#i have never talked to her about the specifics of my sexuality but i have made a backhanded comment about me being confused by it before
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The Nanny
Pairing: Rafe x Nanny Reader
Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside was dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?
Warnings: Angst, mention of drugs, sexual harassment (some creep tries to force themselves on reader), forced kiss (same creep with the reader), slight comfort?, (please be careful if you have any issues with sexual harassment it doesn't go far but I don't want anyone uncomfortable), (let me know if I missed anything), fighting
Wc: 7.0K
A/N: One more part to go! Sad to see it coming to an end but thank you for all of your support.
Chapter 8: What are we?
You just watch as Rafe leaves. A sinking feeling builds in your chest. It’s like when you’re on a rollercoaster and you get to the really big drop. You always hated that part of the ride, somehow this feeling tops it. Fighting back the tears you walk to your room. Wheezie can wait until the morning, right now you just need to go to bed. You try to calm your breath the whole walk to your room. Scared if you made too much noise someone will hear.
Entering your room you finally let the tears go, finding solace within the four walls. The tears well onto your lashes, falling down in fat drops. Choked sobs echoing inside the silent room.You furiously try to wipe them away, hating how small you feel at this moment. This isn’t what you wanted. Deep down a part of you wanted him to fight for you. Seeing him give up so easily just adds salt to the gaping wound.
You strip from your clothes, throwing on a pair of sleep shorts and stopping when you reach for a shirt Rafe left. A part of your brain is screaming to find another shirt, the other is dying to have at least one last piece of him. Against your better judgment you grab the shirt and put it on. It faintly smells like him, another reminder how you truly thought he cared. The birthday cologne smelt slightly more bitter than it did before. But it was still him.
You turn to your bed, the sage green sheets lay perfectly flat, a bouquet of flowers on top. Walking closer you notice that they are white roses, your favorite. There’s a little note tied on the string that holds them all together. You pick them, opening the card to read it. I’m sorry Sunny. I fucked up but I can’t lose you. Please let’s just talk it out. I miss you. -R
The note makes you sob harder. He knew your favorite flower and he wanted to work things out. If you had just seen this before interrupting maybe things would be different. Maybe he would be he instead of walking away. Why would he remember your favorite flower? You barely even remember when you mentioned it around him.
“What are you doing?” The voice behind you makes you jump. The rose in your hand flies as you grip the scissors tighter. You turn your head to see Rafe leaning back on the kitchen counter. “Jesus Rafe you can’t do that. You scared the crap out of me.” You lean on the kitchen sink, regulating your heartbeat back to normal. He chuckles a little, a small smile spreading on his lips.
“Sorry didn’t mean to scare ya. Just saw you standing there and was curious.” He eyes your ass getting a perfect view from his spot behind you. “I’m cutting the stems of these roses.” “What Rose wants to be in every part of this house now?” He thinks he’s funny but he’s not. “No smartass. They are my favorite flowers, specifically the white ones.” You got back to cutting the stems, picking up flower to flower.
He sits there and watches and you finish the rest of the flowers. “Kinda seems corny doesn’t it? Like every chick likes roses it's never another flower.” Rafe remarks. Teasing you for the choice. “Well I like them because of my grandma. She used to get fresh bach every week and put them around the house. I get them because they remind me of her.” That’s the most you’ve shared about her since she died.
She was kind of the glue that held the family together. She always knew how to make everyone laugh. Always made you feel safe and welcomed. Your parents weren't that bad when you were growing up at first. They loved you so much as a baby, couldn’t have been prouder. Then the older you got the more money they had to spend. The more time they had to put into you and not them. It seemed the older you got the more problems they had. The more pressure they would put on you to be better.
Your grandma did a great job at shielding it from you for as long as she could. The flowers were the thing the two of you shared. Spending time picking out the right ones just to go home and build a bouquet. It was the highlight of your weeks and after she died it was over. You held on to the last bouquet until all the petals were left to nothing. Rotting on your dresser, burning holes into the wood to leave their marks. No bouquet felt the same after but it brought you comfort.
“Remind you?” Rafe questions. “She died when I was eight. I make bouquets to feel connected to her.” He just looks at you as you fill the vase with water, adding the roses one by one. He remembers watching his mom arrange flowers for the house. She would bring him along as she picked out various flowers. Always asking him for his input because he was her special helper. It was their special day activity, Ward would get upset at the sight of Rafe helping out. His mother would go to his defense, nipping Ward’s words in the butt the moment they exit his mouth.
It hurt to remember his mom, the memory causing more heartache than anything. The image of his happy mom crushed when he realizes she’s gone. Left him behind with a man that hates him. In a town where no one will ever care for him. But then he watches you do a simple action that brings her back. It hurts but he can’t help but smile watching you. “I’m sorry. I bet it was hard losing her. They look good, she’d be proud.”
You look him in the eyes, a soft smile gracing your face. Rafe can’t help but to think how beautiful you look. “Thank you. That was very sweet of you Rafe.” You praise. He blushes, straightening up and walking off. “WHatever don’t tell everyone now.” You laugh at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The memory makes the feeling worse. He had remembered that conversation this whole time. It had happened early on to you working here, one of the first few meetings with the oldest sibling. You thought he was just being polite because you were new and you just told him something sad. But he still had that information stored away in some filing cabinet in his mind. The fact he still knew makes you want to find him and forgive him. Then you think about the fact he gave up.
You can’t really fault him, he has a right to do what he wants. Yet it still stings that you weren’t enough for him the first time and you weren’t enough for him this time. You place the flowers on the bedside table. Pulling the covers back you climb into bed, curling up into a ball and going yourself to sleep for the second night in a row.
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The sound of voices stir you slowly awake. “Come on, leave her alone.” A hushed voice breaks through the door. “I want to know what happened last night. She never came to tell me.” Wheezie’s hush whispers fully wake you up. “No, let's go.” Sarah’s voice firmly states, footsteps fading down the hall. The room is bright, the curtains are fully open, you must have forgotten to close them last night. The light is harsh on your eyes, they still sting from crying the night before.
Everything keeps replaying in your mind. Memories creating a slow motion picture just for you. They are on a continuous loop as you get ready for the day. Your mind keeps going back to what Wheezie said to you yesterday. Would you be okay if you saw him with someone else? No you wouldn’t, seeing him with Sofia was hard enough. You don’t think you would be able to handle it further.
That realization brings you back to the flowers and the note. He has kept the memory with him since that day. Rafe wanted to make it up with you and showed you that he does care about you. He used the memory to do something that would make you happy, even if he caused you pain. The note made it obvious he wanted to work things out, maybe you should have listened to him. He didn’t actually have any reason to stay loyal to you, no conversation was had for the next step to happen.
Once you are finally dressed you slip on your shoes determined to find Rafe. You look around the hall when you step out, not wanting to run into anyone and change your mind. You make your way to his door and knock. Butterflies fill your abdomen, the nervous feeling eating you from the inside out. “Rafe?” You call out, keeping your voice low. Your right hand opens the door and you are faced with an empty room. The room is still a mess, things littered everywhere, a perfect match to him.
Sighing you close the door again, heading downstairs to get some breakfast. Voices can be heard from the kitchen, they aren’t loud so it’s hard to make anything out. Entering the kitchen you see Rafe talking with Sarah and Barry just sitting at the island. “He shouldn’t be here Rafe. Dad will flip out.” Sarah argues with her brother. “He already doesn’t like me, why should I care?” He huffs out and turns around, pausing when he sees you at the door. Barry and Sarah to look at what caught his attention.
“Well hello baby. Thought I would never see you again.” Barry’s voice rings in your ears but you can only focus on Rafe. “Hi.” You squeak, your voice giving away how nervous you are to see him. His jaw is clench, his hands forming fists as he looks at the man staring you down. “Let’s go Barry. We got shit to do.” He says pushing the other guy's shoulder as he passes him. Rafe gives you a nod as he walks by you and leaves. Barry tsk’s as he gets up making his way out as well. “That boy never learns does he?”
You just stand there, eyes glancing at Sarah. “I’m sorry I didn’t think you would be up right now after last night.” You smile at her and go in further to make food. “It’s fine. He already said he was going to leave me alone from now on. I just didn’t take him seriously.” Boiling water, you get the oats out of the cabinet, oatmeal was the fastest thing you could think of. “Wait what?” Sarah exclaims. Her shocked face staring at the back of your head.
You know she won’t leave you alone for the rest of the day. You have picked up on a few things over this past year. Never interrupt Ward when he is in meetings or talking in general. Rose really does care but the kids will never respect her so she lets them be. Rafe has been hurt for so long that he refuses to be himself now. Even though Sarah and Wheezie are different people they have the same personality trait. They care so much that they don’t know when to call it quits. Granted Sarah is better at keeping it at bay than Wheeze.
Knowing this and knowing how she feels about her brother you give in. You spilled and told her everything. How Wheezie accidentally was the reason why Ward knows what happened. How Ward was yelling at Rafe and how you stepped in. Then told her about the argument between the two of you. Finally leading to him saying he will leave you alone from now on. The whole conversation lasted all of breakfast, the oatmeal you made for the two of you long gone.
“I can’t believe that he just walked away like that. He was the one to mess up, he can't be mad.” She’s saying things you’ve already said to yourself. He did mess up and he shouldn’t be mad. But another part knows that you hurt him too in some way. You shut him out when he wanted to fix things. You ignored him and refused to talk. In the end you did the same thing he did, you didn’t communicate with him how you felt. “It’s not that simple, Sar. He hurt me yeah but I also shut him out. I’m sure that had to hurt him too, I can’t expect him to wait around for me.” You are trying to be reasonable. This is her brother you are talking about, you don’t want to be the reason why they are not on good terms. Things just started to die down between them.
“But it is simple. He messed up by kissing another girl and all you did was get space from him. He decided to just give up without much of a fight.” Her words force you to think back to when he was crying. Pleading with you to give him a second chance, just to hear him out. “He did try. I just didn’t give him the chance and it’s okay. He’s hurt and he needs his space too. I can’t get upset with him for doing the same.” Deep down you know you have a point. He is hurt and needs time which is what you did. It just hurts that when you figured out how you felt it was too late.
“Why are you defending him so much? I get that you liked him but he hurt you.” You are quiet, looking at your bowl. “Do you still like him?” She asks, watching your reactions. When she doesn’t get an answer she realizes it was deeper than what she thought. “Oh.” You both sit there, the weight of your unspoken words heavy in the air. “We never said we were exclusive. It was never something we talked about so he really didn’t do anything wrong. I just can’t hate him.”
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The thrap of the tennis ball takes you out of your daydream. Wheezie had dragged you out to the country club for a round of tennis, stating it would help you feel better. It was sweet of her for caring but the exercise was not welcomed. You would rather be enjoying the day reading then out on the court hitting a ball back and forth. “How many points is that?” She asks, a smile bright on her face. “6-2 I think.” You respond. You bounce the ball a few times before throwing it up and hitting it to her.
The rest of the morning was uneventful after your talk with Sarah. She tried to talk to you more about how you should be upset but it got nowhere. Once Wheezie popped into the kitchen the conversation died and it was over with. You were relieved when Wheezie didn’t mention Rafe at all after. Even happier when all she wanted to do was go out. That soon faded when she said she wanted to play tennis. It was just an excuse to see the cute tennis instructor that just started there.
Everything was going well until you were both leaving. You were stepping off the court when a golf cart blew past you. “Watch it, asshole.” Wheezie yells causing the cart to stop. The boys inside it all turn around and low and behold there’s Rafe with some guy you’ve never seen. “Watch it, Wheeze. Next time you might get run over.” The boy next to him chuckles. “Yeah, stay out of the way.” Rafe shoots him a look and the boy quiets down. “Oh please like you are so scary. Stop driving like a maniac and be normal.”
Rafe looks at you, eyes lingering for a little longer than needed. You smile at him, opening your mouth to greet him. He turns away before the words could escape. The cart drives off again leaving the two of you alone. He was really taking this leaving you alone seriously. You had hoped that he would be able to talk to you or be civil at least. You miss his voice, his smile, you miss him. Standing there you both just watch them drive off, walking to the building to get changed into clothes.
Wheezie wants to comment on how Rafe didn’t say anything to you. Noticing the look on your face as he ignored you. There’s a nagging in the back of her brain to ask you about last night. Her anxiety is getting the best of her, she’s scared that Rafe hates her. She has seen him get really angry and as much as she isn’t afraid of him, she still doesn’t like it. Wheezie doesn’t want to be the reason why her brother is angry at their father or at you.
“What should we watch tonight? I saw 10 Things I Hate about You the other day while scrolling and I’ve been wanting to watch it. What do you think?” You ask the younger girl as you walk the halls to the changing rooms. Wheezie clams up, her anxiety increases a bit more as she tries to think of an excuse. She needs this to go perfectly, nothing can get messed up. “Can we watch it as soon as we get home? My friends and I are having a Netflix watch party tonight.”
“That’s fine. We can get some dinner and then watch it. How does that sound?” You ask while getting your clothes from the locker you put it in. “That’s perfect.” Wheezie wasn’t lying it was perfect. She needed you to be happy and complacent for the time being. She knows that you might be a little angry with her by tomorrow so she wants to butter you up while she has the chance.
You both got changed and packed up the rest of your things. You are trying hard not to think about Rafe but are failing. Would he still want a second chance if you gave it to him? Yes is the first answer that pops into your brain. Then you think about how he’s ignoring you and that changes. He seems to have no problems pretending you don’t exist, maybe he doesn’t actually want you. Maybe the roses and letter was a ploy to get in your bed again. Yeah that was it.
Snapping out of your thoughts, you have Wheezie order some food. Getting into the car you drive to pick it up before going home. The house is quiet, no one seems to be home besides Sarah. “Hey guys.” Sarah shifts her eyes back to the book in her hands. “Hey! We are going to watch a movie. Want to join?” You ask as you make your way to the living room to settle down. “What movie?” “10 Things I Hate about You.” Wheezie answers. “You had me at Heath Ledger let’s go.” Sarah bolts up, the book forgotten as it flies in the air.
The three of you all get comfortable and queue the movie up. You all just sit in silence, eating and enjoying the movie. Once the food is finished , everyone relaxes back. Only really speaking to comment on the movie. “Uh, I wish he would sing for me.” Sarah dreams out loud. You chuckle at her, nudging her thigh with your foot. “Want me to tell John B to serenade you?” Wheezie laughs at your teasing. “Oh my god. I would pay to see that.”
You honestly can’t help but see the irony of watching this movie. Boy pretends to be into the girl only for her to find out it was all a lie. She tries to hate him but can never seem to, only to find each other in the end. But this isn’t a movie. Clearly Rafe is content with having you out of his life. There won’t be some big confession that absolves him of all his mistakes. He’s too proud to let anyone see how he feels. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice of movie.
Some masochistic part of you wants to feel the pain of watching something that will never happen. To soak in that feeling just to spite yourself. If the girls weren’t here you would probably be crying right now. Mourning the what if’s that plague your mind. It isn’t fair to do this to yourself and you know that. You just can’t seem to help yourself from finding comfort in your own pain. So used to the feeling that anything else seems foreign.
The rest of the movie plays out. Patrick and Kat just made up and are now kissing. Every muscle in your body feels heavy. The weight of the situation pulls you down further into the couch cushions. The credits start to roll and the girls are stretching. “Okay I’m going to my room now.” Wheezie gets up to leave. “Already? It’s still early.” Sarah questions. “Yeah I’m doing a watch party with some friends.” Wheezie shrugs trying to walk fast out the room. Sarah squints her eyes at her younger sister and watches as she leaves.
“Doesn’t she usually stick to you like glue until she goes to bed?” Sarah asks you. She finds it weird that she randomly watches parties with friends. She looks at you when you don’t answer. You were still stuck in your head that it took you a while to process what happened and Sarah’s words. “Um yeah sometimes. It’s good that she’s hanging out with friends. I’m not always going to be her nanny.” That’s when it hit you, this job isn’t forever. There’s no reason for any of them to stay in contact with you after Wheezie gets old enough. The girls would most likely stay in touch you know that. But you won’t be forced around Rafe anymore, maybe that’s a good thing.
“What are you even talking about?” She laughs. “You will always be a part of this family. At least you will be with Wheeze and I. You can’t get rid of us that easily.” She smiles at you. It makes you feel better having that reassurance. Even in the end you will still have them. “I think I’m going to go to my room and read. If you want to hang out or need me just come in.” You tell her. There’s a book on your night stand that you want to finish.
You must have been reading for an hour or two when Sarah bursted into your bedroom. “Is Wheezie in here with you?” She asks. You look up from the book, your face scrunching in confusion. “No, why?” Her face seems worried which only intensifies when she realizes Wheezie isn’t here either. “She’s not in her room and I can’t find her around the house. I wanted my sweater back and she was just gone.” Worry starts to gnaw at you. She has to be here somewhere, she couldn’t have just disappeared.
“Hold on. She has to be here somewhere. I’m just going to call her.” You place your book down and grab your phone. You dial her number and it rings. Sarah just stares waiting to see what happens. She didn’t answer. “Nothing.” You say. Sarah sighs not knowing what to do. “Let me track her phone.” Sarah gives you a bewildered look. “You track us?” She practically yells. “No. Your dad put it on Wheezie’s phone and I just have access to it. I never use it but this is kinda important.”
The app shows Wheezie at a house not too far from Tanny Hill. “She’s at a house. It’s close to here.” You get up putting your shoes on and grabbing your keys. “I think she’s at Trevor’s party. The one she was talking about yesterday.” Crap. Of course, that’s why she had a watch party. She just wanted me to leave her alone so she could sneak off.
The car ride to the party was tense. You were so upset and worried. She went behind your back and put herself at risk to go to this party. No one knew where she was and something could have happened to her. Oh god what if something did happen? She is still young and people like to take advantage of that. This situation is setting panic alarms in your mind. You just hope Ward doesn’t find out because the Rafe situation can be forgiven. Letting his teen daughter go to a party and get drunk might be his last straw.
Loud music is blasting as you pull into the street. There are people everywhere and the feeling of dread increases. It’s going to take forever to find her here. Not only that, you know Rafe is around. There’s no way that he would miss the opportunity to sell and take drugs. Walking into the house was a hassle, people kept blocking the way. Drinks are being spilled on you, soaking your shoes in the process. This is the one thing you hate about parties, they are always a mess. People get too drunk and throw up everywhere. Others start fights or spend the night taking copious amounts of drugs. You don’t judge them, it's just not something you enjoy.
“We should split up. I’ll call you if I find her.” Sarah yells over the music. “Sounds good.” You head towards the stairs to check up stairs. The stairs are littered with cups making the floors sticky. Most of the doors are closed so you have to open each one. You found a couple in one room, the rest being empty or locked. Laughter fills your ears from the other end of the hall. Walking over you see a group of guys all sitting around.
Looking closer you can see that they are doing line and in the middle of all of them was Rafe. Barry was sitting next to him chatting up a customer trying to upsell. A girl enters your view and you watch as she walks over to Rafe. She leans down and whispers in her ear and rests her hand on his shoulder. You watch as he smiles up at her, shaking a little bag in her face. He turns to make a line for her on the table and he catches your eyes.
He freezes, the card in his hand stalling. He picks up his actions when the girl whispers to him again. She makes her way onto his lap and that’s when you look away. Heading back down the stairs, missing how he pushed her off his lap and shot up. How he looked for you but you were already gone.
You keep looking around the house. Stopping into every room to check them. The next thirty minutes were spent searching the house. You kept coming up short which was freaking you out even more. You look at the app again and can see that she is still in the house. She’s here somewhere but you just can’t seem to figure out where. Your phone starts to ring in your pocket. “Hello?” You answer
“I found her. I’m bringing her to the car so we can leave.” Sarah tells you. Relief floods through your system. “Okay I’ll meet the two of you there.” She hangs up. Knowing that Wheezie is safe now you are ready to leave. You walk through the living room, eyes trained on the front door next to the kitchen. A body blocks you as you get right outside the living room. “Hey.” Some random guy says.
“Uh hey?” You say wearily. You are a little weirded out. You have never seen this guy before and he keeps blocking you as you try to get around him. “You’re that nanny for Rafe’s little sister right?” He asks. “Yeah.” He nods at you. His hands are in his pockets, he looks a little awkward like this. He takes a step closer to you, your body backing up closer to the wall. “Sorry for what he did to you. Think he’s kinda stupid for letting a girl like you go.” He says.
As if his words would make you feel better about what happened. “Thanks. I have to go now.” You try to step around him again and his arm lands on the wall, blocking you. This is starting to get more uncomfortable by the minute. “Hey I’m just trying to talk to you. I think you’re really pretty. We can just have some fun.” He tries to ration with you. “I’m good, I really just want to go. I have to get back to Wheezie.” You try to push him off you but he just gets a little closer.
His breath fans against your neck as you squirm away from him. One of his hands grabs your bicep, keeping you still. “Come one don’t be like that. I just want to get to know you. I think we could really like each other.” His body is now pressed up to you. You can feel how hard he is through his pants. It's disgusting. Your hand raises to his chest trying to push him off. It only makes it worse, in lips kissing your neck.
From the kitchen Rafe has been watching the whole interaction. Watching as he hit on you and how you stood there. He watches as his hands are touching you, his lips kissing the same skin his own lips touched. He was angry. Angry at himself for fucking this up, angry at his dad for being the reason he’s like this, mostly mad at you for moving on right in front of him. He was just filled with anger.
It didn’t help that he was so high and coked out that the feeling was ten fold. He had spent all day yesterday and today taking bump after bump. Smoking the day away and drinking. There’s so much in his system that he’s surprised he’s even standing. No matter how much he takes you are always still there. There in his home, at the country club and now here. He can handle seeing you, not really but he could manage. But he can’t stand there and watch as you are with someone else. His breaking point is when the guy kisses you.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing. One moment he was just watching you, hating his life. Now he’s marching over to drag you out of here and yell at you. You can’t just rub it in his face how little he means to you. He was about to call you out when he heard you speak. “Get off of me.” It’s like a switch flipped. He is now paying attention to your body language. Rafe sees her hands trying to push his chest. How the guy keeps grabbing them to bring them down to his pants. “Just shut up and stay still.”
That was Rafe’s breaking point. He grabs the guy from the back of his shirt, throwing him to the ground. You watch in horror as the guy hits the floor in a hard thump. Rafe’s fist meets the guy's face in an instant. You stand there as his body holds the guy down and he keeps hitting him. Everyone is yelling in horror, telling Rafe to stop. “What is wrong with you? She told you to get off her.” Rafe yells.
His voice snaps you out of it. The guy is trying to block Rafe’s hits but he can’t do much in his position. Rafe has him trapped on the floor. “Rafe stop, let him go.” You yell. You really don’t want to be the reason that he got into a fight. It’s bad enough that his dad yelled at him over you.
Topper and Kelce run over, dragging Rafe off of the poor guy. “Fucking touch her again and I swear I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate if I see you near her again.” Rafe screams as his friends drag him away. You look at the guy on the floor, he just lays there as people try to check on him. “God he’s such a psycho. Who just attacks a random guy.” Someone says as they pull out their phone to call the cops. “Maybe he shouldn’t be such a creep forcing himself onto people.” You say without thinking. Heads turn to look at you in confusion. Some people connect the dots as to what happened. “DId he try to..” You walk away before people can ask questions.
You find Rafe outside, pacing in circles as he yells at his friends. “Why would you pull me off? FUcking asshole deserved it. He’s lucking I didn’t fucking kill him.” The boys just look at him with worried looks. “You can’t just say you are going to kill people Rafe.” Topper tries to reason but it falls on deaf ears. “Nah I mean it. He was going to hurt her and I wanted to kill him. I would do it to anyone who even thinks about touching her.” The boys don’t know what to say. Rafe is like a ticking bomb when he’s like this.
“Rafe.” Your voice calms him, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” He rushes to you. Examining you to make sure that creep didn’t harm you in any way. “I’m fine. Thank you.” You don’t know what else to say. He helped you out back there and you are grateful. “I swear if he hurt you I’m going back in there and killing him. DOn’t care if they arrest me.” He’s being irrational. “Hey, just calm down. Everything is fine now. You made it okay.” He pauses, your words sinking in. He made it okay.
He was the one who helped you, the one that saved you. He reaches out to you, caressing your check. Relishing the feeling of you leaning into his touch. “You should go home.” He whispers. Your eyes open and meet his. Their red and his pupils are dilated. “Come with me.” He looks at you, debating if it’s a good idea. “I can’t. I said I would leave you alone, so I can’t.” He takes his hand off your face, about to back away from you but you stopped him.
“I want you to come with me, please. You can’t drive like this.” He gave in, no fighting was needed. You want him and that’s all he needs to know. He steps closer, walking side by side to your car. He sees Wheezie and Sarah in it. “What are they doing here?” He asks you. “Wheeze snuck off to the party. We came to get her and when I was leaving well.” You look back at the house and at him. “Well you know.”
He nods at you, not saying another word as you get into the car and drive off. The car ride was filled with you and Sarah lecturing Wheezie on how dangerous this was. That if something happened to her and no one knew where she was it could end badly. Rafe tenses at this thought. He was so coked out he didn’t realize his own sister was at the party. You were right she could have been hurt. Look at what happened to you, the same could have happened to Wheezie.
He’s on autopilot as he walks into the house and up the stairs. Your conversation plays in the background in his mind. He enters his room shutting the door but not noticing how it doesn’t click shut until a moment later. “Are you okay?” Rafe turns to see you in front of the door. “Yeah, I just want to get to bed.” What he really wants is to take another line and sleep the thoughts away.
“I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me today.” You shift your eyes from him. “No problem. Didn’t want you to get hurt.” He sits on the edge of his bed, folding his hands and looking at them. “That’s all? I got the flowers you gave me.” you take a step closer, wanting to be near him. You want to fix this, tonight made you realize he does care.
“Oh yeah. You can just forget about them. Don’t know why I even got them in the first place.” Your smile fades, the small flame of hope flickers out. “So that note was for nothing?” He doesn’t say anything. Guess you finally got your answer, it's over. “Don’t know why I even tried talking to you. You don’t care.” You go to leave the room. “Don’t leave.” He calls out.
Your hand is still on the door knob, one twist and you’ll be free. “Why? There’s nothing to stay for.” You hear him grunt, the bed squeaking under him. “Do you think I want to be like this? I can’t stand myself. I’m a fuck up, everyone knows it. For fucks sake my own father hates me.” He gets up, adrenaline coursing through him.
“I wish I could be normal. That I was enough of a man to be worthy of anything. I’m just a failure at everything so no point in pulling you down with me.” His eyes are collecting tears. His breath came in short bursts. “That’s the drugs talking. You are normal Rafe.” He scoffs at you. “No, the drugs just make it easier to swallow that pill.” He laughs out.
“I know what everyone says about me, I’m not stupid. Ever since my mom died I was some monster. No one wanted to be around me and I just kept acting up. I know I’m not worth anything, then there you were. My own personal sunshine. For a second I was able to forget who I was. I was someone else and didn't have to worry about the rumors that go around. Guess I forgot I don’t deserve good things.”
He’s laughing but you can hear the hurt in his voice. Tears fill your eyes at the thought of him feeling so worthless. “You do deserve good things.” “Look at what that got us. I fucked it up and you don’t even want me around. I get it, don't get me wrong but it sucks. I didn’t think you meant anything, the little voice in my head saying I was a fool for wanting to be with you. I let it get to me and now whatever we were is gone.”
A tear falls down his cheek. “I lost the last good thing that ever happened to me. You know you’re the only person that cared about me. It’s funny not even my own family likes me but you did. You were a breath of fresh air, the sunny day after a storm. I finally had you and I couldn’t even keep that. So no, I don't deserve good things.” His voice raises. A hollow feeling in his chest, he wishes it was a blackhole ready to swallow him up.
“Is that why you call me Sunny?” The nickname starts to make sense to you now. “Yeah, you’re this bright light that took everything away.” He sits down on the bed again, looking at the sun necklace laying on his table. He picks it up, playing with the gem between his fingers. “My Sunny. So beautiful it hurts. I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up. Wish I was different, maybe then we would actually be together.”
Your breath hitches, was this just the drugs? He did say that it just made it easier to handle how he feels. “I don’t want you to be different.” You stroll over to him, stepping between his legs. You grab his head in your hands so he can look you in the face. “I just wanted you to be you. I like who Rafe Cameron is. Why would I want you to be anyone different?” His eyes are shiny, glossed over with the tears that keep falling.
“It doesn’t matter now right? It’s too late.” His hand wraps around your wrist. “We can talk about this tomorrow. You should get some sleep, we’ll talk when you have a clearer mind.” You go to leave the room but he stops you. “Stay. Don’t leave me.” His eyes are pleading with you. “Okay.”
You take off your shoes as he gets up. He hands you a change of clothes and he strips from his, laying in his bed waiting for you. You don’t know whether to change here or go into his bathroom. His eyes are are staring at you and you decide fuck it. He divulged how he felt, you can give in for at least this. You change into the shirt he gave you, leaving the pants to the side and get into bed. His fist still holds the necklace, you take his hand. The piece of jewelry moving to you.
You look at it, mixed emotions fill you. The happiness when you first got it, how you thought it was a step further in the relationship. The sadness of when you found him at the bonfire. The confusion you feel at this moment. You forgive him. You want to get past this and it seems like he does too. There’s still this fear in the back of your mind.
He traces your facial features with a light touch, scooting closer to your body. You are both on your sides facing each other. His eyes are drooping, sleep knocking on his door. Slowly fading his consciousness as he fights it off to have one more minute with you. “I think I’ll always be in love with you.” His words are softly whispered between you two.
Your mind short circuits. He said he was in love with you. There’s no way he actually said that. His hand lays motionless on your side, the sandman claiming him as his next victim. You look at him and then the necklace once again. Shifting slightly as to not wake him, you put the necklace back on. You move closer to him, touching his jaw. Letting sleep take you with it. “I’ll always be in love with you too.”
#rafe x reader#rafe cameron#rafe obx#obx#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe outer banks#rafe x nannyreader
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♡
#starting to believe that maybe all this while i've been punishing myself by isolating myself from people who care abt me#like there have been times when i felt that friends just didnt care. also been times i felt too ashamed to ask for help or seek company#but i think i just gotta give myself grace like . i'm human. it's fine to seek platonic connection n a listening ear. it's Normal#anw so!! i met my best friend for yoga (for the first time!) yday n we talked SO MUCH!! we talked about life careers sexuality relationshi#i also told her about smth that has been plaguing me for two days. specifically my ex ahgkhgjgjns n . talking about it really helped me#what a shocker!!!! that talking about your worries n feelings helps!!! ksggfjsnjkgnjkndg#n i learnt so many new things about her... we usually meet in a group n it's always just a roulette of quick life nuggets#but yday i realised that i never really found out what she's really been up to. i've not had a one-to-one conversation with her in ages!!#thats crazy considering that we're such good friends.... omg. n so it really made me see how much i craved that connection#n how much i'm tormenting myself by isolating myself and depriving myself of the joy that i tend to get from deep social connections :(#n i think maybe it's time to start putting that past self who was too ashamed to reach out for help behind me#idk its been really nice talking to an old friend n being 100% comfortable u know?? it made me realise how much i missed deep connections#my point is i've missed this!!!!! maybe i should do it more!!!!!#personal
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rant
(i havent overshared on here in a while and i think its about time i do that)
tw/ homophobia and transphobia
being queer in a rural area / area where theres not a lot out other gay people is really weird and really isolating.
yeah its the homophobes and terfs and people telling me about *how the gays are going to hell* and talking about us like we're subhuman without realizing im gay.
but its also the other gay people i've met.
theres this guy that ive been friends with for going on 11 years now (on and off) and he came out to me a year ago just by going "hey did you ever think that i might be gay" and i answered and that was that
months later i came out to him by telling him nonchalantly about my first girlfriend when i was like 13. he tells me about this girlfriend he had a few years prior. he then proceeds to go on this rant about how he's still "completely gay" thought since "she wasn't a real girl". and he goes on about how he thinks that if you date a trans person it automatically makes you pansexual since they "have the parts of a boy/girl even if they aren't one" (talking about how straight men cant date trans girls and still be straight and vise versa and how lesbians "cant" date trans girls and still call them lesbians)
last time i talked to him he was going on about "how women are nowadays" and calling them sluts and being really degrading.
There was a gay bi gender kid who rode my bus who constantly talked about the same stuff.
The first person I've ever came out to irl is one of my best friends recently told me she just "doesnt understand aromanticism" and doesnt think it's a real thing.
I came out to her as asexual about two years ago now and explained to her that i find a lot of aspects of my sexuality confusing but i still really wanted a label and she's the one who suggested i use the label 'queer'
but when i messaged her and told her that i also think im on the aromantic spectrum a few days ago she asked me to explain why and i sent her a whole essay explaining my experiences with romantic attraction for her to tell me she doesnt understand it and doesnt think that that makes me gay.
(like she's fine with asexuality but draws the line at aromanticism)
I also have this cousin whose a lesbian and only shows up like once every five years because of our family. but when she was home for christmas she and her sister went on a tirade about how being gay is fine but trans people are 'imposing on the community'.
i wasnt planning on coming out to her (i dont think ill ever come out to anyone in my family) but i was still sort of excited to see her because i havent talked to her since i came to terms with my sexuality and it just felt nice not being the only gay person in my family (even if i am closeted)
and its really isolating because this is my community. these are the people i have access to that have the most simular experiences and not one is fully accepting of other peoples identities.
every single gay friend i have that isnt aropohobic or transphobic or a misogynist (how tf are you going to be gay and sexist??? make it make sense) is online and my actual community is completely parasocial. i dont think thats healthy.
#tw homophobia#tw transphobia#arophobia#i have this one friend who doesnt know shit about the lgbt community#she doesnt understand sexuality#and shes like this with me being autistic too#like she doesnt understand it in the least bit but she does accept everything with it.#i have never talked to her about the specifics of my sexuality but i have made a backhanded comment about me being confused by it before#and she didnt address it for a while she just kind of dismissed it#but it got brought up really casually in conversation like a month later#idk how to explain it but thats just like what happened#i think she had an 'expirimenting phase' when we were like 12#but nothing came of it#anywho#i think its really disappointing that the only person i can rely on to not invalidate my sexuality or anyone elses for that matter#doesnt know anything about sexuality#like you would think that the people who go through the same type of unacceptance would be more willing to understand and accept people#but apparently not#if i mentioned anything about asexuality or aromanticism to this one friend she would stare at me like a dear and headlights#i know for a fact shes never heard those terms before#but if id explain them to her she would just be like 'oh okay' and not think more about it
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One trope I really dislike in love stories (mostly common to fanfic and romance novels but it can be found elsewhere) is when the author goes out of their way to (a) establish that a protagonist had absolutely no significant positive feelings for their previous sexual/romantic partners and (b) presents this chiefly as proof that the other protagonist is uniquely Worthy and that the main romance is True Love. This is a pretty specific scenario; I’m not talking about, say, the hero who has no romantic or sexual experience, or the heroine who married young and her husband was shitty in a specific way, or the protagonist who enjoyed their past relationships but they never totally clicked. I’m talking about “the hero has slept with so, so many women, but don’t worry! He never felt so much as slight fondness for them or admired any of their non-physical qualities. He might as well have been using a blow-up doll every time.” Or “the heroine has only ever loved the hero. She has never looked upon another man with lust in her heart. If she ever dated anyone else, she never felt affection or respect or admiration for him. This is proof of true love, not the result of dating only shitty guys or maybe being kind of a tool.” I promise, it’s not going to ruin a romance if the hero is like “my ex-girlfriend was a good person” or the heroine is like “I enjoyed having sex with the guy I dated for five years.”
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Mile-high club
Summary: After a month of not having sex, you decide to be bold with what you want from spencer. Stepping out of both your comfort zones due to complete sexual frustration.
A/N: This one is a bit rushed, but can y'all tell what my faviote spencer era is? Like i love long haired spencer i can not! Also yall... I just turned 19 :) So that's a little life update lmao. Anyways love and miss y'all!!
Warnings: NSFW, public sex and dirty talk
Word count: 5.4K
As with any other case, this case dragged on and on until you felt you were nothing but skin and bones. Cases always left you feeling so empty inside, always so bleak... it always took you a bit to come back to your natural self. The first rule of being a part of the FBI is never to take it personally, don't take it to heart. But how could you not? You're inviting yourself into these people's lives, picking apart their brains, and using that to your advantage. You knew it was for the best but that didn't mean you had to like it.
You were doing what you normally did after cases, drinking hot tea on the jet aching for the sweet release of sleep. This time, however, you weren't aching for sleep. This entire week there was a thought always in the back of your mind, you weren't sure why it was this case specifically but for some reason, the thought lingered. Spencer... You felt yourself heating up every time around him, focusing only on his hands when he was showing you paperwork or squeezing your thighs together as you watched his hips. You had never been the needy one in the relationship, it has always been Spencer... but something about him now left you hungry. You racked it off to just you being hormonal, but you knew it was because Spencer's hands hadn't been on you for a while. Back-to-back cases like these always left no time to get down with Spencer... one downside to this job among many.
Even now, while sitting on the jet, you could only look at him. Emily and JJ were talking about god knows what, while you started across the jet to see your little Spencer. He was reading, his hands so delicately following as he read... His hair had gotten long, almost touching his shoulders now. You had gotten real used to pulling on it, sometimes subconsciously doing it as you hugged him. You started to think about how he looked last time you made him whimper, the picture burnt into your brain as you slid yourself up and down until he begged you to stop. "too much...." was all he could muster up, his wrist rubbing against the rope as he so badly wanted to reach up to touch you.
"You hear Y/N?" You heard a voice say, your heart dropping as you whipped your head towards it.
The voice belonged to Emily, her eyebrow raised as she wondered what you were thinking. She could see that something was up and not just because she was a profiler. Anyone who could see how you were looking at Spencer could see exactly how you were feeling, sexually frustrated. The way you gripped onto your coffee mug, and bit the inside of your lip roughly... basically eye fucked Spencer. Obviously, you could never tell Emily how you were thinking about Spencer being so pussy drunk that it physically hurt him. So you just sent a smile over to her, brought your tea to your lips, and nodded.
"Yeah! Sorry..." You kept the grin on your face, your embarrassment getting the best of you as you began to become flustered. "Just a bit distracted today."
You flicked your eyes between my cup and Emily, not wanting to make too much eye contact in the state you were in, your state being extremely turned on. It was gross to even admit, but even just looking at Spencer... your body reacted. Emily looked over at JJ, shooting her a look. You caught onto this, but not sure what that look even meant. JJ just chuckled softly, shifting herself in her chair. You looked between them, feeling as though you were left out of a really funny inside joke of theirs. Emily looked back at you, giving you a smirk.
"I can see that..." She leaned back in her chair, hands placed on her stomach as she read your confusion. "Been a while?"
Her words confused you, not sure what she meant by that. You now started feeling like you were the butt of the joke, feeling like you did in high school when girls would giggle behind you. "Been a while." Could mean anything, has it been a while since you showered? Has it been a while since you ate? Has it been a while since you went to a concert? The possibilities were endless yet Emily still expected an answer. You furrowed your brows, cocking your head to the side.
"What?" You asked, genuinely needing an explanation before you could even answer her question. Emily chuckled once again, looking back at Spencer before huddling herself closer to you as if she had to tell you a huge secret.
"You and Spencer?" That was all she said.
Your heart dropped, was Emily a mind reader? or were you just that frustrated that it was written on your skin? Her words made you think, however, how long has it been? It was definitely before this case and the one before it... then there was that 4-day conference y'all were forced to attend, well then that one week you got your period and didn't feel like doing anything but laying in bed... You would say it's been a good month, maybe a little more. This was definitely not normal for you two, sex was like food to the two of you. It was y'alls way to destress from cases, it became so normal to go home after a long case and bang it out. Trust and believe this drought had been taking a toll on you, you were so horny that you could start humping Spencer's leg at any moment, just like a dog in heat.
You hesitated to answer, not wanting to cross that boundary with Emily but also not wanting to be humiliated. You were the more private person when it came to the BAU, you would come in and do your work... that's it. Obviously, you were a part of the BAU family, you knew everyone's business and you would hang out with them outside of work. But you were a mystery to everyone there, well except Spencer, he had quite literally known you inside and out. As of right now though, you were frustrated and in need of a rant so that boundary didn't exist for you today.
"Is it that noticeable?" You said sarcastically, scoffing as you did so. You hated the feeling of being easily read, but the frustration was sloshing around inside you so it was only a matter of time before the people around you figured it out. Emily chuckled softly, looking over at JJ before she spoke.
"I mean you have been grouchy, you're not focused, and well..." Emily paused, she was now reading you like a book. "You've been undressing Spencer with your eyes this entire trip."
You wanted to melt into the ground, and let the worms use your flesh as food. You were embarrassed, completely and utterly ashamed of her words. You were acting like a starved man, only able to focus on the mere thought of food... like a complete glutton-driven man. You never really knew how much you needed sex, you started to wonder if you always had this need deep inside you. You remember before Spencer, you went months without an orgasm and was perfectly fine. Maybe it was Spencer, maybe his cock switched something on inside your pussy... or maybe other men hadn't been doing it right.
You felt your cheeks heat up but at the same time, your body ran cold. All you could do was watch as Emily snickered at your reaction, like your embarrassment was the funniest thing she had ever seen. You were much younger than Emily and JJ, you were newer to this world and newer to sex than they were. Trust and believe that both women have had their share of droughts, so this is not new to them. They weren't trying to embarrass you or make you feel you needed to be ashamed. No, they just found it amusing that you were so blinded to the fact you were so obvious with your motives. Let's just say your subtle touches and comments towards Spencer weren't so subtle.
"I just..." You start, your voice sounding as though you were pouting and honestly... you were pouting. "It used to be every day! Every night, after work... like clockwork! But this stupid fucking job is getting in the way of us, I mean sex is how we communicate!"
Your voice is rising, alerting the sleeping Derek who sat right behind you. He was too tired to even comprehend what you were talking about, which surprised you because he always teased you and Spencer about your sex life. The girls didn't laugh this time, only watched as you looked like you were going crazy. They didn't realize how upset you were about this, this felt it went far beyond sex to you. It did in some sense, as said before you and Spencer were always having sex so if there was no sex happening... there was no and him happening either. This could turn into a therapy session, you could cry about how you felt ignored and put aside but it wasn't that at all... you were just so horny for Spencer, this frustration building up and ready to burst. JJ sighed softly, patting you on the shoulder.
"I get it... I mean we get it." She points between her and Emily, shooting Emily a smile. "Y/N... You need to have sex or you're going to go insane."
Emily nods, agreeing with JJ's clear over-exaggeration. You felt like you were already going insane, you couldn't do anything without the thought of Spencer's cock down your throat completely eliminating your focus. So although it was clear JJ was being dramatic about it, you felt it was pretty accurate for the feeling inside you. You let out a sigh, pushing your hair back as you leaned back in your chair. You have been at this job for 4 years, and insanity came with the job, so this feeling of complete and utter insanity due to not having sex was killing you simply because it was so new to you.
"Trust me, I know." Was all you said, biting your lip softly as your eyes flicked over to Spencer once more.
He was now leaning back in his chair, his thighs slightly opened as his hands were placed on them delicately. He was looking out the window, watching the clouds go by as the sun started to set. You couldn't help but look at his veiny hands placed so pretty on his thighs, you suddenly gained tunnel vision and your eyes started to outline his cock. Spencer sensed you looking at him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he turned his head. He made eye contact with you, sending you a soft smile. Talk about the straw that broke the camel's back, that opened the floodgates inside of you.
"You know what you should do?" JJ asked, trying to get your attention, and in only milliseconds... she had it. "You need to make him want it, it's what I used to do with Will all the time when I was pregnant, and believe me pregnancy hormones are no joke."
How does one go about making someone want them? You were no stranger in the teasing scene, it was your favorite thing to do with Spencer. But you haven't even had 2 seconds to tease him since the drought started, so you were a bit out of practice. Spencer would usually be a puddle on the floor you stepped on in seconds when you teased him, but he was so stressed that he couldn't tell his ass from his head sometimes. You were more than willing to know how JJ did it, and how she made men want her in times of desperation.
"How?" You ask, feeling slightly more embarrassed by your sudden confusion. JJ thinks for a second, looking over at Emily for her to pitch in at any moment.
"There's many ways to do it, all people are different Y/N" Emily chuckled, looking over at JJ who was still thinking about how she even managed to seduce Will like she did. "My advice is just be overly affectionate with him, you know? Touch him more, show a little more skin, laugh louder... Just make it known, be loud with it."
You took in her words, especially the "make it known" and "be loud with it". You felt you could do that, with how frustrated you had become you could see yourself screaming for him to just fuck you. It would be a bit hard because Spencer is kind of not good with social cues, if you try to flirt with him sometimes, he just throws statistics your way. You repeated the words "make it known" in your head, how could you make it known... at that moment as you repeated it in your head like a mantra, you had such a devilish idea. Your hands almost started shaking due to excitement, the feeling taking over your body as you went to speak.
"I can do that..." You said with a smile, standing up from your seat and fixing your shirt. "I need to use the restroom, be right back."
You basically ran to the bathroom, zooming past Spencer who was quite confused at your sudden rush. You locked yourself in the small bathroom, the excitement taking over your body as you could see yourself start doing handstands due to excitement. You pulled out your phone, setting yourself on the small counter sink as you started to pull your shirt off. You weren't sure how to do this, your nerves getting the best of you as you clicked on your camera. You had no time to think, you just pulled your shirt off and aimed your camera at your chest.
The first one was more of a softcore nude, only in your bra as your hand laid on your chest. You took a couple of pictures with your bra on, then you clicked through them, deleting the ones you didn't like. You would've stopped there but you wanted to go the extra mile, you were "being loud" with it as Emily would say. You pulled your bra off, watching it fall to the floor, the nerves in your stomach only fooling you to go further. You pointed the camera at your chest, snapping a couple of pictures. Again, you weren't good at this... you never claimed to be, so you took pictures from multiple angles and positions. Some you were squeezing them together, some you weren't.... you weren't a model or a photographer so you were working with what you had.
You finished, hopping down from the sink and putting your clothes back on. You sat on the lidded toilet, scrolling through the pictures as you picked the ones you would send. You were nervous to say the least, you knew it was just Spencer but you had never taken sex outside of the bedroom before. This was new, this was scary... this was so arousing. You clicked on Spencer's name, his name being "spencie poop" In your phone, you clicked on the pictures you wanted and hovered over the send button. Would this work? what if he isn't into it as much as you are? What were you even doing?
"Make it known. be loud with it." You repeated in your head, closing your eyes before clicking the send button. It took only seconds for it to send the anticipation building in your stomach. You decided to stay sitting in the toilet for a little longer, getting yourself together before you faced the world behind the small bathroom door. You knew Spencer wouldn't see the pictures until later on, knowing that he always put his phone on silent as he hated technology, especially when it interrupted his reading time. You wondered how he would react, knowing that Spencer didn't know how to react to most things. You wouldn't be surprised if Spencer sent you a thumbs up and a message saying how pretty you look, you weren't sure this would even work in your favor.
You gathered yourself, breathing in and out before you stood up to leave the bathroom. As you reached for the door, there was a small knock on it. You assumed it was someone who needed to use the bathroom, you had been in there for a good 15 minutes before you decided to leave. You reached for the door, opening it... Your heart dropped, your entire body went hot and your underwear became wetter than before. It was Spencer, his face was bright red and his hands shook softly. He didn't give you time to even open the door all the way before he barged into the small bathroom with you, shutting and locking the door behind you.
"Are you crazy?" He whispered, hoping no one else saw him or heard him come in. You were pressed against the sink, Spencer pressed against you as the small bathroom was not made for two. "Are you trying to get me in trouble? what if someone had seen?"
Spencer looked upset but his hard cock against your stomach gave his true feelings away. Spencer could never be mad at you, you knew this and you took advantage of it often. Unfortunately, Spencer was very by the books, he followed all the rules but when it came to you... rules didn't exist. So he wasn't actually upset about the pictures, he was just frustrated you decided to send them now. While Hotch was sitting right next to him, a clear shot of his phone and everything. You bit your lip softly, your eyes being pulled toward his cock rubbing against your belly, there was no hiding that in this small compact area.
"Seems like you liked them.." You teased softly, chuckling out as you looked up at him with doe eyes.
Spencer could have come then and there, your innocence creating a deep desire within him. He let out a sigh, his breath panning across your face as he did so smelling of coffee and mint. You brought your hand up to his tie, fiddling with it softly as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to come face-to-face with him. Spencer's breath hitched as your lips brushed his own, his mind going foggy and forgetting where he was in the moment... Something inside him though reminded him, the small voice in the back of his head telling him this was a bad idea and the team was only feet away from you both. As you started to undo his belt, He grabbed onto your shoulders, pushing you back softly.
"Y/N, that was extremely inappropriate..." He said sternly, trying not to give in to your pleading eyes. "Hotch was right next to me an..."
His words were cut off by your hand grasping his cock softly. In the short time, he had been scolding you, you managed to stuff your hand down his pants, Spencer was far too focused on trying to not give into your motives he didn't even realize. Spencer became putty just then, your hand rubbing his cock slowly cutting his iq down by 100. You knew this was also a horrible idea, I mean were you really going to let your twisted, horny mind risk your job? The answer was, yes... yes you were. If it meant that Spencer would be inside of you, then you would do anything.
"I know baby... I've been so bad." You whispered out, your hand still wrapped around his cock. You fluttered your eyes up at him, watching as his ability to control himself slowly disappeared. "But I had to! it's been so long, you have me all worked up and it's starting to hurt."
You rub his cock softly, his own eyes fluttering shut as you turn him into putty. Spencer hadn't even realized how long it had been, he didn't have much time to think about anything but work nowadays. He didn't realize it until he almost came in your hand just from a few pumps. His body had heated up, his cheeks red as you slid your thumb across his tip. His head was foggy but he still couldn't get past the thought that his boss was just outside the small bathroom you both had been in. He stiffened himself up again, putting a hand on your wrist.
"Y/N, the team is inches away from us." He spoke, pulling your hands from his pants and doing up his belt again. "I promise you I will let you do whatever when we get home to make up for these last couple of weeks okay?"
Trust and believe that it took Spencer his entire self-control to say no to you, especially after seeing those pictures. Your half-naked body, the way you looked up at the camera for him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get his cock to soften after knowing those pictures existed, he knew this was going to be a long trip home. He struggled with getting his belt looped, his hands shook so vigorously that they were no help to him. You finally reached your hand out to stop his hands, reaching up to lift his head to look up at you.
"Spencer, if you tell me to stop right now... I will." You spoke, you were frustrated and it was so obvious you both needed this. "I will stop and we can walk out of here like nothing happened okay? I just need you to say "I want this to stop." and that's it, I'll stop. But all i need is 5 minutes, I'll get us both off and no one will even notice.``
Spencer thought for a moment, seeing how serious you were. He knew you would never force him to do anything, so he knew if he really did tell you to stop, you would. but he really didn't want you to stop, his "professional FBI agent" side told him to stop but his "love drunk" side didn't want you to stop. All he could think about was your pictures and how uncomfortable this boner was going to be for the rest of the plane ride if he didn't just flat-out fuck you.
He tried to calculate just how far away the team was from the two of you and what the chances of them hearing the two of you were. He came up with it being 72% they won't hear the two of you, due to the fact the bathroom is a bit insulated and most of the team liked to sit far from the bathroom. You could see him doing this math in his head just by the look on his face, you chuckled to yourself knowing this was a complete Spencer Reid thing. Spencer struggled internally, both his logical and hormonal sides butting heads just as he looked down at you with those pretty doe eyes you kept giving him. Spencer was going to burst, the month of no sex finally catching up to him all at once.
"Fuck it..." He said right before crashing his lips onto yours.
Now Spencer Reid must have really been frustrated as he never used words like that, but something about you just sent him over the edge each time. You kissed him back immediately, his hands kept your mouth on him as his tongue slid into your mouth. It was all so fast-paced, just like you said it would be... you just needed five minutes. You reached down to his half-done belt and started undoing it once more, trying to focus on his lips and your hands at the same time. Spencer was so completely engulfed in the kiss that he couldn't even contemplate helping you at all, he just pressed you against the sink hinting at you to hop on it.
You positioned yourself on the sink, Spencer's hands going to your ass to prevent you from falling into it. You finally got his pants undone, pulling them down so only his cock could bounce free causing a soft groan to fall from his lips. You smirked softly into the kiss, feeling just as hard he had gotten just from your little "fight".
"Really liked them huh?" You said through the kiss, Spencer just kissed you harder trying to get you to shut up.
You just laughed softly, your hands now going to your own pants to take them off. You struggled with your pants, trying to keep Spencer's mouth satisfied with your mouth while also trying to get out of your very tight pants. Spencer noticed this, pulling away from you to help you slide your pants down your thighs and watching them bunch up on your ankles. As soon as they were out of the way, Spencer didn't even bother with your panties, he just pushed them to the side and slid himself into you.
"Fuc.." Was all he could get out before he stuffed his face into your neck, silencing his moans that were bound to come out.
Your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head, gripping onto his shoulders for support. You felt whole again, his cock sliding inside of you like it never left. Spencer didn't sit still for long before he started thrusting inside of you, his hands gripping your hips roughly. Spencer's thrust started rough and fast, taking your word for it only taking 5 minutes. To avoid suspicion and losing your job, you both needed to hurry up and get off.
You couldn't help but get lost in the feeling, finally after weeks of needing to be fucked and it's actually happening plus the feeling of getting caught only added to the pleasure. You thrust back into Spencer, lifting your hips off the counter just to slam your own hips into his. It went like this for minutes, both of you breathing heavily and using each other's bodies to get off. Suddenly you felt a knot inside of your form, your hands moving up to his hair to pull on it to alert him.
"Gonna cum... fuck gonna cum." You whispered into his ear, as his face was still stuffed between your neck and your shoulder. He was afraid if he replied, he was going to not be able to control the moans that came from his throat.
He just thrusted faster, his hand coming up to rest on the mirror as you both were being pushed further and further up onto the sink so the faucet was almost digging into your back. He let out a couple of soft whimpers as his thrust became sloppier, his eyes tearing up as his cock twitched. He'd never come this fast before, only besides the first few times you both had fucked, but this was a record and it was clear he had become so backed up that this was definitely needed.
He came first, coating the inside of your walls with his hot cum, fucking himself through his own orgasm as well as coaxing you to your own. You came only moments later, the feeling of his warm breath on your neck and his hot cum inside of you... you broke. You came with a soft moan and your nails digging into his shoulders. It wasn't the best orgasm he had ever given you but it was so needed, it felt like you had been given water after days of dehydration.
As said before, you needed to be quick so after a few seconds of recovering from ecstasy, you both were pulling your clothes back on. It felt dirty in a way, aftercare, and soft kisses weren't a luxury you had at the moment. You watched as he pulled his pants back on, once again struggling with his belt. You realized how lighter and rested he looked now like the quickie was the thing he was missing his entire life. You chuckled softly, moving your hands down to his belt to help him loop it through.
"Guess we just joined the mile-high club huh?" You smirked up at him, his face still red with lust. Spencer chuckled softly, watching as your hands fixed his belt.
Spencer was almost embarrassed that he allowed you to sit high and dry for almost a month straight, he hadn't even thought of touching you that entire time. Although his mind had been elsewhere the entire time, it still felt wrong for a person to completely deny you of anything. Spencer felt he needed sex as much as you did, something he would have never thought he would ever need. He now understands why Morgan is the way he is, the constant need to feel that closeness to someone... to feel so vulnerable, especially in a job where vulnerability is a weakness. You noticed that Spencer had been in his head again, he always just had that look to him.
"You okay?" You asked, your hands now fixing his hair slightly. "I didn't push a boundary did i?"
Spencer shook his head almost immediately, the feeling of any discomfort so far away it wasn't even there. Spencer felt completely comfortable with you, even if it was such a weird situation to be in. He just got into his own head a lot, letting his mind wander and making up all kinds of assumptions about things. The assumption on his mind right now was that maybe having a healthy, functioning relationship in this field was almost impossible. You both hadn't had a single conversation that wasn't about a case or coffee or anything that didn't involve the office, in weeks. Could you both go on like that or are you both destined to just have quickies in the jet bathroom for the rest of your careers.
"No! Of course not!" He breathed out, basking in your soft hands touching his face softly, something you had done to comfort him. "Just wanted to say sorry for being so distant lately, didn't know you were feeling this...ignored?"
He wasn't sure what the right word to use was and honestly, you didn't know either. You weren't actually angry with him, just frustrated especially when your only kind of stress release was coming home and fucking him till he cried. You continued to rub his cheek softly with your thumb, pushing his hair back from his face.
"I'm not mad honey." You chuckled, trying to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. "Just please start checking in with me okay? So the feelings don't build up and we have to risk our jobs again."
Your joke caused Spencer to crack a smile, his laugh filling the small bathroom. He nodded, leaning down to set a soft kiss on your lips. The reality started to sit in however, you both just fucked on the job basically and the embarrassment and shame were written all over both of you. You both had only been gone for 15ish minutes so it was going to be an easy lie to come up with, you'll probably blame it on your motion sickness that you actually feel often on the jet. You both agreed on a story, you had gotten sick and asked Spencer to hold your hair back, easy enough. You went to open the door, taking a breath before facing your team again.
"Hey y/n?" Spencer spoke, stopping you in your tracks before you opened the door. You gave him your full attention, turning to see his eyes once again filled the lust. "I did like them...You should definitely start, you know I'm...Sending them more often."
You let out a soft chuckle, rolling your eyes before walking out of the bathroom. You both nonchalantly went back to your seats, as if nothing happened. JJ and Emily were talking about something when you got back, completely lost in conversation to realize what had just happened. You looked around at everyone, trying to see an inch of disgust or knowing on their faces. Fortunately, everyone was oblivious to the events that happened in the bathroom so you could relax in your seat. You tried to listen in on JJ and Emily's conversation, putting your two cents in here and there but your eyes kept flicking over to Spencer. He was now boring his eyes into your skin, making your body heat up once again. You could tell that what was supposed to be a simple quickie, was definitely not over yet and it was going to be a long trip home.
#spencer reid fanfiction#doctor spencer reid#spence reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#mgg#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler
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† Repent †
Read pt.2 here
†
Summary: You are sent off on a mission for 2 months. Abigail Anderson, the group leader, resents you for your sexuality until she gets drunk and ends up at your doorstep.
Warnings: smut, MDNI, alcohol usage, sub!abby, comphet!abby, brattop!reader, religion play, oral, fnv, tribbing, dirty talk yurrr, mentions of Owen so sorry, no use of y/n
A/N: Hey my horny sluts, this was very self indulgent fic. Definitely not for everyone but I wanted to play with this internal homophobia abby angle and through hella porn in it<3 hope you like it:)))
†
You were stationed off at a base camp for two months along with a group of WLF soldiers. This group was Issac’s top of the line, best fighters, engineers, and you accompanying as the best medic on line. The area was cased with scars and there was likely to be bloodshed. Issac couldn’t risk letting more than one medic for this long trip but there was no way he was sending a training med to work on his top of line children.
You knew most of the group well since you were always given the honor of fixing them. There were a few girls that kept you busy when there wasn’t a wound to heal. No one you’d keep around for long, you didn’t have the time to start relationships in this job, but a good fuck wasn’t beyond you. Days turned into long nights either stitching lesions or under the next sculpted woman that begged at your knees.
You were used to the attention, you were charming, beautiful, slightly bitchy, maybe a bit overzealous in your work but your forte was needed for these people. The men had attempted their shot with you, but everyone knew where you stood in the sheets. That’s why Abigail Anderson despised you.
It took you awhile to understand, from the moment she found out what you were doing in off hours she resented your lifestyle. Sure, she played it off by saying you were, ‘too distracted for your position’ or that ‘you got around’. Frankly you didn’t understand why she fucking cared. One day drunkenly her best friend Manny had said your ‘ways’ made her uncomfortable.
You knew she had been with her boyfriend Owen for a couple of years, and never left her room without her cross neckless- fuck she’d even shower with it on. That day in the open showers you had seen her look over at your naked body and return her hand to her cross gripping it tight with her eyes closed, leaving in a scoff. You just didn’t understand why her distain for you persisted- you thought it would space off once she got to know you.
After a couple months of backhanded comments, side eyes, and aggression you chose to just distance yourself from her at all costs. Maybe she had gotten the memo since she always requested your secondhand med to treat her, even knowing she wasn’t as suitable.
Once you found out shed be leading the mission for 2 months in close proximity you were blown. You asked Issac to switch you out for your secondhand- but he refused. After days of pestering him, he said he wouldn’t be changing his mind, Abby had asked for you specifically to accompany the mission. Why the fuck would she ask for you was beyond you, but you made it your agenda to fuck with her relentlessly for her decision.
You made sure to chose the room directly next to her so she could hear your sinful cries getting your back blown. leaving your white shirt un-buttoned low enough so your cleavage would spill out when you worked on her, blistering irritated grunts out of her. For someone so worked up about your lifestyle she always seemed to be watching your every move.
Watching you out of the corner of her eye change in the showers, walking out of her room just as you were heavy breathing lip locked with a girl making your way into sin. One time you were stitching a gash on her leg she gripped onto your hip in pain, her eyes trailed to your spilling cleavage before she snapped out of her haze saying, “uhhh- sorry its just painful there. Just fucking hurry up.” Knowing you had phased her you responded in a simple “mhm,” and continued working.
Maybe her morbid curiosity was at play, maybe she was just a fucking homo- but she’d never admit that to anyone and definitely not herself.
A month and a half in the base lagged by, there was only 2 weeks left of the painful glares and snarky comments left from your leader. The area had grown quiet for a while, most of the scars had retreated from your stay. Manny had made the decision for everyone to take the night off, set up a bonfire in the wooded areas behind the abandoned hotel, and get shitfaced on some homemade wine that was finally finished fermentation. It tasted like piss but was strangely intensely stronger than anything you had found in vacant bars.
Once the sun had fallen you were all seated around the roaring fire under the nigh sky. You had downed two glasses of piss wine and were already pretty spent. Abby was perched upon a log across the fire from you, in her usual dominating manspread and arms draped across her meaty thighs, on her fourth cup of sour. The sight was quite shocking- Abby never drank that much, something about the loss of control she didn’t like.
Her eyes were like lasers on you, usually she’d attempt to hide her ever glaring stare, maybe she was too intoxicated to care. All day she was on one, lashing out at people, throwing shit. She was always mildly aggressive, but you had never seen her to this extent.
The girl adorned behind you, pulling at your hips was probably the cause of her disapproving eyes, but this time felt harsher. You watch as she finishes off her glass and returns her eyes back to you with gritted teeth. “Manny hand me the wine,” she barks, her eyes never leaving you. Manny looks at her angered stare, crossing his eyes back to your direction and back to her, “Que pasa amiga, I think you’re good for now,” he says with a laugh.
“Just hand me the fucking wine,” she directs her attention to Manny- some people throw out ‘woahs’ and ‘damns’ at her attitude. Manny hands her the bottle with no reply. “Somebody needs to get fucked already,” you throw out with enough drunken confidence knowing it will rile her up. “Not everything can be fixed with sex, not that you’d understand,” she drives her eyes deeper into your own.
“Well, if I was having the sex you were having, I’d go celibate,” you say causing a guttural laugh from everyone, easing up the built tension.
“Whore,” she retorts.
“Awh someone’s mad her boyfriend can’t make her cum,” you give her a pout.
Her cheeks grow red in anger- maybe embarrassment since you didn’t have to take 2 looks at Owen to know he couldn’t please a women, especially not one of that stature. She darts up from her seat, all but a growl escaping her mouth. She grabs the half full bottle from Manny and takes off.
“What crawled up her ass?” You direct to Manny. He gives you eyes that speak louder than his mouth could utter in a way of ‘you’re the reason she’s so pissed off, you know that’. Maybe you had pushed her too far, but fuck did she deserve it. She deserved to get called on her bullshit for once- everyone just cowered down to her. Sure, she was tall, muscly, and heavily intimidating but you know how to drive the knife right into her.
You enjoyed riling her up, driving her to her very edge. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you were hot at the sight of her aggression, the way the veins in her arm popped as she ripped the bottle out of Manny’s hand. You weren’t attracted to straight girls, especially not homophobic straights- but you thought of her. Every snarky remark, touching her skin in passings as you healed her danced in your mind.
You brushed off your thoughts, you were just drunk you told yourself. The fire had died down soon after Abby’s fit, everyone was either ready to retire to bed or fuck. You chose the latter with the touchy girl sitting behind you. She was a good one, never had to kick her out after you finished- she knew what you wanted.
You make your way back to the dingy hotel, hand and hand with the pretty brunette. By the time you had made it to your doorway the girl had you up against the door needily. Of course, you let it happen, you were waiting for Abby to conveniently walk out and watch you. She never came out; you were almost disappointed but persisted with the brunette. You made sure to exaggerate every moan, every sinful word, even unsuspectedly convinced her to fuck you against the wall you shared with Abby- just to make sure she would hear.
After orgasming twice, she was out the door, no awkward post-sex cuddling or talking, wasn’t your thing and she knew that. You lay your sleepy drunken head on your pillow ready to sleep. Within five minutes you heard Abby’s door slam shut, and a harsh knock on your door. You knew that you had pissed her off, your job was done so you ignored her calls and nuzzled back onto your pillow with a smirk.
Another knock slams your door, “I know you’re in there, open the door,” Abby huskily demands. You walk over to the door, wearing only your loose tank top and panties. You swing the door open to a disheveled Abby, heavy breathing, eyes half lidded, in a white wife pleaser and loose black sweats, cross necklace adorned by her collarbones. Her muscles looked as if they were pulsing, her abs etched through her shirt.
After seconds of intense glaring, she moves past you into your room without an invitation. “Abby what the hell could you possibly need right now…” you can smell the liquor reeking off her sweaty body, “how much have you had to drink” you say but she quickly cuts you off, “do you really think I cant fucking hear you in here with those- girls?” She says girls with a disgusted flare.
“I know you can,” you retort with your arms crossed. “Why are you like that,” she says confused. “Like what Abby? Gay? You can say it- God wont strike you down for speaking it,” you shoot her a smug laugh. “You- you’re fucking insufferable,” she says drunkenly. “You walked into my room; you don’t have to be here.”
She walks up so close to your face you can feel her breath, the smell of sour laced. “I came here to tell you how you disgust me,” she says heavy breathed. “Is that so?” You pierce your eyes into hers, not giving into her intimidation. “Ye-yeah,” she falters at you standing your ground. Her eye contact directs down to your plush lips, she licks her own. You bite your bottom lip to drive into her.
“Why are you such a bitch?” She raises her eyes back to yours, this time glassier, gentler. “You’re mad you don’t scare me,” now you step closer to where you are exchanging each other’s breath. She responds wordlessly breathing heavier than before, lips parted as if she was waiting for something to come out. You stare up into her eyes dragging your bottom lip back into your mouth with your teeth. “Stop fucking doing that,” she demands not moving a muscle.
You give her an innocent pout, “I’m not doing anything Abigail, you can leave right now if you’re so uncomfortable,” trailing your eyes back and fourth from her lips to her eyes. “Give in to me,” Abby pleads almost submissively, her eyes looked like she could cry. “I’m not going to make this easy for you, if you want something take it,” you are eager at this point, still trying to keep your confidence intact.
She gives it a second, probably internally battling, in a huff she mutters “Fuck,” and grabs your face crashing your lips aggressively together. She took the breath out of you, kissing you like she needed it for survival. Both of you are too ravished to process reality. You grabbed aimlessly at her chest needing the friction of her warmth. She forces her tongue onto yours letting a moan escape her mouth. You were done for.
You pull her to your bed never leaving her lips, crashing over boxes and shoes but neither of you falter your embrace. You push her onto your bed, making your way on top of her. Before you can reattach your lips, she pushes a hand into your chest stopping you, “I- I’m not gay,” she says with weary eyes. You simply respond with “okay,” and reattempt to kiss her, she pushes you back again, “okay?” she questions. “Do you want me to me to stop?” You question back. She pulls you in ruggedly, so her mouth is against yours, needy again.
You pull back from her embrace, “I want to hear you say it Anderson,” she shakes her head like a child, like she couldn’t say it aloud. You start to get up from the bed when she pulls you back down grasp heavy and deprived, “jus- just do it, I- I want it.” “Good girl,” you reply and straddle on top of her causing whimpers to flow out of the husky blonde.
You move down to kiss on her neck, biting slightly then licking the wound. You can see her hand white knuckling her cross necklace, eyes shut. Through heavy moans she confesses, “Thi-s is- isn’t right…what you’re doing t- to me.” You smirk into her neck trailing your fingers down her arching chest, “just pretend I’m Owen,” knowing you’ll strike a chord at the mention of her boyfriend.
You go back to her collarbone nibbling and licking as you rise her shirt slowly, exposing her sweaty chiseled stomach. “You don’t fe- feel like him, he doesn’t touch me like this,” before she can finish your hand is under her shirt teasing at her nipple slowly. She throws her head back in a groan, unknowingly bucking her hips into you.
“I’m barely touching you Abby- he’s never done this to you,” you say not surprised, moving your free hand to grip her other nipple. She shakes her head at you in a pout. Seeing her like this, so unraveled and vulnerable made you pulse, you could feel your cunt pooling already.
While you have her eye contact you move your head down to suck and lick circles around her soft pink nipple, her eyes barely open and mouth open panting. While sucking on her bud you trail your hand down to her sweats, teasing your fingertips at the waistband, but continue down to palm her covered pussy.
Her hips jolt up at your touch, “Jesus fuck me!” she yelps. “You say your prayers with that mouth, huh?” You jab, palming her cunt over layers of clothing. Her hips continue to rut against your hand, her hand continues to grip onto her cross for dear life, the other gripped down into your sheets. “Please… please take them off,” She begs you weary eyed. Since she was getting increasingly pathetic you drag down her sweaty pants to reveal grey boxers, a patch of wet pooled at her pussy. You lay kisses down her thighs and legs as you slowly unclothe her.
Once you pull them all the way down you meet your face at her cunt, wrapping your arms around her thick thighs, she couldn’t stop whimpering at your little touches. You place a slight kiss on her boxer clade cunt. “Fuckkkk,” she moans out. “If I eat your pretty pussy, are you going to repent after?” You say smirking at her desperation. “I- I have to, ke-ep going please,” she pants raising her cross to her heart. “Aren’t you a good little servant?” You drag down her soaked boxers.
You push your fingers into her soaked slit pushing it open to admire her. “You’re so fucking wet fuck,” you say gawking at the ‘straight’ girls mound, her slick running down her thighs. “a- are you going to use your fingers,” she asks in a pant. “We’ll get there,” you say smirking latching your tongue on her swollen clit. “oh my god,” she screams out at the feeling of your tongue against her.
You begin sucking and tracing crosses and circles on her clit that causes her back to arch her back and let go off her cross to grip into the sheets with both hands. “Fuck fuck fuck- you feel s’good fuck me fuck me,” she begins babbling. You start to tease her soaked hole with your finger that sent her hips bucking into your hand to force entry.
“So impatient Anderson,” you taunt her. “Ill do wh-whatever you want just please fuck me,” she begs you now cupping your face with her large veiny hands, her eyes droopy and pout on her lips. “Tell me how much you like getting fucked by a girl,” you pump just the tip of your pointer finger into her entrance. “You feel so good,” she says panting in desperation.
“Not good enough,” you say pulling out your fingertip. She whimpers feeling your retreat. “I- I worship you, yo- you feel so good Ill get on my knees and worship you please baby,” she looks like she’s nearing tears, but the pleading hits you deep in your core. You needed to see her fall apart just as much as she needed to feel it.
Without warning you plunge two fingers deep inside of her cushiony walls, sending her falling back into the sheets, her hands gripped into your scalp. You return back to her clit, watching her chest rise and fall in breath idly, sweat dripping down the creases of her abs. You hear as she mumbles prayer under her breath, maybe she was worshiping her god, maybe at this point you were her god.
You continued nonetheless; it didn’t matter at this point she had submitted pathetically to you. Your tongue laps at her creamy slit, your fingers coating in her slick. “I-m going to cum I- cant take that much longer,” she moans out shaking around your head.
You pull out of her abruptly making her whine out, sitting up on her elbows. “Not yet…” you say getting up taking off your soaked panties and returning to her. She watches you intently, her eyes grow at the sight of your cunt. “A-are you going to let me touch you?” She asks doe eyed. “No, I’m going to rub my cunt against yours, okay?” she sheepishly nods. “Gonna make sure you cum from just my pussy,” she whimpers at your words.
You nuzzle your cunt on top of hers in between her thighs. “You feel so good against me fuck,” she whines. You lazily drag your clit against her as moans now flow out your own mouth. She grips into your hip helping you grind into her, at the slight act of dominance causes you whimper into her raised thigh. “Fuck keep t-talking you sound so fucking good,” her mouth is wide open, beads of sweat on her legs mixing with your own. You feel as your slick combines with hers making a complete mess on your sheets.
“Baby I- I’m so close,” she whimpers gripping so deeply into your hip she was sure to bruise you. “Cum for me pretty girl, be a good girl and serve me,” you pant driving your eyes into the broken Abigail. She begins shaking at your words, falling apart beneath you. “fuck fuck fuck oh my fucking god i-m cu-mming ahhh,” she begins soaking your sheets. Of course, she was a fucking squirter.
You help her ride out her orgasm, gently rubbing down her thigh with your fingertips. “Wh- why is it so wet?” she rises groggily and confused. You giggle at her innocence, “you squirted dumbass, you’ve never done that before?” you cant help but grin up at her beauty and pure innocence. “No never, I’ve never even…you know…reached my peak with someone before,” you look into her eyes in pure shock gapping your mouth exaggeratedly.
“God I really would go celibate if I was you,” you giggle, and she gives you a slight smirk pulling you down on top of her. You circle your fingers across her chest, feeling her breath steady, she drags her fingers through your messy hair. “I’m not going to tell anyone Abby, this can be between us.” You say assuring her. “o-okay,” she responds sheepishly as if there was something else in her throat. Maybe she wanted to say it would never happen again, that her sexuality was intact after your night, maybe she wanted to say she wanted to leave Owen and linger on your skin forever, or maybe she began to repent.
#abby anderson#the last of us#abby the last of us#abby x reader#abby angst#abby tlou#abby x fem!reader#abby anderson smut#abby anderson tlou2#sub abby#smut#tlou2#tlou smut
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I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.
✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+
✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)
✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.
You never text Rin.
Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.
There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.
It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.
Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.
(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)
He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.
It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.
Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.
It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.
All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.
On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.
But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.
Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.
He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.
Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.
It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.
It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.
When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.
You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.
"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."
Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."
"I thought you'd say no."
He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.
"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."
Rin stares at you. "So?"
"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"
Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."
You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."
"What?"
You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.
"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."
"Who is Minami-san?"
You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."
"What the hell did you do before?"
You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.
"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."
Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.
"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"
You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"
"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.
"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."
Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.
He pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Fine."
__
If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.
Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.
All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.
"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"
You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."
Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."
You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."
If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.
"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."
"The bridge?"
You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."
Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.
Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?
"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"
You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.
Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.
He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.
He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.
But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.
"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."
He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.
You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.
Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.
"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"
You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.
"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"
He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.
"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."
There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.
"Have you ever even had sex?"
Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.
"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."
"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"
You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."
Rin swallows something at the back of throat.
He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.
"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"
Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."
Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.
Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.
"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."
You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.
Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.
"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"
He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."
You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"
Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.
"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.
Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.
A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.
You stare down at him.
"Take a picture?"
Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.
"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”
You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.
"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."
Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.
"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”
Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.
But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.
He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you
But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.
"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.
Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.
It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.
His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?
Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.
"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"
You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."
Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."
#return to sender#writing tag#fujoverse#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#bllk x reader#bluelock x reader#THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?
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Always the Quiet Ones*
*this is a revamped reupload of my previous fic
✽ summary: eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that.
✽ content: ~12.5k word count. eren jaeger x female reader, college au, one shot, mutual pining, smut, fluff, casual sex, praise, light spanking, explicit consent, alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised. 18+
✽ a/n: i just really missed this fic </3
It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t looking to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along.
You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. He didn’t know what to think of you, other than you had a tendency to keep to yourself. On the rare occasion you spoke up, your words were always brief, pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more often than not, you’d only address Eren with a cursory nod when he’d take his assigned seat beside you.
The class was awful enough, with two-hour labs being the worst part of Eren’s week because he spent them in a fumbling and awkward silence. But if you wouldn’t bother to glance up from your book when you talked to him, then he would treat you the same. He brought the bare minimum to conversations. He gave one-word answers; a specific grunt for yes, another for no, each you had to learn.
He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of better words, like that. Quiet. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories on the matter—only because lectures were just that boring. His most probable theory was that you were shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?
Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you really liked anatomy. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But other times, it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.
Then there were the days—usually when Eren felt particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him to no end. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.
Eren’s theories could go on and on, but they all skirted the truth. At least, you didn’t think yourself a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved demeanor was much more straightforward than that.
You had a stupid crush on Eren.
A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger middle school crush. That made your stomach feel hollow and full, somehow at once, and had you gushing to your roommate despite knowing you’d never act on it.
It’d been like this since last semester, though you weren’t even sure Eren knew of your existence until Professor Hange partnered up the two of you.
God. Thinking about it now still riddled you with anxiety. You swore up and down that you were going to die that day. Like actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.
In another universe, perhaps this forced proximity would have excited you. Maybe he would have given you his phone number to text about homework, and in that universe, you would have been giddy over it.
Unfortunately for you, in this universe, anatomy was far from your strongest subject. Very, very far.
You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you to where you wouldn’t dare ask him a question. What if you sounded dumb? So you’d press on without having him repeat himself and only scribble down what little you could manage.
It was despicable. It was despicable, and you knew it, and you still didn’t change a thing because it was much easier to pretend Eren wasn’t there to begin with. Even if it meant you’d started seeing your grade slip.
You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret, but there was one day he got a bit too nosy for your liking.
Professor Hange handed your lab report back, face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but sometimes the rule felt targeted at you.
You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.
For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse from over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject.
But what he saw surprised him, especially when thought about his grade in the class. It slipped out on a chuckle when he said, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”
You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”
You couldn’t tell if Eren was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across as lighthearted as he had hoped. He often let his thoughts carelessly spill into words, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you could think was shit, because he had finally figured out that you had no idea what you were doing.
Admittedly, Eren felt a little guilty once he saw the panic wash over your face. He cracked a smile at you, maybe for the first time. Still, his eyebrows furrowed in pity, like he couldn’t hold it back.
“The lab,” Eren clarified. He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing up that badly?”
What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt with you. Pity brows or not, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.
You didn’t reply, just stared past him blankly as you imagined how this horrible moment would torment you as you tried to fall asleep that night. You only snapped from it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed—a bit too loudly for you to consider natural—then started putting his belongings into his backpack.
“Look,” Eren began. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut. His eyes made you flighty. “You don’t have to get stuck with a shitty grade. I bet I can help.”
His voice was flat, and you didn’t like his delivery much, but beneath it, there was a glint of kindness. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He attributed it to his guilt for speaking so thoughtlessly. It was hard not to, what with the way your face—always so stoic that he’d think you were made of marble—turned sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel. More than that, he disliked knowing you could pull such a reaction from him.
“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.
You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number. It was in the top corner of the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it, too worried about the possibility of drunk texting him.
“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”
“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to become one of your top ten most embarrassing memories.
“Sure.” Eren stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He smiled at you again. It was real this time, big enough to make your stomach flip. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”
So that was where everything began. And by ‘everything,’ you meant how you and Eren would study together occasionally. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.
It took two study dates (your term for them) before you didn’t sit on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous, more nervous than you felt around him in class. And like in class, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your text. You knew if you looked at him, you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.
It was shameful to admit, but you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him, but only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice. The times when he was jotting down notes because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when truly stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that, too.
By the time midterms had come and gone, you started seeing Eren more and more, meeting outside of class twice a week—a third if you had a report due. By then, it was impossible to allow your heart to flutter every time you were around him, otherwise it was bound to give out.
What you wanted to call study dates quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons. And just to be clear, you were not the tutor. But after Eren had you convinced his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.
It was nice to not have to think so hard around him. He’d poke fun at you because you always mixed up dorsal and ventral, and you never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ “It was one time,” he’d always complain back to you.
After getting scolded one too many times in the library for goofing off, other spots around campus had to make do. Then that turned into you going to Eren’s place, just a five-minute walk from your lab building.
Eren lived in a house with three other boys. Jean, Connie, and Armin. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. But Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at the house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight.
Eren wouldn’t ever tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d confess this to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.
Armin. Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate that you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. He knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren. When Armin was bored, he’d join you on the couch and answer the questions Eren couldn’t.
He couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; it had never been a problem before, but now it irked him ceaselessly. Instead of trying to sort it out, he decided going to your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was more tolerable.
It was near final exam week when it hit you, a smack-across-the-face reminder that you still had a crush on Eren. It happened when your study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.
You were friendly, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the peers sitting around you. One girl, Mina, told you she, Thomas, and Samuel were getting together to prepare for the upcoming final. She insisted you and Eren should join.
You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your stomach churned when Eren answered for you.
“She needs all the help she can get,” he said, giving you a playful pay on the shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your face burn.
You got over it quickly. It was difficult to stay bitter at people you got along well with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.
But when Eren began texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you weren’t afraid to say you noticed a sting. It felt like you’d let your chances with him slip by because, next semester, you wouldn’t be his lab partner anymore.
You left the exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying any attention as Mina caught up to you. She invited you to come by her place that Friday night, that some of your classmates would be there to celebrate the end of Professor Hange’s pop quizzes. You thought little about it when you said yes.
You were at the get-together for an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to start a game of Never Have I Ever. After your second beer, you felt just adventurous enough to play.
Mina’s living room was on the smaller side for hosting, but it was nice enough. She had everyone crowd around, sitting where they could, whether it was on the sofa or the floor, and in the center was an old beer. It’d warmed from sitting out for a few hours, according to Samuel, and chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. And while you were tipsy, you certainly hadn’t drunk enough for that.
You would, of course. But you didn’t know it then.
You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn.
“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.
A few people put a finger down, but it didn’t matter. You let your forehead drop to your knees in defeat. Everyone started laughing, hounding you to drink the beer when you whined, “Do I have to?”
If you weren’t busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went, and your audience wasn’t too busy heckling you, maybe someone would have noticed how Eren went quiet, how a firm crease formed just between his unsettled brows.
He couldn’t articulate the feeling, but it reminded him of the one he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. Some strange burning, uncomfortably deep in his stomach. It made him not want to look at you any longer.
Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though you surprised him, he had to admit, but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more off—specifically the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy.
Eren studied you from across the room. Your nose crinkled; giggles spilled from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the rest of the beer. Eren had heard you laugh—many times, actually—but something about it always made his chest go tight.
His thoughts ventured further, wandering, wondering if you crinkle your nose the same way when you come.
He could see you beneath him, naked. Brows pinched together cutely, teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He could feel your thighs under his hands, soft and giving under his palms as he slipped between—
It was so wrong of him. To be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people there. The only two people to exist.
That swarming in his gut burned hotter. He took another sip of his beer like it would dull it.
There was a moment of doubt. Almost like a hangnail, he could pick and pick at it until he created a wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that made you uninterested?
He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. He was jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than they had the chance to be with you in all the ways he craved.
He felt fucking pathetic for it.
Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left Mina’s just before midnight and didn’t think of much of that night, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, you checked your final grade for anatomy, and by some miracle, you passed the class.
It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.
You didn’t expect to see him this soon—actually, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy was the only glue holding you together. You wished you could say you had more faith in the friendship, in him, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he would have at least been curious to know how you did in the class.
It was probably better this way, you told yourself, considering you nearly failed the class because of him. Well, you technically passed because of him too, but you wouldn’t have needed to worry about failing if he wasn’t your lab partner.
All that for a silly crush.
You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, the time when parties turn spacey and liminal; the limbo dividing night and day. A few lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up a while ago. Everything was a not-so-subtle sign pointing toward the exit.
Believe it or not, you wanted nothing more than to go home. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-proclaimed ditzy roommate had disappeared.
By the time you thought to search for her, you had already drunk past your limit. You were dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you walked in on a lot of dry humping.
The last time you saw her, she was one of those dry humpers. She was all over some guy you guessed to be the reason she wanted to come to the party. Anyway, you were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.
You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne, to see what was in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past Eren. He’d only grabbed your attention once you heard your name, disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.
You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a few steps to straighten back out, but once you did, your vision settled on Eren.
He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”
You offered a chuckle that was only half-forced, the other half genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after they’d spent the night drinking.
And because you’d spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. You weren’t upset with him—maybe disappointed. Not disappointed in him exactly, he never owed you his kindness, but disappointed by what could have been.
But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with each passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should’ve skipped that last drink. You’d hoped to feel more like yourself the next time you saw Eren. The last thing you wanted was to get tangled up in him again; you weren’t sure you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time.
Eren took a willing pace toward you. Your gaze was boozy, eyes hazy and distant. He recognized the look and had a feeling you wouldn’t speak first, so he asked, “Were you looking for someone?”
“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause. You weren’t sure if he remembered he’d met her. “My roommate.”
“I know.”
“We were supposed to leave to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him, for no reason in particular. “Last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the counter.”
Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”
“And in the meantime?”
“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to play it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”
He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. Okay, twice. He teased you about it, saying you got drool everywhere.
“That’s different,” you said sheepishly. “That was an accident.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.
“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”
Eren liked his simple flashcards. He actually preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time color-coding and highlighting their flashcards than studying them.
He tilted his head with the sort of look that said, stop being so stubborn. "Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way to my place? I was just about to leave, anyway.”
He took a step backward, daring you to follow, and then another, until he turned on one foot and headed for the front door. He knew you’d follow him, and thoughtlessly, you did, trailing right behind.
You called out to him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”
“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps, tossing a glance over his shoulder, ready to catch the expression you’d make when he said, “Figured you had to retake the class.”
You wished you had shoved him down the steps, but he had already crossed the lawn. He walked with longer strides than you and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.
“Thanks for that,” you replied begrudgingly.
“Anytime.”
It didn’t take long for you to near campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. It made it impossible to tell the time, what with every club still playing music loud enough to thrum in your chest, its beat perfectly in tempo with your every step—those of which were still struggling to match Eren’s.
“Did you still want to get food?” he asked.
“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling, your feet dragging against the sidewalk. They’d started hurting hours ago, and this jaunt certainly wasn’t making it better. You really shouldn’t have worn the new shoes you received over the holidays.
“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”
“No, you just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I’m not retaking anatomy. I passed with a C.”
“A C-plus or a C-minus?”
“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence.
“I’ll alert the media,” Eren replied. You stuck your tongue out at him, though you knew he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”
“I didn’t think it was still an option.”
“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you from over his shoulder, just in time to watch you stumble over a crack in the sidewalk. “I think you could use something to eat.”
Eren rounded the next corner, a block short of the street he lived on, and led you a few doors down to a diner, breakfast served 24 hours. You expected to flag down a street vendor over sitting down to eat, but you couldn’t complain about some drunk pancakes.
Eren chose the booth in the back after the hostess instructed you to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelled of stale coffee—just as any diner would at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you’d need to down a mug or two if you wanted to sober up.
The server flipped your ceramic mug over and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out like it did in the movies, but you didn’t want to know how long this coffee had sat out.
You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, hands folded around his mug.
“Something the matter?” you asked.
“Want any coffee with your sugar?”
“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you expected.
Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them on another second—the diner was empty anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat.
The server took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, one of which you accepted. This time, when you added another packet of sugar, Eren kept his comments to himself. There was a lapse in conversation, one you spent fiddling with the paper scraps.
“You know,” he started. You peered up from the wad you’d rolled between your thumb and forefinger. He sat back in the booth, looking out the window with a quiet sort of chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”
You matched the laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you enough to hate you.”
As if he were thinking aloud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”
“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone.”
Eren’s eyes flashed from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”
It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze felt smothering. You avoided him, your attention retreating down to the spoon you twirled anxiously around your mug. The clanging of ceramic was the only sound between you because you still hadn’t responded.
“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”
A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you and decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. He’d only ordered a coffee, even after you insisted on paying as a thank-you for tonight, so once the server left, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.
“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not all that shy either,” he told you like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised brow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight.”
Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You saw me dancing?”
He played it off with, “Well, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”
“If you saw me earlier,” you said, forking a slice of pancake, “why didn’t you come and say hi?”
Strike that—Eren almost played it off. He couldn’t hide his shifty eyes, or how long it took him to excuse it away. “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I don’t remember.”
That never happened. Eren knew it, and it looked like you knew it, too. The truth was he didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last two weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you. The party turned out to be the ultimate test of willpower, which he so evidently failed.
Eren even went as far as reinstalling all the dating apps he’d long sworn off. He dumbly assumed if he went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he’d be in the clear; he wouldn’t think about you anymore. But by the time dinner was over, Eren knew there wasn’t any use in taking things further. He’d spent the evening comparing her to you, finding himself every time she laughed because it didn’t sound like yours.
Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And of all the things you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he met in class.
And when Eren heard your laugh—strangely more remarkable than any other, like he’d gone deaf to anything but you—he couldn’t even remember why he tried to stay away from you.
But here you were, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no clue what he was supposed to do next. He’d spent the entire walk wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.
Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, not yet, because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him back?
Eren only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outright confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to cover his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.
You held your fork before your face, inspecting the square of pancake as a string of syrup dripped onto the plate. You were rather flippant about it when you finally told Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”
“Huh?”
You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so slowly that it nearly killed Eren. Once you swallowed, you finally said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”
Eren said nothing in return, even with you staring him straight in the face, expectant. You waited—for what felt like an eternity but was more like a second—until you couldn’t take the ambivalence any longer.
Your half-laugh fell flat as you went on to explain, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”
Almost as if he didn’t hear it, still fixed on what you’d said before, he asked, “Do you still?”
It was a simple question, just three words, yet he said so much more than intended.
You knew what he was asking, but you played dumb. “Still what?”
“Have a crush on me.”
You thought it over while you took another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you for another moment. You weren’t entirely ready to lay your cards on the table. Yet.
You tossed him a small smile as you answered, “To be determined.”
Eren nodded once, lips folded together in a similar sort of grin. “Got it.”
That didn’t mean your answer satisfied him, though. He watched as you took another sip of coffee, then immediately reached for another sugar packet. Before you could pour it in, he shielded the mug.
“But you better figure it out before all that sugar kills you.”
You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me, not the keg stand I started the night with.”
“You did a keg stand?”
He said it like he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”
Eren laughed with you despite shaking his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”
You had only taken a few hobbles out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. The pain intensified with every step, and you sucked your teeth sharply. You noticed two fresh blisters, one on each heel, when you put your shoes back on before leaving, but thought you could handle the short walk to Eren’s house. But now, you wished you were still drunk enough to ignore the burn.
“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.
You were behind him again, but not because of his long strides. “Yeah.”
He thought it sounded unconvincing. He looked back to confirm his hunch just in time to see you stumble.
“It’s my shoes,” you said. “I’m sorry.”
He stopped walking, turning to you. “Why are you apologizing?”
You stammered, “I don’t know.”
“Just take ‘em off.”
“I’m not going to walk around barefoot.”
“Didn’t say you had to.”
You didn’t get what he was saying, even less when he turned his back to you. Then, when he bent slightly at the knee, it made sense.
He couldn’t be serious right now.
“My house isn’t that far. I’ll carry you there.”
Okay. He was being serious. He was ready and willing to give you a piggyback ride.
You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.
Eren took it differently, shooting you a playfully offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened out, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
“Wait!”
You wanted to blame it on your feet or because you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself—aching feet or not, were you really going to pass on this opportunity?
Eren flashed a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”
Ignoring his boasting, you ripped off your shoes. He took them from you in one hand, and then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you would expect, and his arms felt sturdy as they looped around your thighs.
You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you didn’t remember them feeling anything like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms, exceptionally so in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter, having you convinced they’d sear themselves into the backs of your thighs.
He jostled you forward, higher onto his back. “Hold on tighter or else you’re gonna fall off.”
You hugged him, pressing your chest against his back. You’d never been this close to him before, close enough that his hair, only loosely tied back, brushed against your face. Faint notes of his cologne—warm like amber, but there was something you found refreshing about it—tickled your nose. You drew in closer, inhaling the scent, him.
Eren worried you might have felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as innocent as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. As if suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand all over again.
If this was all he’d have of you tonight, or ever, he’d be happy with just that. Even if it meant he’d wake up with a sore back. He wanted to earn your heart, even if he wasn’t so sure your crush had ever gone away.
The house was too dark for you to make out a thing. You stilled in the entryway, just behind Eren, and waited for him to walk ahead.
Not a second later, he flipped a light on from the kitchen. Your eyes adjusted after a few blinks, and he appeared again from around the corner. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were a lost puppy he’d taken in and didn’t know what to do with.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Sure,” you replied. “Thank you.”
He waved a hand toward the sofa, saying, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing again.
You’d hardly made yourself comfortable by the time he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your arms were until you uncrossed them to reach for the water bottle Eren handed you.
He sat on the other side of the old couch and it squeaked beneath his weight.
“I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he started, settling into the couch. “Take my room, if you want. I can sleep out here.”
You almost choked on your water, immediately shaking your head. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You’d never even been in his room before. “You didn’t even need to go to the trouble of letting me stay the night.”
“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, “you staying the night is the least of them.”
You smiled at him. You smiled at him, and you had no clue how it pulled at his heart. It was shy, no greater than a curl of the very corner of your mouth, yet he craved nothing more than to feel the shape of it under his lips and memorize the taste.
“Okay.” You finally gave in. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but you nervously rambled on, “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”
“I don’t want you to go.”
You stammered, opening and closing your mouth as you pretended you had any clue what you’d say next. Something changed; you didn’t know what. An energy shift, a new glint in his eyes—that look he was giving you.
Maybe it was more accurate to say that everything had changed.
There wasn’t much air to your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go either.”
Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes were big and genuine, like you had revealed some vulnerable part of you. He couldn’t look away, risking losing what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet.
You liked him like that—getting to witness such an unguarded look on a face that was always hardened. Soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, only in your dreams, and you didn’t want it to end.
Now or never.
“Eren?”
“Yeah?” His voice was just as taken as yours.
You knew yourself as anything but bold, but right then, you were. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”
The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed.
“Am I?” Eren asked. His voice had gained a new rasp.
You nodded.
“How so?”
“You know,” you said slowly, knowingly, leaning into him. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You tucked your legs beneath you, sitting back on your calves, knees bumping up against his thigh. “You let me spend the night, even offer me your bed.”
Eren thought you might kiss him right then, but you only giggled. “Not to mention, you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”
You rested a daring hand on his leg. He looked from it to you before teasing, “I think I might’ve complained once.”
He moved with you, at your pace. He cupped your cheek, and you tried not to melt into him.
“But I can’t help myself.” His thumb traced over your skin. “You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud of yourself for passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grins. “And when you hold your book too close to your face when you read.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Yes, you do.”
You didn’t press the subject any further because it didn’t matter; you were so close that the tips of your noses were nearly brushing against each other. With your face still in his hand, he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. Unwittingly, you wetted them like you wanted a taste.
Neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall, the one you spent a semester building together, so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.
You might have been feeling courageous, but you knew you’d regret it the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could see it now, the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall, or the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably bump into him again. He’d turn you into a puddle right on the spot.
That didn’t concern you. Not after you heard the needful groan he stifled from the very back of his throat, and you desperately wanted to hear it again.
Eren caressed your face. You tilted into him until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips.
“I still have a crush on you,” you whispered.
“Yeah, I know.” He wasn’t cocky about it, but soft. He sounded relieved.
Your hand left his thigh, traveling higher until you had it splayed against his chest. The muscles twitched beneath your touch. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if you knew what you were doing to him, how insane you’d driven him. You had to.
“So,” you said, long and drawn-out.
Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, the tips of them grazing and pinching like you wanted to yank him to you.
“Are you going to do something about it?”
Spoken like a true temptress, like a lioness playing with her food. You let your gaze linger intentionally long before locking onto his eyes.
Eren nearly gulped. “Fuck—c’mere.”
The hand he had on your face slipped higher. His fingers wrapped around the back of your head to pull you to him.
What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you softly, thoughtfully, like he knew he had all the time in the world with you now.
Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, hot and licking against your own. Your head spun, but not because of the alcohol. Attempting to ground yourself, you snatched a fistful of his shirt with a trembling hand. But the longer he made out with you, taking his time with seemingly no destination in mind, the more helpless you became.
“Eren.” It left you in a gasp, swallowed up before it had the chance to meet the air.
He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Then you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear, gasping as his teeth skimmed lower.
“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Like he was oblivious to how turned on you were, how just his breath against your skin had your thighs clenching.
“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” Your voice warbled as you spoke, eyes fluttering shut as he began mouthing along your neck, sucking like he wanted to leave a bruise.
You palmed lower, over the front of his jeans. He was hard, straining against them, and you massaged over his length a few times. You waited and listened for his breath to falter before reaching for his zipper.
“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans undone, you snuck your hand inside his boxer, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You nuzzled your face just below his jaw, peppering kisses, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you were hoping this would happen.”
“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried to hold it back, but he was already staving off his urge to rut into your hand.
“I was, too,” you confessed.
That broke him. Before he knew it, he had you pinned between him and the couch.
Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than before. When Eren kissed you this time, he didn’t want to take his time with you anymore. Not after hearing that you wanted him in the same ways he needed you.
The couch quickly became too cramped for your liking, with limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall to the floor. Only when your kiss broke—because your head was dangling over the edge of the sofa—did you have a moment to catch your breath, or at least try to.
“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room.” Eren nodded, eyes hazy as he looked down at you. “Maybe you should show me to it now…”
He stalled, his brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason before he picked up on your heavy-handed implication.
“Yeah, okay.”
Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.
Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.
His hands were reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. Yet his touch maintained a certain firmness that had you weak in the knees, struggling to suppress your whimpers. Each tiny sound seemed to encourage him, riling him until he had you braced against the door, slamming it shut with your combined weight.
Eren caged you in place, with forearms planted on either side of your head. But you would have stayed there, willingly. Forever, if you could.
You almost hated yourself for how submissive you felt to him. He kissed you commandingly, yet gently enough that he could take you anywhere he pleased.
You hated yourself more for getting turned on at just the thought.
Taking his loose, unzipped jeans between your fingers, you tugged him close, hooking a leg around his waist. You felt his cock pressing between your legs, ground against it because if you didn’t, you thought you might explode; you were only human, after all.
Eren’s hands gripped your ass, helping you roll against him a few times before mumbling, “Bed?”
His voice was shallow, all breathless, like his lungs were running on empty. You liked this version of him—when he was needy for you.
“Bed,” you affirmed with a bob of your head.
That was all it took before Eren scooped you into his arms, whirling you around until he had you collapsed onto the bed.
You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so good to lie amongst the billowy comforter, off your feet. You nestled around, almost like you could have lulled off right then—almost.
Eren turned on his bedside lamp, and though the light was dim, you felt keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body, revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy, Eren couldn’t get enough.
His hands closed over yours when you reached for the button of your jeans as if to tell you, let me do it. You allowed it, watching as he opened the front of them. His fingers glided along your stomach until he reached your hips. From there, he pulled the fitted denim down your legs. You kicked them to the side once they’d reached your ankles.
The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start.
His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them over your bare skin. So softly that if you closed your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started just beneath the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. At your hip, his touch tickled, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.
Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey, leaving him quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was practically inaudible, just a huff through his nose.
Despite the fog, Eren had a fleeting moment of lucidity. He blinked, hard, like it would clear his head. You struggled to read him, staring at you like you’d given him reason to be suspicious.
Then he asked, “How are you?”
You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”
His face scrunched like he was about to say, not good. It made you nervous.
You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting on him. He ran his fingers through his hair, the same way he always did when he was trying to concentrate.
“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you joked, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his forehead like he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was hard, especially with you laid out before him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?
Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?”
You were relieved to learn nothing was wrong. You thought over your answer, taking inventory of your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him.
“Not really,” you said with a slight shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”
He still looked hesitant. You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze before smiling at him. “I want this. Like really, really want this.”
Eren let out a short laugh that softened you up even more. With your assurance, his fingers began dancing along your skin again, pulling lightly at the band of your underwear. He played with it, his once-boyish expression turning more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay for me to touch you here?”
His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing between your ears. You couldn’t help the sound it pulled from you. A sweet little moan, so delicious that Eren felt his cock twitch before he could even remove your underwear.
“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed beneath your panties despite your hope that he’d simply take them off.
That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead. He crawled over you, holding himself up with his free hand. Propped on your elbows, your face was inches away from his. So close that with just the tilt of your head, you were kissing him again.
Eren’s fingers ventured lower, sweeping between you teasingly, but it was as if he was teasing himself.
"You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit until your jaw went slack, then remove the pressure just to trace your entrance. “All for me?”
“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing languidly. When you lifted your hips for more, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out.
Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck until he found the spot he’d learned you liked best, especially when he sucked on it. He yanked a sharp whine from you, another as he continued leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.
Eren, Eren, Eren. You were consumed by thoughts of him, only him. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.
And when you cried out, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until tonight.
That did it for him. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood up straight, hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, and tore them off with ease. Once they were out of his way, lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs.
He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right to have your back arching, your breath already hitching in your throat.
You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you, quite literally, bending to his will. But he’d already lost himself in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps, spilling from kiss-swollen lips. Your bra and the way its straps had limply started falling down your shoulder, exposing the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked, taking his finger.
His pace ignited that familiar feeling within you, but as quickly as it started burning in your stomach, you’d lost it just as fast.
With a frustrated sob, you opened your eyes to see why he’d rudely edged you like that.
Eren yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “I wanna go down on you.”
You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping from his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the tent in his boxers, large and threatening to undo you, was most certainly it.
You tried your best to look at his face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”
That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow. But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning.
“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed circles against your inner thigh encouragingly, making it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked his usual devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”
The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to quip something back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, encasing you in his warmth. You felt his lips, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin.
He sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled straight to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he tugged down the cups of your bra. Though his breath was warm, it sent goosebumps scattering across your chest. His tongue flicked over one of your perked nipples, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder once he took it into his mouth.
You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to discover every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to learn every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked.
He continued kissing down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the ground. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed them over his shoulders, bringing you in until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed.
Eren palmed over your thighs. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most.
“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plead. He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”
You’d lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod in response—a bit too eagerly, perhaps. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to smirk but was smart enough not to risk it this time.
You’d felt only his breath at first. It quelled the chill bedroom air. Next, it was the very tip of his tongue. Pointed, it ran through you, painfully slow but still enough for you to suck in a breath between your teeth.
“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told, completely at his mercy. It must have pleased him because you swore you felt him grin against you as he praised, “Good girl.”
You made an embarrassing sound at that. One you didn’t expect. Eren surely didn’t expect it either, but it excited him, knowing how you were weak to his words, to his voice. To him.
With you now fully on display for him, he couldn’t resist burying his face into you, even if he had fully intended to tease you longer. His tongue flicked your clit, sending pulses of electricity shooting up your spine.
You shifted your hips, raising them to meet his mouth. His tongue was steady, never slowing once as he leaned into a rhythm you liked, that had your fingers laced in his hair and undoing his bun. With just a little more, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, it was like you suddenly saw sparks of white behind your eyelids.
“Eren—ah,” you panted frantically, “right there.”
He had the flat of his tongue against your clit, lapping in tandem with your rocking hips until your thighs began shaking.
“I got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around your legs and locking you into place. “Just relax for me.”
Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. It was as if he was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.
“I-I’m—”
His eyes meet yours. You looked breathless, your mouth hanging open in a vain attempt at pulling in tattered breaths. When he let go of your thighs, they dropped to his shoulders.
Not breaking his pace, his thumb replaced his tongue so he could ask, “You need more?”
You swallowed hard and nodded.
“You want my fingers?” His thumb left your clit. You mourned the loss only for him to trace a finger down your entrance before dipping it inside you.
“Oh, fuck.” You writhed in response. “Yes.”
He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pushing them inside you. There was little resistance as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He returned to tonguing your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before picking up right where he left off.
You were getting close, so close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed like that forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone.
There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.
There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.
Eren’s face flushed a blossomy pink, spanning across his cheeks. You were so wet; he was so wet. Soaked, actually, in your arousal—a mess you might have cared more about if you weren’t about to come.
His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours, and he moaned. He felt pathetic for it, but what had him feeling even more pathetic was how he couldn’t stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, seeking any semblance of relief because you were possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. But he knew you’d look even better coming on his tongue.
You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You couldn’t even fake it, too curious to see exactly how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his sensitive tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it sent you over the edge.
Your cries came out choppy and strained until your voice cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and using him. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were quivering, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open.
Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back onto his calves, one of his hands palming over your thigh while the other soothed your clit, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply spread for him, just like he hoped.
God, he annoyed himself for pretending he never wanted you because you—you were a dream.
The only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.
“Eren?”
He loved it when you said his name.
You sat up to look at him properly, but it felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted at the intrusion, still sensitive; he could tell by the way your muscles spasmed around his finger.
The feeling mesmerized him: you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look at you when he replied, “Hm?”
You would’ve thought knowing his eyes were on you would embarrass you, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling had already returned. It coiled in your stomach, begging to be snapped again.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Eren loved hearing that even more.
He finally looked at you then, and you imagined that if he were a dog, his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.
“What was that?” he asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, not with the grin he wore to match. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”
“You heard me the first time.”
He ran his finger teasingly up the crease of your thigh. “Say it again.”
It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”
“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”
“Just—” You sighed dramatically before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”
He beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He grabbed his boxers, still sitting mid-thigh, and removed them entirely.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Eren stood up and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You felt his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing its clasp. When you pushed yourself to your forearms, you felt your bra fall, its straps hanging loosely around your arms.
“You look so pretty like this,” he told you as he grabbed your hips, raising you to your knees. He stroked himself a few more times with one hand and smacked your ass with the other.
“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”
“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another smack.
The print of his hand still stung when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see him tearing open a condom. He rolled it over his cock, and all the while, his eyes kept you—naked and with your ass in the air for him—pinned to the bed.
He flattened a hand against your lower back, putting an arch in it. With the other, he spread you, aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance.
Eren guided himself in more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whine as you adjusted to his length. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more.
When his pelvis was flush against you, he felt your walls flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A groan bubbled in his throat, low enough that it was nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, so you clenched again to encourage another.
“You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren hissed.
“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.
Despite the warning, he didn’t protest it. Instead, he started moving, thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it too, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well your cunt looked with his cock in it.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”
“Eren.” The whine in your voice drove him crazy.
His hands, large and demanding, curved over your hips. The blunt end of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The indecent smacking of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls. You didn’t complain this time, only let your head drop between your shoulders. Your eyes screwed shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again.
“Eren,” you cried again.
He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?”
He folded over you, his hand snaking up to your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned your face to look at him, so he could see what you wanted. You couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled as he squished your cheeks.
“Tell me how you want it.”
His words alone made you bite back a moan.
Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”
Eren smiled, all slack-jawed and toothy. You would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting if you could have seen it. But how else was he to react?
He placed a kiss on the back of your neck, then another on your shoulder. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his fingers curve around your throat. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright, with your back sealed against his chest.
Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling.
He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.
But you were so much more than that, and Eren was determined to make you come again. He wanted to feel it.
“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”
Your hand slithered between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs wavering at the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no doubt he heard you this time around.
It was difficult to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold, landing on the bed forcefully with him toppling right over you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you into the mattress, and it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him.
“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.
It surprised you when he pulled out, but it didn’t take long before you realized he was rolling you onto your back. Eren manhandled you like you were weightless; he had your arms tossed above your head, pinned in place with a single hand around your wrist. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
“I need to see you.”
Your stomach flipped at his words like they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger. And maybe you were merely lovelorn and looking for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he looked as though he were just as ensnared as you.
Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another, but you didn’t care; you enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it.
You wanted to touch him, wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists. You took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.
“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.
Easy enough.
He came hard. As perverted as it sounded, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut, to record every sound. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against you as if he could reach any deeper.
His breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to hold him for a little longer.
Neither of you spoke for a while. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted himself off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, like he wanted one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up.
You laid still, only watching while Eren straightened out and disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you only let your eyes follow him as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.
"The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you lightly sassed.
“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
You giggled as you pushed yourself up. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” He took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time. It was one of his T-shirts. “You can wear that.”
You held it by the sleeves, inspecting it. “Is that weird?”
“It wasn’t until you asked that.”
You pulled the tee over your head before adjusting it. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant about the jeans.
Eren noticed, assuring you, “They’re sleeping, I promise,” as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”
“Okay.” You left, but poked your head back in to say, “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”
He laughed. “All right.”
You followed his instructions, even trying to be quick about it, too. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at your bruising collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hall.
Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C-plus, not getting lost.”
You pulled a face. “Whatever, Brian.”
Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.” You mouthed it along with him.
For whatever reason, you didn’t crawl into bed with him right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren as you waited for something. You didn’t know what. He looked sleepy, with his hair still unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this like it was normal?
When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first. “You can’t seriously try to take the couch after that.”
That was exactly what you were about to do. He chuckled, knowing he was right by the purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, like this was entirely normal for you—and said, “Get over here already. I’m cold.”
Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You got into his bed with no contest and let him lay the comforter over you.
Either his pillows were just that soft or you felt that exhausted because your eyes went heavy almost immediately. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, but let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist, not hesitating to pull you into him.
He nuzzled into the back of your neck, pulling a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”
Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again.He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, just barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his intentions in lending you a shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.
#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren smut#eren fluff#aot x reader#attack on titan x reader
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Long post ahead. My full thoughts on the fallout series. TW for references to Sexual Assault, racism, antisemitism. It's not particularly in depth here- but I do reference specific acts of violence done in the show.
I've had people insinuate I'm only mad because I'm a New Vegas fan, because I think they retconned the lore. I'm not upset at the fallout show for its dubious lore additions and reworks. I think they're quite bad in places, but they're by far the least of the show's problems.
This isn't a case of a New Vegas fan mad they messed with my game in a way I didn't like.
Please refer to literally any of my posts pointing out the racism and antisemitism in the show. They brand a black man in episode 1. They named the enclave scientist after a real life holocaust survivor and then spent most of the show lobbing around his decapitated head like a volleyball.
But I'd like to consider other elements of the show. View it as a whole.
Consider the inherent misogyny of having a female main character whose entire character arc is just her getting abused for 8 episodes. How the trajectory of her character revolves around not giving up on the humanity of the man who waterboarded her and sold her to organ harvesters. A female main character who is raped in the first episode and watches her entire community get brutalized and who comes out of it completely unphased- still as plucky as ever- just worried about her dad.
Consider the horror of having a black woman be the one to drop the bombs. Consider the horror of her leading a council of elites who have infiltrated and taken over the US government. Consider the ways this group is presented and shown, the ways every fault of the US government in the series is offloaded onto a shadowy group of elites.
Consider how the capitalist critique of the show only goes so far as saying there's a secret organization of bad people who must be purged. The antisemitism and conspiratorial nonsense inherent to that premise.
Consider the rampant classism with the show's depiction of Wastelanders as either animalistic monsters or too stupid to live.
Consider the ways the show punishes nearly every act of kindness- the ways the world rewards might-makes-right authoritarians.
Consider the way the NCR collapsed offscreen because a disgruntled husband was mad his wife left him, and how after it collapsed the army immediately became raiders and the survivors became blood drinking cultists. Don't give me "it's just shady sands that collapsed" because the NCR was a developed nation. If one of their cities blew up, they would send aid. They would assist.
Consider the way the show constantly uses sex crimes as comedy and horror- the incest jokes and the "chicken fucker" bit, and the Vault 4 monster impregnation and the main character's rape in the first episode.
Consider the ableism of the treatment of ghouls, how every ghoul is now a ticking time bomb, how Lucy helps free a small dementia-riddled old ghoul woman from a medical torture facility and then is immediately punished with the woman trying to inexplicably murder her. Thaddeus openly talks about ghoul exterminationism and it's never a joke or a bit- he just says it and nobody reacts or says anything.
Consider the way the Vault 33 town councillors use real world progressive talking points about restorative justice and prison abolition and multiculturalism- meanwhile Norm advocates for the death penalty and a closed society. How Norm is shown as good and righteous and the vault dwellers range from deluded to damningly stupid- how the mere concept of restorative justice is made a farce because the NCR raiders are screaming about eating organs and murdering people 24/7.
Consider the way they removed the Boneyard, and the Followers of the Apocalypse by extension. In New Vegas we heard about the Followers operating a university in LA. It's gone now. Not destroyed by bombs- but written out of existence because the Boneyard never existed, and Shady Sands is in its place. Consider what that says about this world- that the group most dedicated to peace and rebuilding has been surgically excised from the narrative- destroyed more wholly than even the NCR- written out of existence entirely.
This is the single most reactionary fallout story that has been produced. By a fucking country mile.
Whatever lore critiques there are should be secondary. The storytelling is reactionary in ways I straight up have not seen from other Bethesda entries in the series. It is cruel to a fault, and depicts a world that is incapable of healing or growing- where the best you can do is hold onto that small spark of goodness while every bit of the society around you tries to murder it out of you. This isn't a story about rebuilding, or about postwar politics, or about society- it's about dueling warlords and might makes right attitudes and grimdark views of the nature of humanity. It's fallout in aesthetics alone- and it's perhaps the most hateful thing I've seen come out of this series outside of the actual neonazis in the fanbase.
Whatever hope there is in Moldaver's final moments looking out over the glittering ruins of LA is undercut by the knowledge of what came before. What was destroyed. And it's undercut by the Brotherhood's totalitarian control. It's not hopeful, it's the bare minimum of survival. It's all the progress of the postwar world, 200 years of humanity and history, reduced to just barely getting the lights back on.
In the intro to fallout 1, "War Never Changes" is used as thematic glue. It ties together two concepts- past wars- and present capitalism and militarism.
Ron Perlman describes the Roman Empire, the Spanish conquests of the Americas, and the Nazi regime- and then he says "war never changes" and uses it to connect those past atrocities to the modern world of the setting- to the war that ended everything. The phrase existed to link the resource wars and their ensuing fallout to all the crimes of empire prior. War never changes wasn't a hard and fast rule of human nature- it was a specific condemnation of America.
Lonesome Road even ends with the phrase refuted. War Never Changes. But men do, through the roads they walk. There is hope. That's what this series has always been about. The Master died at the end of fallout 1 and said "leave while you still have hope."
In this show, the black woman Vault Tec exec who ends the world says the phrase. It's stripped of all meaning. Just a generic throwback because it's a famous phrase in the series' history. It's not a condemnation of America, it's a celebratory thing. Vault Tec toasting to the end of the world.
What a thing to see this series become. What a thing to see celebrated.
#fallout#fallout new vegas#fallout show#this has gotten more feedback then I was expecting#and i'm glad this is resonating with some folks#turned off reblogs cuz i cant actually deal with the response this has been getting at this point 👍
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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me
Chapter Twenty Five-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.
Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.
FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
"I don't know about this, Em..."
Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.
"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."
The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.
"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."
Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.
When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.
"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"
"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."
Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.
Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.
And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.
The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.
"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.
"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."
"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."
"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."
Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"
Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.
"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."
You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.
"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."
"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."
With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.
With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:
"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."
A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.
The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.
After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.
The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.
"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."
Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.
"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."
"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."
"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."
You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."
"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.
"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."
"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"
"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.
"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."
A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.
"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."
(There is no rose without thorns.)
"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."
(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)
"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."
"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."
It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.
"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."
Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."
You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."
"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."
You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."
"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”
"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"
Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"
Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.
As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.
Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.
He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.
As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:
Yellow.
"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."
"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."
Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."
In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.
Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.
Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."
The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.
Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.
Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"
"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"
"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.
Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.
"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."
His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.
Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"
"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."
Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."
A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.
"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.
Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."
Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.
"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.
Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.
As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.
"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"
Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."
Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."
"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"
"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."
"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"
You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."
Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."
A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."
As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.
"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."
"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."
"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"
Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."
"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"
"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."
"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."
Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.
"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."
"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."
Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"
For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.
And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.
Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”
—————————
Chapter 26->
#theodorenottsmut#theodore smut#theo nott x reader#theo nott smut#mattheoriddle#mattheosmut#mattheo smut#harry potter#enzo berkshire#draco malfoy smut#draco smut#theoriddlesmut#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott smut#theodorenott#theo riddle#tomriddle smut#tomriddlesmut#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle smut#severus snape#tom riddle#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle#theo nott#severus smut#draco fanfic#severus#marcus lopez smut#mattriddlesmut
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Hi lovely! As a fellow bisexual id love to see something about reader maybe coming out as bi to Joost or maybe reader runs into her ex gf while with him? Or something totally else! Only if you’re comfortable ofc 🩷🫶🏻
I never claimed to be sane, so here is another request today! This one admittedly took a little longer, I got sucked into the story lol
LOVE ME SOME BISEXUAL Y/N! Hell yeah!
Enjoy!
Cool | Joost Klein x fem!reader
Summary: It was hot, and it was glorious, just the two of them in a country of which language they didn’t speak, people they didn’t know and fucks they didn’t give.
And in this suburban, secluded town they have specifically chosen to not run into any people they may know, or ones who may know him, they ran into her.
Word count: 1997 (the clownery)
WARNINGS: swearing (it's a given with me, I'm Polish), degrading and not in a fun way, angst, hurt/comfort, talk of sexuality <- YELL AT ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING, thx <3
Author's note: it is very strictly a female reader in here, again, sorry to disappoint folks. But I have one request for a bromance turned romance in my inbox so stay tuned!
Not proof-read, sorry
‘Oh my God, Y/N? Long time no see!’ a high voice shrieked in the distance. The girl in question startled, looking around to find whoever was calling her name.
Her and her boyfriend, Joost, were currently on vacation. The Italian breeze was lightly blowing, more often than not tangling her hair and making her huff. The boy next to her always giggled, took the strands out of her mouth and kissed her nose, finding the whole shebang to be insanely cute and ridiculous.
‘Serves you right for having such long hair’ he would chuckle, elbowing her jokingly in the side. And she would pout and punch his bicep, sticking her tongue out at him.
‘Har har, fuck you’ she muttered once, making him laugh in a loud, raspy belly laugh.
And it was amazing, the vacation of their dreams to be frank. They took a week off, packed their suitcase (yes, singular, luggage fares are simply too high to bother) and embarked on a journey to some small, suburban town in the south of Italy. He wore linen shirts and his wife-beaters, she wore floral dresses and thin shorts, both of their bodies glistening with sweat. It was hot, and it was glorious, just the two of them in a country of which language they didn’t speak, people they didn’t know and fucks they didn’t give.
And in this suburban, secluded town they have specifically chosen to not run into any people they may know, or ones who may know him, they ran into her.
Y/N recognized her in a second, the pixie cut, the floral shirt, the bisexual disaster of a girl with a big smile plastered on her face. And she looked good, damn her. A thin sheen of sweat making her face glow, and not look like a sweaty monster, her legs looked long and slender in her cutoff denim shorts and her arms were littered with tattoos, even more so than when they were together.
Mhm, yup, that’s the kicker. Here Y/N was, on a wonderful vacation with her hotter-than-hell (famous!) boyfriend and who did she meet? Her ex-girlfriend. Yummy.
Joost cocked his brow and squeezed Y/N’s hand, silently asking if she’s okay.
‘Oh, Vee, hi!’ Y/N replied to the girl, ignoring her boyfriend’s question. Of course she wasn’t fine, the nerve of him. She took a deep breath and tugged Joost along to the other one, meeting her halfway.
‘Oh my god, it’s been too long! You look… nice!’ the other woman exclaimed, eyeing Y/N from head to toe. A crimson blush was biting Y/N’s cheeks, making her roll her eyes.
‘Yeah, sure, same to you’ she replied. ‘Oh, um, Joost, this is Vee. Vee, meet Joost, my boyfriend’ she introduced the two, waving her hand between them.
‘Hi’ the boy murmured, not entirely rudely, but off-kilter. She chanced a look at him and saw him scanning the other girl from over the rim of his sunglasses.
See, Joost didn’t like Vee. She seemed fake from the very first sentence she uttered to the both of them, her smile never quite reaching her eyes and said eyes sharp and calculating, rather than warm like her voice would suggest. And he saw how his girl’s shoulders slumped, how her mouth was just slightly downturned, how she didn’t answer his question before.
So he stood a little taller with his back straight and chest puffed, not so much that it would look silly, but just slightly.
Meanwhile in Y/N’s head there was nothing but the, seemingly looped, word “shit”. And for a good reason, because Vee was trouble and Joost was sunshine and she hated those two worlds colliding.
‘Oh, a boyfriend, huh? That’s sweet, Y/N, you finally stopped fooling yourself?’ she asked, feigned kindness lacing her voice. She giggled and shot her a wink, turning to the boy next. ‘Do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar’ she inquired; her eyes squeezed as if she was looking at sun itself.
And in Y/N’s eyes she might as well have because the boy meant so much too him, and he picked up on her nervousness the second Vee appeared. And her heart was beating to the beat of techno music, pumping so much blood through her veins she felt lightheaded.
But Joost, sweet, kind, lovely Joost, just shot Vee a long look took a step to be in front of Y/N. Nothing too big, not like the teen dramas on Netflix or a dick measuring context, no. Just playing it off as casual while they both knew he was trying to make her feel safer. Bless his soul, he had no idea who Vee was, didn’t even suspect that it could have been Y/N’s ex-girlfriend. How could he, anyway, when she has never made it known to him that she was bisexual.
And it wasn’t for the lack of trying, she wanted him to know who she was. Ha, she yearned for his acceptance and to be able to share this part of herself with him, but she couldn’t. No, not really.
‘I don’t think we’ve met’ Joost answered nonchalantly. And his voice seemed to do something to Vee, you could almost see the information clicking in place as she raised her brows in disbelief and let out a low chuckle.
‘Shit, you’re the guy from Eurovision, aren’t you? The “Friesenjung” one?’ she exclaimed, smiling broadly at him. ‘Oh I love your music, man! I had no idea you were dating little Y/N over here, she never mentioned it!’ she exclaimed gleefully. And that dig didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, she knew what she wanted to imply, but she couldn’t find the words to disagree, to say that they haven’t talked in years, how could she have mentioned it?!
‘You must not be really good friends, then’ he shrugged, putting his arms over Y/N’s trembling arms and soothing her with his presence. He started to rub his thumb up and down her arm, almost as if saying “I’m here, you’re fine”. And it helped, it really did.
‘Oh we were very good friends until little miss “my-new-boyfriend-is-famous” didn’t dump me for, seemingly, fame’ Vee rolled her eyes, winking at Joost. ‘She’s like that, you get it, a little sleazy and conniving.’
‘I think that’s enough’ the man interrupted, his face stern and lips pulled into two thin lines. ‘Go and spew your venom somewhere else, we’re not interested.’
And so he turned on his heel, dragging Y/N’s dumbfounded body with him, not even looking back at the girl. They took a turn, then another and only after a few minutes of walking in silence did Joost loosen his hold on her shoulders, steering the girl towards a bench.
It felt as if she was sitting next to the loudspeaker for a little too long, the ringing in her ears persistent, her mouth dry and hands shaking where he held them in his lap. Neither of them said a word, both just leaning against each other and people-watching.
They often did that when one of them was overwhelmed. Back home they could just climb the roof of their house and sit there, hidden behind trees that grew closely together, but not too closely so that they could still look at people walking around. They would play a game where they would guess what someone is thinking about, laughing if it sounded a little too close to this one dialogue from “Twilight” and holding hands. Sometimes they didn’t speak, just existed together in silence disrupted only by honking cars or laughing children.
And here in Italy they didn’t have their own place, but the bench would do. It was a little further away from the trail, between two bushes and under a lovely tree with colorful flowers. So they sat there, their hands clasped together, her forehead resting on his shoulder. And he would sometimes hum a tune, and she would pick it up and so the minutes passed.
Sometime later she stirred, almost like waking up from a bad dream. She opened her eyes and raised her head slowly, her eyes glistening and cheeks red.
‘So, um, that was Vee’ she muttered, laughing hoarsely and looking out into the horizon.
‘Delightful persona’ he answered, squeezing her hand again. Their palms were sweaty but it was okay, he would always hold her hand when she needed it.
‘Tell me about it’ Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. ‘It’s my ex-girlfriend’ she whispered, looking into the opposite direction, too scared of what might happen next.
And Joost just stared at her, his face blank and a million thoughts racing through his head. Okay, it made sense, there was some weird tension between the two women, but he wouldn’t have guessed that they used to be a thing. Hell, Y/N never mentioned to him that she was bisexual, he didn’t really expect it.
‘Oh?’ he hummed, tugging her a little closer. He could feel the tension seeping from her, clogging her pores and presumably giving her a headache. ‘Hey pretty girl, look at me’ he whispered again, reaching out to grab her chin and make her look at him. Her eyes were squeezed shut but she went with the movement. ‘Y/N, honey, breathe please’ he reminded her and she took a big gulp of fresh air.
‘Sorry’ she muttered. She didn’t know if she was more sorry for the situation or for hiding such significant part of herself from him. ‘It’s, uh, complicated’
‘I gathered that, yeah’ he said, leaning down to kiss her knuckles. She sighed deeply and opened her eyes. There he was, smiling down at her, his sunglasses raised to sit on the top of his head, leaving behind red marks on his nose. He was smiling softly at her, his eyes earnest. ‘You don’t have to say anything that you don’t want to say just because that happened. We can go grab some food and pig out on it in bed. Or I can buy you one of those overpriced coffees with enough sugar in it to kill a horse?’ he offered, making her chuckle wetly.
And God, how was he so perfect? So loving and understanding, no raised voices, no judgement in his voice. She heaved out a long breath and turned to him.
‘I’m bisexual, Joost’ she admitted. She looked like a spooked animal, her eyes scanning his face, legs ready to run if things turned ugly.
‘Cool’ he answered, smiling down at her. ‘Thank you for telling me’ he added after a heartbeat and kissed her sweaty forehead. Y/N raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief.
‘You’re welcome?’ her voice was high, a nervous giggle making its way out of her mouth. ‘That’s it? You don’t think I’m, what, faking it?’
‘Why the hell would I think that?’ he asked, amusement in his voice.
‘That’s what Vee thought’ she shrugged, looking away yet again. And that just simply wouldn’t do, so he once again reached out for her, but this time put his hand on her cheek and slowly turned her back to him.
‘Well, as we have established, Vee is an idiot’.
And then he kissed her sweetly, pecking her lips and pulling her to his chest. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes with a fruity undertone of a slushie he has spilled on himself earlier that day.
Y/N chuckled and shook her head, her worries melting away with just one kiss. She felt so foolish, of course Joost wouldn’t agree with Vee.
He was her sunshine, he shone just for her and that was final, bisexual or not. So they stood up, fingers laced and cheeks wet, not only from the heat this time, heading towards some restaurant he quickly found on Google.
A few hours later they laid in bed, legs intertwined, chests pressed closely together with her head in the crook of his neck when he whispered:
‘We can talk about boobs now’.
#joost klein#justice for joost#eurovision#esc 2024#joost klein x you#joost klein x reader#joostice#joost klein angst#joost klein fluff#hurt/comfort
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A Man With a Plan.4
prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7
Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU
CW: brief mention of a sexual encounter (non-explicit)
The following week-and-a-half was both chaotic and painful for (likely everyone involved, but specifically for) Remus Moony Remus (& Moony).
Remus (under the watchful glare of one Sirius Orion Black) apologized to James for speaking so rudely to him, and to Peter for upsetting the room.
Pete was quick to forgive him, whilst James just asked, “are you ready to talk about it?”. Remus replied no, James said “talk to me when you are”, and the two haven’t spoken much since.
The closer and closer Remus got to the full moon, the more incessant Moony became. Even if you weren’t around, Moony was whining after you. When you were around, Moony was begging for you.
Remus, much to Moony and Sirius’s (never mind his own) chagrin, would hear your soft lilting voice moving down the hall speaking to James, and would quickly grab Amelia and find the closest broom closet.
After the 3rd or 4th time, he was starting to look like a horny pre-teen who just discovered playboy magazines.
But while Amelia was on her knees and his hand was on the back of her head, he could muffle the howling and yipping of the angry wolf for at least the moment, and it felt like enough.
Until it wasn’t.
“Stop, stop.” He groaned as he pulled away from Amelia’s wandering hands. She looked quite lovely – flushed, slightly damp and pupils blown wide, but Remus couldn’t appreciate much of anything with the chorus of ‘Need, need, need, need. Mine, mine, mine, mine’ inside his mind.
“What is it, baby?” She cooed at him. Remus had to fight back a grimace at the nickname.
“I ca-I can’t do this right now.” He said, bringing his hand to his mouth; he suddenly felt queasy.
“Are you sure? I can be a good girl for you.” She purred.
“No.” he said as he flung the door to the broom closet and nearly collided with you.
Dammit, how were you everywhere!?
“Oh, hello Remus! Are you alright?” You asked him.
Mine.
Remus could only let out a keening sound in response – hand still pressed to his mouth.
Your eyes seemed to flit around his being – not actually looking at him but around him as your mouth pinched in concern.
“No, not alright at all.” You answered your own question, speaking more to yourself than anything.
“Rem?” Amelia said as she rubbed his back and spotted you in front of him.
“Oh, L/N,” Amelia said with a chuckle. Remus felt his hackles rise immediately. “Your aura looks wonderful today.”
Her voice was filled with contempt, but your eyes never left Remus’ form.
“Here,” you said to Remus as you began to dig through your book bag. You missed the ‘tosser’ that Amelia threw your way, but Remus didn’t.
Moony wanted her dead.
“This should help, Remus. It’s mallowsweet, shrivlefig juice, powdered moonstone, and rosewater. I think it’s just what you need.”
Your voice was so soft and sweet, and Moony was so quiet while you spoke. Remus almost wanted to tell you to forget the vial you were offering as he felt his migraine lifting just from listening to you talk.
Remus might as well have been a puppet as he raised his hand to take the vial from you – he didn’t even know what this concoction was for, but if you kept looking at him like that? He’d drink forty of them.
You dropped the vial into his palm, keeping your fingers to yourself as if you were somehow aware he was afraid to touch you.
“I hope you feel better, Remus.” You breathed softly, parting from him with a gentle smile as you floated back down the hallway.
“Gods, she is such an airhead.”
Remus suddenly understood James a little bit better.
“Amelia,” he started as he turned to stare daggers at the girl, “don’t make fun of my friends.”
And he stalked off down the hall, opposite the way you’d just went.
It was Thursday evening, and there were only two more nights until the full. Remus sat at the table with his head in his hands as he tried to swallow against his gag reflex.
Amelia Bones was staring daggers at him from the Hufflepuff table, but it was you, speaking so sweetly to James across from him, that had his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.
Mine, pack! Pack! Pack! Mine, pack.
Remus mentally grabbed The Wolf by the scruff, causing a pitiful whine and quiet whimpering to follow. He was too tired and too close to the full for this.
James was speaking animatedly to you about the niffler’s from class today, but Remus Moony could tell your mind was elsewhere.
“One moment, Jamie.” You said quietly to your friend as you began to walk away. Suddenly, you were standing behind Moony Remus.
“Excuse me, Peter. Would you mind terribly if I sat here?” You asked sweetly, pointing to the sliver of bench between the two of them. Sirius’ eyes flew to meet Remus’ from his spot across from him.
“Oh! Uhm, no, Y/N, not at all.” Peter agreed as he moved to create a space for you beside Remus.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you were suddenly sat between Remus and Peter, directly across from James who was placed beside Sirius.
Remus felt his shoulders sag in immediate relief to have you so close to him. Horrifyingly, he felt tears spring to his eyes. He tucked his chin into his chest, knowing Sirius’ gaze hadn’t left him.
You pushed your ankle up against Remus’ as you continued discussing the pilfering little creatures from your class with James as the first tear fell.
He wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t bring himself to.
He wanted to resent you. But he couldn’t bring himself to.
Because you were kind and sweet and understanding and patient. And he was the monster.
And somehow, you knew all of that. And yet, you sat here, beside him, and offered him what little comfort you could.
Remus was fucked.
You were at the quidditch game Friday evening. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, so you appeared to be present only to cheer on James.
It was sweet.
Remus was fucked.
Amelia came too, which pissed Remus off seeing as Hufflepuff wasn’t playing either, but it gave him the chance to not sit there staring at the space beside you wishing he was selfish enough to take it.
Her company wasn’t as nice as yours, but Remus supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The weather kind of sucked – it wasn’t raining but the air was thick with fog and mist, and visibility was low. Remus wasn’t sure how the players managed between the mist, the wind on their brooms, and their sweat, but the game raged on.
“Wait, so the little braids that you find on horses randomly...” Peter asked you from a few bleachers below Remus.
Remus kept his eyes on the players he could make out through the fog and pretended he wasn’t listening to your conversation.
“Yes, those are nargles. They appear at night and twist the hairs of horses or unicorns to create stirrups and leads so that they can ride them. It’s important you don’t undo them, though, as nargles may become frustrated that they have to redo their work. They are also more likely to return to ride your horse again instead of outright taking them for their own if you respect their work. Tricky little thieves, they are.”
“Huh.” Pete offered brightly. Remus smiled widely to himself. “Well, I suppose they also look pretty in the horse’s hair. Might as well leave ‘em.”
Remus felt a warmth radiating in his chest. He couldn’t see either of you as he kept his gaze on the game, but he could clearly picture your kind and airy smile, and how Peter had his body turned to you to ensure you had his full intention.
Moony loved it too.
Pack. Good. Good. Good. PaCk GooD.
Remus began to think maybe he could handle this. Maybe he could keep you here, sort of at arm’s length but still within his reach. Maybe he could accept you as a friend and...pack member if that’s what Moony insisted on calling you.
Maybe this didn’t need to be all or nothing, maybe this could just be...
But Remus’ train of thought stopped as Moony began raging within his mind. Remus started to panic, thinking maybe he miscalculated the next full moon; he’s not been wrong about a moon once in his entire life, but fuck, stranger things have happened.
He looked to the sky, and even through the fog, Remus could tell the moon was nowhere near risen. He was also very sure the full moon was tomorrow night.
“Look out!” A player shouted from the pitch as Remus spotted a very large ball careening its way over...straight for you.
Mine. Mine. Mine MINE MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE.
Remus’ mind went blank as he stood from his place. Suddenly, he was standing in front of you as the ball hit him in the middle of his back. He grunted in mild discomfort, but it was far less damage than what could have been had it made contact with your face.
Your face, which was looking up at Remus with your mouth parted in gentle surprise, and your eyes searching his person.
“Remus! Are you alright, mate?” Peter cried in shock.
The whistle sounded on the pitch as players flew their way over to the Gryffindor benches to retrieve the ball.
“Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt that bad.” He offered, though his eyes never left yours.
“Moony, what the fuck was that?!” Sirius called from his broom.
“What was what? Aren’t you players supposed to aim the ball at each other?” He snarked back.
“Mate,” Pete whispered to him, “you apparated.”
He...he apparated!?
Hogwarts had ancient magical wards lining the school grounds and castles. One such ancient ward was an anti-apparition ward. No one should be able to apparate in or out.
Ignoring all of that, however...7th years still hadn’t been taught how to apparate yet.
Well...Remus didn’t know what to say about that. So instead, he asked “are you alright?”
You looked between him and his right shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Remus. Thank you. I’m very sorry about all of this.”
But before he could say - oh, that’s okay, or that’s not necessary, or even what the hell are you apologizing for? - you were out of your seat and leaving the stands.
“What did you say to her?” James barked at Remus from his broom beside Sirius, glare turning stormy.
“Nothing mate,” Sirius answered for him, “he just asked if she was alright.”
“Was she?” James asked, eyes softening slightly.
“Yeah, she’s okay.” Remus answered.
James seemed to analyze Remus’ face before offering him a curt nod and flying back to the centre of the pitch.
“McGonagall’s going to be so pissed if you broke those wards, mate.” Peter muttered as the game resumed.
Sure, Remus thought, let’s focus on that.
McGonagall was kind of pissed about the wards, but she told Remus it was but a minor tear within the grid and may be repairable.
Seeing as the burst of accidental magic was...well...accidental (and lunar in nature, though he figured it was best they all ignored that little fact for the time being), he was off the hook for the damage.
He was the victim of relentless torment, however.
“Lord Rem, are you reading ahead to make the rest of us look bad?” Lily smirked from her place in the Gryffindor common room.
Remus groaned into his book as he pulled it to the face.
“It was an accident.” He muttered miserably.
“Sure. Just watch your back, Lupin; I’m still top of the class.” She fired at him with a smirk.
The common room continued thinning out until it was only Lily and James playing wizards chess, Sirius and Peter playing exploding snap, and Remus trying to read his book as his muscles and joints swelled and groaned under the pull of the moon. Tomorrow night, and then he’d be free for the rest of the cycle.
Well, not free, seeing as now he was also plagued by you.
Suddenly, the group of five could hear the portrait of the Fat Lady screeching at someone in the hall.
“I will do no such thing; I am not a secretary” the muffled voice spat.
Sirius and Remus shared a confused look before the former stood and made his way to the portrait hole.
“Reggie?” Sirius asked quietly as the portrait swung open to reveal the form of his younger brother.
“Uhm, hi, Sirius. I... I was wondering if Potter was here?”
Sirius’ head reared back slightly as he blinked over at James.
“Uhm...yes? He is.”
Regulus sighed. “May I speak to him?”
Sirius slowly moved aside and gestured for Regulus to come in.
“Hello Regulus.” James said politely, looking bemusedly at Sirius for a brief moment before standing.
“Potter. My apologies for the...intrusion. But I’m wondering if you’ve seen Y/N.”
Remus’ book fell into his lap as he sat straight in his chair, hands gripping the arm rests. Remus had heard from Sirius (who heard from James) that you and Regulus were quite close. This at least explained why Remus’ friends and yours had never intertwined before.
“No, no. Not since the game, why?”
Regulus sighed again as he grimaced. “She’s not in her dorms. One of her dormmates asked me where she went – apparently, she told them it was important for her to be ‘away from the castle’ for the weekend. I was hoping you knew where she went.”
Remus ran up to the Marauder’s dorm room and accio’d the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the parchment and, sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. He double, triple and quadruple checked to no avail.
You were nowhere to be found on castle grounds.
Continue to chapter five here.
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#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin#werewolf mcswearwolf#werewolf soulmate#soulmate au#hp marauders#remus lupin ficlet#remus lupin blurb#werewolf#the lupins#james potter#sirius black#peter pettigrew#lily evans#regulus black
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𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ─ PB⁵
౨ৎ ─ summary | paigey being your girlfriend - a list of relationship "headcanons"
─ warnings | in a bullet-point formatting, i hope you guys like it! fluff (lmk if yall want nsfw ones bc i can provide), paige being DOWN BAD, social media tingz, maybe alluding to being outed but not really, some angst but you can skip over it, paigey being protective (duh), nothing else?
─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!
─ ev's notes | THIS IS SUCH LONG MESS BECAUSE I'M HAVING PAIGE BRAINROT RN, but i hope y'all enjoy nonetheless LOL
being in my paige era i've read so many of these and i'm sure you guys have as well, so i'm making this as unique (or descriptive) as i possibly can to make it because it's more fun to read (and write cus im a sucker for details)
PRE-RELATIONSHIP STUFF
when you guys first started dating, i feel like paige would be kind of secretive about it
maybe secretive isn't the right word but very... private but not secret type of vibe (at least irl)
not because she doesn't want to show you off, because believe me, she wants to (she's a bragger what can i say)
but just because she wants to keep you all to herself for a while
she knows that as soon as people find out about it, everyone will be talking about it and making assumptions and she just wants to keep you to herself
at least for a couple months
she doesn't care about the public's opinions but she wants to make sure that y'all are LOCKED IN before she makes it public on social media
but it's clear to paige that y'all are very much locked in after the first couple weeks
she's not new to relationships and she's had her fair share but she can tell that it's different now
so the whole "not sure if i wanna hard/soft launch her cus what if we're not a long term" sentiment turns into "i wanna keep this special thing to myself ONLY for at least a couple months"
and of course the entire team knows paige is down bad for you, they've never ever seen her this WHIPPED
because paige seems like she'd be nonchalant and SHE IS... for people she doesn't give a fuck about
so when she likes someone, she LIKES someone
she is extra what can i say
they tease her about it and in any other situation, she would be annoyed but she loooooooves it because it's like "yeah i'm in the best most awesome relationship with the cutest sweetest and kindest girl in the PLANET"
you and paige would've definitely known of each other since freshman year but like... she's kinda intimidating so you sorta tried to steer clear of her
you were really close with some of the girls on the team, specifically azzi so you saw paige kind of a lot
but sophomore year, azzi kind of pushed you guys to be close and since she knows you guys so well, IT WORKED!
you guys clicked so quick and that doesn't happen a lot with paige, it takes a lot to earn her friendship
but you practically ripped down all her walls within like an hour of talking to her
definitely the first one to catch feelings
at least... to her ;)
very much friends to lovers trope with lots of sexual tension cus who doesn't love that?
i feel like after 3 months of being really close friends, you guys would spend like a shit ton of time together
you guys were ALWAYS together
she even tried to convince you to come to practice with her but you said no cus... what the heck
everyone knows... EVERYONE knows that paige likes you
and it kind of becomes like cemented (for paige at least) after she realized you were her literal COMFORT PERSON
like after every terrible, long practice or after losing games all she wants to do is be AROUND YOU so she could forget about everything
especially when she gets injured, she's such a wreck and the only person who made her feel better was you
it wasn't even what you said or what you did, it was simply just you
and after going through such a bad time with you, she realized that she liked you and she can't keep pretending
and she asked you (yaya!) and you said yes cus you liked her back (yaya!) and everything is just YAYA
so it's safe to say she knows she's found her soulmate within a month of knowing you
but she doesn't wanna seem like she's love-bombing you or whatever so she pretended to be nonchalant
which of course FAILS because she's down bad
so she tells you she loves you within like a month of dating
i KNOW it seems bad but you guys both felt it because of the whole injury and spending every moment together
when you know, you know vibes
she told you she loved you after you were there for her through some of the worst times of her life and you said it back of course and it's all cutesy
paige's love language is TOTALLY quality time and touch
even before you were dating, she just liked having her hands on you whether it was like holding your hand while walking through a crowd, or braiding your hair, or putting her head on top of yours or something as simple as just HUGGING you
but she kept it cordial of course cus y'all weren't dating
yeah that was all thrown out the window as soon you became her girlfriend
hands on you at ALL times, it becomes so subconscious neither of you even know you're doing it anymore
so remember that whole secret relationship thing?
well... everyone kind of figures it out online after like 3 months of dating
it was because of paige, poor girl couldn't keep her hands and lips off of you after a particularly hard game and somehow 🤨🤨someone gets a picture and it was all over twitter and tiktok the next day
literally "paige bueckers girlfriend" trending after an hour of getting posted
but neither of you cared too much about it because A. it was totally worth it cus the kiss was 😫😫😫 and B. she finally doesn't have to turn off her girlfriend mode when she's with you at games
cus she has the prettiest and best gf in the world and she wants everyone to know that
the only reason she was slightly annoyed was because she couldn't hard launch you on instagram :( poor girl had potential captions in her notes :( cus she's our little drama queen:(
but that doesn't stop her cus she ends up doing it! (shameless plug right there hehehe)
now that she can freely touch you and just be herself finally, she literally doesn't GAFFF
of course nothing like over the top because sure she loves PDA to a certain extent and she's an athlete so she needs to keep it civil
RELATIONSHIP STUFF
we've already covered how paige is a physical touch and quality time girly
and paige loves spending literally all her free time with you because you just recharge her
but it isn't in like an overwhelming way
paige understand that sometimes you need quiet time (or vice versa) but the thing is she doesn't even need you to talk just being around you is enough
so idk if it's necessarily QUALITY time but just being around you and spending every free second she has with you tells you that she is in love with you
paige is the most protective person IN THE WORLD, not just with you like in general
it doesn't even have to be someone she knows, if she sees someone giving someone else a hard time SHE WILL STEP IN!
and with her friends, y'all have seen her... she does not back down and will literally murder anyone who comes for the people she cares about
so if that's with people she doesn't know, and her friends, you guys can imagine how crazy she gets over you
if somebody says something even slightly consendecing or mean, slap. someone looks at you the wrong way? slap. somebody breaths wrong around you, slap.
obviously she won't lay a hand on them first but likeeee would she back down, nope
she is actually your guardian angel
like at parties, her hand is always on you and she never ever leaves your side
you need to get a drink, she's coming to
if you need to pee? she'll wait in the bathroom for you
yeah don't expect her to leave your side
because even when she IS by your side, there is always a weirdo in your guys' ear trying to get with one (or both!) of you
but yeah she's not afraid to defend you when it comes to literally anything
and this doesn't only apply to strangers, if there is someone that you know (your friend, her friend, etc) she WILL stand by you and defend you
like she doesn't shy away from confrontation, she will say something but only if you want her to
and GOD HELP THEM if you shed a single tear, cus the next morning you bet she's saying something
like i said, paige is a confrontational person and that means she's the biggest communicator
if she has a problem, she will tell you so that you guys can fix it
but sometimes she can come off a little argumentative and like she's just attacking you
she uses a lot of "you" statements so it seems like she's pushing the blame all on to you
so that can be the root of a lot of your guys' arguments when paige is only trying to solve the issues
but of course paige doesn't back down so she will be arguing with you even if she doesn't even know why, she just hates being wrong
but she doesn't let you leave or go to sleep unless the problem is fixed (or at least on the road to being fixed)
she'll give you space, she'll go another room to take a breather but she will not let you leave until it is fixed
usually after the breather you guys can come to an agreement and then paige usually hugs all the anger outta you
cus who could resist her?
if the argument lasts a couple days (it usually doesn't unless it's something serious) paige will talk it out with her mom or her friends
and you'll usually do the same
and paige will force you to sit down and talk about it until it is FIXED because she hates not being able to talk to you
and when you guys do eventually talk about it, especially if it's a serious topic, it will end with tears with both parties
but you guys always make up and everything will be better
okay okay no more angst ... for now hehehe
i feel like paige's nervous tic would be braiding the ends of her hair so i feel like that would transfer to YOU somehow
she just likes braiding your hair!!!!!! or just running her hands through your hair, it would help her relax
and if you're like me, it will help you relax as well
if you're black/have braids, she would only touch your hair if you let her!
paigey takes pictures OF EVERYTHING so obviously that includes you
her camera roll consists of ONLY you atp, like... 20% pics of literally anything else, and the rest would just be pictures of you or something to do with you
and oh my gosh don't get me started on the damn .5's of you, some of them are HORRENDOUSSSS and paige uses them as reaction pictures sometimes
and you found out from azzi that she does indeed use them in the girls groupchat
but she argues that you just look adorable which you respectfully disagree
oh and don't get me started on her tiktok drafts, she has at least 1,000 (rip her storage)
and when y'all started dating she just makes cute relationship tiktoks but she never posts them
EXPECT the "you're spinning me around, my feet are off the ground one" cus she wants to prove to the world that she has muscles
and the tiktok girlies will cry but WHO CARES!
oh and if you're on the basketball team, they will started to fan-girl over you as well
HELLA TIKTOK EDITS
and paige will favorite, repost and comment on them
like the most down-bad, insane comments you can think of
"GET THE STRAP GET THE STRAP!" is one of many ✨✨
if you aren't on the team, trust the tiktok girlies will find a way and they will make edits of you
and paige will do the same
obviously you do the same for her, your favorites are just paige edits atp (mine too)
ESPECIALLY THE GET IT SEXY ONE OMLL
and everyone will make ship edits and cutesy things like
"omg the way paige looks at her" and like a slideshow of paige being like all 😍😍😍
after paige gets more comfortable with like the media knowing about you two, she posts you every five seconds
usually like stories and stuff and especially if you’re also a basketball player, she reposts ALL your stuff
she is a proud gf !!!
she also has a highlight FOR SURE, she loves
also she def has like 10 diff wallpapers of you and her, some are really cute and some are really… 🫣
also paige strikes me as the type to like be texting you ALL DAY
and girl doesn’t care if you reply, she will send you 8 consecutive messages of different things
“omg look at the group chat 😂 *insert screeshot*” “baby they ran out of fucking caramel at dunkin, how does that happen ?” “i ended up going to a local cafe why did this shit cost me 9$” “baby you’re coming to my game on saturday right?” “HAHA look at this meme 😂” “why haven’t you responded to my tiktok’s in 2 days?”
yes she 100% uses the laughing with tears emoji argue with the WALL
or skull emoji
she also sends you 20 minute snapchat vlogs and they’re so chaotic, especially when she’s at practice or something
kk will steal her phone and say hi then you’ll hear them play fighting for like 80% of the vlog
also she does grwm’s on snapchat too when she’s at away games and her morning voice is SOOOO SEXY CUTE
↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers#uconn headcannons#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#ncaa women’s basketball#women's college basketball#wcbb fic#wcbb x reader#wcbb
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silk and rope
the long awaited ddlg harry and yn pairing has finally arrived!!!
some general disclaimers: I've never been in a relationship like this myself nor have I experimented too much with proper bdsm techniques, so there may be some things that are wrong in this!!!! I did research and tried my best to make it as accurate as possible but pls don't come for me if something isn't right ok thank yoooouuuuuu!!!!!!!
word count: 10.6k
content warnings: daddy dom and sub/little yn relationship, big ol’ daddy kink, basically just a lot of smut (bondage, overstimulation, use of toys, dirty talk, f oral, penetration), discussions of subspace and crappy sexual experiences (nothing forced), yn in little/sub space
"Y/N, I just don't think this is working out anymore."
Normally, Y/N is able to see this coming.
In the past, she's had 20/20 hindsight, predicted when whatever man she was seeing — or rather, submitting to — had finally gotten bored of her, and been able to paste a smile on her face when it finally happened. She could bite her tongue hard enough to prevent the flush that would eventually warm her entire body with embarrassment, mumble out some nonsense response ("okay, that's fine, I appreciate the time we spent together", which was usually a lie anyway), give them a halfhearted hug and let them go.
Todd, however? The world's worst dominant? She seriously can't believe that Todd of all people is ending things.
Realistically, Y/N doesn't really care that Todd isn't interested in dominating her anymore. He was shit at aftercare and only paid attention to maintaining a sexual relationship, as opposed to an emotional one, too. (Y/N's profile specifically said that she was looking for a dominant inside and outside of the bedroom.) So, when it comes down to it, it's fine that Todd is putting a stop to their rather lackluster relationship, but Y/N is unprepared.
Typically, at this point, she already has a date with another dominant lined up for 24 hours from now. She's already talking to other people, listing out her hard limits and what she's looking for, maybe even switching her photos around to change things up after being on this god forsaken website for a year and a half.
And maybe she, too, was so unsatisfied with Todd that she wasn't paying enough attention to realize the end was coming.
But with her slightly squinted eyes and half-open jaw, it must seem that she's in some sort of immediate stage of heartbreak (she's not, she's just surprised), because Todd goes to sling his arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head.
"It's not you, babe, it's me," he says, and it makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs, "Really, you were great. Fantastic every time. Just think I'm looking for someone a little bit more... emotionally stable, y'know?"
That's what breaks Y/N out of her trance, so she quickly rises from her couch and wordlessly opens the front door.
"Thanks. You can go now."
With furrowed eyebrows, Todd stands up, as if he was expecting her to get down on her knees and grovel at his feet, begging him to stay.
"See, this is what I'm talking about, babe— one second you're all quiet and mousey, and the next you're trying to boss me around like I'm the submissive," he feens offense as he pulls his sneakers on, "I think you should probably get your brain together before you start seeing someone else, it's a real mindfuck."
"Okay," Y/N smiles tightly, gesturing outside to the chilly evening. "See you around, Todd."
The confused expression remains on Todd's face but thankfully, he leaves without another word. Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she shuts the door behind him and locks it up. She grabs one of the leftover muffins she made at work today, plops down on the couch, and turns on the TV to find a show to fall asleep to.
. . .
If Harry's being honest, the bar is the last place he wants to be right now.
And he would be at home if he hadn't blown his friends off for the past three weeks, and Claire hadn't stopped by his desk while he was packing his things up, threatening to kidnap him if he wasn't planning on attending this evening.
He feels bad, especially because he knows he has the tendency to prioritize work over his friends, so he shoots her a tight smile and tells her to lead the way.
So now he's at their usual booth in the corner, slowly nursing a lukewarm beer that he'd ordered an hour ago when they arrived. He's halfway listening to a story Lea is telling about her shitty on-again, off-again boyfriend, occasionally suppressing the urge to yawn. He glances down at the watch on his wrist to read the time and promises himself that he'll stay another 30 minutes before ducking out.
Truthfully, he's bored, and he's tired, and his bed is calling to him in a way that's almost painful. He occupies himself by people-watching, trying to guess who's on first dates or, like him and his friends, getting together for weekly drinks. It's only then that he zeroes in on her — Y/N, that is — sitting alone at the bar top, slightly hunched over as she taps on her phone, a glass of wine in the other hand.
Harry doesn't know Y/N that well. He knows that she went to college with Naomi, who started inviting her to things around a year ago, and now she's always just around. He's unsure if she actually likes any of them besides Naomi, though — she's quiet and introverted, which Harry respects and understands, but the one-on-one conversations they've had are few and far between.
But that's why his interest is piqued in the first place. He's never witnessed her sitting alone at the bar, and a twinge of concern fires through him as he watches her. He clears his throat and turns back to the table, unintentionally cutting Lea off.
"Is Y/N okay?" he asks, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bar.
"What? I didn't even know she was here," Lea says as she peers over with a shrug, "Seems fine to me."
She continues on with her story and Harry rolls his eyes, grabbing his pint and striding over to where Y/N is sitting. He props himself up on the stool next to her and waves the bartender down, pointing to his glass.
"Hey, Y/N," Harry greets easily as his glass gets refilled. She looks up from her phone and immediately locks it, as if he's tearing her from some deep thinking, surprised that anyone would come to bother her in a busy pub. "How are you?"
With slightly parted lips, she looks a bit bewildered. "Um... I'm fine. How are you, Harry?"
He swallows, glancing down at the half-full glass of white wine she's drinking. He's never actually seen her drunk, despite near-weekly meetups at this pub. She seems tipsy, not fully under water, though decently buzzed.
"I'm good, thanks," he forces a smile onto his lips as an effort to seem as though he's not concerned for her wellbeing. "I saw you over here and realized I didn't even say hi to you."
Y/N shrugs. "I didn't really feel like socializing tonight. Naomi kind of dragged me here."
"Ah, Claire did the same to me," Harry replies understandingly, nodding his head, "Said she'd kidnap me if I didn't come out."
She scoffs at that before tilting the glass back towards her lips, taking another hearty gulp. He doesn't miss the thin wince she makes as the liquid touches her tongue, swallowing it down quickly.
"Is it 'cos you got broken up with, too?"
Harry's eyes widen at her question, but she's already looked past him, zoning out with a bleary look.
"Oh... I'm sorry, Y/N. Do you want to talk about it?"
He's not great at emotional conversations, especially with people he barely knows, but he supposes it's a decent explanation for why she's in this state. He's content with lending a shoulder to cry on, he decides, because he doubts Naomi had done the same.
"It wasn't really a breakup, it's fine," she mutters with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We weren't dating, is what I mean."
Although she attempts at some sort of explanation, Harry's still confused, but he nods as if he understands.
"Was it like a friends with benefits situation?" he guesses, and she shrugs noncommittally.
"Kind of."
"So it was complicated, then," Harry murmurs. He gets that — he's been there a thousand times over, and he understands the pain associated with those types of situations.
"It wasn't," she shakes her head, and now Harry knows she's just spewing out drunken nonsense, "He was my... dominant. Or tried to be. He was really fucking shitty at it."
Dominant?
The familiar word echoes through the chambers of Harry's mind. He's certainly not unacquainted with dominant and submissive dynamics, but he's shocked — more than, really — that Y/N refers to a typically taboo word in such a casual way. He chalks it up to the alcohol, but he's still surprised that Y/N even had a dominant to begin with.
"I met him on one of those stupid seeking arrangements websites, which honestly never produces good results," Y/N continues, making Harry's eyes widen even more. He's sure that she would never reveal this information to any of their mutual friends, let alone him of all people. "Every dom I've had from there has been... whatever. But he was particularly awful, and he just ended things out of nowhere. Normally I like to have someone else lined up, but... yeah."
Even in her alcohol-fueled state, Y/N realizes that she's rambling, providing far too many personal details to Harry, who she rarely talks to. She knows she'll be ridiculously embarrassed by the entire evening as soon as the wine drunk haze wears off, but for now, Harry's on the receiving end of her secrets.
Harry clears his throat and straightens his posture, sitting up a little taller. "Well, you said it yourself. Those sites are shitty, the dominants on there are usually just looking to experiment for the first time and they don't know what they're doing. The local BDSM community is your best bet... clubs and gatherings and such."
Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows and peers at Harry beside her. He's looking straight ahead and nibbling on his bottom lip, his hand firmly grasped around his glass. She doesn't know much about Harry besides the fact that he works at some large company with a relatively well-off position. He's gorgeous, of course, and has flings with people here and there but otherwise, her knowledge of what him is... well, almost non-existent.
It wasn't totally impossible — the likelihood that Harry, like Y/N, was involved in similar sexual dynamics. She wouldn't classify herself as part of the BDSM community, but perhaps it was because she'd never dove headfirst into learning about it outside of what she's interested in. She felt that what she looked for in a dominant was rather... specific.
"Do you... are you...?" Y/N doesn't quite know how to phrase the question, "are you a dom?" without sounding like a total creep, so she allows him to fill in the blanks. His throat bobs as he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging his shoulders tersely.
"Yeah," he finally answers. "Not very consistently, I guess, but I'll take on a sub a few times year. Usually for a few months."
She nods slowly, squinting her eyes a bit as she tries to picture it. She's not sure what type of dominant Harry is — whether he's sweet and soft, or tough and enjoys pushing his subs to their limit each and every time — but regardless, the mere thought of it is enough to make her squeeze her thighs.
"What about you?" he asks, shifting his position to face her. "It sounds like you go through doms kind of... quickly."
Y/N hums, "Kind of, I guess. I think I have kind of... like, particular needs, and not everyone is interested in it."
It's the most they've ever spoken to one another, and Harry doesn't even think before he's asking her what exactly she looks for in a dominant. He's immediately embarrassed — he doesn't know what made him question her so openly, but he can't help his curiosity.
She waves his slight exasperation off, clearly not offended by his press for details.
"Can I just ask that you don't tell anyone?" Y/N says, looking at the man sitting next to her. "It's like, a little embarrassing, and I've never told our friends about it. Not even Naomi."
"Of course," Harry quips. He's always been good at keeping those types of things under wraps — he didn't believe anyone had anything to gain by learning about someone's sexual interests.
"I... I guess I have some trauma stemming from childhood that I've worked through in recent years. It's not important to this, but I tend to look for dominants who fulfill more of a caretaker role. I like to be... taken care of. In certain ways."
Her cheeks flush as the words leave her mouth as he listens to her closely. He's not sure if he's reading between the lines, looking too far into her explanation, but he gets it. He thinks.
"So... a daddy dom?" Harry asks softly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and nods curtly.
"That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he murmurs once he receives confirmation, "A lot of people like that type of relationship. I can understand why you'd be interested in it, especially if you have trauma."
She shrugs. "A lot of people think it's weird, too."
"Sure, but those aren't the people you should be seeking relationships out with," Harry replies easily, "What do you look for specifically? I'm sure we could find someone for you in the community."
Y/N lets a deep breath out, rolling her neck to each of her shoulders. She can't believe they're having this conversation in public, but she'd be lying if she said Harry wasn't easy to talk to. Plus, at the night went on, more people filed out of the bar considering it was a weekday.
"It's not necessarily age play I'm after, which I think a lot of people think is what I want," she explains, "Just like... a caregiver, I guess, that's there for me both in and out of the bedroom. I, um... on bad days, fall into a... headspace, and it's very difficult to navigate that on my own. If that makes sense."
"Makes perfect sense," Harry nods. "Are you looking for punishments and such?"
"Yeah." she breathes, nibbling at her lip as she crosses her legs, attempting to mitigate the dull throbbing in her core.
"Y/N, do you have my number?"
She swallows as she peers up at him through her eyelashes, shaking her head. He puts his hand out and she grabs her phone, placing it in his palm. He taps at the screen and she assumes he's putting his information in her contacts.
"Claire drove me here so I can't give you a ride home, but I'm gonna order you an Uber so you can head home," he murmurs lowly, handing her phone back to her. "Text me tomorrow. Can we get together after work?"
Y/N nods with slightly rounded eyes, making him smile gently. He realizes she must be more depraved than he thought if she's already slipping into her little space from an act as simple from that.
"Keep it together 'til you get home," Harry says with a quirked eyebrow, though embarrassment quickly washes over Y/N's body. He chuckles as she blushes, patting her thigh lightly. "I'll walk you out."
She grabs her bag and follows him out of the bar, welcoming the autumnal chill as it pimples her skin.
"Are you gonna slip on the way back?"
Y/N looks up to see Harry towering over her, a concerned expression on his face.
"N-no. I'm fine."
He continues analyzing her for a moment or two more before he finally nods once. "Okay. If you feel yourself getting there, call me."
"I won't. I promise."
Harry hums as a black sedan rolls up to the curb. He checks to make sure it's the correct license plate before guiding her to the car and holding the door open for her. She gets in the backseat and he nods at the driver, murmuring down at her, "seatbelt on."
She complies readily and he smiles, patting her head softly. "Message me when you get home. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Harry."
20 minutes later when he receives a text from her stating that she's made it home safely, he already knows he'll do anything to be her dominant.
. . .
Harry half expects Y/N to pretend like last night ever happened.
He would understand it if she did. She was tipsy, revealing intimate details about her sexual preferences pertaining to BDSM. No one else from their friend group knew. It just ended up coming out for both of them — Harry doesn't parade his dominant role in the bedroom all around town, but if someone he knows asks, he's happy to admit to it and talk more about it. He's not ashamed by any means, but he can tell that Y/N is. She prefaced her explanation by stating that she has trauma — and really, who doesn't? — and hinted that dominants in the past have found her requests to be weird.
Harry doesn't think the whole daddy dom thing is strange. He understands it, especially pertaining to a psychological, healing level. He's never engaged in that sort of dynamic before, typically sticking to scratching the itch his submissives usually had, whether it be getting tossed around a little, orgasm denial, or being tied up. He was happy to do what made them happy, but he usually kept it in the bedroom.
The thought of taking up a caregiver role in Y/N's life made his spine tingle.
He's always been interested in her — not even in a romantic or sexual way, he's always just found her fascinating. She's quiet and shy, beautiful, and the definition of a wallflower. Naomi brought her in one day and she just never left. It's been a year since then and Harry doesn't think she's spoken more than 15 words to the others.
And so, with all of this knowledge under his belt, he spends his day at work worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and constantly unlocking his phone. When he gets home that evening, narrowly avoiding Claire's proposal at more social interaction, he's lost all hope, even though he did tell her to text him when she was finished with work. He's properly pouting as he sits on his couch, knees to his chest, when his phone lights up on the coffee table in front of him.
From: Y/N Y/L/N
hey harry:) first of all, im so sorry about last night. i was clearly having a tough day and i definitely took advantage of u being willing to chat with me, so im sorry if i revealed too much or took you away from everyone else.. i know u don't go out often and im really sorry if i ruined it
im also not sure if you still have interest in what we talked about last night w helping me find someone... its totally ok if you've changed ur mind or you were just drunk or whatever. again, i know i was being a lot so no worries!! sorry! just lmk :)
Harry's heart squeezes as he reads over her repeated apologies. In two texts, she said variations of "I'm sorry" four times. She thought she had ruined his night in some way when it was the complete opposite.
His thumbs hover over the screen as he thinks of a response. He's over the moon that she still decided to text him and that she'd avoiding the path of pretending nothing happened. In all honesty, he's unsure if he could live with himself when he had all those images and thoughts of her in his head, knowing that they'd just moved on from it.
Hey Y/N. Please don't apologize for last night, I had a really nice time talking to you. I'm definitely still interested. Are you available tonight?
She's quick in her reply, which makes him smile. He can imagine the way she's probably alternating between biting her lip and picking at the skin around her fingernails, both of which he assumed were nervous habits that he picked up on last night.
ok if you say so.. and yes im free! i was planning on ordering some takeout if ur interested, i don't really have any food here that isn't a baked good lol
Harry chuckles at that. Claire mentioned once that Y/N works at the bakery close to the park he does his morning jogs through. When he passes by at early sunrise, the windows are often illuminated with a warm glow, and he wonders if it's coming from her.
That's okay, I was planning on cooking if you'd like me to bring you some. I have ingredients for a stir fry. Would that be okay?
She replies with what he can only describe as a bashful but affirmative answer (only if you're sure!! but that sounds great!) and sends a second message with her address. He's beaming as he chops up vegetables and sautes them up rice noodles and homemade peanut sauce, indulging in the simple act of cooking for Y/N.
Last night, after he'd gotten home from the bar, he'd done some research on daddy dom relationships. He knew of them, but if he was going to offer being Y/N's, he wanted to ensure that he was knowledgable on anything she could want. He learned that there were many different facets of that type of dynamic, some of which he was comfortable with and some of which he wasn't. Like any other dominant and submissive relationship, hard and soft limits would be discussed, but this one, Harry realized, wouldn't just consist of kinks he had no interest in engaging in.
As he spoons the finished stir fry into a plastic container to take to Y/N's, his stomach brews with butterflies. He's never expressed interest in dominating someone he already knows in real life. Those relationships existed purely in the confides of the bedroom. It's a commitment, he understands, to engage in such an agreement with her.
So why isn't he scared?
. . .
"This is delicious, Harry," Y/N all but moans over her serving of stir fry, chopsticks in hand. He smiles before biting into a piece of broccoli coated in peanut sauce.
"I'm glad you like it. It's a go-to dish for me, especially on weekdays when I'm exhausted from work."
She hums, nodding thoughtfully as she chews. A temporary silence takes over as they eat, ended by Harry eventually clearing his throat and gently placing his bowl on the table.
"So, about finding you a dom," he says, and her eyes perk up slightly, as if she's an over-excited puppy. "I have a proposition."
"Oh, you found someone already?"
"Sort of," Harry answers vaguely, "I think— well, no, I know. I would be interested in taking that place."
Y/N raises her eyebrows. She sets her own bowl of food on the table and purses her lips as she chews the rest of the contents in her mouth.
"I don't think you want that." she says gently.
"Why?" he shoots back, a near immediate response, "I spent all night and day thinking about it. I do."
Y/N sighs, "Because it's more than just spanking me when I have an attitude with you or cooking me a meal. I can be a lot, Harry, and it's the reason why I've gone through so many dominants already."
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you go through so many because they're the problem?" Harry asks. "You lay it all out on the table, right? You tell them exactly what you're looking for. Everything you told me last night."
She nods.
"And they still agree. You tell them you want a dominant outside of the bedroom, too, that the 'daddy' role you're looking for is a caretaker," Harry continues, "So how does that make you the issue?"
"Because what I'm looking for is... unconventional," she fights back, convinced in her stance. "Guys think the whole daddy thing is hot until... until I actually need them."
"It's not unconventional, Y/N. I did a ton of research last night. There are a million sites explaining what a DDLG relationship is and what it can consist of. The things that go into it on both sides, but especially on the dominant's. I'm not saying I know everything about being one, but I've at least cared to learn."
Y/N sighs and rolls her lips into mouth. She'll admit, she's impressed. She's not sure any guy she's ever been with has done that.
"So... what would you want, then?" Y/N asks, her voice softened.
"Well, I definitely have limits, but it's mainly dependent on what you're interested in," Harry explains. She finds that he's far too nonchalant for his own good, and the casual nature of his tone makes her even more nervous.
"If you did some research then I'm sure you learned about the extents it can go to," she says thoughtfully and he nods, resting his chin in his palm, "I don't have a desire for the more extreme things. Diapers and pacifiers and all that."
"Okay."
She's taken aback by his lack of response — part of her expected some sort of "oh, thank god" — but she's starting to wonder if Harry just simply exists in a nonjudgmental space. One that she's very much not used to.
"I just want someone to take care of me," she eventually forced out, setting her gaze on her bare thighs, a pair of lavender sweatshorts hung around her hips. "I can be bratty both in bed and out. I like to be put in my place. I enjoy being teased and humiliated. I like punishments and being pushed to my limits, even if I give you a hard time about it. I've been described as a handful when I'm feeling... little."
Harry had read a decent amount about "little space" last night. He'd dominated some partners to the point of falling into subspace, but little space seemed to differ. With his base knowledge on submission, he was able to tell that she was slipping into hers last night, giving him the inkling that making decisions for her and taking away the guess work was something she liked.
"I'm sure you're not, but all of those things are fine by me," Harry replies easily, "What do you like when you're feeling little?"
"It depends on what put me there. If I had a bad day at work, I like a bath and you cooking for me... I get really touchy. If it happens from a sexual scenario, it can be quite difficult to pull me out. But I get really quiet... I'll be more pliable, allow you to throw me around. I'll usually cry, but if you're doing things correctly, they won't be bad tears. Just from overwhelm."
"What sexual scenarios put you there?"
She clears her throat, her tongue thick in her mouth. Thinking about these things is enough to make her slip, but she won't disclose that. At least not right now.
"A number of things... edging or orgasm denial, being tied up and gagged. Anal since it requires trust and prepping. Any type of punishment, but especially spanking."
Harry's nodding his head as she speaks, apparent that he's processing everything she's telling him. He's not surprised by anything, per se, considering he's open to different experiences and nothing seems undoable. It's as if he's making a mental list, adding a separate section to his brain with Y/N's name plastered over it, filing away the information.
"What about when you're not feeling little?" Harry proceeds with little befuddlement, "What does the ideal dominant look like for you then?"
"Um... still just loving and caring. I likely won't be as bratty. More... in control of myself, I suppose," Y/N murmurs in reflection. "I would still like to have scenes with you when I'm not in that headspace, if that's alright. I'm not sure if it would be crossing a boundary."
"Of course." he answers readily without a blink of doubt, "When I embark on a dominant and submissive relationship, I don't like to half-ass it. I don't think there's a point in only asking for me when you need me. You'll never find comfort in me when you're feeling small."
Her heart warms at that, flutters in her tummy making it difficult to hide the smile curling at her lips. She assumes that she should've guessed Harry would be good at this type of thing; she's witnessed how deeply he cares for people. Even when they barely knew each other, he always greeted Y/N like they'd known one another for years, asking about her job at the bakery (she doesn't even remember if she told him he worked at one) and what sweets they were creating nowadays.
She thinks Harry just has a way of making people feel special.
It's what makes her core tingle, squeezing her thighs together for a semblance of relief as she rolls her lips into her mouth. She can feel herself starting to dampen in her underwear and she glances down at Harry's lower half, peeking through her eyelashes to see if he has a growing bulge.
"Do you think we can do a scene tonight, maybe?" Y/N asks softly, glancing back up at his eyes.
Harry chuckles. "I take it you think I'd be a good fit for you then."
"Mhm."
"You're cute," he smirks and pinches her thigh lightly, "No scenes tonight though. I can come over tomorrow, but I want to properly feed you and make sure you're hydrated before we do anything."
Y/N nods as she nibbles on her bottom lip. If she's being honest, she wants nothing more than to crawl into Harry's lap, parting her thighs and grinding into him while he babbles dirty words into her ear. She's always found him attractive, but knowing that he's willing to cater to her own sexual desires lights a fire deep in her stomach.
"I'm gonna head home, but I'm looking forward to getting started with you," Harry says with a small smile, "Oh, one more thing — no touching yourself tonight."
Her eyes widen as he stands from the couch, ready to grovel; they haven't even begun doing anything yet and he's already telling her what to do—
"Y/N," Harry growls, reaching up to grab her face. He squishes her cheeks together and her pupils broaden, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. "Nod if you understand."
She nods.
"Good girl. I'll text you when I'm coming over tomorrow. I'll bring you dinner again."
Again, she nods.
"Say 'thank you', Y/N."
"Thank you, daddy."
Harry's lips curl into a smirk, releasing his grasp. "Oh, we're gonna have fun together."
. . .
The next day, Y/N can't stop squirming.
It's to the point where her co-workers notice that she's jumpier than normal, clumsy in her icing and piping when she's normally spot-on and nearly perfect in her efforts. She hears from Harry a few times throughout the day — he texts her in the morning and during his lunch break, checking in to see how she's doing, and it makes her entire body swarm with butterflies. He asks if she's eating a proper lunch (she's not), scolds her for it (which she secretly enjoys), and then tells her he'll make her something for her to take to work tomorrow.
Thankfully, she doesn't have a closing shift today, so she's done at a little past 6 pm. It's to her surprise, though, when she's peeling off her flour-coated apron, she spots Harry standing outside the bakery, a cozy cardigan and a graphic t-shirt covering his body.
Y/N has to do a double take. He didn't say anything about meeting her at work this evening, but he has to be here for her, doesn't he?
After sliding her jacket on and grabbing her tote bag, she exits the bakery, closing the glass door behind her gingerly. Harry turns, his eyes lighting up when he sees her.
"Hey," he greets with a grin, "Have a good day at work?"
"Um, yeah, it was alright. Sorry, did we say you would pick me up? I must've forgotten—"
"Oh, no," Harry shakes his head as he jerks his head in the direction of his car, reaching out to slide her bag off of her shoulder. He takes it into his hand, his fingers wrapping around the canvas strap as she shuffles to keep up. "I finished making dinner a little early, figured I'd meet you here. Is that alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's really nice of you, thank you."
Harry hums as they approach his car. He unlocks the doors and they both get in, but he leans over before she has a chance to buckle herself up, clicking her seatbelt in. It's a small act that makes the butterflies return, but she doesn't comment on it as he starts the engine and begins the short drive back to hers.
"I made us some veggie pasta for dinner tonight. Does that sound good?"
"Delicious," Y/N replies honestly as she watches blurs of warm-toned leaves go by. "Thank you again."
A soft smile appears on his lips as he pulls onto her road. "Of course. How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright. A little tired. Nervous, to be honest."
Harry chuckles and briefly glances over at her, "Yeah? Nothing to be nervous about. We'll take it slow."
She shuffles in her seat and wedges her hands between her thighs. "Just don't want you to judge me, is all."
"I won't, but we did manage to forget to have the conversation on hard sexual limits. Do you mind listing yours?"
She nods. She's done this dance enough times to know the importance of discussing this subject matter, though she doubts there's much Harry could do that wouldn't be a turn-on for her.
"Um, any bathroom things, fisting, foot stuff... I'm fine with anal as long as we agree upon doing it beforehand. And if you're going to inflict physical pain on me, that's fine, but I'd prefer it if we built up to it — so, like, starting with spanking then the belt or a paddle."
"Sure, that makes perfect sense. I like to have conversations with my subs after we do a scene, so we can see how you feel about what we did," he pulls into a parking spot outside of her home, yanking the key from the ignition, "And, just so you know — no anal tonight and no spanking unless you deserve it."
He taps her cheek gently with his spare hand and she flushes as she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She follows him up to her front door and fishes her keys from the pocket of her jacket, unlocking it and stepping inside.
"Are y'alright with the traffic light system?" Harry questions as he sets her bag down on the slim table placed in the entryway.
"Yeah. My safe word is yarn, just FYI."
He wrinkles his eyebrows and pulls a few to-go containers out from his own bag. He opens his mouth to question her but she puts her hand up to stop him.
"I like to crochet. Don't make fun of me for it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry murmurs, traipsing in the direction of her kitchen, "Go change out of your work clothes and put something pretty on for me, angel girl."
She's happy to comply, immediately feeling giddy at Harry telling her what to do from the get-go. When she gets upstairs and to her bedroom, she meanders over to the drawer she has for evenings like this. It's filled with lacy bodysuits and ruffly underwear, knee high socks, and pastel lingerie. Eager to rid her body of the jeans and sweater she wore all day, she opts for a sheer pink bralette and matching shorts that barely cover her bum. It's a sweet set that she personally likes, but she can't help the slight worry that Harry won't enjoy it as much as she does.
She's already meandering into her little headspace as she heads back downstairs. Harry's already plated up their dinner, complete with small servings of a side salad. He looks up as soon as he hears her soft padding across the length of the living room, his jaw falling slack at her appearance.
"Look at you," he coos, standing from the couch and closing the distance between them, "You look beautiful."
Y/N licks her lips, keeping her gaze low. She feels herself slipping, but for once, she's not scared of letting it happen.
"What's wrong, little one?" Harry asks gently, pressing his pointer finger and thumb to her chin, raising her head, "Are you feeling small already?"
She nods, her eyes round.
"Mm, that was quick. Just from daddy taking care of you and putting on these pretty little clothes, huh?"
Again, she nods.
"Alright. Let's get some food in your belly and then daddy can play with you a bit?"
This time, she shakes her head.
"No? No scene tonight?" Harry guesses through furrowed brows.
"Wanna play now, please."
"Ahhhh," he nods, understanding now that she's looking to skip out on dinner. "Gotta eat first, baby. Then we'll play."
Y/N pouts and he chuckles, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her towards the couch.
"C'mon. You can sit in my lap, hm?"
Still in the trousers he wore to work today, Harry settles back against the couch. He pulls her body into his, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady.
"Is this good?" he asks softly, catching the shell of her ear.
"Yes." she peeps, nibbling on her lip.
"Alright baby, grab your food for me. Gotta eat at least half before we do anything."
Wringing her hands in her lap, Y/N doesn't move. Harry runs his fingertips along the length of her arm, nosing at her shoulder.
"Would you... daddy, I..."
Her voice trails off and his heart squeezes, eager to coax whatever she's trying to say out of her.
"Ask, honey. Use your words." he encourages tenderly.
She forces the words out, even if they feel humiliating despite her clouded head. "Can you feed me, please?"
Harry hums. He won't say it in the moment because he can tell the request was difficult to muster out, but his entire body feels infinitely softer. He leans forward to grab her serving, scooping some pasta on the fork.
"Y'gonna be good and eat for me now?"
She nods, "I will. Thank you, daddy."
He murmurs out a you're welcome, continuing the quiet pattern of feeding her, watching her chew and swallow, and going back for more. He doesn't let her get off without eating a few bites of salad, chuckling gently at her quiet protests.
"Still feeling good?" Harry asks, setting her empty bowl back on the coffee table.
"Mhm. Playtime now?"
He smiles and nods, carefully shimmying her body off his lap. "Why don't you go upstairs and wait for me? Daddy needs to eat too."
Y/N shakes her head and sinks to the carpet, pressing her chin to his knee. "Wanna be close, please."
"Yeah?" Harry chuckles, grabbing his own bowl of pasta, "Okay, baby, you can sit there but no touching. I know you're nearly gagging for my cock."
He watches as she shivers, nibbling on her bottom lip and shifting her position slightly so her cheek is smushed against his thigh. He laughs quietly and threads his fingers through her hair, quickly eating his own portion. He can't deny that he's just as excited to get started — he, too, has been thinking about this all day, deciding what positions he'd fold her body into, if he'd edge her or overstimulate her with orgasm upon orgasm. He didn't want to fully push her limits so quickly — he wanted to create a foundation of trust between each other, but he couldn't help the inevitable daydreams that clouded his day.
He finishes his food quickly, tapping her head playfully to alert her that he's done. She lifts her head and he takes in her moony gaze, his heart thumping quickly in his chest at how sweet she looks.
"Upstairs, bunny. Hands and knees, bum in the air, okay?" He plucks at her bottom lip as he grants her guidance, her eyes fluttering shut, relieved to finally be getting instructions. She scurries up to her bedroom, listening to Harry putter around as he places their dirty dishes in the sink. As he asks, she lets her knees meld into the foamy texture of the mattress. With her cheek pressed against the pillow, she folds her legs and maneuvers her lower half into his requested position.
It feels like an eternity before Y/N hears Harry enter the room, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't move to remove any of his clothes, instead kneeling onto the bed behind her.
"You've been doing so good for daddy, haven't you, baby?"
She knows it's a rhetorical question but she nods into the plushy pillow, wiggling her butt. He chuckles and allows his palms to roam the expanse of her skin, from the bottoms of her thighs up to the swell of her ass. She keens at the feel of his touch, already obsessed with the way his large hands fit over her body.
"We won't be doing too much tonight, but I'll be asking for your color consistently. I want you to use your safe word at any point you deem necessary. Is that clear?"
Y/N nods her head and hums, though her answer is slightly muffled by the fluff of the pillow.
He continues rubbing slow circles into the globes of her ass, intent on getting her to feel as relaxed as possible. He can tell she's excited — he is, too — but above anything, he wants her to be calm.
"I brought some toys and things for us to play with," Harry continues, her ears perking up, "Can you tell me your color for each of them? It's perfectly okay if it changes at some point. I'd just like an idea of what you want."
Y/N has never had someone care this much — every time a dominant brought a toy to a session, he'd thrown it in there haphazardly. A vibrator turned up way too high, terribly knitted rope and, the worst by far, a butt plug that wasn't lubed whatsoever.
So she's keening over the care Harry puts into his role, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as he shuffles off the bed for a moment and slings the tote bag onto the comforter. She still can't see a thing that he's doing, but as she floats into a comfortable cloudy mindset, she becomes more and more content with letting him make the rules.
"Okay, baby. Know you want daddy to make the decisions but I need you to be good for me and tell me what you're comfortable with," Harry murmurs, his fingertips dancing along the soft material of her waistband. He doesn't dip below or tug them down; it more so feels like a reminder of what can come if she's good. "Tying your wrists with silk ties. Color?"
Her pussy pulsates at the immediate vision of her arms tied high above her head, unable to touch herself or him. "Mm. Green."
"And what about your legs? Are you okay with rope, or would you prefer silk down there, too?"
"Either one, daddy. Green for both."
Harry hums, dipping down to slowly press light kisses down the length of her spine. She shivers at the sensation of his soft lips making contact with her skin for the first time. "A vibrator for your cute little pussy?"
"Green," she whimpers as his hands find purchase on her hips.
"Can daddy use his mouth on you?" he asks, the low vibrations of his voice making her core leak with arousal. "On your pussy?"
"Yes, yes," Y/N nearly pleads, bucking her hips up against his grasp. He tuts softly, and she can imagine the way his tongue flicks up against his two front bunny teeth, a look of disappointment painted over his face.
"Be patient, bunny. Don't need you squirming around just 'cos you wanna be touched."
She wants to groan out when he removes his hands from her skin but resists the urge, especially because he just told her to be patient (something Y/N has never been good at). She feels like it's a punishment in and of itself — he's barely done anything, but she can still feel the phantom kisses he placed down her back, and the skin stretching over her hips somehow feels lonely without his large palms pawing at it.
"On your back." Harry suddenly instructs. She's quick to obey, rolling over onto the plush duvet. He's fast in his movements and already kneeling above her, wrapping her wrists together and fastening a bow with pink silk. "Have you used these before? Do you know how to get out of them if you need to?"
Y/N nods. She knows that she can simply pull her wrists apart to quickly dissolve the knot, instantly freeing herself.
"Good girl. Daddy's gonna use rope for your legs, okay? Use your safe word or red if you need."
She has to admit, she's immediately impressed with Harry's apparent knowledge of bondage. She's been tied up many times before, but if she had to guess how many times someone's properly tied her hands, breasts, or legs with rope, it would likely only be once or twice.
A wet gasp leaves her mouth when she realizes Harry isn't just tying her ankles down to the bed post. Instead, he's pressing her calves into the backs of her thighs, the slight burn of the rope pressing into her flesh in the most delicious way. Although she's able to close her legs, the knots still remove most of her mobility, especially with her arms tucked above her head.
After finishing with her legs, Harry stands from the bed, still in his tee-shirt and trousers. He admires his work from above with a devilish smirk on his face, making Y/N's skin warm.
"Aren't you just a wet dream?" he mocks lightly, trailing his fingertips up and along her knee, "All tied up and absolutely useless, hm? Can't even get out of bed, can you?"
Y/N shakes her head, her bottom lip beginning to wobble at his teasing. Everything about the scene is already so intense, the build-up so delicious and consuming and— fuck, he hasn't even touched her yet.
"You just need your daddy to do everything for you, don't you?" Harry continues, kneeling into the mattress. His hands find the insides of her thighs and he pushes them apart, but his eyes don't even fall to her core, instead keeping them square on her wide-eyed gaze. "Helpless little baby, aren't you? Say it. Say your daddy's helpless baby."
"I'm— I'm daddy's helpless baby." she stammers out, her tongue heavy in her mouth.
"Are you gonna cry already, bunny?" he asks, his lips curling up into a wicked smirk, "Haven't even fuckin' done a thing and you're crying over being tied up. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Wanted daddy to make all your choices? Get all cock dumb and drunk on my cum?"
She nods futilely. She doesn't even realize the wetness pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she feels tears leaking steadily as soon as he mentions it.
"P-please daddy. Wanna be touched."
"Ah, so you do have some thoughts going on up there."
It seems like maybe that's all it takes for Harry to finally cease his mocking, digging into the tote bag at the side of the bed to produce a silicone vibrator. It's light blue and long, with a bulbous head at the tip that she assumes is for stimulating the spongey spot deep inside of her.
He finds a spot between her thighs, kneeling back on his ankles. His hands move up her inner thighs and to the creases of where her legs meet her core, the sheer fabric of her pale pink shorts immediately giving way to the wetness seeping from her hole. Harry nearly groans out at that, the sight going straight to his rock hard cock being strained by layers of clothing.
With a feather light touch, he thumbs over her clit through the material. She immediately jolts and he chuckles, moving his finger to gently stroke over her mound.
"Desperate little thing. Begging for daddy's touch."
"Yes," Y/N mewls at the top of the bed, wiggling against the rough rope, "I need it daddy, please, touch me, I've been so good—"
"Have you?" he asks, retrieving his hand, "All you've done is do as I've asked. If anything, I'm the one that should get rewarded, don't you think? Picked you up from work, fed you, tied you up... sounds like you're just being greedy to me."
"I'm not— t-that is being good, daddy, I didn't touch myself like you said a-and I've earned it, please."
She's fully crying now, tears leaking from her eyes in steadfast streams that it actually makes Harry feel bad. She hasn't even stopped her begging by the time he's pulling her shorts down to reveal her weeping pussy, a soft tsk leaving his mouth.
"Stop pleading, bunny, I'll give you want you're so desperate for," Harry says, grabbing the vibrator. He'd initially planned to work her with his fingers before pressing the toy against her clit and pushing it inside, but he hasn't even spread her open and he can already see the creamy arousal coating her lips. He thinks that if he teases her for much longer, she may just disintegrate into the bed.
So instead, because he's him and he's not a nice dom, he cranks it onto the medium setting and nudges it up against her clit. She instantly gasps out and jerks her hips up at the vibrations, a near-yell leaving her throat. He's aware that every person is different and it'll take him some time to learn her body, but with the way that her legs are already shaking as he uses more pressure to press the toy against the bundle of nerves, he thinks he he's getting somewhere.
"Are you gonna cum already?" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes rake over her body. Her own eyes are scrunched up, her lips parted as small whimpers escape her throat, beads of sweat beginning to tumble down the slopes and curves of her skin — it's a sight, and he wishes to commit it to memory.
"Y-yes," she admits, nodding quickly, "Can I? Please?"
In response, he transfers the vibrator to his left hand and slowly pushes a finger into her pulsating hole.
"Go ahead."
He strokes once or twice against her g-spot with his finger before she's crumbling, her chest concave with haphazard breaths and her back arched. Moans readily fall from her lips, her pussy squeezing his finger so tight it nearly makes him cum on the spot.
As Y/N comes down from her peak, she recalls Harry saying that they weren't doing anything too crazy today, so she wonders if that's it. If so, she supposes that's fine, but she thinks she'll over him a blowie, offering to let him fuck her face while she's still tied up with silk and rope.
Instead, he cranks the vibrator up another setting and pushes a second finger inside, eliciting a broken groan from her chest.
"Again." Harry instructs, curling his fingers deep inside of her.
"O-oh," Y/N whimpers with shaking thighs and a dizzy head, "Daddy, I—"
"Again, bunny." he repeats, quickening the pace of his fingers. "I want another one. Now."
She quickly realizes that she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to reject Harry, because it only takes a few more pumps of his digits until she's squeezing him again. She's never had two orgasms so close together and she finds that this one is more intense, her muscles not even fully relaxed as they contract around him once again.
Her eyes are still closed when he removes his fingers and she thinks she hears a faint sucking noise, though she can't be sure. He lowers the vibrator setting but keeps it flush against her clit, despite the way her pussy is all but begging for a break.
"Color." Harry demands, his hand finding the backside of her knee.
"G-green," she hiccups through tear-stained cheeks, "Can keep going, daddy. Please."
He nods once, lowering so his stomach is pressed against the mattress now. He finally clicks the toy off and pushes it to the side, pausing his assault on her core before spreading her lips open with his fingers.
"Jesus, you're fuckin' pretty," he mutters, watching as her hole pulsates from two back-to-back orgasms. He spits, the saliva landing on her spread slit, making her gasp. "Who owns this pussy, bunny?"
Y/N's chest is heaving, but she still manages his honorific through wet, splotchy cheeks.
"Say it again." he commands before leaning forward to lick a fat stripe from her hole to her clit.
"It's yours, daddy." she whispers, her hands forming tight fists above her form.
"Good girl. That's what I want you to say when you cum next, okay?"
She doesn't have a chance to question yet another orgasms as his tongue makes contact with her pussy, moaning deeply. He's already obsessed with her taste and she's sure she's never had someone go down on her with this much vigor. She's gulping for air when his tongue darts in and out of her hole before licking up to her clit, lips wrapped around the nub as he sucks harshly, whines sounding from her mouth at the sensitivity.
Y/N has never understood the phrase "making out with her pussy" until this exact moment.
She doesn't even know if he's coming up for air much, but he's quick to figure out the pattern that makes her thighs shake. Messy sounds come from below as he slurps at the arousal leaking from her, using the width of his tongue to lick upwards to her clit over and over again.
"Daddy!" Y/N squeals, jerking her hips involuntarily, only to be pressing her core even closer to his mouth, "Please, I— I think—"
"Cum." he mutters into her, suckling at her clit with such fervor that Y/N genuinely thinks she may pass out.
She doesn't, though, but the intensity of her orgasm claws up her body rapidly, loud cries bubbling up her throat as she repeats clamors of, "it's yours daddy, your pussy, it's yours."
She feels him press chaste kisses against her mound as he gently begins to untie the ropes, slowly easing her legs out of their angled positions. Once they're free, he helps her stretch them outward, continuing his trail of kisses up her body until he's straddling her waist between his thighs.
"Color," Harry murmurs, reaching up to release his wrists from the silk. Her eyes are set on the bulge in his pants and he gently taps her cheek, "Bunny, tell me your color."
"Green, daddy. That looks like it hurts."
She uses her newly freed hands to point at his crotch and he chuckles, shaking his head.
"I'm fine, lovebug. Are you sure you're still green? Looking quite floaty."
"I am," Y/N lulls her head to the side, leaning it against her shoulder as she circles her wrists, "Wanna keep going though. 'm okay."
"Do you remember your safe word?" he questions, grabbing one of her wrists and pressing soft kisses into the skin.
"Mhm."
"What is it?"
"Yarn. 'cos I like to crochet."
Harry grins, relieved that she isn't too far off the deep end. He finds her to be especially adorable when she's in her little space, the moony gaze in her eyes removing any traces of stress from her day-to-day life.
"That's right, baby," he replies, pulling off his tee-shirt. "Daddy's gonna fuck you now. Is that alright?"
"Yes, please. But I don't think I wanna cum again."
He hums and nods, unbuckling his pants and kicking them off his legs, "That's perfectly fine, bunny. You got daddy so hard that I don't think it'll take much for me to cum."
Y/N giggles at that and makes grabby hands at him, making him chuckle. "Off, please," she says, pointing to the briefs straining his cock.
"You're such a polite little girl, did you know that?" Harry asks as he pushes his underwear down, settling in between her legs.
"Daddy's polite girl."
If his cock wasn't painfully hard right now, he might've laughed at her repeating his words. Unfortunately, an hour of overstimulating Y/N and watching her writhe beneath his grasp, all tied up with no choice but to just take it — he's shivering at the images of it, and he knows he needs to cum within the next five minutes or his dick will surely fall off.
"Gonna push in, okay?" Harry asks softly, rubbing circles into her hip, "Remember, tell me if you need to stop. Daddy will always listen to you."
Y/N nods her head, blinking away the leftover moisture in her eyes from her bout of cries earlier. She knows that if she didn't feel so comfortable with him, there's no way she would be this far in her little space right now, where she just wants him to take and take until he's satisfied. It's maybe happened three or four times in the past with a dom she had that was actually pretty good, but she knows now doesn't even begin to measure up with Harry.
When his cock pops through her tight walls, it's a bit of a stretch, but she's wet enough with arousal from three orgasms that it barely burns. Instead, she finds herself enjoying the way her core adapts to his shape — not to mention, he looks gorgeous above her with his eyes squeezed closed and his jaw dropped in a quiet groan.
When she doesn't safe word, Harry starts to move. He takes it slow, knowing that if he immediately starts to pump the full of his length inside of her, it may cause her more pain than pleasure, regardless of how small she's feeling. Her plushy lips part as moans begin to fall from them, hooking her ankles behind his form to bring him closer.
"You're so big, daddy," Y/N breathes out, a strangled whimper coming from Harry. "I love it, I love having you inside me."
"Yeah? My little girl wants her daddy's cock in her all the time?" He pushes through grit teeth, his jaw flexing as he begins to quicken his strokes, "Tell me, bunny. Tell me how much you want daddy."
"Oh—," she mewls as he begins to brush up against her g-spot, "I want it always daddy, I-I need it— oh, god— please daddy, please—"
"Sweet little girl sounds so pretty when she begs," He says as he takes one of his palms and presses it against her lower stomach, "This pretty pussy is mine now. You hear me? It's daddy's pussy."
"Yes, yes— fuck, it's yours daddy!"
Harry growls — actually growls — and shifts his hand down to smack against her clit, a throaty moan falling from Y/N's mouth.
"Dumb little babies don't curse," he snaps, slapping her clit once more, "Or do you wanna be punished? Not get any of daddy's cum?"
She shakes her head quickly, her eyes nearly rolling back at the sting of pain radiating through her core. "I want it, please!"
"Yeah? Beg for it, bunny."
She does — she pleads and begs and all but grovels on her hands and knees until Harry pulls out and pumps his cock over her, ropes of warm cum painting the skin of her stomach all the way up to her chest. There's so much (like an impressive amount, Y/N thinks), and she wants to scoop it up and taste it, but Harry grabs her wrist and gives her a look before she can.
"If you do that, you will have to call out of work tomorrow."
She giggles and nibbles on her bottom lip, the little headspace she's swimming in telling her to disobey him. He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tee-shirt he was wearing earlier and swiping it over her body, ridding her of his cum.
"You're a naughty little thing," he mumbles, tossing the tee-shirt to the floor — he makes a mental note to throw her bedding and everything in the wash once she's out of her little space. "C'mon baby, up. Gonna take a bath now."
"With you, right?" Y/N mumbles with heavy eyes. He nods as he leans down to scoop her up in his arms, guiding them to the bathroom. He sits her on the toilet and she frowns, making him roll his eyes.
"You don't want a UTI. This isn't a sex thing, just pee while I run you a bath."
She does but only because he tells her to, and she knows she'll feel embarrassed about this tomorrow, but she's okay with it right now. He busies himself with turning the water and making sure it's warm before plugging the drain.
"I brought some bubble bath and epsom salts with me but it's in my bag. Can I leave you while I go get those?"
Again, Y/N nods wordlessly and he leans down to press a kiss to her hair. She flushed and wipes while he's gone, and he returns while she's washing her hands.
Harry knows it feels oddly domestic of them to be naked and prepping to take a bath together after an intense scene, especially since this is the first time they've done this. In the back of his mind, he wonders if they should've talked through the implications of them beginning this type of relationship — a ruined friendship being one of them — and he knows it was selfish of him to forgo that conversation altogether.
He ignores his worries and instead helps her into the bubble bath once it's ready, tucking his body in behind hers as soon as she's situated. It's silent between them for the first time in hours as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, lightly massaging her shoulders.
"How are you feeling?" He finally asks after a few moments of quiet.
"Tired," she mumbles, laying back against his broad chest. He can't tell if she's still floaty by her one-word response so he continues rubbing her back, allowing her to sink into the warmth of the bath.
They don’t speak again after that, not until the water goes cold and Y/N almost falls asleep in the comfort of his arms. In the meantime, he makes sure to gently swirl a clean washcloth over her skin, using his favorite lavender scented body wash, and wash her knotty hair. All the while he whispers how special she is, how she’ll never be too much, but especially not to him. He decides it’s okay if she doesn’t hear him because she’s too out of it, but hopes that his words at least seep into her subconscious so she believes the same.
#I will proof read this when I’m not so burnt out !#writing#harry styles#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#Harry styles angst#harry styles x you#Harry styles au#harry styles oneshot#one direction
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Fire and water - Seonghwa x Reader
Summary: When you walk into the mechanic, you don't expect to see Seonghwa, the most intimidating person you've ever laid your eyes on. He's the complete opposite of you. But he opens the idea of something you've never considered, and before you know it, the door he has opened for you is already locked behind you.
Word count: 6K
Genre: SMUT
Warnings: smut, fem reader (fem pronouns), reader is very innocent and hwa is very not (lol), nicknames such as kitten and princess, oral sex (f receiving), hwa smokes, semi public sexual activities, lmk if I missed anything!
This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.
The intense smell of gasoline and oil fills your nose as you step into the unfamiliar space. Generic rock music plays from the radio and a few random posters hang on the walls. It doesn’t seem like the most professional place, but a car with an open hood in the middle of the room, assures you that you came to the right place. Your eyes scan the repair shop for someone to assist you, but the silence is enough of an answer for you.
You knew you arrived at a late hour, having spent most of your day getting lost in the books at the library, but a part of you hoped you could make it before closing time. It was a simple Google search for the nearest mechanic that had you end up here, but you didn’t think twice to see the closing hours.
Your legs guide you further into the room, careful not to touch anything you shouldn’t. This is the first time you’ve been to the mechanic with your car that you bought a few months back. It was an already used car when you bought it, but you could get it cheap and desperately needed something to help you get to school. The feeling of being in here is intimidating in itself, having little to no knowledge of cars, but a lamp in your car display has been screaming for attention for way too long, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“Are you lost?” The voice surprises you and you turn around to see a tall figure walking into the room.
Seonghwa.
The tall, lean, beautiful man you’ve seen in the hallways of your university. He is always wearing an oversized old-school leather jacket, messy black hair, black nail polish, and has a cigarette in hand 24/7. He and his group are known on campus for being too intimidating to talk to, but somehow every time you see them, they each have a new girl wrapped around their finger. They party when everyone else is sleeping, don't care about what people are saying about them and they will fight if they have to.
You’ve only spoken to him once when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl kissing in the library. You were searching for a specific book and made your way to the back rows of the library. As you were in your own head, you turned a corner and saw him with his tongue down her throat, her hands running through his (then) white hair. Your instant reaction was to freeze in your spot, panicking. This was the last thing you expected to see, especially at the library.
As Seonghwa removed his gaze from the girl trapped between him and the shelves, and his eyes watched you carefully, you immediately woke up.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You quickly said, turning around. Cheeks quickly blushed, and you felt the embarrassment rush over you. Not even for them, but for you.
You heard the girl mumble something to Seonghwa, and a second later, she passed you and walked out of your sight. Heart pounding fast against your chest, you slowly turned around before your eyes landed on Seonghwa. Relaxed, he was leaning up against the shelf with his arms crossed, staring you down.
“You can take what you came for.” His low voice spoke.
Slowly you walked further down the row, trying your best not to look at Seonghwa. Focused on the note in your hand with the book name you were searching for, you scanned the rows for the book. It seemed like an easy task, but you felt Seonghwa’s eyes locked on you with every move you made, making this simple mission impossible.
Your eyes kept going over the same place again and again, slowly getting frustrated that you couldn’t get your shit together.
As you looked down on the note again, reading the same line for the 29th time, you suddenly felt something watching over your shoulder. The smell of gasoline and cigarettes surrounded you, and it was like everything froze again. Seonghwa’s presence was close to you, but he wasn’t even touching you. You slowly turned your head to the side, and Seonghwa was peeking over your shoulder, looking down at the note in your hand.
Not a word was said when he lifted his arm, grabbed a book, and handed it down to you. Your breathing stopped as you saw the book you were so desperately looking for, resting in Seonghwa’s hand. Your hands slowly reached out for the book, and you couldn’t help but look up and see his eyes watching you with no expression. You couldn’t tell what was going on behind those eyes.
“Thank you.” You whispered, not being able to get more words out.
“You’re welcome.” He answered coldly, still watching your every move.
Was he pissed at you for interrupting? Was he tired? Was he happy? Relieved? You had absolutely no idea.
So you quickly saw your opportunity to get away, sending him an awkward smile before you practically ran away.
And that was the first and only time you’ve spoken to Seonghwa. Until now.
“No, I was looking for someone to help me.” You say, knowing he’s been waiting for an answer for a little too long. “I need an oil change.”
He takes a few steps further into the room, and you notice the white towel in his hands, filled with black oil stains. He’s wearing a black tank top and jeans, also filled with black stains.
You didn’t know much about him, and you had no idea that he worked here. Looking back though, it made sense for you. He was often seen with a “dirty” outfit, with black oil stains on his clothes and skin.
“Brave of you to walk in here in an all-white outfit,” His eyes travel down your body, and you suddenly feel small. You look down at yourself in your white cardigan, white skirt, and white knee socks. Of course, you didn’t think much of it when you put your outfit together this morning. “Give me five minutes, I just need to finish this,” He walks closer to the parked car in the room, throwing the white cloth over so it rests on his shoulder.
Restless, not knowing what to do with yourself, you step closer to the wall, trying your best not to be in his way. “Careful standing too close to that, or you’ll get oil on your skirt. It stains. You can sit on the stool over there while you wait.” He points at a black stool in the corner and you quickly find your way over there so you can let him work in peace.
You take your time studying the place, not knowing if it’s normal to have a conversation at a place like this. How long will this take? Does he own this place? Should you leave him alone? You decide to focus on the rock music playing while you silently watch Seonghwa do his thing.
He’s leaning over the open hood of the car, screwing something and rubbing his hands in the white cloth after. You might not have any idea of how to repair cars, but he makes whatever he does look so easy. He knows exactly what to do and how to do it.
He closes the hood of the car and walks to the other corner of the room. You can’t see what he’s pressing, but suddenly the metal wall behind you goes up, and you look behind you to see other cars parked outside. It rolls all the way up, and Seonghwa walks to the car, gets in, and drives it out of the room and to the parking lot.
You silently watch him as he comes back and walks towards you. “Alright, can I have your keys?” He asks, reaching out his hand. You’re quick to hand him the key with a heart keyring attached, and there’s a tug on his lips as it’s placed in his hand. “Be right back.”
A moment later, he arrives in your car, parks it in the middle of the room, and walks out to close the metallic garage door again. Once it’s closed, he grabs a few things from racks on the walls and walks to your car.
“You want me to do a routine maintenance check as well? I have the time.” He asks as he opens the hood.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” You say as confidently as possible. Truth be told, you just want to have your car fixed so you can go home. Seonghwa doesn’t respond, he just grabs a mechanic’s dolly, lays his back on top and suddenly his upper half is under your car. A few moments pass by in silence, the only thing filling the air is the music playing and the sounds of metal crashing as he works, and he rolls back out and goes to work in the front trunk. Leaning over your car, working and changing the oil, he once again looks professional and focused, and that makes you curious.
“You work here a lot?” You ask.
“Yeah, every day pretty much.” His back is turned to you, but you see him pull out a pack of cigarettes. He places one in his mouth, flicks the lighter, and a cloud of smoke escapes. His body turns towards you, the pack of cigarettes in hand. “Want one?”
“No, thank you.” You shake your head. He continues to work on your car, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Is that safe?”
“What?”
“Smoking. While doing that.” You point to the car. You’ve seen too many movies including fire and cars, so a quick concern washes over you, scared that a huge fire would suddenly occur.
“Smoking is never safe. You’re always playing with death when turning one on. If you’re asking if it’s safe to smoke over an open hood, then it’s inconsequential. Your car won’t blow up if that’s what's worrying you.” He glances back at you. His black hair is pushed back, but a few strands have fallen down into his face.
“If it’s not safe then why do you do it?” You can’t help but ask, curious if he really doesn’t care or if it’s just an act.
“Helps me concentrate.” He simply answers, going back to work. “What about you?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“No, do you do anything that's bad for you?” Another cloud of smoke fills the space around him, and he rubs his hands in the white cloth, leaving black stains. The black oil on his hands blends in with his black nail polish, and somehow it looks good.
Just like he was that one time in the library, he’s once again impossible to read. And his question leaves you silent for a moment, not knowing what to answer.
“Oh… Uhm, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” You shrug, and a light scoff comes from Seonghwa.
“Shocking.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Your brows come together in question.
His body turns to you, eyes going down to your outfit, hand gesturing to you. “You look like you’d be spending a week in church if you walked across a red light on the street.” There’s a small tug on his lips as he speaks. He’s entertained by you. You look like the complete opposite of him. In your white outfit, knee-high socks, and white little skirt you look like a saint next to him in his all dirty, messy black clothes. Like fire and water, you're the opposites.
“Well, I don’t.” You say.
“You don’t have to take it as a bad thing. Church girls can be full of surprises.” There's something hidden in the way he says it, and the smirk on his lips makes your cheeks blush. “I’ve seen you at school, you know. Often at the library, surrounded by academic books you probably read just for fun.”
“Well, I like the idea of knowledge. It gets you further in life.”
“It depends, doesn’t it? Don’t you think knowledge can hold you back from doing certain things too?”
“Maybe. But I also just like staying at the library. It’s fun.”
Another scoff leaves him, and you get the feeling that he’s mocking you.
“What?”
“If your idea of ‘fun’ is reading at the library, then I’d love to see you on a Saturday night.” He sends you a smirk before going back to focusing on the car. His back muscles tense as he works over the open hood, and you can’t help but stare. The black tank top really does him justice as he moves his arms around, and you shake your head, trying to focus on something else.
“What do you study?” You ask, trying to change the subject.
“Business, language and culture.”
“So you don’t wanna be a mechanic?”
“Still figuring it out.” He answers shortly. “You study what?”
"Psychology.”
"So, those biochemistry books I see you with at the library really are just for fun?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks, making you feel annoyed that he has you figured out so easily.
“As I said, I think knowledge gets you further in life.” You justify. He shakes his head in disbelief and you hear something close to a chuckle leave him. The sound is nice, especially since you’ve never heard or even seen this man smile. So this small chuckle is enough for you to continue this small banter you have going. “You don’t look like the type to go to the library.”
“I don’t think we use the library for the same reasons.” He turns around toward you again and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He leans up against your car as your eyes lock on his figure, eyes piercing on you as he blows out the smoke. “Do you know about the library’s back room, princess?” His nickname for you makes your mind blank, and you shake your head no. “Proves my point.”
“What’s the back room?” You’re curious.
He’s studying you for a moment before answering. “A place to fuck.”
Like a switch, your entire expression changes and you feel your cheeks heat up. Never have you heard of this ‘back room’ before. No, you probably (absolutely, most certainly) wouldn’t even use it if you had known about it, but it shocks you that it’s a thing.
Seonghwa’s smirk grows on his lips as he studies your face. “Your expression says it all. You’re such a good girl you couldn’t even hide it if you wanted to.”
You fall silent for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to move on from here. Until you’re reminded of the first time you spoke to Seonghwa.
“I saw you at the library once. With a girl.” You say shortly.
“Yeah, I remember. The back room was occupied so I took her down to the part of the library no one comes to. Well, except you.” The way his eyes are locked on you while talking about this is making your heart beat faster.
“Is it even allowed?”
“Would it ruin you to break the rules once in a while? Have you ever had sex in public before?”
“N-no!” Your cheeks are burning at this point.
“Don’t hate it till you try it. It's thrilling.” You’re not sure but you think you see him send you a wink as the smirk grows on his lips. A few more strands of hair have fallen down in his eyes, framing his face perfectly, before he runs his hand through his hair to push it back. It makes you fall under his trance for a moment, but you quickly flicker your eyes away, scared to fall for the beautiful brown eyes of his.
“So what, you only go to the library to sleep with someone? You don’t think there’s a better place to make love?”
“‘Make love’, how adorable.” Seonghwa is full-on smiling at this point, enjoying this conversation the more it escalates. The way your cheeks reddened, the slight shake in your voice, your flickering eyes. It’s clear to him that you’re not used to talking about these kinds of things, and he loves it.
“I don’t see what’s funny.” You say.
“You make love on your honeymoon. You fuck everywhere else.” He says, as a matter of fact.
“I don’t.” You disagree, fighting to keep your eyes on him and not back down from his piercing ones.
“No, I figured.” Another cloud of smoke leaves his lips and frames his face before continuing to fix the car, still looking back at you occasionally as you’re having this conversation. “You’re seeing anyone?”
“No.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. His gaze on you seems so intimidating, even his presence itself. There’s a confidence, almost an arrogance to him that makes him so unnerving. But despite this, you can’t help but ask further. “Do you? Since you use the ‘back room’?”
“You only fuck-” He stops himself and holds his hands up. “Excuse me, make love, with people you date?” His questions make you fall silent for a few seconds.
You don’t know Seonghwa well, so this conversation is not exactly what you expected. This question could also open an entirely new topic of conversation that you weren’t sure would be comfortable for either of you.
The conversation about sex is not normal for you, especially since you’re not the most experienced. Despite having been in a relationship with the guy who took your virginity, it didn’t end the way you had dreamed of.
You had always romanticized the thought of losing your virginity to the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but when you found out he had cheated on you during your relationship, your world crumbled. At the time, all of your insecurities came to life, and despite knowing you had done nothing wrong in the relationship to prevent this, you couldn’t help but feel like you had done something wrong when it came to sex.
With time, you promised yourself not to let your ex have an effect on you, so you did everything you could to gain back your confidence, and you did.
You clear your throat, taking your time to find the right answer. “Well... I’ve only made love to one person and that was my ex. So yes.”
“And you only stayed in the bedroom?”
A moment of silence.
“Yes, we did. I just don’t understand why you would do it anywhere but in the bedroom. There’s literally a bed, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable everything else must be.
Seonghwa throws his head back before looking at you in disbelief. “I didn’t think you could get any more good. You must be first in line to heaven when doomsday comes.” He puts his smoke out in the ashtray on a working table next to the car. “Public sex is not about how comfortable it is. And just because it’s public, does not mean people are watching you. That’s a whole other kink.” Seonghwa is slowly making his way towards you on the stool. His large frame is closing in on you, speaking in a lower volume as he’s coming closer. “It’s the feeling of someone possibly being able to see. Having to keep quiet, being close, finding whatever excuse you have to leave and drag the other person into a random room. Comfortability is not a necessity at that point. Then you don’t care if you fuck in a bed, against a table, or the hood of a car.”
He’s standing right in front of you. You try your best to control your breathing as he looks down at you, you have to look up at him through your eyelashes. The smell of cigarettes surrounds you as he is near, but there’s also an obvious pull of something dangerous yet addicting when being close to him. You don’t know where it comes from, but you can't help but want more.
You’ve never caught yourself thinking of Seonghwa this way, but he’s awfully good at wrapping you around his finger and thinking of things you’ve never had before.
“So what, how does this ‘backroom’ work?” You suddenly ask, almost surprising yourself. What did you want with the information? You have no idea.
Seonghwa finds your questions endearing. The innocence in your voice has him smiling, letting you see his perfect teeth. You’ve never looked at him so closely, you find yourself so fascinated by him. The raw, scary persona he is, but yet his face is perfectly made like an angel. Soft and beautiful. You suddenly find yourself completely under his spell, studying his every feature.
“What, tempted to give it a try? I can show you if you’re interested.” There’s a hint of something in his voice, you can’t tell if he’s kidding, but even the thought of him taking you to the room, has you notice a certain heat between your legs.
“N-no, I’m just curious.” Your voice shakes from how close he is to you along with his words.
“Careful with that. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” He then steps back and walks back to the car to continue working on it as if nothing happened. Seonghwa is working over the open hood, unaware of how he left you feeling inside.
Your heart is beating fast against your chest as he casually works in front of you. Like he turned on something inside of you, you suddenly notice things about him you didn’t before. How his hand curls around the wrench, how his shirt lifts when leaning over the car, exposing the skin on his waist, and how his muscles tense when he works. His jeans hang low, just below his waist, revealing even more skin and you somehow can’t help but look.
“Getting awfully quiet over there, princess. Your mind running?” Seonghwa’s head turns to you, catching you looking at him. Your eyes go to his, and you both freeze. He studies your face for a few seconds before grabbing the hood of the car and closing it. You both look at each other, a certain tension between you.
“Come here,” Seonghwa says as he leans against the car. Your body hesitates to do as he says, but you eventually cave in and get down from the stool to slowly make your way towards him.
Seonghwa throws the white cloth on the table before looking down at you. The smell of cigarettes and oil enhances again as you’re close to him, and Seonghwa taps the hood of the car with his hand. You look at the hood, suddenly unsure of everything you do, but push the thoughts away and jump up on the hood to sit. Your feet dangle, but you freeze when Seonghwa steps in front of you, resting his hands on either side of you.
“You’re thinking of something special?” His low voice asks. He’s searching for your eyes, but your heart is pounding and your eyes struggle to stay in one place. The heat between your legs is driving you insane, never having felt like this before.
“No... Maybe.”
His eyes continue to study your face. His expression is still impossible to read, yet his actions make you feel a whole new type of way.
“Look... I’d gladly take you, right here right now, if you want. We don’t even have to fuck, I can just make you cum if that’s what you want.” His bluntness throws you off, yet you didn’t expect those words to have such a big impact on you.
“Won’t someone come in? Or hear?” You worry.
“No. They won’t.” He whispers, slowly leaning forward.
You can’t tell what’s happening, even if you had a gun to your head. Seonghwa is not someone you should be spending time with. He’s the complete opposite of you, yet that draws you in like nothing else.
“Okay.” You cave in.
Not a second later, Seonghwa’s lips are on yours. Everything is happening so fast, that your brain isn’t even realizing who you’re kissing. The guy you’ve seen scare people away from their seats is having his hands on you, pulling you closer for a kiss. His tongue slips through your lips and you allow his every move.
It’s a whole new experience to kiss someone like Seonghwa. The taste, the moves, the desire. He knows what he’s doing, and the confidence shines through, even just through the kiss.
He pulls back, leaving you thirsty for more, and a small tug on Seonghwa’s lips assures you that this is actually going to happen. “First… How do you usually like it, kitten? How do you like for someone to make you cum?” He whispers.
“I’m not.. no one has ever... I mean-”
“No one has made you cum before?”
You try analyzing his question in your mind before you shake your head no.
“I thought you had a boyfriend a while back?”
“I did..”
There’s a short moment of silence where Seonghwa just reads your face and takes in what you just told him. “So let me get this straight... You only had mediocre, boring vanilla sex with this guy, he never made you cum and you still dated him?” He lifts an eyebrow, trying to understand the situation. You slowly nod, confirming his question. “Did he ever cum?”
“Every time.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding... Now that’s just selfish of him,” He removed a piece of hair from your face and leaned his face closer to your ear. You felt him slowly press his lips on the soft spot on your neck before gracing his lips over your ear. “Can I get the pleasure to be the one to make you cum, princess?”
“Y-yes.” You’re almost panting at this point, craving his touch more than you’d ever expect. Seonghwa holds your face in his hands as he presses his lips hard against yours again. The smell of cigarettes surrounds you as you get lost in him, yet you for some reason get addicted to the idea of him. Like he’s your kind of nicotine.
“I’ll try not to get oil all over you.” He assures as pulls away from you.
“That’s okay.” You tell him, suddenly not caring about the stains. This makes Seonghwa’s lips turn into a smirk, slightly amazed at the sudden change in you. His hands run up your thigh, leaving black stains from his fingerprints on your skin.
“You like the idea of my fingerprints on you? Looking in the mirror when you get home and seeing my hands on your thighs?” He goes to kiss your neck as his fingers dig into the flesh on your things. Unable to speak, you nod, wanting him to touch you even more. “Lean back for me, kitten.”
You scoop further back on the hood of your car, leaning back on your elbows to get a view of Seonghwa. His hands go to your hips to drag down your underwear till it completely leaves your body. The cold air hits your heat as Seonghwa parts your legs to lean over the hood and get a better view of your cunt.
“Gosh, you’re glistening, princess. Are you that wet already? The idea of cumming in a public space is turning you on now?”
You don’t get to react before his tongue suddenly slides between your folds, getting a long taste of you. The feeling makes you gasp, but you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, silencing yourself as much as possible.
“You taste so sweet, kitten.” He continues taking long strokes in between your folds, making sure to lick your clit as well. You look down to see his fingerprints on your thighs, turning you on even more. A moan escapes through your lips as he starts focusing on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on the sensitive nub. You can barely say anything as he takes his time, eating you like he craves you.
“I can’t believe someone had the chance to make you cum, and he didn’t even do it right.” Seonghwa shakes his head with a smirk before taking a few more deep licks against your pussy. “How embarrassing of him.”
“Will you... do it right, then?” You asked, looking at him with doe eyes. Seonghwa stands up further to look down at you spread out on the hood in front of him. His fingers, still stained slightly with black oil, go to your chin, and tilts your head up slightly to get a better look at him.
“Kitten, you’re gonna wish you came to me sooner when I’m done with you.” The look in his eyes almost works like a promise before he leans down to your pussy again. “Tell me how you like it, princess. Use your words.”
Once again you have to fight yourself to get actual words out when he runs his tongue between your folds again. This time, he focuses on your hole, slipping his tongue in before licking up your pussy again.
“Like that... That’s really g-good.” You manage to get out, already feeling the shocks through your body when he licks the right places.
“Fuck, you taste so good.” He spits down on your pussy before going back and to lick it again. Your legs slowly give up, but Seonghwa holds them open, allowing him full view and access. He goes back to sucking your clit, making you moan through your hand once again. “Best cunt I’ve tasted, kitten. Sweeter than anything.”
His tongue works around, he knows what he’s doing. He occasionally looks up at you, making eye contact as he runs his tongue between your folds. This makes you go absolutely crazy, seeing him go down on you like this. Eating, slurping you up. The sounds from the repair shop are out of this world, filled with your moans and him slurping all the juices from your pussy.
“Please don’t stop.” You throw your head back in pleasure, slowly feeling your orgasm approach.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grins. His mouth goes to your clit again, sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Restless with your hand, it goes to his hair and you grab a handful. The black locks in your hand look amazing as his face is against your cunt, eating and licking you up. Your abandonment starts to send shocks through your body, Seonghwa having to lock your legs down so he can continue.
The feeling is overwhelming, you can barely hold back your moans anymore. His tongue is flat against your pussy as he flicks your clit with the tip, making sure to hit all the best spots. He works fast, barely letting you get used to one way before he moves next to the new.
“Seonghwa, I’m gonna-” You moan his name as the feeling of your orgasm quickly starts to form. Lastly, his tongue goes to your clit, sending you over the edge. Your whole body is a shaking, moaning mess as he eats you out of your orgasm. He doesn’t miss a spot as he slurps up the juices from your pussy, licking you one last time, everywhere, before separating himself from you.
You look up to see his chin glistening from your orgasm. He has a smirk on his lips as he pulls you up to sit and presses his lips against yours. Quickly, a specific taste of something mixes as you kiss, his tongue added as well.
“You taste yourself on my tongue?” He asks confidently, and you quickly realize what the taste is. You. “Amazing, don’t you think?” He smirks before giving you one last kiss before pulling slightly away. He stays between your legs as you scoop forward a bit, still on the hood but with your feet dangling now.
“Should I.. with you?” You almost whisper.
“No need, princess. Eating your pretty pussy was enough for me.” He smirks as he places his hands on each side of you. You blush again, never having someone comment on your pussy before, but you can’t help but like how it sounds coming from him. “So.. first time having someone make you cum and it being in a public space. What do you think?”
“It was.. fun.” You admit, speaking the truth. The rush of doing it here, with Seonghwa, at his place of work was not something you ever expected to happen, but it had a thrill you never felt before.
“See, that we can agree is ‘fun’. You have school tomorrow?” The change of subject throws you off for a second, having to get your mind clear after just having the biggest orgasm of your life.
“Yeah,” You reply, remembering something important, “How much do I owe you?” Your words leave him with a wrinkle between his brows.
“For eating you out?”
“N-no! For the uhh.. the car.”
He looks somewhat relieved after you clarify, “Oh... I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I know you said you didn’t want a maintenance check but I couldn’t help but notice that your serpentine belt is filled with cracks.”
You don’t even know what a serpentine belt is.
“What does that mean?” You ask.
“That means that it’ll break at some point and then you’ll risk getting stuck in the middle of the road because your car can’t drive.” He explains, and you suddenly understand the situation. You can't help but notice how quick he is to move on, talking about your car after he just had his tongue in between your folds.
You know he's not a stranger to sex, but that also intimidates you.
“Oh..”
He reads your expression for a second as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t want to be stuck in the middle of the road when driving, knowing that’s gonna be even more expensive. But it’s late, so leaving your car here would mean that you would have to order a cab or take the bus.
“I’m done here for the day. How about I give you a ride home? Then we’ll drive here together from school tomorrow, I’ll finish your car, and you’ll get to drive home in a car that doesn’t have the risk of crashing down at any moment?”
You look up at him to see his expression back to its usual unreadable one, “I mean... If that’s okay with you?” You ask.
This makes him smile. He looks down on your thighs to see the stains he left on you, before meeting your eyes again.
“Of course, kitten. I’ll just grab my stuff.”
He then disappears away and into another room, leaving you on the hood of your car. The fingerprints on your thighs are a raw indication of what has happened tonight, and you’re sure your clothes are stained with black oil as well.
When he arrives again, he’s wearing his black leather jacket. You follow him to his car outside, and he drives you home. When you arrive at your apartment, you can’t help but look in the mirror immediately. Seonghwa’s fingerprints are all over your thighs and hips, almost marking you. Your cardigan, skirt, and socks all have stains on them, and there’s a slight embarrassment in your gut when thinking of what happened tonight.
You can’t help but feel embarrassed at the thought of seeing Seonghwa in the hallways of the university, especially since he has to pick you up from school tomorrow and go back to the place where he just gave you your biggest orgasm. But even so, you’re even more tempted to walk through the door he just opened for you. The wilder side, the dangerous and unfamiliar.
It makes you blush even thinking of him, and when your phone suddenly buzzes in your hand, you’re shocked to see a certain name on your screen.
Seonghwa made you save his contact when dropping you off, saying it was for future car problems. But you didn't expect a text already, and you know the door he has opened for you, is already locked behind you.
Seonghwa
See you tomorrow, kitten
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Mirror, Mirror | One
Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.
Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.
*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*
Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬
Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘
Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3
Count: ~4.1k
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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life.
Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.
'You have cancer.'
'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'
'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'
Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'
And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it.
This was all Steve's fault.
Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.
A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar.
"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.
"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway.
"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess.
Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together.
That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for.
Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself.
Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.
Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well.
Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.
But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.
"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts.
"What?"
"Bug—"
Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.
"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though."
"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"
Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.
"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."
Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.
But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about.
Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did.
In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly.
From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it.
It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her.
You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them.
But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type.
And what could that be?
Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to.
Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little.
Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career.
Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her.
So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.
Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason.
"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"
Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head.
"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."
"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."
You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"
"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."
You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."
Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning.
It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat.
It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her.
The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?
Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her.
"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."
"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!"
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying.
"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"
"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone.
"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.
"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs.
"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"
Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for.
"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it.
"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."
"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup.
"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."
"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."
You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear.
"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."
"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."
Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.
You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders.
Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain.
It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.
The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way.
"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."
You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."
Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.
Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?
And was she the only one who felt it?
Fuck.
She's going to kill Steve.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers.
Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed.
Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits.
"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."
"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap.
"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."
Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.
"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."
You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.
"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm.
"I heard that!"
Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him.
Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship.
"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."
"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"
"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"
Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."
"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it.
"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together.
"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."
"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."
"You think?"
Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."
"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."
But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight.
The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision.
Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.
You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.
Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.
In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda.
And you look interested.
This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.
Why was she so angry?
She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you.
But that just makes everything so much more confusing.
"Wanda?"
Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?
It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend.
No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.
Except now.
And that person was Wanda herself.
The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.
It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something.
And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is.
Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer.
This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.
Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information.
Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.
"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic.
At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.
"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"
You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.
"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."
But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?
Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset.
Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy.
"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.
"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly.
The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you.
"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."
Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.
"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.
"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile.
"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."
Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand.
But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.
Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist.
It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you.
But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you.
So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well.
If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.
PART TWO
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff x y/n#avengers imagine#scarlet witch imagine#scarlet witch x reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#modern avengers au#Elizabeth olsen x reader#mm: my fics
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