’s message.

You can’t bear to look your captor’s way, and still, that’s exactly what you do. You look at the giant as he stares at you, keen and hard and patient. But you know his patience has its limits. It’s almost like a promise, the way he leans forward in that chair and looks at you from under the hood, shameless and challenging.

“Never,” you guide your words to König now. It’s a brave little whisper, but you know that it’s a lie. Even the Great Mother knows you’re lying. You almost hear the cackle of the old woman rising from the earthen ground, from the chthonic depths, to mock you and your vows.

You hear the old man’s words from somewhere far away, from underwater, as König’s stare wrestles you down and takes away your little knife. He subdues you even when he’s sitting, and shares a string of words: a harsh promise. You hold your breath as his cock gives a pulse under that tunic, and your eyes fall, fall, fall onto it, because there’s no escape…

“He says he can make you feel good,” the voice says, and you can’t even hear who speaks. Your mouth is full of water, but you swallow it down, then shoot your way up to the surface, up, up, up into the sunlight, until you can breathe again.

You rip your eyes from König and look at the Roman translator with loathing and contempt.

“You can leave now. This conversation is over.”

Then you turn, trying not to pay any attention to the hushed conversation that proceeds behind your back. The man leaves the tent: you can hear it, and you can also hear how König rises from the chair and walks right behind you.

“No… afraid,” his hands come to rest on your shoulders, but you don’t even flinch. You knew he was going to touch you again. Perhaps you were even looking forward to it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you start to argue, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“You like trees?”

He speaks your words, not good, but he speaks them. You wonder if he has known parts of your tongue all along and has simply concealed it. Has he understood what you’ve said to him…? All the slurs and stupid things? Mother, grant mercy…

“Why would I like—What kind of question is that?”

“Climbed a tree,” he explains cheerfully behind you. You turn and look up, yet again rendered weak. Giants are supposed to be stupid. They’re not supposed to know the language of faeries…

“Nosy,” he brushes your cheek with a smile in his eyes.

“Nosy?”

You huff - as if you wanted to be there and witness him.

As if you had a choice after the seer pushed you on this insane, cruel path.

“Wanted to see me so bad?” König tilts his head playfully.

Gods… You can only look at him with brows curling with helpless frustration, lip trembling from how he seems to know your every little secret. He nods when you don’t say yes or no. He’s perfectly happy to read all the answers from your eyes.

“Ich wusste, dass es so war,” he changes into his own language, and you don’t need to understand the words he says.

You know he knows. He knows you, he knows you to your core, and it doesn’t really matter in which circumstances you two met. He knows far more than you, something about souls and how they’re supposed to meet, how little squirrels and giants belong together, as crazy as it is. That there is no chance in life: no, it was meant that you two meet. To him, it was no coincidence that you practically dropped into his lap from that tree.

“Did you like what you see?”

He holds your shoulders gently as you quiver and shake inside.

“No,” you peep.

“I like what I see,” he declares; a benevolent god.

…

A/N:. Thank you so much for your love and interest in this fic! As you may have noticed the fic now has 4 parts, which is because the 3rd chapter got too chunky and I had to split it 😇 Next part might take a while because I'm moving soon, but let me tell you... These guys will be put into *situations*. Oh, and a reminder that I don't have a taglist for this so please check any future updates from my pinned masterlist post 🩷

Translations:

Gut geschlafen? - Sleep well?

Ja, ich weiß. Ich habe deine Leute getötet. Ich verdiene eine Ohrfeige. - Yes, I know. I killed your people. I deserve a slap.

Es ist schön, mit dir zu reden. Aber jetzt muss ich weg. - It is lovely to talk to you. But now I have to go.

Du. Bleibst. - You. Stay.

Magst du es gestreichelt zu werden? - Do you like being petted?

Ich glaube das tust du. - I think you do.

Wurdest du schon einmal berührt…? - Have you ever been touched…?

Verstanden. - Understood.

Was sagt sie? - What does she say?

Ich wusste dass es so war - I knew it was so.

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig cod #cod x reader #könig fluff #könig smut #historical au #Roman soldier!König

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evermoresqueiswriting · 1 month

Text

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were.

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did.

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?”

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone.

“Rude!”

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there.

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head.

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted.

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset.

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear.

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating.

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion.

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her.

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag.

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was.

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her.

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you.

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag.

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at.

“y/n?,” Will called for you.

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance.

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though.

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood.

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her.

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will.

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious.

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers.

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse.

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier.

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him.

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow.

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive.

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed.

Lee slapped his arm.

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm.

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly.

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too.

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said.

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner.

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far.

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights.

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also.

“You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed.

You whipped around, standing up before backing away.

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her.

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly.

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself.

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed.

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink.

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side.

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.”

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat.

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips.

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on.

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean.

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down.

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured.

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter.

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile.

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her.

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier.

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that.

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t..

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged.

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder.

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain.

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said.

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile.

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before.

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in.

“You’re being weird,” he said.

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch.

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.”

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere.

“Clarisse?” you called her name.

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her.

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’.

“What happened?” you frowned.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady.

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs.

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound.

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned.

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile.

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you.

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed.

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt.

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning.

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!”

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell.

“I just fell,” she explained.

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag.

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head.

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?”

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused.

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced.

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement.

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still.

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you.

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile.

You both left to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her.

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered.

You shook your head.

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock.

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

“Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee.

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears.

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out.

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze.

Was she making you miserable?

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again.

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse.

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back.

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed.

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field.

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped.

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out.

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession.

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded.

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?”

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fanfic #clarisse x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue #pjo x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x fem!reader

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tokuvivor · 9 months

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Hello I heard you were doing song ask thingys (idk what to call them I'm sorry😭) how about Lemon boy by Cavetown?

No, you’re good. And sure!

Gyro is having trouble with planting stuff in his apartment’s rooftop garden. So he decides to develop a special kind of fertilizer. He tries it on the sapling of a lemon tree, but it accidentally becomes sentient.

At first, he’s a bit alarmed. But as time goes on, he becomes used to having Lemon Boy in his life. They both have bitter personalities (this is pre-Astro B.O.Y.D.!), so they get along well.

Eventually, Gyro runs out of fertilizer, and Lemon Boy becomes a plain old lemon tree, as he was meant to be. But Gyro will never forget his citrus friend, and whenever he uses a lemon, he thinks of him and smiles.

#song fic summary ask game #gyro gearloose #cavetown

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slytherheign · 1 year

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YOU BELONG WITH ME | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: high school senior!tasm!peter parker x high school senior!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

SUMMARY: you can’t help but feel insecure when you realize your best friend peter and the most famous girl in the school are keeping a sweet secret from you.

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, awkwardness, jealousy, insecurities, self-loathing, reader is an overthinker and assumes things easily. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. angst with happy ending. dedicated to @joshiiieeenesx, thanks for supporting me and requesting this. i hope you’re having a great day!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS YBWM (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was Friday Night.

Your favorite day and time of the week because of your tradition with Peter to order pizza and watch a movie. Tonight was a bit different though, you both decided to order your least favorite flavor of pizza and watch the lowest-rated movie ever.

Peter made a joke in the middle of the movie, causing you to laugh and cover your face with your hands. It was a habit you developed since you were a kid when a bully made fun of you for having an ‘ugly-laughing’ face. “Stop,” he chuckled as he captured your wrists with his hands. “Stop what?” you questioned unknowingly, allowing him to hold your wrists and pull them away from your face. You stared at him confusingly.

“Stop covering your face when you laugh,” he said. “I can’t see your pretty face.” Peter would always make little comments here and there about you, most of them being compliments. You ought not to make it serious since you’d always tell flirty jokes to each other, but you just can’t help but feel a little flutter in your stomach every time he would compliment you.

You tried covering the increasing redness of your cheeks with laughter. “I’m serious. Stop covering your face,” he told you. “What if I told you I’m doing it on purpose?” you thought of a quick funny remark. “And why, may I ask, are you doing it on purpose?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say, if you see my beautiful face when I’m laughing, you might just fall in love,” you joked, smirking at him. There was a tinge of the color red in his cheeks, but he was quick to hide it with a chuckle.

“Well, why don’t you let me see your beautiful face then let’s see if I really fall in love?” he remarked. Once again, you laughed because you didn’t know how to respond. Peter was laughing with you when his phone suddenly rang. He quickly stood up, covering the name of the caller with his hand before walking to a private secluded room in his house to answer it. You didn’t mind it. After all, everyone deserved privacy when they’re talking to someone on the phone. Besides, you were actually quite thankful because the phone call interrupted the growing awkwardness in the room. You paused the movie while Peter talked on the phone in the other room.

Minutes passed and you were getting bored of waiting for him. You decided to pull your phone from your jeans pocket and open the Instagram app for a bit. Your feed was pretty much full of your schoolmates that were either busy preparing for prom next friday or busy with the upcoming game on Monday. You scrolled mindlessly, double-tapping each post from your close friends when you stumbled upon a post from her.

Gwen Stacy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect body. The cheer captain, head of the planning committee, the smartest in school… well, not the smartest because that would be Peter… but still the smartest girl in school. Having all that, you’d think she was the type to be the typical mean girl, but no… she’s actually the nicest.

In the picture, she was smiling with the other cheerleaders, their teeth as white as snow and their faces as beautiful as barbie dolls even when they were sweating. Sometimes you just wonder if they ever had a bad hair day or they’re just perfect all the time.

“Please! Gwen, come on!” you heard Peter yell. Gwen? Why was he talking to Gwen Stacy?

“Really? Yes!” you heard him exclaim excitedly. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, the feeling was unwelcome because you knew he wasn’t even yours to begin with. But still, it hurt.

The next thing you heard was his footsteps nearing the door. You collected yourself immediately, greeting him with a smile as he opened the door.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, with the same fucking smile you fell in love with. He sat next to you on the couch, subtly putting his arm on the back just around where your head was resting. He grabbed the remote from your hand, but for a few seconds, you felt it linger when his hand touched yours.

He pressed the play button and you both continued to watch the movie.

“Okay, just so we’re clear. You think Peter and Gwen are dating?” your other friend, Mary Jane, iterated on the phone. It was Sunday night, the only time MJ had free time this week since she was also a cheerleader.

“Yes,” you answered clearly. “I heard them talking on the phone the other night. Peter seemed really happy and excited.”

“And what do you feel about that?” she asked.

“Uh–I don’t know?” you admitted.

“I call bull. Come on, I know you’re in love with Peter.”

“Okay. I do have feelings for him… but I don’t think he feels the same about me. He probably asked Gwen to be his prom date even though we promised we’d take each other to the event.”

“So you’re not going to prom anymore?”

“I mean I already have a dress so I guess I’ll still go. It just sucks that I’ll be going without him.”

“Since when did you get a dress?!”

“Uhh… since last week?”

“And you didn’t even tell me?” she made a sound of absolute shock. Knowing her, you knew she probably had her hand on her chest while making that sound. “I could’ve helped you pick.”

“It’s not a problem honestly. Besides, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Can you at least tell me the color?” she pleaded.

“Blue. Like the kind of blue in Spider-Man’s suit.”

“Weird way to describe a color. Is there a specific reason why you chose blue? I thought you never liked blue.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you but don’t tell anyone about this because I think Peter is kinda embarrassed about it… Peter is obsessed with Spider-Man. He’s such a huge fan of his–maybe even his number one fan. He even tried to hide it from me, but when I found a Spider-Man suit in his closet he just started getting really nervous and he only stopped when I told him it’s fine if he’s a fan. I’m not judging him, I think Spider-Man is really cool too,” you explained. “I was hoping he’d notice the color reference but now that he’s going with Gwen Stacy, I doubt he would even look at me.”

“You really think Peter would ignore you? Have you seen how that man looks at you?”

“He looks at everyone like that. It’s nothing special,” you denied.

“Listen, believe what you want to believe but I know Peter is definitely in love with you too. But if you did end up alone and out of place at the event, you’re welcome to sit with me.”

“Thanks, but you literally have a date. I don’t wanna be a third wheel,” you laughed. “I appreciate the thought though,” you exchanged goodbyes not long after that, wishing her good luck on their cheer performance.

You thought hard about what she said. Peter did become more clingy to you these last few months and he always made sure to text or call you every day. You guessed there really was a chance Peter shared the same feelings with you.

Maybe he was just talking to Gwen as a friend.

You were at the gymnasium where you'd have to watch student-athletes pass the ball to each other, all having the same objective to shoot the ball in their respective goals. And when a member of a team claimed their shot, it would repeat all over again.

You were never into sports. If you had a choice, you’d rather stay in bed and continue reading Looking For Alaska, but instead, you were stuck sitting on the bleachers while watching cheerleaders dance their routine in such a flawless manner. As much as you wanted to focus on MJ and support her, your eyes couldn’t help but look at Gwen. She really was mesmerizing.

You were too busy comparing her shiny legs and the way they moved with their short flowy skirts with your simple t-shirt and sneakers to even notice someone sitting beside you.

You continued watching Gwen dance, focusing on her pretty face and realizing that even in her sweaty condition she still kept dazzling everyone in the room with her beautiful smile. You noticed her wink in your direction. For a moment you thought she was winking at you, but when you followed the direction she was smiling at you noticed it was directed at someone beside you—Peter.

Funny. You didn’t even know Peter was beside you.

“Hi?” you greeted, putting your best smile in front of him while your stomach ached from cruel jealousy.

“Hey,” he simply replied, before focusing on the phone he just got out of his pocket. He was busy texting someone.

“So…you already have a suit for Friday?” you asked, trying to start a conversation. He shook his head. “Nope. But I plan on looking later today.”

“Cool. Do you want me to go with you? I don’t have anything to do after this,” you offered.

He stopped and finally looked at you. You noticed how his eyes widened at your question and after mere seconds of looking at your eye, he looked away. He didn’t even need to open his mouth, his body language already told you that he already had someone he was going with.

You felt too sick to even hear his reply, immediately knowing the answer. You excused yourself, going straight to the bathroom to try to compose yourself and your body that was slowly starting to shake. You looked at yourself in the mirror, yelling inside your head to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

You and Peter were supposed to be inseparable. From childhood up until that moment earlier on the bleachers, you thought you would end up together.

All those years, you have convinced yourself you would be together and told the stars that he belonged with you.

But maybe he belonged with someone else.

And if you truly loved him, who were you to stop him from following his heart?

The moment you stepped inside the school tomorrow morning, Peter immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

If it was yesterday or the days before, you would’ve loved it and your stomach would’ve already been swarmed with butterflies. But today, all it felt was aching pain.

“Hey,” he kissed your cheek, a thing he always did whenever he saw you at school. “MJ told me you went home early yesterday because you weren’t feeling well. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve walked you home.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answered. It wasn’t fine, but how could you tell him he was the reason you couldn’t bear to stay at school yesterday?

“Well, I missed you. You got me really worried.”

And there it was again, the feeling of your heart jumping just from the words he said and how his voice spoke them. Was Gwen even okay with him putting his arm around your shoulder and walking with you in the hallways?

You did your best acting like everything was alright for the rest of today. Peter was busy texting Gwen for most of the time anyway, it wasn’t hard to convince him everything was fine.

Classes for Wednesday and Thursday were suspended to give way for prom preparations. You didn’t have much to do on Wednesday, so when MJ offered an idea to practice doing makeup and putting on the dresses to prepare for prom, you agreed.

You sat in your room in front of your vanity mirror while MJ did your makeup for you. She matched the eyeshadow with the color of your dress, and you must admit, she did amazing. Next was your hair, you requested it to be an updo, with the hairpins you picked out scattered attractively.

For a moment, you wondered what Peter could be doing right now. His house was just next to yours, his bedroom window facing yours and if you only pulled your curtains aside, you would see him through his window—if it wasn’t covered by his curtains.

Mary Jane snapped you back to reality by complimenting the details of the dress she just pulled out of your closet. “I need to see you in this dress now.”

You chuckled but complied nonetheless. With her help, you carefully put on the dark blue long dress. “Shit. This dress is made for you,” she complimented. It was true, you were indeed a vision. The dress hugged your body perfectly and the details were perfect to your liking. You never liked the color blue, but this dress got you second thinking.

After putting on your heels, you checked yourself out in the mirror when MJ’s phone suddenly rang. “Peter? Hi,” she answered. As soon as she said his name, you turned around to face her.

“Are you okay?” MJ asked Peter. “You sound ill.”

“What’s happening?” you didn’t care anymore if Peter wasn’t talking to you. Something was wrong with him based on MJ’s reaction, and you were concerned.

“Oh my god.”

“MJ, what is it?”

“Something is really wrong with him. I think we need to go to his hou–” she didn’t have the opportunity to finish her sentence when you immediately walked out of your room still in your dress and on your way to Peter’s house. MJ followed you but stayed outside Peter’s house. She smirked the moment you entered his house. Everything was going as planned.

Aunt May was thankfully on vacation somewhere, you couldn’t imagine her reaction if she saw you rushing towards her nephew’s room in a long dress and in heels.

You carefully knocked on his bedroom door, announcing your presence. “Y/N?” he asked and you hummed in response. “I’m in here,” he answered from the next room. As far as you can remember, that room was an empty one. You weren’t sure why Peter was in there but in times of emergencies like this one, you didn’t care. “Can I open the door?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You did not expect what you saw.

The room was dark as a result of the windows being covered. On the floor were littered little candles with your favorite scent lit up to light the room in a romantic manner. There was an area left for you to walk leading to the middle of the room, which had a space just enough for two people. You also noticed the petals of roses scattered on the floor as a string version of your favorite song started playing.

A figure emerged from the shadows—Peter. He offered his hand for you to take and only then when he led you to the middle did the fire from the candles revealed his outfit. He was wearing a suit that perfectly matched the color of your dress. You didn’t know how he knew the exact color of your dress, you would ask him that later.

You were both speechless, neither knowing what to say. “Wow…” he breathed out. “How could a person look so beautiful? You are unreal.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look handsome too.”

He held your hand and guided it towards his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before holding each of your hands with both of his.

“Peter?” you started to say. “What–”

“You know I prepared a whole speech just for this moment,” he interrupted. “And then as soon as I saw you, I just forgot every single thing in the world because you’re the only one that matters.”

Tears were starting to gloss your eyes but before you could start crying from his sentiment, you asked him a question that has been vexing you for quite a while.

“What about Gwen?”

His face was quick to react to your question. His forehead scrunched up, looking at you as if to tell you if you could emphasize your question.

“I thought you were together. You were talking to each other pretty much the whole week. You were texting and calling each other, she was with you when you picked your suit, and then I saw her wink at you at the game.”

His face slowly dawned with realization. As soon as he realized what you were talking about, he couldn’t help but laugh. But upon seeing your worried face, he stopped laughing at once and looked straight into your eyes with absolute seriousness.

“Gwen and I are nothing more than just friends. We are not together. We’ve been talking to each other a lot because I asked her for help on how to surprise you. She also helped me pick the right suit so I wouldn’t embarrass myself with a lousy one. She winked at me at the game because she was excited that after the game ended, we would set up this surprise. And also because I was sitting next to you in the bleachers, she kinda saw me stare at you while you were busy watching the cheer routine. The wink was just her teasing and being excited. It doesn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s only you. I only want you.”

“Shit. So I really just overthought the whole situation,” you chuckled. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid. Don’t invalidate your feelings, It’s completely understandable. If I was you I’d think the same too.”

After a short moment of soft understanding silence, you felt him stiffen. His hands now held yours a little bit tighter. “Can I ask you a question?” he finally said.

“Let me guess, you want me to be your prom date?” you tried to ease the tension with the obvious question.

“Yes, and no.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want to take you to prom, yes. But that’s not the only thing I want. I want to take you on dates, I want to dance with you not just at events organized by the school, I want to buy you flowers, every day if I can; I want to watch scary movies with you and laugh when you’re too scared and you hide yourself with a pillow, I want to watch sad movies with you and bring you tissues and cuddle you the moment you cry, I want to watch romantic movies with you and cringe together when the characters do something embarrassing and wrap my arms around you when you blush at something sweet that they do. I want the tears, the pain, the frustration, the confusion, the sweetness, the laughter—everything. I want everything. With you.”

“Pete…”

“We’re seniors. Next year, we’re going to college. We will take on different paths and places, but before that even happens, I want you to be my place that’s never changing. And if you feel the same, I want to be your place that’s never changing too. You have been my best friend since we were kids, and I don’t want my memory of us to be just two people being friends since childhood,” he said before resting his forehead against yours. “I am in love with you, Y/N L/N. Would you be willing to enter a relationship that’s more than friends with me?”

Tears glossed over your eyes again, but this time, you let one fall. Peter was quick to wipe it with his hand. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I will not hold it against you. Tell me you don’t feel the same and I will not cross the line of being more than friends. Know that I will not force you into a relationship you do not want. Tell me if you don’t feel the same and I–”

“Yes,” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “The answer is yes. I am in love with you as well, Peter Parker. I have been for a long time.”

Peter smiled, now feeling his own tears try to escape his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. “May I dance with you?”

You chuckled but agreed, letting him guide you into position. Your forearms rested on his shoulders, your hands softly stroking the back of his neck while his hands were positioned at both sides of your waist. As the music still played in the background, you both started swaying.

“I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re gorgeous,” he commented. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Your suit even matched my dress,” you said back.

“I’ll have to thank MJ for that.”

“Wait–MJ is a part of this?”

“Of course, she is. How’d you think I knew the color of your dress?”

You suddenly remembered the conversation you had with MJ when she asked you about the color of your dress. And then you also remembered that MJ was the reason why you were even inside Peter’s house right now in the first place. Peter called her and then she said that something was wrong with him and urged you to come here. Where was she even now anyways?

Peter laughed as he watched your face change from confusion to realization. “You know what–I’ll give it to y’all. You, Gwen, and MJ are good at this,” you admitted.

“The dressing up with our prom outfits and dancing was my idea though,” he spoke as he guided you into a spin. “I wanted our first dance to be private, not in a room filled with other students.”

You saw him glance at your lips for a moment before looking back into your eyes. “I also want to do this,” he said as he leaned in closer and met your lips with his.

You’ve imagined this moment ever since your heart started beating for him. But still, the feeling of his lips against yours for real was better than what you’d imagined it to be. The kiss was soft but intimate, neither of you having a need to rush into things but at the same time making up for lost time pining over each other silently. You wished you could kiss him forever and stay like this but you eventually needed to pull away to breathe.

“So, you really thought I was in love with Gwen?” he teased while you were catching your breath.

“Way to ruin the moment,” you chuckled, lightly punching his arm before nodding.

“Shit. I really made you jealous?” he seemed really proud of what he had done from the way he was smirking.

“Are you happy?” you jokingly asked, rolling your eyes with fake annoyance.

“Am I happy? Of course, I am. I just kissed you.”

You couldn’t find the words to reply as you blushed harder than you’d ever blushed before. Instead, you just laughed out of blissful happiness.

For the first time ever, he saw you laugh without covering your face and it was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He couldn’t help but kiss you again.

Needless to say, the future was exciting.

If only he could tell you that he was Spider-Man.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan

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m0nsterqzzz · 3 months

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Capture the Flag

pairing: clarisse la rue x child of apollo!reader

summary: you hate capture the flag, and clarisse hates people hurting you. that's that.

warnings: kidnapping? *done by a bunch of demigod teenagers for the simple outcome of winning a game* mentions of murder because what is a clarisse fic without it? swearing? kinda oc clarisse just because I can't write anything else without turning it into enemies to lovers

a/n: she is my love. clarisse defender for life.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse La Rue.

The name sparks fear in many people at Camp Half Blood. Kids cower when she’s near, or run away when she walks towards them. It makes her happy, having people fear her. She thrives off of it, being a daughter of Ares; the god of war.

But too you? The name brings warmth, comfort, and love. It’s very rare her wrath has ever been directed towards you, and the few times it has been was when she didn’t know you. When you were just another camper to her.

It only took a few days at camp for you to be claimed by your father, Apollo.

It made sense really, your bubbly and energetic personality was so similar to your fathers and his demi god childrens. You moved into cabin seven with your small backpack of beloved items from your past, picking the bed in the corner farthest away from the few other children of Apollo and spending most of your time in that spot if you weren't at arts and crafts or archery. Not many people cared about you at first, not that you mind while you were trying to process all that happened for you to finally get to this wilderness home. Then you tried to make some friends, which ended with you mostly spending your days with your siblings or the children of Hermes and the campers who lived in that cabin without being claimed.

Then, you met your girlfriend. The love of your life. You're everything. Clarisse.

She had protected you during a game of capture the flag, not realizing that your “attacker” was one of your best friends who simply held his sword up to you in a playful way. You teased her for weeks after that, giving her the title, “my protector”. Although the teasing eventually stopped, the nickname never did.

You’re her sunshine. That’s clear to everyone in camp, but nobody really talks about it for fear of being hurt by her spear.

Capture the flag is one of her favorite days out of the week. Other than every Tuesday when Chiron lets you eat dinner at her table- an agreement that came after a very long week of begging of course. That was his compromise to your ask of being able to spend every night at that table, and Clarisse wasn’t going to push it despite liking the first idea more.

It became a lot harder to win said game when she started dating you, team red losing one of their best fighters when she would leave her post by the flag to roam the forest and make sure you are okay. It just makes you laugh when she stops kissing you up against a tree to suddenly run back to her post when she remembers the main task at hand, but her siblings and team would definitely disagree that it's funny.

Today's no different, and after threatening her teammate with her spear, she leaves her post to find you with the peace of mind that they’ll protect the flag and won’t tell on her to the other players on team red.

You on the other hand, you have your headphones in, music blasting in them as you dance through the forest and around the trees. Capture the flag has never really been as important to you as your teammates on the blue team, and both Annabeth and Luke eventually learned to give you a simple task and let you do your own thing.

The nymph's join along in your activities every once in a while, but for the most part they just stay in their tree form as you dance past them.

You’re in your own world with your favorite song playing on your wired headphones that stay connected to the ipod in your hand that your girlfriend gifted to you after she came home from a quest a few months ago. It’s only when someone hits your helmet-covered head with the butt of their sword so hard you pass out that you realize you wandered into the red team's territory.

Waking up, the first thing you notice is the harsh light of the sun glaring down at you. Then it’s the rough feeling of wood on your back and the tight pull of rope on your stomach when you try and fail to stand up from your sitting poston. Your stomach churns as you realize what kind of situation you're in; no help, in a vulnerable position, and no weapon. Lastly, you groan when you realize that your headphones have been taken out of your ears and are laying in a tangled pile a few feet away along with your ipod.

After a few seconds, your vision clears up and the two blobs of color that you saw in front of you turn out to be two people. They’re clearing down at you from their standing positions, one with a sword out and the other holding a dagger.

“Good morning sunshine.” You cringe at the nickname that comes from one of the boys you now recognize from the Aphrodite cabin. It’s the one that your girlfriend uses for you.

Children of Aphrodite may be well known for her being the goddess of love, and all things pink and pretty, but sometimes people forget she is also a goddess of war. Her demigod children are sweet and nice, but it’s no big surprise why Clarisse likes having them on her team when you see their fighting abilities when they actually try.

“What do you want with me?” You question harshly, trying but eventually giving up on trying to force the ropes to untie by moving your body around. You’re tied to a thin tree, thin enough for your arms to reach behind you and wrap around it- it's kind of like your giving the tree a backwards hug with your hands tied together around it- but not thin enough to break when you push you back up against it to test the theory on if you can snap it.

They look at eachother and chuckle, putting their weapons away when they realize you can’t get out of your ties. One you recognize as Oliver steps closer to you as he says, “Annabeth and Luke care about you so much, the moment they realize that you’re missing, they’ll forget all about the flag and Clarisse can go get it.”

You stare at them blankly for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. They glance at each other before narrowing their eyes at you.

“What are you laughing at sunshine?” You finish laughing when the ropes pull on your stomach way too tightly with the way your body shakes with the laughter. “You ummm…” You start, taking a deep breath when you find yourself beginning to giggle again. “You thought the most amazing plan…was to lead my overprotective friends and girlfriend…the girl who carries a spear with her everywhere she goes and hurts anyone who looks at her wrong mind you…to the spot where she’ll find her partner tied up to a tree in a clearing where no one is around to stop her from killing you guys?”

They stare at you with a sudden look of fear in their eyes before they walk a few yards away to begin whispering to each other, the confidence from earlier gone and rethinking their plan after you brought the obvious ending to your attention.

“Hey guys?!” You shout out, smiling when they turn around for a second to face you. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Clarisse not to kill you! She usually listens to me because the last time she killed someone, I didn’t cuddle her for a week!” Their eyes widen at your casualness, as if her killing someone is completely normal in your world before turning back around so you can’t see them panicking. It doesn’t matter though, the way they move their hands erratically and have to take deep breaths from raising their voices in fear is enough knowledge.

They come back a few minutes later, the fear still there as they stand in front of you. You don’t ask what plan they’ve come up with now, and they don’t tell you.

You guys sit in silence for a second before you glance at your earbuds and ask, “Do you guys like jazz tunes?” The boys stare at you with a confused expression.

“Um..…no. Why? Is that what you were listening to?”

“No. It’s just a conversation starter. The quiet was getting kinda awkward.”

The silence is back again, before you begin to quietly hum the tune of the song you were listening to before they interrupted your state of happiness. “So…..did you guys see my amazing dancing?”

Liam chuckles, eyes not meeting yours as he scans the forest around you guys and mumbles, “It wasn’t that good.” Oliver lets out a small hum of agreement.

You scoff, eyes falling to your legs as you whisper under your breath, “Well damn. I’m definitely letting my girl kill you now.”

Suddenly, a few yards away, there is a loud scream that could make someone's ear eardrums bleed. It isn’t one of fear or sadness, but of anger. The boy’s eyes widen and they begin to spin in circles to try and keep track of the attacker as they pull out their weapons. You just smile.

The sound of someone running is what finally snaps them out of their panic enough to try running away, but she’s already there using the end of her spear to hit one's back so hard he falls forward and pulls the other one of one backwards and throws him on the ground by his armor.

The first boy she pushes tries to get up and scurry away, but she simply places her foot on his back and presses so down with her boot with enough pressure he looks ready to cry. He really should be wearing armor.

“Clar! Clar, it’s fine! I’m fine!” You shout when the fear starts to set in that she might actually hurt them, and she doesn’t even seem like she’s listening as she twists her spear in a circle and looks towards the other boy with a grin on her face that you know all too well. She’s going to kill them.

You begin to try and pry your hands out of the rope so hard it begins to shred your skin like paper in hopes of stopping her from doing something she’ll get in so much trouble for, and it’s only when you let out a small whimper of pain does Clarisse stop her actions. The grin falls from her face, and her foot releases the boy as she hurries over to you.

Both boys get up off the dirt, stumbling over their own feet as they begin to run back into the forest to hide from Clarisse. “You touch them again and I’ll kill you in ways even my father couldn’t imagine!” She screams over her shoulder in a terrifying voice, and the way she then turns to you with a sweet smile would be weird to anyone else. It only comforts you.

“I’m so sorry sunshine. I’m so sorry I let them hurt you.” She whispers as she uses the sharpest part of her spear to cut the ropes off. You sigh in relief, bringing them to your lap so you can gently caress them. There are red marks surrounding them, some of which you can already tell are going to bruise and one with a small cut on it from the rope and bark on the tree rubbing on your skin.

Your girlfriend looks guilty, so when she begins to spill even more apologizes you shut her up with a gentle kiss. “It’s okay Clar. I’m okay. It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She shakes her head no and you watch with a small smile as she uses the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt to pick up your wrists and assess the injury.

“Really. I’m fine. It’s just some rope burn.” She hums in understanding, bringing them up to her lips one by one to place a feather light kiss on the red spots. “Better?” The curly haired girl asks with a small smile.

“Much.” She nods, letting out one more apology before she picks you up bridal style and begins to walk back in the direction of camp. It’s only when you make it to the edge of the clearing and the cabins, mess hall, and big house come into view do you realize she’s not taking you back to your team's territory.

When you go to ask where she’s taking you, but she just shh’s you and takes the trail to the infirmary. In the distance, the conch shell sounds, signaling the end of the game. It’s followed by the familiar cheers of your team, making you feel bad.

“I’m really sorry Clar. I could have walked myself. I’m so sorry” She just shakes her head, walking into the small building that only has about three Apollo children in it, the kids who don’t like to play capture the flag and volunteer to stay in the infirmary in case someone needs medical help. You know them, sending them all bright smiles and they do the same.

She sets you down on a gurney, a quick glare to the boy standing awkwardly a few feet away with a clipboard is all he needs to run over and begin gently cradling your arms to wrap your wrist’s. His name is Jamie, and he’s the quietest out of all of your siblings. Even with his silence, you know he’s an absolute sweetheart after nights spent painting with him or enjoy a walk in the sun together.

“Just take off the bandages to ice them every once and a while, and you should feel fine in a few days.” He mumbles before scurrying off to do something else, but in reality you know he’s just trying to get away from the girl who now stands at the edge of your bed like a guard. My protector.

You stand up, slowly walking towards her and wrapping your arms around the back of her neck. “You know, your siblings are beginning to despise me for being the reason you guys are losing.”

She shrugs, a small smile making its way onto her face. “Let them. They ever talk shit, you come to me. I’ll deal with it. Until then, they can despise you in silence. I’m just happy you’re okay sunshine.”

“Thanks to you. My protector.” With that she chuckles, leaning down to kiss you as your arms tighten around her.

“But I’m definitely getting Chiron to change the Apollo cabin to our team.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #clarisse la rue x you #ares god of war #once again i don't know how to write endings

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frenchkisstheabyss · 10 months

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♡ 𝖘𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑 ♡

♡ Ahem, @deathbyyeekies requested "the works" from me with a needy Mingi fic and, ya know, the works shall be delivered unto you, darling ♡

♡ Pairing: song mingi x curvy!fem!reader

♡ Summary: After a passionate weekend together you start ignoring Mingi's texts and calls which only makes him crave you even more

♡ Genre: smut sprinkled w/ some plot

♡ Word Count: 1.9kish

♡ Warnings: strong fem dom vibes but Mingi & reader are sorta switch at certain points, mostly he's down bad for you though, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), possessiveness, unprotected sex, creampie

♡ A/N: This is a request so there are some mentions of the reader being smaller than Mingi height wise though she's still a curvy babe!

What had he done? What cardinal sin had he committed that made him worthy of damnation? You ignore him entirely while other women kneel before him, worshiping the very ground he walks on. There are women who’d do anything for him. Follow his commands without question but you, somehow, had deemed him unworthy of such blind loyalty.

No matter how hard he tried to bury his memories of that weekend you spent together, his mind always drifted back to images of you beneath him on your bed, your teeth biting down on smeared, puffy red lips as he collected drops of arousal from your sweet pussy with his curved tongue. He knew it was all in his head but he swore he could still taste you on the back of his tongue, feel you dripping down the back of his throat. His heart nearly beat out of his chest at the thought of it. You were an addiction and the withdrawals were a bitch.

But you, for reasons he laid awake at night trying to uncover, hadn’t called him after. Five days went by without as much as a text from you. The guys all told him to forget about you but he couldn’t. Whatever you had done to him, the all consuming thirst you’d given him for your plush body, couldn’t be undone. It could only be satisfied by you and you alone. So here he is, the man who towered above you when he picked you up at the club that night, on his knees in your living room, fingers stroking your plump hips through the silk of your robe.

None of this had been intentional on your part. At least not at first. You knew his reputation when you met him. It had never crossed your mind that you might become something special to him. No other girl had. You’d simply accepted that you were no different and gave in to him anyway. Anything to feel his body against yours, the bass of his deep voice whispering filthy professions into your ear that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It never occurred to you that he’d pursue you the way that he has and, once it started, you couldn’t bring yourself to put him out of his misery.

The longer you ignored him the more needy he became. You went from having only received flowers from a man once or twice in your life to coming home to dozens of roses every day. There were love notes ancient poets would envy and gifts that cost more than you made in a month. The man was groveling, doing everything he could, until you finally gave in and asked him to come to your place. “Missed me?” you ask, your voice much too sweet for a creature so cruel, as you run your fingers through his hair, nails soothing an itch on his scalp he hadn’t noticed needed scratching before now.

“Mmhmm” he hums, his full rosy lips brushing along the tender meat of your inner thigh. Your body shivers at the contact. Beneath all of the games, you’d missed him as much as he had you. It’s why you’d spent every night running your fingers over your clit, coming with his name flowing from your lips in the form of hushed moans. It’s why you have nothing beneath this robe that reveals enough of your soft body to make him salivate. You knot your fingers at the base of his scalp, tilting his head back to lock his eyes onto yours.

He’s ridiculously handsome, the prettiest boy you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s at your mercy. “You want me, Mingi?” He can only laugh to himself, nibbling at your heated flesh, his tongue leaving strips of moisture along your thigh. “No. Not want” he pants, strong hands sinking into your hips to bring your core so close to him that you can feel his breath warm against your clit, “Need.” You drape your left leg over his shoulder, thigh rocking against his cheek, “Show me.” Mingi can’t tell if that’s a show of dominance or submission, it’s honestly a bit of both, but it’s all he needs to hear to place his tongue along your slit.

“Mingi…” you gasp as it swirls into you, teasing your walls. You tighten around him, coating his tongue like he knew you would. “Sweetest pussy…” he slurps, licking between your folds, his tongue circling your stiff clit, “I’ve ever tasted. Fuck, baby. Mmmm.” Mingi’s hands are locked onto your hips, his hold inescapable as he purses his lips around your clit, suckling at it so deliciously that your legs begin to shake. Each time he flicks his chin up pleasure pulses through your veins.

Freeing one of your hips from his death grip, he brings his middle and pointer fingers to your entrance, splashing in the wetness of your soaked pussy before burying them inside of you. Your eyes fall closed as he hypnotizes you with the rhythm of his wrist. “One more?” he asks, spreading you out enough for his ring finger to join the others. “Yes…please” you whine, basking in the pressure brought on by the introduction of his third finger. This is what you both dreamed of night after night.

You drenching his chin in your juices. Him claiming your pussy with his fingers. Beginning again to own each other. To consume each other. Mingi mercilessly knocks against your sweet spot, having committed to memory the precise angle it takes to make you unravel. With his knuckles grinding hard against your slit, you can feel yourself getting ready to come and he does too.

“You’re so close aren’t you, beautiful? Ready to come all over my fingers?”

“Yeah…” you whine, knees growing weaker by the second.

“Yeah?” he teases, fucking into you harder.

Before Mingi you hadn’t known that fingers could be this magical but fuck if they aren’t casting all sorts of spells on your body. How were you ever really going to deny him when he made you feel like this? Who could make you come the way he does? No one and he knows it. There’s no hiding it when your pussy’s nearly swallowing his entire hand, desperate for release. “Oh my…shit!” you cry out, your body folding as you hit your high. Mingi catches you, carefully lying you back on to the floor, his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

It’s so cute seeing how helpless you are just from his fingers. Squirming on the floor, tits spilling out of your robe, with your mouth wide open saying his name over and over like a broken record. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” he asks, taking full advantage of having you quite literally in the palm of his hand. “I don’t know…I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to string a sentence together. Mingi leans down, capturing one of your buds between his teeth, “Don’t lie to me.” He nips at your bud firmly enough to make you squeal, a gentle warning of what’s to come if you can’t get your answers straight.

“I was scared!” you spit out, your hand resting on his as it slows inside of you, eventually coming to a stop. Mingi sits up, eyes narrowing, “Scared? Of what?” You bring your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment, “I was scared to end up like the other girls.” “Other girls?” he asks, sitting down beside you to process what you’re saying, “What 'other girls’?” You can’t bring yourself to answer but he won’t accept your silence. Mingi pulls your hands away from your face, hovering over you, “What ‘other girls’?” “Look, everyone knows that girls love you. You’re always flirting with them and…”

“Well, yeah, it’s my job but that doesn’t mean I sleep with them or send them flowers.” He leans in closer to you, his lips moistening yours with your own juices, “Or write them poems about how beautiful they are. Or beg for them. I begged for you.” All of the blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re…smiling? You roll your eyes at yourself. Ugh. “You did.” “And you know why?” “Why?” “Because,” he sighs, running his hand along the curves of your body, “I want you all to myself. I’ll beg again if I have to.”

His fingertips graze your twitching clit, reawakening your senses. Resting your hands on his cheek, you press your lips to his, your tongue sweeping into his mouth to taste whatever remains of yourself amongst the warmth of his cheeks. “No more begging.” You spread your legs for him to palm your exposed pussy, “I’m yours. Take me.” Take you? You can’t even begin to fathom the fire it ignites inside of him when you say that. “Take me,” you say it like you mean it because you do and Mingi doesn’t hesitate to do so, scooping you into his arms and carrying you to your bedroom, all while kissing you like his life depends on it.

When he finally puts you down you’re standing on your tippy toes, blindly undoing his pants to free the aching thickness stressing the fibers of his boxers. It slaps against your stomach, precum smearing on your lush belly. You stroke his length, tracing the veins that run from base to tip, “You gonna give it to me or what?” Mingi gently pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer fingers, “You’re really bossy for someone so short.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

“Fuck…you’re right” he smiles, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pick you up again.

This time your arms are around his neck, legs hooked around his waist, while he pushes into you. It’s gradual, the fullness that overtakes you inch by toe curling, back arching inch. Mingi spins around, laying back on the bed so that you’re on top of him. But he’s still in control, gripping your supple ass each time he disappears into you. You swallow his cock the same way you did his fingers. It’s almost as if you want him to lose his mind. You do. Burying your face in his neck, you inhale the intoxicating scent of his cologne, “Deeper. I…want all of you. Need.”

Mingi’s long arms close around you, making it impossible to move, and he grants your wish. There’s no “in and out” anymore. Only in. Mingi kisses your shoulder, rocking deep inside of you, fighting off the urge to come from how desperately you’re gripping him. But there's no use fighting it. The euphoria of having you again...it’s even more intense than last time.

“I’m…gonna cum. Where...want...me?”

You piece together his broken words, bringing your lips back to his. Giving him one final kiss, you stare into his eyes and whisper, “In me. Mark your territory.” You feel the air escape his lungs as his body convulses, the warm white liquid that painted your lips less than a week ago now adorning your walls. Mingi’s muscles loosen enough that you have the room to ride him through his high, triggering another of your own as your clit's pleasured by the friction between your bodies.

By the time you’re done with him, there’s nothing left. Every drop of anything he had to offer now belongs to your pussy and the grabbable, jiggly part of your inner thighs that it’s leaking down. You collapse onto his chest, hearing his heart race as you both struggle to catch the breath you lost. Mingi kisses you on the forehead, hugging you tightly again, “Mine.” You yawn, reaching a limp finger up to boop him on the nose, “Yours.”

#ateez x chubby reader #ateez x you #ateez smut #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #mingi x y/n #mingi x you #mingi x reader #mingi smut #chubby reader #plus size reader #chubby smut #plus size smut

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 10 months

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snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

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