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icekkeugf · 4 months ago

Text

pairing: prof!heeseung x volleyball player!reader

genre: porn without much plot

warnings: heeseung is reader's professor but neither of them know that when they engage in sexual activity, slight dom!hee, kissing, cunnilingus against the wall, blowjob, boobjob, facial, use of the petname "pretty girl"

wordcount: 2,790 words

note: koko is back ~~~ i am not sure if this is up to mark but i really hope enhablr enjoys this! reblogs are much appreciated and so are comments/feedback! happy reading ♥︎ ~~~

it's raining, soft droplets sprinkling over your already wet skin, soaking in sweat as you huff, doubling over to place your palms over your knees. slippery, it is, palms sliding down the smooth of your knees as you try your best to contain your breath, composing yourself when you notice your teammates pass by. "so, y/n, excited for the shift into university?" your volleyball captain asks, prompting you to wince. this causes concern, her brow raising and her wrist lifting to rest on your shoulders, "not a good time?" she sympathises.

"just a bit scary, not too sure how i will mingle with the people there and if i will join a team as good as ours." you mutter, playing with your stretchable wristband. the girl laughs, patting your shoulder painfully hard with a smile, "hey, your university is known for its sports department! i wouldn't put it past me to find a well equipped club and carefully handpicked members. who knows, you might make it national!" she reasons, patting the top of your head with a crooked smile.

you try not to make eye contact with the man as he introduces himself and shares his email with the students for future assistance. however, when you look up to sneak a glance at him again, you see him staring right at you, wide eyed. you're fucked and not quite literally.

"say what, are you free tonight?" she asks, looking over at the other teammates with a sneaky smile. and when you look up dazed with a slight nod, she's dragging you over to seat you on the nearest bench. "i sent you a text, be there at 7! bye, y/n!" just like that, all your teammates trickle out the training ground, snickering amongst themselves to have finally caught you in a trap, always having refused to meet them outside training.

7:06PM. still waiting, feet nearly cramped up in those narrow toothed stilettos. bad idea to show up in stilettos after vigorous training? yes, but, the location your captain had forwarded had a strict dress code to adhere to this night. right as you bend over to adjust your heels, you're met with the vision of several pairs of similar looking stilettos. "there! early as always, our y/n, let's go in!" one of your teammates urges you inside a shady looking building.

you're met with instant chaos, loud and blaring music sinking into your eardrums, the bass making the floor vibrate and your heart thump in rhythm to the music. "stay right here, tia and i will get us all some drinks!" you're left by some of your other teammates you're not too close with, merely acquaintances that play volleyball together, you'd say. excusing yourself with a smile despite being met with "they asked us to wait here!", you shake your head, reassuring them you'll be fine and right back.

it's a few minutes later that you find yourself seated by the secluded island of what seems to be a kitchen. "a house party." you figure out, still unsure if you should've placed blind faith in your captain and teammates. "not your usual scene?" comes a voice prodding its way beside you. you jump, just a little, turning around to meet hazel brown eyes that crinkle mischief at you. the man before you is donning an all denim fit, it makes you wonder if he's not close to blushing red in this humidity but you let it pass. "not really. i assume this is your usual scene though." you quip back, the man before you throwing his head back in a silent giggle.

"heeseung." he extends his hand which you take a little hesitantly. it's not long after you exchange names that you find yourself introduced to heeseung's friends, all of them welcoming and sweet, out of which, jay confirms himself to be the party host. both heeseung and you don't stray too far into private lives of eachother, maybe that is what attracts you to him, the mystery. you can't deny that he is more than decent looking, plump pink lips, doe looking eyes that may otherwise fool you into thinking he carries this weirdly sinister vibe. a sharp jawline too, you're almost sure he knows he serves a face that women and men would line up for alike.

the attraction, though, is mutual. or so, heeseung convinces you to think as his fingertips meet your satin clad hips with ease and familiarity. he leads you towards the same secluded corner, "dance with me?" he asks and you oblige, not questioning why it has to be here, infact, you're glad it's here rather than in the midst of sweaty teenage bodies that are not yet ripe enough to enter parties like this. what snaps you back to reality is his hands, that need no permission as it follows a trail circling your hips, pulling you flush against his.

maybe it's the alcohol that heeseung offered before or maybe it's the intimate proximity you two keep dancing around but the heat in the air, whether the temperature or the tension, is palpable, almost shocking in a way that it sends hot sparks down your spine. resting your head against his shoulder, you wrap an arm around him, his warm, intoxicated breath fanning over your ears. no words exchanged, really, just the synced beating of your hearts and need to feel eachother up that finally has heeseung snapping.

exhaling shakily, you nod when he asks to take you somewhere else. he's gentle as he encloses your wrist in his palm, pulling you towards the stairs that was strictly prohibited for others. perks of being jay's best friend, you reckon. the moment you enter an unoccupied room, his lips are on yours before he pulls away in a jiffy, panic settling onto his face, "is that okay, y/n?" when you nod meekly, he shuts his eyes for just a second, muttering a "fuck" under his breath before he's pushing his lips onto yours and maneuvring your body behind until your backside meets the wall. "so pretty," he murmurs into the kiss.

you roll your hips involuntarily into his, it has heeseung gritting his teeth, jaw slack and eyes purely filled with desire. "just like that, baby, do that again—you listen so well to me, pretty girl." heeseung is sure he's rambling by now, oh, he definitely is as he tells you how to rut against him pathetically. the sultry lighting of the room only enhances your need for one another, you've never felt the urge to ravage someone like this before and you know you have to ravage heeseung before this night ends if you don't want to wake up the next morning with a guilty and regret filled heart.

he coaxes your lips to meet his again, this time the contact utterly messy and just downright filthy. you can almost taste the very remnants of his drink from earlier if you shoved your tongue down just a little deeper. meanwhile, heeseung is quick in feeling you up, pushing at your knees, "spread 'em, baby, that's it," he begs, instantly losing all self control and falling to his knees when you whine, asking him to ease the ache between your legs. "wider...there you go, atta girl." he praises, soft hands cupping your knees as his lashes flutter when he looks up at you.

with a lopsided grin, he hooks a finger at the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough for your panties to peek at him. he grunts at the little wet patch that dampens and soils the middle of your panties, leaning in to disgustingly sniff at it before licking once, twice, thrice, enough to taste you through the cotton. you're shaking, beyond control and unable to balance your body by yourself so you place your hands at his shoulders, pulling him needily into you as your back arches into the wall.

pushing your entire weight onto heeseung, who only groans as he ruts his increasingly evident boner into the ground, you hook your legs around his neck. he holds onto your thighs desperately, a whimper escaping his kiss swollen lips as his tongue slithers through the side of your panties to lick at your cunt. he delicately plants a kiss over your clit, making you shudder with a broken moan, as he finds his head heavy with the need to taste you, to make you cum. so, he does just that.

heeseung finds a comfortable pace at licking through your folds, dragging his wet muscle from side to side, then up and down. he repeats the action before nipping at your clit gently, soothing the prick with a prod of his tongue. "so sweet, just like honey, baby. that's it, you gon' cum for me?" he asks sweetly against your sopping pussy, nose glistening with your juices. "look at me, y/n, my pretty girl. want you to watch me as you come undone on my tongue, okay?" you struggle to open your eyes, nodding before you do anyway.

rapid strokes of his tongue have you unstable, shaking and withering under his touch while you try your best to keep your eyes open and in contact with his as he licks at you until no end. "say my name, baby, don't be shy. let me hear your pretty moans." you let a moan rip through the confines of your throat, rocking your hips messily against his face. "no, don't move." he hisses with a displeased smirk, shaking his head to show his disapproval. "let me do all the work, just sit and take it, got it?"

just like that, the ebbs of your orgasm crash against the little pebbles, rocking you through, only for heeseung to hold you still as he continues to devour you as you come down from your high. with a final suck of your clit, he parts from your cunt, face absolutely marred by your release. "good girl, did that feel good?" he coos, tapping at your thigh, signalling you to carefully put down your leg as he makes much effort to stand up.

when you nod, pulling him into another kiss, he chuckles, trapping you against the wall yet again. "yeah? in that case, shouldn't you return the favour?" he presses a few kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. "let me make you feel good, hee." you answer in words this time, making heeseung widen his eyes but he nods, eyeing the floor once before he looks up at you, "kneel." dropping to your knees, your fingers work quickly as they unzip his denim pants. a tent visible as you cup his clothed length, you lick your lips eagerly as you imagine feeling him fill up the entirety of your mouth.

you tug at his boxers, leaving it bunched up at his knees, immediately pressing a hasty kiss at the head of his veiny cock. you notice how it is curved at the tip, pink and angry. this forces heeseung to snake a hand into your hair, clutching the strands at the roots warningly, "don't tease, pretty girl, get on with it." he doesn't have to say it twice before you are nestling his cock in the home of your wet and warm cavern. you let it soak in there for a while, not attempting to please him just yet as you adjust to his size.

soon after, flattening your tongue, you hollow your cheeks as you start to set a steady rhythm into bobbing your head for him. licking at the underside, you ensure not an inch of his cock is left untouched by you, the part that doesn't fit in your mouth caressed by your soft hands. "just for me to ruin, fuck, yes!" heeseung is blessed, really, to have a girl truly attentive to his needs, the way he wants to be touched and pleased, repeating the actions that seems to make him teeter at the edge of his orgasm. lucky bastard!

right when you think you should fasten your pace to meet with his cum painting the insides of your mouth, heeseung abruptly pulls at your mouth, his now semi soft dick covered in your spit resting at your lips, "can i cum on your face, pretty girl?" with no answer, you unzip the back of your dress, letting it pool at your hips. unclasping your bra, you hold your tits up, motioning him to slide his cock in between. this causes heeseung to let out husky groan, trying not to bust right then. he loves the way you're so proactive, he can't help it!

he squirms from the sudden increase in stimulation as you use your tits as a makeshift fleshlight, wrapping it around his now hardening cock tightly as he fucks into the space you provide him. letting a sliver of your tongue peek out, you lick at his tip each time his cock almost lodges against your lips, instantly making him cum. he sucks in a sharp breath as he spills all of him that's worth, over your tits and the lower half of your face. pretty, he thinks, fingers unconsciously reaching for his phone.

"can i take a photo of you, pretty girl—" the door to the room the two of you are in is knocked upon fiercely, "heeseung, you in here, man?" upon hearing jay, heeseung scurries to bring out tissues from the bedside table, "yes, what's up?" in three swipes, he cleans you up, cursing when his finger is also stained by his release. before he could wipe it off, though, you bring up his cum glistening finger to your lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. "fuck, you're gonna be the death of me!" he whispers, pressing an open mouthed kiss at your lips, tasting himself in the process. "niki has been throwing up nonstop, man, i can't find the others, hurry up, will you?" you two hear the receding footsteps of a rather pissy jay, laughing into eachother once you're sure he's gone.

easing into eachother, "can we do this again, y/n? i'd really like to fuck you open, if you'd let me." he asks, his brash words lighting up a reddened blush on your cheeks, "yes, i'd love that." before you could exchange numbers though, jay knocks yet again, an impertinent cockblock, you suppose. "i have to go—see you around?" you nod, smiling at heeseung who leans down to kiss your cheek. "see you around, heeseung."

you don't remember how you get home that night after having freshened up in the room's attached restroom. all you think of for the next few days is heeseung's lingering touches, his whines and soft exhales, the way his hips bucked into your touch when you sucked him right. safe to say that you haven't been able to contact him either, having used your god given stalking skills on instagram to no avail.

it's been a few weeks, having been busy with volleyball practice and packing to move to your campus dorm. now, it's d—day! there's cardboard boxes piled up, with two suitcases of yours filled to the brim with clothes you can't bring yourself to leave behind in your childhood home. after a tearful parting with your family, you find yourself cuffed with the seatbelt on and your bestfriend driving you to the university to help you move in. while you do have much unpacking to do, it is also your first day at university!

bidding goodbye to your friend once they had helped you get your boxes and suitcases in, you change your outfit for the first class, not wanting to be late. after a whirlwind of trying to find your class, which happens to be your homeroom hour, you settle into one of the desks in the spacious room. although it's just the first day, the room is still loud with whispers and chatters about the exciting life at university. the class, however, hushes at some point, and while you were preoccupied on your phone, you hear a familiar voice.

"goodmorning, guys! how has your first day been so far?" your heart races erratically in its place, unsure if you've just misplaced the voice and its owner or if you're really doomed. slowly looking up, you find yourself glancing at heeseung, who looks at his phone for a split second before he pays attention up front. he hasn't noticed you yet, smile just as charming as it was when he first greeted you. as if on cue, all the memories from a few weeks ago flood in to liven up the black of your mind.

#heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader

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amirasainz · 4 months ago

Note

Ooooh can you please do reader is Lewis daughter and she’s a big daddy’s girl and she has everyone wrapped around her finger, including the stoic Toto?

AHH! I had so much fun writing this. I love the idea of Lewis being a girl dad. I hope y'all enjoy reading this and send me some requests!

-XoXo

Daddy's little love

“Who is your favourite Disney Princess, Baby?” asked Anthony, Lewis’ dad, to his 4-year-old granddaughter. Cassie, who was busy getting her beautiful, long, curly hair done by her grandmother Linda, turned to Anthony with the biggest grin on her face.

“Tiana,” she proudly stated. “TIANA? Why’s that, hm?” he asked her, now sporting the same huge grin as the girl in the living room. “Because she is the prettiest of them all. And her prince is better than the other ones. OH, and their friends are so cool, because Ray is a firefly and his wife is a star. And their other friend, the crocodile, Louis, can play the trumpet. Oh, and Mama Odie makes the best gumbo in the whole wide world,” she answered, running towards Anthony.

The older Hamilton immediately picked her up, sitting little Cassie in front of him on the kitchen counter. “Ohh, is that so, young lady?” he jokingly asked her. “UHU,” she answered with a duh-tone. “Really?” “Uhu.” “Really.” Now the game between Cassie and her Poppy started.

Linda, who knew that this little game of theirs could go on for hours, called towards the young girl. “Cassie, honey, we still need to do your hair.” “But I don’t wanna, Loveyyyyy,” whined the 4-year-old. “Nuhu, don’t even look at me with those puppy eyes of yours,” she told her. However, Cassie tried to find a way out of the situation. “But why can’t Daddy do it for me?” she whined again. “You know why, Baby. Daddy can’t make those braids that you like,” Anthony answered, sensing the beginning of a little tantrum.

Both Anthony and Linda knew that Cassie hated getting her hair done. If the young Hamilton could, she would always have it open. However, with the hot weather and her playing the whole time with her cousins in the garden, everyone knew it was better to braid it back.

Before anyone could say anything else, a figure appeared in the doorway. “What’s that I’m hearing about Daddy?” asked Lewis, who was finally back home after the Mexican GP. He looked tired but happy. “DADDY!” squealed the young girl, immediately running towards her father with outstretched arms. Lewis, who knew his daughter better than himself, picked her up in his arms and held her close, releasing a sigh of relief now that he finally had his baby back in his arms. Her laughter was like music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile as she giggled like crazy while he kissed her cheeks repeatedly.

After a moment, he stopped and greeted her with the biggest smile ever. “Hello, my little love,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He could feel the stress of the race melting away as he held her.

Remembering the conversation he walked into, he carefully petted her hair and told her, “Go on, love. Let Lovey finish your hair, then we can go outside swimming.” Cassie pouted, her lower lip jutting out adorably. “But Daddy—” she began, her eyes wide with pleading. “Nuh-uh, Honey. Don’t even try it with me,” Lewis said, his tone gentle but firm. Cassie released the biggest sigh on earth before stomping towards her grandmother, her tiny feet making exaggerated thuds on the floor.

Thankfully, her older cousin Willow was also now in the living room, so the two cousins could play a game while Linda finished the two Dutch braids. Willow, always the patient one, smiled and pulled out a board game, setting it up on the coffee table. “Come on, Cassie, let’s play while Grandma finishes your hair,” she said, her voice soothing.

Lewis, who was watching the whole situation with an amused smile, turned towards his father and hugged him. “It’s good to have you back, boy,” Anthony whispered in his ear, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s good to be back, Dad,” Lewis answered while releasing the hug. He felt a wave of gratitude for his family, who always supported him no matter what.

After a moment, Lewis’s face turned serious, and he looked at his dad. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?” he asked. Anthony, sensing the gravity of the situation, turned his full attention to his son. With an encouraging nod, Lewis began.

“Dad, you know how important the Brazil Grand Prix is for me, right? This year, I was thinking of taking Cassie with me. This race isn’t just significant for me, but also for Mercedes. Plus, it’s my last year with the team,” he explained, his voice tinged with emotion.

Anthony took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before responding. “Lewis, I understand how crucial this race is for you, but why do you feel the need to take Cassie with you?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well, Dad, it’s going to be such a meaningful race for me, and I want my favorite person there with me. Besides, the team and the other drivers are always asking about her. And Gloria, you know, Cassie’s babysitter, will also be there. She can watch over her while I’m racing,” Lewis replied, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Anthony paused for a moment, considering his son’s words. “Okay, I think that’s a really sweet idea. And we both know how much Cassie loves traveling with her daddy,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Dad. I guess I just needed to hear from someone that my idea isn’t completely insane,” Lewis said, relief washing over his face.

“No, don’t worry about it. Now go tell the little princess the good news,” Anthony encouraged, giving his son a reassuring pat on the back.

After an uneventful flight and a good nights rest, the little trio entered the paddock the next morning. Cassie clutched her father’s hand tightly as they walked into the bustling paddock. The young girl, with her curly hair bouncing in the warm breeze, wore a bright purple cap that read "Daddy's little Champion". It was a sea of activity, with mechanics, engineers, and media personnel buzzing around. This was Cassie’s first time attending a race outside of Silverstone, and her wide eyes took in every detail with a mix of awe and excitement.

Lewis,, was a seasoned pro in this environment, but today he felt a bit different. He was not just a world-class driver; he was an overprotective dad. He kept a close eye on Cassie, making sure she stayed close and safe amidst the chaos. The media quickly noticed the duo, and cameras started flashing, capturing the tender moments between father and daughter.

Lewis’s smile was tight as he waved politely to the cameras, but inside, he was less than thrilled about the attention. He had always been protective of Cassie, and the thought of her being in the spotlight made him uneasy. He bent down to her level, his voice gentle but firm. “Stay close to me, okay, Cassie? There’s a lot going on here.”

Cassie nodded, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. “Okay, Daddy.”

Beside them, Gloria, the babysitter, walked with a calm demeanor. At around 50 years old, she had a reassuring presence that both Lewis and Cassie appreciated. Gloria had been with the family for a while and knew how to keep Cassie entertained and safe. She smiled at Cassie, holding out a small toy car. “Look, Cassie, it’s just like Daddy’s car!”

Cassie’s face lit up as she took the toy, momentarily distracted from the overwhelming environment. Lewis gave Gloria a grateful nod. “Thanks, Gloria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Gloria chuckled softly. “Just doing my job, Lewis. You focus on the race; I’ll keep an eye on our little racer here.”

As they made their way through the paddock, more media attention followed. Lewis did his best to shield Cassie from the cameras, but it was clear that their presence was a big deal. He sighed inwardly, wishing for a bit more privacy for his daughter. But seeing Cassie’s excitement and knowing Gloria was there to help made it all worthwhile.

“Alright, Cassie,” Lewis said, lifting her up so she could see over the crowd. “Let’s go find a good spot to watch the race. It’s going to be an exciting day.”

Cassie giggled, her nervousness melting away as she felt the familiar comfort of her father’s arms. With Gloria by their side, they were ready to face the day, media attention and all.

As they walked to the Garage, Cassie's wide eyes took in the sight of the famous cars, the hustle of the crew and the vibrant colours of the team uniforms. Other drivers like Lando, Charles, George and Daniel, couldn't help but stop and admire the adorable little girl.

"Hey there, little champ!" Lando said, waving at her. "Are you going to cheer for your dad today?"

Cassie giggled and nodded. "He's the fastes!" she declared proudly, causing the drivers to melt at her sweetness. They all exchanged smiles, and for a moment, the competitive spirit of Formula 1 seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of Cassie's innocent joy.

As Lewis, Cassie and Gloria approached the Mercedes garage, Lewis introduced Cassie to his team principal. Toto, the usually angry Austrian, was particularly taken with her. "Well, if it isn't the youngest member of our team!" he said, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "How would you like to be the team principal for the day?"

Cassie's eyes widened in amazement. "Really? I can be in charge?" she squealed, bouncing slightly in excitement. Lewis, who was busy talking to Bono, turned towards his daughter and reminded her again : "Cassie, inside voice, ok?" "Sorry Daddy" she apologised cutely, warming Lewis heart at the sight of her.

Toto brought her attention back to their conversation. “Absolutely! You can help make all the important decisions,” Toto replied, grinning. He handed her a small headset, and Cassie put it on, feeling like a true boss.

“Okay, Cassie,” Toto continued, “let’s make sure the drivers are ready. We need to keep an eye on them!”

Cassie nodded seriously, trying her best to mimic the serious expressions of the adults around her. As she sat on Toto’s lap, she observed the team preparing for the race, her little fingers tapping away on the radio as if she were giving commands.

“Driver 44, are you ready?” she said into the headset, mimicking what she had heard the engineers say. The team chuckled at her adorable seriousness, and Lewis turned to give her a thumbs-up from across the garage.

As the pre-race festivities continued, Cassie found herself surrounded by the other drivers, who were all charmed by her presence. Daniel knelt down in front of her. “So, what’s your strategy for today?” he asked playfully.

“I think Daddy should go really fast and win!” she replied, her face lighting up with confidence. The drivers laughed, and Daniel gave her a mock salute. “A solid plan, Commander Cassie!”

Soon, it was time for the drivers to head to the grid. Toto carefully lifted Cassie off his lap and placed her back on the ground. “Are you ready to watch your dad race?” he asked her.

“Yay! Go, Daddy!” she cheered, waving her arms enthusiastically. Lewis leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before heading out to the grid. "I love you, my little love" he called back to her. "I love you more" she yelled. Turning towards his daughter, he said : "Impossible" before continuing his way. Their interaction gained laugher throughout the garage.

As the race began, Cassie was glued to the edge of her seat in the team hospitality area, her small hands gripping the railing as she watched the cars zoom past. With each lap, her excitement grew. “Go, Daddy! You can do it!” she shouted, her voice ringing out amidst the cheers of the crowd.

The race unfolded with thrilling intensity. Lewis battled fiercely against his competitors, maneuvering through tight corners and executing perfect overtakes. Cassie’s eyes were wide with awe as she watched her father, the adrenaline coursing through her tiny body with each lap.

During a particularly tense moment, where Lewis found himself in a tight spot battling for position, Cassie gasped and clutched the railing. “Come on, Daddy! You got this!” she yelled, her voice carrying over the noise of the engines.

Her encouragement seemed to resonate, as Lewis managed to pull off an incredible move, taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Cassie jumped up and down, her laughter mingling with the roars of the fans.

“Look, Cassie! Your daddy’s in front!” Gloria said, smiling at her enthusiasm. She was having the time of her life, completely unaware of the high stakes of the race, so focused on her father’s performance.

As the race neared its conclusion, the tension was palpable. Lewis was vying for the victory, and Cassie could feel the excitement in the air. She leaned over the railing, her heart racing as the final laps approached. “You can do it, Daddy! Just go faster!” she shouted, her little fists clenched in determination.

When Lewis crossed the finish line, victorious once again, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Cassie squealed with delight, jumping up and down in sheer joy. “He did it! He won!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

After the race, Lewis hurried to the team area, where Cassie was waiting, her face glowing with pride. He scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around. “Did you see that, Cassie? We did it!” he exclaimed, his heart swelling with happiness.

“You were the best, Daddy! I knew you could win!” she said, her eyes shining with admiration.

As the celebrations continued, Cassie found herself the center of attention. The drivers gathered around her, congratulating Lewis and showering her with affection. “You’re an amazing little team principal, Cassie,” Charles said, ruffling her hair.

Cassie beamed, soaking in all the praise. “I told him to go fast!” she said proudly, and the drivers laughed, each one charmed by her innocence and enthusiasm.

As the sun began to set over Brazil, casting a warm glow over the paddock, Lewis took Cassie aside. “You know, today was special not just because we won, but because I got to share it with you,” he said softly.

“I had the best day, Daddy! Can we come to every race together?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

“Of course, sweet pea. Every race, if you want. You’ll always be my lucky charm,” Lewis replied, giving her a warm hug.

The day ended with fireworks illuminating the sky, and Cassie watched in awe, her heart full. She had stepped into a world of speed and excitement, and in doing so, had forged an unforgettable bond with her father. As they headed back to their hotel, Cassie rested her head on Lewis’s shoulder, dreaming of race tracks and fast cars, knowing that this was just the beginning of their adventures tog

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x daughter!reader #hamilton!reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #toto wolff #dad!lewis hamilton #-XoXo #xoxo babygirl 💋

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maskedbyghost · 1 month ago

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after the divorce, you thought you’d finally drawn a line in the sand, clear and bold, separating yourself from simon riley and everything that came with him. but simon? he wasn’t ready to step back. not fully. at first, it was silence—an absence so heavy, but then, slowly, the messages started.

they weren’t the cryptic, blunt texts you were used to during your relationship. no more “you around?” or “we need to talk.” instead, they carried a rawness that made you hesitate before opening them. one night, your phone lit up: “i’ve been sitting here, going over everything. i keep thinking about how i pushed you away, how i let my own demons ruin what we had. you didn’t deserve that. none of it.”

you read it three times before setting the phone down, heart heavy and conflicted. simon never said things like this when you were together. and yet, here he was, baring himself in a way that felt almost foreign.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things that carried weight. one afternoon, a neatly wrapped package appeared at your door. chamomile tea—the good kind, the kind you’d mentioned in passing during one of those rare soft moments between you. you’d joked that his taste in tea was pretentious, and he’d grumbled something about chamomile being “too bloody mild.” now, seeing it in front of you, carefully packed with a handwritten note that simply said “thought you might like this”, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

the late-night call was unexpected. his voice was rough, the way it always got when he’d had a drink, but there was a tremor in it you didn’t recognize. “i’ve started therapy,” he admitted, the words slurred but clear enough. “trying to figure out... what’s wrong in my head. i don’t want to hurt anyone else. especially not you. not ever again.”

your chest tightened at the honesty. simon had always been guarded, his emotions buried so deep even you had trouble finding them. hearing him like this—open, vulnerable—was disarming.

when you finally told him he needed to stop calling you love, his answer was immediate. “can’t do that,” he said, his voice low but steady. “it’s what you are to me. maybe i didn’t show it right before, but it doesn’t change the fact. you’ll always be my love, even if it’s just in my head.”

he wasn’t asking for anything outright, and maybe that’s what made it harder. he wasn’t begging or demanding. he was just there—offering pieces of himself you’d spent years wishing he’d share, now arriving when you weren’t sure you wanted them anymore.

simon had always been a storm, intense and unrelenting. but this? this felt different. he wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. he was trying to meet you where you stood, hoping you’d see the man he was trying to become. and maybe—just maybe—give him another chance.

-------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon riley

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kquil · 3 months ago

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Hi lovely hole your well!

Can we get a hufflepuff reader x sirius

Your partnered with him for charms class that's all I've got

HER SMILE | PART 2

LENGTH : 1.4k

TAGS. : sirius being a simp ; cutie pie reader ; oblivious reader ; ravenclaw reader (im sorry for the switch!) ; fluff ; jealous sirius

A/N : hello darling! i'm finally doing well enough and not overthinking enough to tackle my requests, I'm sorry it had to take this long omg! your request is the perfect prompt to a continuation of one of my timestamps though, i hope you don't mind that i had to switch reader to a ravenclaw and enjoy the read regardless <3

PART 1 | NAVI.

Both you and Sirius made for an odd pair; people wouldn’t typically couple you together. An extrovert Gryffindor and a cold Ravenclaw. However, as of recently, many have seen you with Sirius quite often, most notably in classes and especially in partner projects. And it was all Sirius’ doing.

Your classmates typically hesitated to partner with you, let alone sit by you for classes. They found you boring and rather unnerving to be around. You didn’t appear to enjoy being around people and took work far too seriously, so you’ve grown a bad reputation. It didn’t bother you, though; you understood that you weren’t like other people; your bashfulness manifested into a stone-cold exterior and added to the seriousness underpinning your endeavour for top academic performance. People tend to avoid you but it’s for the best, you like to tell yourself.

After the transfiguration project with Sirius, however, whereby he was forced to partner with you, he’s kept volunteering to partner with you over and over again. Whether it be partner or group projects, he’s the first in line to be your assigned partner. He finds that the best way of doing this is sitting next to you in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared lessons, regardless of whether or not it leaves James, Remus or Peter without a partner. It wasn’t typical of him or anyone to be so eager around you but nobody commented on it. As it happens, many eagerly sat back to watch what would unfold.

In the extra time Sirius has willingly spent with you in lessons, he’s confessed to the reasoning behind his odd behaviour. “I want to know more about you,”

That was the first time he or anyone else had seen you so flustered and adorably shy. People couldn’t believe their eyes. However, owing to Sirius’ playboy reputation, it was no surprise that he was the one to draw such a reaction out of you. This was also the first time Sirius had seen a favourable increase in his class grades. Your work ethic and drive for high grades have positively influenced his performance in classes. When Remus pointed this out to him, supportive of his new friendship with you, Sirius was surprised but didn’t linger on the fact too long. He didn’t really care; he was too busy figuring out how to make you smile again and engraving the beautiful image into his brain.

“He’s just as bad as you are James,” Peter commented, noticing the familiar lovesick look on Sirius as he’s seen with one, James Potter. You and the eldest Black brother were sitting at a distant table in the library, thoroughly going over the material before committing to your project for Charms.

“What was that?” James comes out of his daze staring at a certain redhead. Peter and Remus share an amused look before shrugging off James’ question. Naturally, James returned to admiring an oblivious Lily Evans as Remus resumed his reading and Peter doodled on the edges of his semi-finished divination essay.

“At least Sirius is finally focusing on one girl,” Remus comments under his breath.

“Yeah, it was tiring,” Peter sighs in agreement and leans back with a relieved look on his face.

“Oh! How interesting,” you comment, leaning into Sirius’ side so as to look over his book, “I didn’t know that…” As you take a moment to read over the passage, Sirius carefully observes the way your pretty features go from enraptured to delighted. Your smile is so pretty… “We have to include that in our joint essay; I’ll note it down, quickly. Good job, Sirius,” your smile is even prettier when it’s turned to him and you praise him openly like that.

“Do I get a reward?” he asks before he can stop to think about what it is that he’s said.

“A reward?” you tilt your head in the most adorable fashion, “Our reward will be getting the highest mark in the class,” typically, girls would jump at the opportunity to flirt back and sneak in a kiss or two but your impervious, genuine nature gives Sirius pause. Though, he’s soon throwing his head back and laughing boisterously. The panic on your face, however, reminds him of the library setting and immediately stifles his amusement.

“You’re odd…” you comment on his strange behaviour and return to your work. But Sirius is unphased and holds his chin up with his palm to shamelessly stare at your side profile. He’s tempted to reach up and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Get back to work, Sirius.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You won’t admit it out loud but you quite enjoy Sirius’ company. It isn’t so lonely having him around and he helps you get good grades. He’s also very funny and nice to look at. Though, you suppose that was the main downside. He can prove to be quite the distraction if he wants to be. Nevertheless, you’re happy he has the confidence to sit next to you and willingly volunteer to be your partner for all collaboration projects. Everyone in Hogwarts has admitted to having a favourite marauder and you’re not afraid to admit that he’s your favourite; he’s the easiest to smile around.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Sirius was a lover of pushing boundaries. Seeing how far he can push before high-tailing it when the first signs of danger appear was his favourite activity. That was why he was a marauder, that’s why he loved pranks, that’s why he’s been able to see you get flustered over and over again.

Over every good thing he’s done to contribute to your projects together, no matter how small, he pleads for a reward. After some months, he’s been able to escalate the ‘reward’ from praise to a congratulatory head pat (his animagus influence), to a hug, to cuddling for extended periods to sitting on his lap and kissing him on the cheek. You become lovably ruffled every time and Sirius savours each reaction as if he’s seeing it for the first time. He always stares at you and smiles brightly when you look away.

He wants to see more of your reactions. He wants to see you do it every day. And he likes knowing that it’s because of him.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

In the year that passes, Sirius hasn’t failed to be your partner for every project you have in shared classes with Gryffindor. It was only natural that he be your partner for the final term project in D.A.D.A too. As soon as the partner project is announced, you immediately look up and meet eyes with the dark-haired Gryffindor, who had been pressured into sitting with his iconic group of friends. The two of you share a knowing smile. Everyone knows that you’re each other’s partner, nobody would dare interfere with that.

When the teacher finally allows the class to partner up, however, you’re confronted by a boy you do not know. He looks at you expectantly and asks if you would consider being his partner for the project. You didn’t know what to say. It was utterly lost on you that the more Sirius pulled you from your cold timidity, the more you’ve willingly smiled and showed your sincerity. In turn, the more observant your other classmates have become.

It became clear to them that you weren’t as cold as you first appear but, because of their ignorance, they overlooked that simply by the unfriendly look you routinely wore. This discovery has led to many of your male classmates growing a new appreciation for you and your unrecognised beauty; they didn’t know someone so cold could be so warm and look so beautiful. It irritated Sirius but he had been able to tolerate it.

Up until this moment, that is…

“So… will you?” the boy prompts one more time. You don’t know what to say, your innate timidity taking away your voice and rendering your response to a mere shake of your head. ‘No’, the answer was clear. You immediately turn away from the boy and hurry to Sirius, who had observed the boy's audacity with clenched fists and a tight jaw.

As soon as you are close enough, Sirius pulls you into his arms and tucks your face into the crook of his neck, “you’re mine,” he whispers.

“Wh-what?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I mean– you’re my partner, no one else’s,” smiling up at him, you nod affirmatively and he smiles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gentle touch lingers and travels down to trace the line of your jaw.

“...Do I get a reward for not punching that tosser in the nose?”

“Not punching what?” he laughs at your wide-eyed stare of disbelief.

“For being a Ravenclaw, you’re not very smart,”

NAVI.

A/N : again, i'm so sorry for the switch but i hope you still enjoyed reading this x

TAGLIST : @marauderssmut @ohmylordydordy @n1ght-vngel @ddeathday (the darlings that wanted a part 2 and had to wait the longest time -- it's a short list so it's an exception to my no taglists rule)

#sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black x y/n #marauders #marauders era #the marauders era

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fastandcarlos · 3 months ago

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Home For The Summer : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: travelling around the world with max is one of your favourite things to do, however none of it compares to home. even though you can't afford to make it there, someone else might just

Your eyes were sceptical as soon as Max walked into your office, a smile of mischief on his face that captured your attention. He loitered around the room, with his hands behind his back, very obviously letting you know that he was hiding something from you behind your back.

Max took a seat just beside you, looking over your desk to see what it was that you were doing, with your books open once again swatting up on some last-minute revision before Max’s summer break started.

He was struggling to contain himself beside you, he was beyond excited as his hands came from behind his back, resting in his lap with a white envelope being held tightly in his hands.

“I’ve got something for you,” Max proudly informed you.

Your eyes narrowed down on his hands, “what’s going on?” You questioned, becoming increasingly concerned about what mayhem Max was causing.

Max’s smile grew wider and wider, bouncing on his toes. “If there was one place in the world you could go during the summer break, where do you think you’d go?” Max asked you, only making you more intrigued as to what was going on.

“That’s an easy question,” you chuckled in reply to him, “the only place that I’d ever want to go is home, it’s been ages since I last got to visit.”

Despite all the travelling that you did, home was a destination you very rarely visited. With your studies still ongoing you were scraping the bottom of the barrel for any money that you could find, refusing any of Max’s help whenever he offered it to you. Unfortunately for you though, flights were expensive, and you were going to have to work a lot harder in order to raise the funds to get yourself there.

“I mean, I’d be happy anywhere if it meant time with you,” you corrected.

“But home is the spot,” Max replied, knowing exactly what you wanted, despite how nice you wanted to sound with your second response.

Your head slowly nodded as Max held his hand out to you, encouraging you to take the envelope from his hold. It was sealed tightly shut, leaving you incredibly interested as to what Max had up his sleeve.

“I got you a little something, a little treat for the summer,” Max told you as your finger slid underneath the tear of the envelope, ripping it open so that you could reach inside.

You pulled out a piece of folded paper, unfolding it and watching a ticket fall into your lap. You picked it up and twirled it around, looking straight at Max with furrowed brows as you tried to work out what exactly he was giving you a ticket for.

“Read it,” Max whispered, watching as your eyes scanned it over to try and figure things out for yourself.

“Where are we flying too?”

Max chuckled as you continued to scan it, letting go of a gasp as you finally read the details of the ticket. “I thought that might be a destination that you’d be interested in visiting.”

“Is this for real? You’re not playing a joke on me, right?”

“No, I’d never do anything like that to you love.”

Your fingertips brushed over the departure and arrival, struggling to let it sink in. You were off out of Nice in a couple of days, arriving in your favourite place in the world just a few hours later. Max’s smile was wide as he watched the realisation hit you, Max had given you the chance to finally get yourself home.

You carefully placed the ticket down before glancing across at Max in disbelief. “You’ve supported me so much after the past four months, I wanted to do something to say thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, “this is huge Max, the flights to get home aren’t cheap.”

The money didn’t matter to him, he’d would’ve paid everything that he had and it would have been worth it for the smile on your face. There was no price Max could put on the amount of comfort he felt from having you there cheering him on time and time again.

“It’s yours, and there’s another one too, so you can pick someone to take with you,” he teased.

Your eyes rolled as he innocently shrugged back at you. “Obviously I’m going to take you with me, there’s no one else I want to take home other than you.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” Max grinned as you shuffled across and sat yourself down in Max’s lap. “These are a thank you from me, because without you I wouldn’t be having such a successful season.”

“I do all that because I love you,” you reminded him, “not because I expect any of this from you.”

“I know you do.”

Your head was still shaking in disbelief, finding yourself getting excited every time you thought about home. The people you could see, the places you could go, all the things that you had missed for so long.

“Does everyone back at home know that we’re visiting?” You asked Max, squealing loudly when his head shook, keen to surprise them like he had done you.

He’d seen enough videos online of reunions that he wanted you to have one of your own. He’d listened to many of your phone calls with your family and heard just how much they missed you time and time again, desperate to do something about it.

“I take it that as surprises go, this is a pretty good one then?”

Your head nodded back at Max straight away. “It’s beyond good, I could never have imagined that I’d receive such an amazing surprise.”

“I should probably leave you to study as you won’t be able to take all of that back home with you.”

You remained still as Max tried to stand, deciding that studying could wait for another day. All you wanted to do was shower Max and show him how thankful you were, with as much excitement as you had, you knew that you would never be able to concentrate anymore anyway.

Max had a feeling you’d stay in his lap anyway, savouring the feeling of your hold around him and the sensation of your lips pressing several kisses against his cheek to let Max know just how thankful you were.

“I can’t wait to show you my home,” you whispered against his cheek.

Max hummed in response, “I can’t wait to see all of the amazing places you grew up, all those stories you’ve told me and I’ll finally get to see those spots.”

“I’m finally going home.”

“Yes you are,” Max grinned, the disbelief still clear in your voice. “And I promise that I’m going to make sure that you have the best time at home too.”

Your smile was wide back at Max, “the fact that I’m getting to go home with you already makes it the best trip ever.”

“I’m glad you’re excited,” Max mused, “I love you, you know that right?”

“I do, and I love you too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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andvys · 11 months ago

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death and injuries, mention of physical assault (physical fight), head injuries, mention of bruises and scars, mention of Eddie's almost death. pining. allusions to unrequited love. enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort. lots and lots of tension. slow burn. also, instead of writing summaries, I will name each chapter after a song that fits the vibe of each chapter. Also, mentioning this again, her nickname has nothing to do with her hair color.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult you know I will mention you in every chapter, so don't even try to fight me. Thanks for coming up with all these ideas with me mwah! — This is only the beginning, guys. This story will progress into something much more intense after chapter four or five, I can’t wait to share this one with you and get into the good and spicy stuff hehe!

Read the prologue first!

series masterlist ⭐︎ next chapter

♡

Your body was aching and everything inside of you was screaming at you to not open your eyes just yet, you felt as though you were being dragged out of it. All your limbs were hurting, your skin aching, your head was pounding. You could not begin to describe the pain even if you tried, it was unlike anything you had felt before. Your memory was lost, at least that’s what it felt like for the first few seconds.

Then they started coming back slowly.

From the gate in the water, to Steve being pulled under.

From the bats trying to bite chunks of his skin to you doing everything in your power to save him.

From the creepy old Creel house, to Max offering herself as the bait.

As pictures of her flashed in your mind, you suddenly started to register the smell – the disinfectant, the disgusting smell of hospital. You heard the beeping of the machines next to you, and you felt the wires attached to your body.

You tried to press your lips together, though tears burned in your eyes when the crack in your lip stung.

You moved your hand as you slowly opened your eyes to bright lights shining into the room you were in. You squinted them, trying to adjust to the light and the vision in front of you, it took you a moment, everything was still so blurry.

From the corner of your eye, you could see a mop of dark curls. You slowly moved your head to the left side, restraining a groan when you felt a flash of pain in your head. You blinked a few times, taking in the sight of a bruised and battered Eddie, who was looking down at his rings, twisting and playing with them nervously.

“Eddie?” You said and only then you felt how dry your throat had felt, how raspy your voice had sounded and how much it was aching.

You did not notice the movement on your right side.

He straightened up as he lifted his head so suddenly, eyes wide as he looked into yours. Relief flashed his face and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh thank god.. Hi sweetheart.. slept well?”

You stared at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out what had happened to him. By the developing scars on his face and the white bandage around his neck, you had an idea of what had gotten to him.

Was he on the brink of death just like you had been?

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he was.

“Huh… I’m not dead?”

He shook his head, eyes filled with relief, “gladly no.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, “well, shucks,” you sighed, like you didn’t fight for your life back at the Creel house.

Eddie sighed but chuckled, understanding your dark humor better than anyone else – despite only knowing you for a few days.

A cough finally fell from your lips when you tried to sit up, though losing the strength to, you fell back again.

Eddie instantly reached for the water bottle on the table next to you, pouring some into the plastic cup before he carefully placed it into your hand, trying not to touch the bruises on your knuckles.

You thanked him with a small smile before you lifted the cup to your lips with shaky hands.

“Careful,” Eddie whispered as he watched you.

You nodded and closed your eyes as you took a sip of the water, welcoming the feeling of the coldness in your dry throat, you took a few sips before you handed him back the cup.

“How long was I out?”

The sigh from your right side startled you a little, with furrowed brows, you turned to look only to be caught off guard.

Steve Harrington.

With his arms crossed, he stood by the window, staring at you with an unreadable look on his face. He took you in, eyes glaring at the wounds on your skin.

“You had to have surgery. There–... There was a deep concussion in your head and a vessel popped. If they didn’t do it quickly you..” He could not bring himself to finish that sentence, he clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him.

Even in this current state, you could not help but smirk cheekily, though it dropped the moment it appeared when you suddenly could feel all the bruises on your face. Your eyes watered and a wince fell from your lips.

Steve lifted his head at the sound.

And Eddie straightened up.

“Don’t move your face too much, sweets.. It’s…” He stopped as he felt anger and sadness hit him all at once.

He did not want to tell you how bad it really was – how your skin was bruised, how puffy your eyes were.

You closed your eyes again and laid your head back.

“Ah, he got me good, didn’t he?”

Steve swallowed harshly.

He pushed away the pain from seeing you like this and cleared his throat. He licked his lips and leaned closer.

“Yeah, but you got him better.”

You frowned at his words, not quite understanding.

Eddie glared at him, not knowing how you would take the news so soon.

“Huh?”

Steve ignored the look in Eddie’s eyes, he kept his on you.

“Jason’s dead. He fell onto broken wood… that impaled him.”

Oh.

Flashes of the night came in a blur.

The fight.

His rough hands as he hit you, over and over again, as he held you down and wrapped his merciless fingers around your throat, aiming for the kill.

You felt your heart beating a little faster at the memory, how scared you were when he pointed a gun at Lucas before you stepped in between them, knowing that he could have shot you, right then and there. How much it hurt when he sliced your cheek open with the stupid ring on his finger as he delivered the first punch, how close to death you were when he choked you. You saw the look in his eyes, the rage, as he called you a traitor for protecting ‘the killer’ of your friend. Tears of frustration and anger fell from your eyes when you almost lost the fight – Lucas’s screams as he called out to Max urged you to fight back, and you did, you used every last bit of your strength to throw him off of you and pushed him away.

Pushed him into his death.

You do not feel bad. – Max could have died because of him. He would have killed Lucas. He wanted to kill you.

“Good,” you murmured as you blinked the tears away that formed in your eyes again, “he was going to kill the kids.. He had a gun.. He had a gun, Steve.”

It was almost weird to hear you call him by his name.

He instantly rushed to your side and reached for your hand, something that neither of you would ever think back to again.

“Yeah, and you saved them. Listen, you can’t talk much, you need to heal, Blondie.”

Right. The ache in your neck was not from the lack of water, it was from the bruises, from almost being strangled to death.

“Everything else is being taken care of,” he said as he squeezed your hand.

You ignored the feeling in your chest and turned to look at Eddie.

“And you?”

“Well, you are looking at a free man! A free man that was targeted by Victor Creel himself after he got out of Pennhurst. I trespassed into his home many times and he had a vendetta against me or some shit.”

You felt relief rushing through you.

Though, you saw the hurt behind his eyes, knowing he had to lie about seeing Creel killing Chrissy.

He did not want to put the blame on somebody else, he knew what it had felt like to be accused of something he hadn’t done – but there was no other option, he had no choice, he wasn’t given one. People of power had told him what to do. In return, he got his name cleared and had been given a good amount of money for ‘the troubles’. Money that he could live off from for the rest of his life.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Eddie.”

He smiled at your words, nodding.

“What happened to you?”

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve.

“He played hero when he shouldn’t have.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at him.

Hero. There wasn’t only one hero that night.

Almost in panic, you straightened up.

“Where’s Max?”

Steve put his hand on yours again, giving it a pat as he tried to calm you down, though all he gave you was shivers running down your spine from his touch.

“Healing. He broke one arm and one leg, but she is awake. Robin is with her, she’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, the weight in your shoulders fell just like that. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t do it here, in front of them.

“And everyone else?”

You took in the sight of him, properly this time.

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, tiredness in his face.

You didn’t know what prompted you to do this, maybe it was the high anesthetic in your system or a spur of the moment – but you lifted your hand, reached out to him to graze your fingertips against his neck, on the mark where the tail of a demobat almost strangled him.

He did not pull away, but he stared at you with wide eyes, blushing at your action.

“I-I’m fine.. Everyone else is too,” he said and cleared his throat.

A scoff on your left pulled you back and you removed your hand from Steve’s neck to look over at Eddie.

“Speak for yourself, I have like forty stitches all over my body.”

How he managed to joke about that while he was still in so much pain? You did not know. But then again, you were just the same.

He spared you the details when he began to talk about what happened in the upside down. Steve did not want to revive the story again, seemingly not handling the thought of his new friend dying so cruelly. He left and told you that he’d come back later.

As Eddie was telling you about the swarm of bats, you felt the pain in your chest, just like when you had found out about Chrissy, just like when you had found out about him.

Eddie was a new addition to your life, you two are barely even friends, though you do not know how you would handle the news of him not making it.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, though a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Going soft on me now, sweets?” He chuckled, surprised to hear such words from you. “Or are you still on drugs? Where’s the little ol’ meanie, I kinda liked her.”

A pained chuckle fell from your lips.

“She’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry.”

Your laughter died down when you thought of the way he looked at you.

Judging by all the pain you were still feeling, you knew that you looked awful.

“How bad do I look? Be honest, please.”

Eddie shook his head with a pained look on his face. He looked down for a moment. His eyes flashed with anger and sadness.

“Bad, sweetheart. When we found out that Jason did this to you.. We wanted to revive him only to kill him again,” he said angrily. “Steve wanted to rip his corpse apart, that’s what Robin told me.”

For a moment, you felt cheerful and your eyes had softened.

For a moment you had thought that he cared.

But Eddie quickly pulled you back into reality after shattering that illusion.

“He saw what he did to Lucas, it’s not as bad as you but.. fuck. He was going to kill Max too.”

Steve was angry at Jason because of the teens, not because of what he did to you, never because of you. He wouldn’t have cared if you bleed out on the ground in the Creel house. He wouldn’t have cared if you died.

You focused on Eddie, on the anger in his features – it made your eyes soften, knowing that you found another friend, one that you should probably protect from the curse that you are.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I can walk now..”

You frown, tilting your head at him before you look down at yourself.

“How long have I been out?” You asked when you realized that Steve had never answered your question.

“You’ve been out for a whole week, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, you dug your hands into the mattress and pushed yourself up.

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raised his hands as he tried to stop you from sitting up.

“W-What, oh my god, my sister must be worried!”

He put his hand on your arm, gently – you had noticed it before, how careful he had been to touch you, like he was afraid of hurting you, like you were something fragile.

“Yeah, about that–” He never got to finish his sentence as the door burst open and your sister stormed inside the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of her, not because you were surprised or confused to see her here, but because it’s been two months since you had last seen her. Besides the concerned look on her face, she was glowing – maybe it was the pregnancy or maybe it was just the fact that she has been much happier since leaving Hawkins behind.

“Hi hi, honey! Are you okay?”

That day she had the same concern in her voice as she does now while she talks your ear off about how important it is to go to all your checkups at the Hospital. She is calling every day, just to remind you – and to check on you.

You are fine. Just fine.

You survived an attack, you survived surgery, you survived. You made a good recovery and you are getting better each day. Besides, Eddie and Max are on your back about the check-ups just as much, you have no choice but to go to them.

You’re holding the telephone between your ear and your shoulder as you finish touching up your make up, applying some gloss to your lips before you pick up the brush one more time and carefully go through your hair, trying not to hurt yourself, your head starts hurting at every slightest touch and it’s beginning to frustrate you.

“I’m telling you, this baby is going to be a little runner.”

“Is she still kicking?”

Your sister huffs before she laughs, “she is kicking all the time, sis.”

You smile as you take the telephone and walk towards your window, leaning against the wall as you wait for the Impala to pull up in your driveway.

“I can’t wait to meet her. I never held a baby before.”

“Well, you’re about to – give it a few more weeks and you’ll turn into an auntie in no time.”

“I am already an auntie,” you chuckle. “How could you forget little Luna? She was your first child.”

You remember how devastated you were when she took the black cat with her as she moved out of your parents house and left the town, for good. You begged her to leave the cat with you, put on your best puppy face but she wouldn’t have it, it was her cat, after all.

“Right, sorry sorry.” She laughs.

You hear rustling in the back and a moment later, a loud crunch sounds through the phone. You don’t have to ask to know what she’s eating. Chips. She is always eating salted chips, now even more so than before.

“What are you doing today?” She asks with a mouthful.

Looking down at your outfit, you place your palm on your new denim shorts before you slide your fingers into the pocket.

“I’m going to a barbecue in a few,” you say. “Max basically forced me to come.”

“Wait, you’re not driving yourself, are you?”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as a huff falls from your lips.

You’re not allowed to drive, not yet. Your vision gets blurry sometimes, and you get light headed very easily. Your doctor said that it would pass, but it’s been two weeks since you had been released from the hospital and it hasn’t passed yet.

Jason truly did a number on you.

“No, don’t worry. My friends would kill me if I even tried–”

“Don’t say that word,” she cuts you off with a stern voice. “But I agree with them.”

You snort.

“Anyways, Eddie is picking me up.”

Silence follows for a good thirty seconds before she continues eating her chips. You can practically hear her thoughts, you already know what she’s about to say next.

“Eddie. He was the cute one with the long hair, right?” She asks, innocently. “The one who brought you chocolate and magazines?”

Rolling your eyes at her teasing voice, you push yourself away from the wall when you see the black Impala pulling up to your house.

“Don’t even,” you sigh, scrunching up your face in annoyance.

She has been waiting, waiting for years for you to finally have a crush on someone, to fall in love, go on dates and get a boyfriend.

Though, unlike her, you weren’t exactly popular – maybe it was your own fault, but that’s beside the point. Your sister loved having crushes and going on dates. She loved falling in love.

You? Not so much.

Love has only brought you pain.

And you never cared much for dating – not even for fun. You don’t mind being on your own, loving someone from afar and in secret, for probably the rest of your life.

“What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he super sweet?” She asks. “He brought you chocolate, sat by your side and you seem to like him–”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“Oh,” she sighs, humming. “Yeah, you never liked the nice guys, did you?”

She got you there. Well, kind of. He is nice. He is nice to everyone, but to you.

“What about the other guy then? What was his name again… Steve?”

Just the mention of his name has shivers running down your spine, your heart fluttering and your skin crawling in tingles.

You feel your cheeks glowing but you roll your eyes at the stupid giddiness that you feel, everytime you think of him.

“Mhmm, Steve.”

“Huh.” You could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “What about him?”

If she only knew.

Eddie honks the car horn, giving you the perfect excuse to hang up the phone. You walk back to your dresser, putting the phone down.

“Anyways, I love you, sis. But a very hungry Eddie is waiting for me in the driveway.”

You know that he is hungry, he is always hungry, always eating away all the snacks and stealing leftover fries from everyone’s plates, no matter how much he had eaten already.

“Have fun with uh Steve! Love you, mwah, bye!”

You roll your eyes once again as you hang up the phone.

Steve and Fun in one sentence just doesn’t sound right. That guy would rather stay miserable for the rest of his life than even try to have fun with you.

He can’t stand you.

And well, you can’t stand him either. – At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself, all while knowing that it’s very much a lie, but how else would you stay sane?

You quickly make your way down the stairs, reaching for your keys and your sunglasses on the way out. You skip down the porch steps. You tap the hood of his car before you get into the passenger seat.

Eddie is already grinning at you, waving his fingers at you.

“Hey sexy.”

His brows shoot up and a smirk tugs at his lips. He playfully eyes you up and down.

You close the door and sit back, greeting him with a mocking smirk.

“Hello to you too, sweets,” he says in a low and deep voice – one that almost has you laughing.

“Oh, I wasn’t greeting you,” you say, nonchalantly. “I was talking to Arwen,” you gesture to his beloved, new car, that he of course named after a Lord of the rings character.

“But, hi Eddie.”

A loud laugh leaves his lips, his brown eyes twinkle with amusement. He grabs the gearstick, shaking his head at you.

“You ready for some heavy metal heaven?”

You put on your sunglasses and fasten the seatbelt after he points at you with a stern look on his face.

“Sure,” you snort, knowing that the drive to the Sinclair house will be anything but uneventful. When Eddie isn’t singing and bobbing his head to the music, he’s shouting over it, telling you a story that he can’t wait to get off his chest.

Your friendship with him is something you didn’t see coming. You tried to push him away, knowing how your friendships with people you care about usually end, but he wouldn’t have it. He kept coming back, just like Robin, just like the teens.

You don’t understand why.

What’s there about you that they want you around so bad?

You’re never in a happy mood, you’re never entertaining, you don’t bring anything into the friend group. You don’t get along with most people – by most people you only mean Steve Harrington.

You wonder if it’s because you almost died and they’d feel guilty to exclude you after helping them or if Max forces them to accept you into a friend group you never even wanted to be part of.

“How’s your head doing?” Eddie asks as he drives on Maple Street.

“Good, s’not hurting anymore.” You lie.

He knows.

Eddie sees the way you react to bright lights, the way you scrunch up your nose a little whenever the sun shines into your eyes or the way you rest your hand against the nearest wall when you seem to get dizzy.

“When’s your next check-up?”

He sounds just as concerned as your sister does, it makes you laugh a little.

Who would have thought that Eddie could be so caring?

“Tomorrow, 3pm.”

“Want me to drive you?”

You shake your head, “no, it’s fine. I’ll take the bus.”

He scoffs, shooting you a glare as he pulls up into the driveway, parking his car behind the burgundy BMW.

“You think I’ll let you take the bus? I’ll drive you and then we’ll get burgers.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt, chuckling as you turn to him, “okay, dad.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles at you with a glare.

Laughing at the look on his face, you get out of the car and make your way over to the house. Eddie bumps his shoulder into yours, tilting his head down, he looks at your heart shaped sunglasses.

“Where’d you get these?” He asks, pointing at them.

“Macy’s, why? You want some too?”

“What if I do?” He asks, ringing the doorbell.

“Then we’ll get you some pink ones.”

A smirk tugs at his lips, “hell yeah.”

Robin opens the door with an excited smile on her face, grinning when she sees you.

“Hi!” She beams at you. “Come on in.” She steps aside, lifting her arm as she waits for you both to step inside.

You walk in first, and as you do, Robin pulls you into a hug, greeting you once more.

“Hey,” you mumble as you slowly lift your arms to hug her back.

Eddie chuckles at the confused frown on your face, he follows inside and closes the door.

“C’mon, Steve is already bitching about you two being late.”

And just like that, your heart jumps a little. You hate yourself a little in these moments.

Pushing your sunglasses up on your head, you and Eddie follow her out into the garden.

You can hear the music outside, laughter and Steve’s stern voice as he scolds Dustin, as always. The smell of smoke lingers in the air and as you step outside, you catch sight of Steve, standing behind the grill, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Dustin with the grill tong.

His hair is messy, a spit curl falling before his eyes. He is wearing his black sunglasses, green khaki pants, a gray tank top,– oh god. This is going to be a long day.

You swallow as you tear your eyes away from him, looking around with squinted eyes, the sun is harsh and you instantly put your sunglasses back on.

“Are the Sinclair’s around?” You ask, meaning Lucas’s and Erica’s parents.

Robin shakes her head, “no, they’re out in Indianapolis until tomorrow, Steve is probably gonna stay the night.”

You nod.

You hear your name being called and you turn to your right to see Lucas waving at you with a smile on his face. He is sitting on the lounger Max is laying on, still with casts on her leg and her arm. She pushes herself up on her elbows, looking in your direction, a smile appears on her face and she greets you just as kindly as her boyfriend did.

Robin leaves your side, walking towards Dustin who plays with his new, portable Stereo.

As you pass by Steve, he turns around to greet Eddie with a smile and you with nothing more than a nod and low grumble, “Blondie.”

Whenever he seems moody or pissed off, you feel the urge to make it even worse. And you do, every single time.

You walk around him and look at the meat on the grill, whining.

“I don’t eat meat.”

He turns to you, eyes growing wide at your words. He didn’t know. And he already feels guilty for not asking you first. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair as an apologetic look crosses his face.

“Fuck… I-I didn’t know–” he stops when he notices the smug look on your face and hears Eddie chuckle over his shoulder.

He should’ve known.

With a groan, he rolls his eyes and pushes his sunglasses back down as he turns back to the grill.

“Hey Eddie!” Dustin calls out to him, already grinning at Steve. “Check this out!”

“Don’t you dare, Dustin–” Robin gets cut off by a scream as it blasts from the stereo. She smacks him lightly on his head, yelling at him to turn it off.

Eddie laughs loudly, leaving yours and Steve’s side.

“Jesus christ,” Steve mumbles, scrunching his face up at the music. “That shrimp has been doing that all day. Eddie really is a bad influence.”

“Aw, poor Steve,” you pout at him, “are you mad that you can’t listen to Madonna?”

He scoffs at you, though he doesn’t say anything and focuses on the sizzling burgers as he turns them over.

You press your lips together, ignoring the tugging in your chest or the feeling in your stomach as you use his distraction to look at him.

It’s only nearing the end of April, but it already feels like the beginning of summer. Steve’s skin is already sun kissed. You hide your eyes behind your sunglasses as you ogle him. Taking in the sight of his veiny hands, his arms that have just the perfect amount of muscle, his chest hair that you always tease him for, the silver chain around his neck.

You swallow.

Cursing inwardly when you feel your stomach fluttering.

He turns to face you again, totally catching you and your staring.

Fuck.

“Like what you see?” He smirks down at you.

You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying not to blush under his gaze.

He is feeling smug. Not because he likes you staring at him, but because he’s been waiting for a moment to embarrass you with something.

He expects you to stutter, to step back and answer his question with a shaky and squeaky voice, because that is what he must be used to, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You take a step closer to him, biting your lip as you eye him up and down.

You can tell that it catches him off guard a little, but unlike you, he isn’t blushing.

“Yeah, actually,” you whisper and put your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to the small table where he left his coke. You wrap your hand around the can, it’s cold against your palm and you hum in satisfaction as you raise it up to your lips, taking a sip of his drink. “Mmmh, perfect.”

You turn around, and walk away without another word, leaving him huffing and glaring at you.

You fail to notice or feel his eyes on you, the way they rake down your body, the way he licks his lips before he forces his eyes away from you.

You greet Lucas and Max properly, hugging the latter before you take a seat on the lounger next to her, choosing the one that is half in the shadow, so you can hide your face from the sun.

You easily fall into a conversation with the teens. You had always been close with Max, even before you were dragged into all of this.

Being friends with her, also brought Lucas into your life. Unlike Dustin, who is always somehow trying to get on your nerves by teasing you with crushes that don’t exist or annoying you like a younger brother would do, Lucas is always very kind.

“I can’t wait for you to get your car back.”

Chuckling at Lucas’s words, you take off your sunglasses and put them down beside you.

“Why’s that?”

“So you can drive us around again,” he shrugs as he flashes you a smile.

“Are Steve and Eddie not good enough for you?” You snort.

Max scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes as she turns to you.

“Steve is always whining about something!”

“Yeah, and Eddie drives like a maniac,” Lucas groans, throwing his hands up.

Max purses her lips, looking down at her cast.

“Yeah, like your girlfriend,” you laugh, glancing at Lucas. “I wonder who will teach her how to drive properly.”

“First of all, I don’t drive like a maniac,” says Max. “Second, why don’t you teach me how to drive?”

You raise your brows at her, shaking your head, “sorry girl, but I am not a good teacher.”

“But you’re like a big sister to me, you’re supposed to teach me,” she teases, though she looks at you with her best puppy eyes. “Besides, we can take Billy’s car.”

Shaking your head at her, you lay your head back and close your eyes, “don’t even try, Max. We’ll both end up in a ditch, we barely made it out last time.”

She snorts at your words while Lucas looks between the two of you with disapproval on his face.

“I’m starting to think that neither of you should ever drive again.”

“I actually agree with you,” Robin chimes in as she joins the three of you. “I’ve heard of Max’s driving skills and uh… you lady,” she points at you, moving your legs to the side as she takes a seat on your lounder, “are danger in person.”

“Me?” You gasp, putting your hand on your chest.

“Yeah, you!”

Steve watches you from afar, ignoring the heavy metal music and the curly heads behind him, who are going crazy over a song he just can’t find a liking to.

He watches you – the way you crack a smile and shake your head with an amused look on your face.

He watches you talk to the teens and to his best friend, easily falling into conversations. He rarely sees you like this – smiling and carefree. You’re usually always tense, annoyed and wearing a permanent frown on your face. Mostly around him.

Steve will never know what it’s like to have a normal conversation with you, to see you smiling at him, not in a teasing way, in a real way. He is not sure if he ever even saw a real smile on your face – not even the one you are wearing now is real.

But, why does he even care? You two have never gotten along, you hated each other, at first glance.

With a sigh, he turns off the grill. He carries the tray filled with food over to where everyone is sitting, motioning for Eddie and Dustin to follow.

Steve walks past you, not paying attention to how close he is to you, he accidentally bumps you in the head with the corner of the tray. He doesn’t even notice that he did – not until, you duck your head down and raise your hand to touch the side of your head.

Max snaps her head up at him with a glare on her face. Lucas freezes when he sees how angry she is.

He looks down at you, to see you looking up at him already.

“I’m sorry..” He murmurs.

You don’t speak, instead you look up at him with big eyes and a pained look on your face.

“Oh come on, I barely even touched you,” he says, nervously.

Eddie and Robin glance at each other, confused and worried.

He rolls his eyes at you, knowing that this is another one of your little games that you always play, whenever you get bored.

“Are you fucking with me again?”

Max shoots out of her seat, almost falling over due to the cast on her leg, her cheeks grow red in anger as her eyes burn into Steve.

“Her head! You hit her head, you stupid idiot!” She points at him with rage in her voice.

Steve’s eyes widen as deep guilt rushes through him, he instantly drops the tray on the table before he crouches down in front of you, shakily laying his palm on your shoulder as Max continues to curse at him.

He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t think of that.

“S-Shit,” he mumbles, looking at you apologetically.

How could he forget? The doctor told you how sensitive you would be at every slightest touch to your head, how every slightest bump could cause nausea, dizziness or even a migraine. He was there, he heard him say it loud and clearly, yet he forgot.

Only now does he notice the hurt in your eyes as you place your palm over your ear – your ear that is ringing, for a moment it feels as though you’ve been pulled under water, and still you hear Max yelling at Steve.

It’s not his fault, it was an accident.

“Max! It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do it on purpose! J-Just fuck…” You curse at the pain, not even recognizing your own voice for a moment. Who would’ve thought that you would be this sensitive? You feel his hand on your shoulder, maybe it eases the pain a little, or maybe it’s just the comfort that you feel from only his touch.

“I-I’m gonna get you some ice,” Steve mumbles and rushes into the house, with Eddie following close behind.

He throws his sunglasses on the counter and huffs in frustration as he tugs at his hair. He opens the freezer and gets an ice pack out.

“Steve–”

“Fuck, Eddie. I didn’t know, I thought she was fucking with me again,” he stammers, wrapping the icepack into a cloth. “She always does this a-and I wasn’t thinking of the fucking injury.”

Steve is cursing at himself and at Jason who caused all of this, who did this to you.

Eddie takes a step closer to him, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his friend down.

“Steve,” he sighs but he won’t look at him. “You didn’t know, i-it’s just a migraine, nothing else–”

“Nothing else?” Steve scoffs, frowning at Eddie.

How could this be nothing else? He caused you pain with the slightest touch, something that reminded you of what you had been through, only a few weeks back. And he might have just triggered even more than a migraine, he might have triggered some thoughts to come back that you tried to not think of.

He rushes back out to you.

When you see him, you are already reaching for the ice pack, waving your hand at him to give it to you but he pulls it back, not handing it to you.

You huff in annoyance, looking at him in disbelief.

Max is standing with a hand on her hip, extending her arm as well as she glares at him in annoyance.

Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, like they are afraid to move or even say anything as they quietly eat their food.

“Lego head, give me the ice pack–”

He startles you a little by sitting down right behind you, “where do I press?” He asks.

You’re taken aback by his words and his action, you’re taken aback by his touch.

“Huh?”

“Where do I press the ice pack?” He asks again, breathing down your neck.

You glance up at Max, she raises her eyebrows at you. Normally, she is the one who helps you, sometimes it’s Eddie or Robin, but Steve? Steve never helped you.

She eyes Steve and the look in his eyes, the guilt and the pain from hurting someone when normally, he tries to do everything in his power to protect people, even the ones that he doesn’t like.

With a sigh, she slowly sits down.

Despite the pain that is pulsating in your head, you feel shivers running down your spine when Steve moves your hair to the side, his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Where?”

“I uh–... here,” you mumble, quietly as you point to the spot where it hurts the most.

“Okay,” he whispers and scoots even closer to you, he presses the ice pack against the back of your head.

You sigh and relax a little, closing your eyes as you welcome the coldness.

Your heart flutters in your chest when he presses his free hand on your shoulder, touching you gently.

“Max, you should eat something,” Robin says, trying to smile at the angry teen.

“Yeah, you’re gonna heal faster if you eat a burger,” Eddie grins, trying to ease the tension as he hands her the plate.

“A burger will help me heal, really?” She scrunches her face up but grabs the plate, nonetheless.

“Yeah, actually. It’ll give you some of the strength back,” Dustin winks at her before he takes a bite of his burger.

She snorts, shaking her head at them.

You listen to your friends chatter as you keep your eyes closed. Tilting your head to the side, you lean back slightly, – wishing you could just lean into him. You can sense how tense he is, you are almost certain that you can hear his thoughts, how he is cursing at himself for this, for hurting someone – even if it’s just you.

“Stop stressing about it, Harrington. It’s nothing,” you sigh, trying to ease some of his tension.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “You and Eddie, I swear if you keep saying this is nothing..” He huffs in frustration.

Not only does he hate all of this – he also hates the feeling of your soft skin beneath his touch, the smell of your perfume, the smell of your body wash that he is close enough to smell – and fuck, does it smell good, good enough to make his stomach feel all weird again.

You try to chuckle, though he can tell that it’s pained.

“What, you worried about me, Lego head? Thought I didn’t affect your life at all?” You ask smugly, as though it’s a joke to you.

Your words feel like a punch to his gut, even though he was the one who said these words to you, it hurts for some reason, because maybe, these words aren’t true in the slightest.

You might not be someone important to him, you might not be special to him.

Yet it doesn’t change the feeling he had felt in his gut when he found out that you were on the brink of death, that night. When he saw you in the hospital room hours after your surgery, how lost and empty he had felt when he saw the state you were in. How he sat beside you for hours before the nurses finally kicked him out and told him to go home and rest.

He clenches his jaw.

“Yes, I’m worried,” he huffs. “So shut up because you will make it worse, Blondie.” He says with full expectation to hear some smartass comment back from you.

But you stay quiet, fully quiet.

You open your eyes and you look down at your hands in sadness.

You wish he didn’t say that to you. You wish he kept the hate comments instead, that he left you with the idea of hating you completely, not showing an ounce of worry towards you. Because this is ruining you. The act of kindness is completely destroying you, and he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t feel it either.

You really are hopeless.

>> next chapter

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

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darkmatilda · 27 days ago

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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: following a certain unsettling experience, you and your husband choose to move to a quiet yet incredibly boring town. in his absence on a business trip, you discover an unexpected source of intrigue and diversion in one of your neighbors — spencer.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x female!reader, cheating (but not really lol), unreliable narrative, violence, attempted murder, inspired by taylor swift's song "fortnight", mention of sex but without a detailed description, nothing in this story is as it seems so read carefully until the end, reader has some backstory because it's necessary to the plot, reader has some disturbing thoughts, just to clarify, i don’t consider her character to be good or a role model. if you’re hesitating whether to read this story, it might be better if you skip it, lol.

𝐚/𝐧: it's kind of an experiment and I'm curious if you'll like it :3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.5k

“Finally…our bedroom.” Richard opened the door to the room with a chivalrous gesture, bowing slightly as he let you enter first. Before stepping inside, you glanced at his face without much enthusiasm. He seemed genuinely happy. It didn’t surprise you. He loved beautiful things, and this house you’d just moved into was exactly that. “I’ve always wanted one like this. Spacious, white. A huge bed. What do you think, darling?”

Your husband’s lips gently brushed against the skin of your shoulder as he stood a step behind you. The tender gesture stirred no emotions in you—just like this bedroom. Or the house in general.

“Why do we need such a big bed if I’ll be sleeping in it alone?” you asked, unable to hold back the bitterness in your voice.

Richard sighed and took a step back. Your words had pulled him out of his own cinematic fantasy—the one he’d been living in since morning. In that fantasy, you were a perfectly happy couple embarking on an unquestionably bright chapter of your lives, and you were his perfectly normal wife.

“It’s just two weeks. A fortnight, as my grandfather used to say. I’ve gone on much longer business trips before.”

“Well, I wasn’t in a completely unfamiliar place then, where I don’t know anyone.”

He tilted his head, clearly reluctant to revisit this topic yet again.

“You won’t be alone. Sarah will be coming by every day, remember? I asked her to take care of you.”

“You hired her,” you corrected.

“Fine, I hired her. She desperately needed a job, and I needed someone to keep an eye on you. Does the fact that she’ll be paid for it really change anything?”

Countless words pressed against your lips. Yet suddenly, you lost all interest in the argument, in the situation as a whole. You said nothing.

Richard studied your face closely, noticing that sudden, dangerous absence in your expression—a telltale sign with you. His lips tightened with concern. Before he could speak, the doorbell rang.

“Could that be her?” he wondered aloud, heading downstairs to let the guest in.

You followed him mindlessly down the stairs, like a shadow. You weren’t entirely sure why. Everything in your existence felt just like this—dictated by someone else or some mysterious force, a whisper lurking at the back of your mind. Never fully justified.

It turned out it wasn’t Sarah. Standing at the door of your new home was a couple.

“Hi there,” said a young woman with a romantic figure and a cascade of black curls. A natural blush on her cheeks softened her sharp features, adding a touch of charm. “We live in the house across the street. We stopped by to welcome our new neighbors.”

“And to apologize for barging in right after you arrived, not giving you any time to settle in,” added the man standing a step behind her, clearly towering over her in height. He looked down at his companion with a faint, probably unconscious smile, and from that alone, you knew they were either married or a long-standing couple. “Someone was a little too eager to meet you.”

She elbowed him, barely stifling a laugh.

“I’m Vanessa. And this is my smug and sarcastic husband, Spencer.”

“We weren’t expecting visitors,” you spoke up before Richard, standing in front of you, could say a word.

There was an unintentional sharpness to your tone—you didn’t want to host anyone. For one, you had just arrived. Your belongings from the previous house had been unpacked by the moving company, but you hadn’t gone shopping yet. There wasn’t any coffee to offer, and you weren’t even sure if the coffee maker was plugged in. More importantly, you hadn’t yet adjusted to the new place yourself and didn’t want to let strangers in until you did.

Vanessa parted her lips, clearly surprised by the edge in your voice.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” your husband cut in quickly, turning to the woman with an apologetic look. “Don’t worry, you’re not bothering us at all. Actually, we’re glad you stopped by. It’ll be nice to get to know someone in the area, especially for my wife. I’ll be leaving on a business trip soon, and I don’t want her getting bored. Richard, by the way,” he added, extending a hand.

She had very small hands, round like a child’s, but in their own way, charming. Her wedding ring was simple and looked cheaper than yours. The thought flitted through your mind, as did the observation that Spencer had very elegant hands—slim with long fingers—unlike your husband’s. You had an odd habit of paying unsettlingly close attention to people’s hands.

Despite the protest in your gaze, Richard invited them inside.

Vanessa walked in first. They didn’t touch, but there was an unmistakable closeness in all their movements, as if they were two halves of one of those matching necklaces best friends wear in school. It caught your attention for some reason. You knew that you and Richard didn’t share that kind of grace. People didn’t immediately assume you were married when they saw you together. Sometimes they thought you were father and daughter, even though he was only thirteen years older than you and looked young, well-kept. But it probably had more to do with the way you walked cautiously at his side, always slightly withdrawn, as if seeking protection.

“Oh, it immediately reminded me of our house when we first moved in,” Vanessa sighed nostalgically, turning to her husband. The four of you had walked into the kitchen, where the table and countertops were spotless and empty, as if taken straight from a photo in a modern interior design magazine. “It used to look like this too, but then Spencer converted the living room and kitchen into the second and third library. Apparently, one isn’t enough for him.”

“My wife reads a lot too,” Richard chimed in. There was something strange about his tone, a faint, undefined emotion—maybe jealousy, but not entirely. Jealousy over the lightness and ease in their interactions, how their relationship seemed perfect at first glance. Unlike his.

Spencer looked at you, as if seeking confirmation of that statement.

You pursed your lips. The last time you’d read something was…six weeks ago, at best. Books hadn’t brought you joy in a long time, though there was a time when you devoured them relentlessly.

“It’s true,” you admitted stiffly. “I read constantly. One book after another."

When you lied, your voice sounded mechanical, like a robot. Recently, though, all your words carried that same rigid tone, even when you were being entirely truthful, so no one noticed when you veered away from the truth. It was, in a way, convenient. The new neighbor opened his mouth to speak. If he had asked what kinds of books you enjoyed, you would have said something absurd, like The Bible Trilogy or something equally ridiculous. Nothing else came to your foggy mind.

However, he was cut off by Richard, who quickly turned to both of them with a question about their professions. They looked young, about your age. You hadn’t expected them to have impressive careers, but that assumption turned out to be wrong. Vanessa turned out to be a surgeon, and Spencer was a criminal profiler.

Although the lines of his face were arranged in a way that was undeniably pleasant to look at, and his irises carried a warm hue, there was an undeniable sharpness in them. You could feel it, that piercing quality, whenever his gaze landed on you.

You tuned out when Richard started boring them with stories about his work as an engineer. His favorite topic—pride. You just wanted them to leave, even though nothing in their behavior really irritated you. Their love, however, bored you. You had some private aversion to happy relationships, and with the typical jealousy of a gloomy wife, you always wrote them off as doomed. Probably because of betrayal.

“And you, what do you do?” At some point, Spencer interrupted your husband’s monologue, tilting his head toward you. Vanessa, who had been patiently listening, seemed to perk up a little, her gaze now on you.

Richard swallowed, and you saw and heard it.

“She’s not working at the moment,” he said cautiously. Vanessa’s eyes involuntarily dropped to your stomach, but Richard quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. We don’t have children yet. It’s just... it’s about some... health issues.”

A very creative way to convey that not long ago your wife had a nervous breakdown. So severe that you decided to buy a new house in a new neighborhood, hoping it would somehow improve her condition.

Vanessa’s eyes brightened, as if apologizing for bringing up the topic at all.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, it’s kind of like my Spence. He’s on leave for health reasons too. I made him take it; I honestly think it’s better to take a break and rest than push yourself to the limit later on.”

“But it’s nothing serious,” her husband quickly reassured. “Just migraines. Two weeks, and I’ll be back at work.”

You apologized to them without a hint of feigned remorse. Muttering something under your breath about not feeling well, but in reality, you simply didn’t want to continue this pointless conversation. As you walked away, you could feel Richard’s unwavering gaze on your back. He had never been angry at you for your behavior. He cared deeply, truly. More than anger, you sensed a certain disappointment in his demeanor. In his ideal world with his ideal wife, you stood by his side, holding him by the waist, entertaining everyone with some anecdote from exotic corners of the world, sparking bursts of laughter.

You lay down on the bed, in the cold sheets of the enormous bed. Closing your eyes, you imagined yourself floating on the surface of the endless ocean. There was nothing around you to focus your gaze on. In a way, it was a dream more terrifying than one where a shark would chase you. When you woke up, the sun was setting.

For a while, you lay still, but eventually, you got up and descended the stairs. It wasn’t out of desire, but rather some internal compulsion you had to fulfill. Otherwise, something would happen. You weren’t sure what. Your steps were slow, barely audible. At the top of the stairs, you heard Sarah’s voice coming from the kitchen. The rest of the way, you moved like a born detective, a secret agent, hiding by the entrance, opposite the white (like everything else in this house) wooden cubby under the stairs.

You heard Sarah’s voice again, a faint sound of vegetables being chopped in the background. They must have been preparing dinner together.

"Don’t worry," she said, her voice gentle. "When you leave, I’ll stop by every day to check on her. Are you sure that moving away was really the right solution?"

Richard sighed before answering.

"Well, that’s what the psychologist recommended. He said that a break from the big city and some peace is the best thing I can offer her in this crisis."He paused for a moment, then added, "Thank you for doing this, Sarah. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but my work...This project is incredibly important…"

Sarah was your sister, whom your husband had hired as something like domestic help. She cleaned and made sure you didn’t get the idea of taking a bath with a toaster plugged in under your arm. By the way, they were fucking behind your back. You knew about it and did nothing about it.

The reasons were mixing in your head, but the most important one was probably that without Richard, you would have nothing. Money, a house, the possibility of spending most days sweetly doing nothing. Besides, you didn’t really feel bothered by it. For most of the time, where he stuck his dick was absolutely indifferent to you, even if it was your sister. For the rest, you wanted to slit both of their throats.

But we all have our own inner battles, right?

You walked into the kitchen, and they fell silent immediately.

The next two days felt almost fairy-tale-like, as if every time the sun set, creatures straight out of folklore surrounded your house, camping outside the windows. Richard, by your side, became a kind of magical amulet—a form of protection against them all. His departure would be like violently ripping that amulet from your neck, leaving you exposed to danger.

You were getting used to the new house. For a moment, you felt so alive, so present, that you even started questioning whether bringing the porcelain dinner set from the old place had been a good idea. For a solid fifteen minutes, you told Richard how you thought it was too elegant, too plain. Too much of a match for the rest of the decor, all designed in the same style.

He listened, a smile on his face, happy that your thoughts weren’t drifting into strange, distant realms. And when you were done, he whisked you away to buy a new dinner set with cobalt floral patterns. You felt good.

The next day, he left for his two-week business trip—a fortnight, as he called it.

The first day was lonely; you wandered aimlessly through the vast new house. The next two days seemed not to exist at all.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Someone’s presence loomed just behind you as you lay face down on the bed, your face buried in the pillow. “You can’t spend your days like this. It’s not helping, really. You need to… you need to try doing something,” Sarah explained. She pulled the blanket off your body, like a mother waking a child for school.

You didn’t respond.

“Come downstairs. It’s already afternoon, and I bet you haven’t eaten anything, right? Honestly, I don’t even want to ask how long it’s been.”

And I bet you spread your legs for my husband, right? The thought pushed itself to your lips, but opening your mouth felt like too much effort. After about fifteen minutes of her continued talking, you let her drag you downstairs. You sat in a chair at the table, where you had a clear view of the neighbors’ house and driveway. It was almost identical to yours—white, two stories tall, with a mailbox planted near the road that stretched through the neighborhood. The only thing that set it apart was a trail of pink roses climbing along its white fence.

Sarah began preparing a meal. She was always an excellent cook. She had a thing for Asian cuisine—hearty soups with intense aromas.

You ate in silence. Sarah asked if you had called Richard, but you dismissed it with a snort. After that, she said nothing more and started cleaning up after the meal without a word. You kept your absent gaze fixed on the neighbors' driveway when suddenly a car appeared there. Spencer got out, wearing a polo shirt, and went to the trunk to pull out, as it turned out, bags of groceries.

He had no idea you were watching him, though if he had good eyesight, he could have seen your face in the window across the street. The entire conversation with him and his wife filled your mind again. You remembered that Vanessa worked as a surgeon almost all day, while he spent his days alone at home. Just like you and Richard. Did he feel romantically lonely, or abandoned like a dog that’s loved but you want to kick every time it pees on the carpet? The kind of dog that gets shown in family pictures but is asked to get off the bed and not lick you because it disgusts you?

You were curious if they had sex. He and Vanessa. She was probably tired when she got back and didn’t feel like it. Did he accept that, or secretly bring someone home when she wasn’t around? He seemed to love her, but that didn’t mean he could deny his human needs. Maybe he missed intimacy. You probably did too, but you didn’t want it from Richard. In bed, he was too proper, like a porn actor following a script.

"Maybe you can help me?" Sarah asked, washing dishes at the sink. Lost in thought, you didn’t even hear the sound of the running water.

Spencer came inside.

"That's why Richard hired you," you reminded her coldly.

"It’s not about that," she sighed. "I don’t know, maybe it’s just my opinion, but doing nothing drives people into even deeper depression. Believe me, you’d feel better if you had something to focus on. I don’t know, a job, a child, responsibilities. A goal." She paused for a moment, placing the dishes on the shelf. Her hands touched your new porcelain. You were planning to throw it out once she left. "Okay, maybe I’ll sound harsh, but... are you really not coping?"

"Do you think I'm pretending?"

"No," she added quickly, with real concern. "I don't think so, it's just... you know, I just remembered. When you were a child, you were like this too. Our parents gave us chores, and you didn't do your part. You used to drift off somewhere with your thoughts...you were a bit lazy.”

A strange hum filled your head as you returned to your body, the kitchen was filled with darkness, and your cheek rested on the kitchen table. Only after a moment did you realize that Sarah must have left hours ago, and you, unable to move, had fallen asleep in the same spot where you had been sitting. Your body was stiff, and you didn't want to move it to avoid pain or numbness.

When you opened your eyes again, the morning sun gently caressed your face.

A certain sense of unreality gently embraced your body, kissing every part of it. For a moment, you lay there—or rather, sat—with your head resting on the table, your gaze fixed on the view outside the window. The neighbor's house, the pink roses, the driveway. The mailbox, to which Spencer approached with a sleepy step, dressed in a loose T-shirt and gray checkered pants. Even from afar, you could see his brown hair was messy, which only added a charm to his already quite handsome face.

Without much thought, as if guided by some higher command in a system you physically couldn't resist, you sprang to your feet and stepped outside. You were still wearing a flowing white nightgown that reached just halfway up your thigh, with lace trimming. Though it was spring, the mornings were cold, but you didn't feel it, just as you didn't feel the roughness of the concrete driveway beneath your bare feet.

"Hey, neighbor!" you shouted at him, approaching your mailbox. You acted as it felt so natural to you, as if you did this every morning just like him. You glanced inside; there was only a newspaper.

Spencer furrowed his brow in surprise, but waved, a brief, uncertain smile appeared on his lips. You shoved the newspaper under your arm without even looking at the headline and crossed the street to approach him. You felt both more alive than ever before and fleeting, as if the breeze could blow you away at any moment, and you would become nothing more than a cloud of dust just before his face.

“Morning,” he greeted aloud, crossing his arms, one of them holding a newspaper against his chest. For a moment, he stared at you, lost in thought, before finally shaking his head. “I’ll admit, I’m... a little surprised to see you. I thought you and Richard had both left, I didn’t see you around…”

“Oh, I just wasn’t feeling well,” you waved your hand dismissively. Your tone was light, not as tense as it had been the first, and last, time you’d spoken with him. He seemed to notice the difference, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied your face.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” he expressed, his concern sounding sincere and kind.

“Definitely. I’m just a little bored now. Not much to do in the new house, new neighborhood,” you added with an ironic undertone that only you could catch. As if you were even trying to do anything. You remembered Sarah’s words while doing the dishes.

Spencer, however, couldn’t know you were lying, and in a way, you believed your own words. He gave a short chuckle.

“I get that all too well. The doctor recommended I take a break from mental work, and I have no idea what I could do,” he said. “Vanessa comes home late during the week, and she just collapses. I guess I’ll have to push through until the weekend.”

You laughed, not because his words amused you, but because it confirmed your earlier theory. They weren’t having sex. There was no chance of it.

“Ah, poor things. The both of us, I mean,” you sighed. “Well, since you can’t work mentally, I suppose you’ll have to spend your time physically. In some pleasant way.”

“Yeah, I guess that would be the best,” he responded.

A silence fell between you. You didn’t know what else to say to keep the conversation going. Why did you even want to keep it going so much? Was it a lack of male attention, or something else? Spencer’s gaze briefly flickered toward his house, likely signaling that he wanted to go back inside but didn’t know how to show it. But suddenly, his eyes dropped, and his lips parted in surprise.

“Y-your foot…”

A pool of blood stretched out beneath you, on his driveway. Surprised, you let out a stifled cry, not feeling any pain and having no idea where it came from. Spencer snapped out of his shock, his head swiveling side to side as a sense of control began to settle into his movements.

"You’re barefoot, you must have stepped on something, a sharp stone or glass," he reasoned logically, eyeing your feet. Then, he sighed. "Damm… there’s quite a bit of it... a-are you okay?"

"A little dizzy," you groaned.

The sight of blood always made you lightheaded.

He quickly rushed to you, making sure you wouldn’t fall. One of his hands, slender with long fingers—something you had once noticed—rested on the small of your back, and you could feel it through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“C-could you take me to my house...?” you asked, slipping further into his arms. “I need to lie down... I don’t like... I don’t like blood...”

“Of course...”

And though his house was much closer, he followed your request. The fact that you were disturbed by the sight of blood, rather than the actual loss of it, seemed to calm him a bit. He tried to guide you, draping his arm around you, but soon realized it was pointless. He froze for a moment, uncertain. Then he sighed and lifted you in his arms, supporting you beneath the knees.

"Thank you so much... neighbor," you mumbled into his chest.

A moment later, you were half-sitting, half-lying on a chair in the kitchen, while he pulled one to sit across from you. Small bloodstains from your foot marked his gray pants, but he seemed completely unfazed by it. You weren't sure if there was a first aid kit at home, so he told you to wait and went to your bathroom to fetch it.

With a focused expression and his lower lip slightly protruding, he began treating your wound. He seemed to have experience in this. You didn't feel any pain at all; you were focused only on a few things. On your stretched-out leg, resting on his lap, and what was between your legs, revealed by the short nightgown.

You never slept in lingerie.

You carefully analyzed his face, wondering if he noticed it.

Maybe not, because he was too focused. Maybe he did, but he was trying to play the gentleman.

You pretended to let out a short groan of pain to draw his attention. His gaze lovingly fell on you... and then it landed right there. He quickly looked away, the corner of your mouth trembled.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Spencer,' you said. “My foot, actually. Is it something serious?”

He swallowed, though your limb was already fully bandaged and dressed, he didn’t take his eyes off it. As if he were afraid to look elsewhere.

“‘N-no,’ he replied hoarsely, nervously. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of it, then straightened his head. His gaze held so much awkwardness. And you were absolutely sure that there was also some degree of desire in it. ‘It’s… it’s a shallow wound, it just bled a bit heavily. I disinfected it… there’s probably no need to go to the hospital… unless… unless you feel like you need to, of course, that depends on you.’”

“There’s no need,” you reassured him with a brief nod. In contrast to him, your voice was calm, refined. You straightened up in your seat and reached out, brushing your fingers against his forearm. He flinched. “How can I repay you?”

"Repay?" he repeated, with confusion. Then your eyes met, and if he had been standing, he would likely have taken a step back, pushed away by everything that was in your gaze. He swallowed again. "You don’t have to repay me, it’s... just a neighborly favor. And I... I need to get going."

He fought with himself, but if he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t have allowed you to touch his forearm like that, running your nails along it. Suddenly, as if struck by an electric shock, he jumped up from the chair, your injured leg dropping to the floor. You wanted to scoff, but held yourself back. At first, you watched him leave the kitchen, then you turned your gaze toward the window, where he soon appeared, heading toward the house. His steps were slow, suspiciously slow.

A sense of triumph filled your body as you slowly rose from the chair, standing on your healthy leg. You waited, watching, until he turned.

You slipped the sleeve of your nightgown off your shoulder.

He didn’t turn around, though he stopped.

You slipped another one.

He stood still, his shoulders moving up and down.

The nightgown slipped down along your body.

He chose that exact moment to glance back toward your window, toward you. You saw his eyes widen, his gaze unsure of where to land. For a long, intense moment, you simply stared at each other.

Until he finally moved, gave in, and returned to your house.

Well, in a similar manner, the following days unfolded.

Every morning, you waited by the window like a ghost. Spencer, like a good neighbor, would approach the mailbox, pull out the newspaper, and pretend to examine the front page. But in reality, he was just waiting to catch a glimpse of you in the window of your house. You didn't need to give him hand signals, wave, or call out. You simply hobbled to your bedroom, knowing the front door was unlocked.

And after a moment, he would join you.

Your bodies collided with the bedding. Always in the same wild way, impatient and thirsty for the closeness of another person. His hand slid between your legs, a short moment later, caressed your lips, brushing against your lower lip, gently tugging at it. It was like an intense memory, suddenly haunting you in the middle of, say, a store aisle, pulling from you an involuntary gasp, even though weeks or even years had passed since that moment.

Those moments when you were together were that wonderful memory. The act itself, and the moments after, when you lay curled up facing each other. The rest of the days, the hours between your next meeting, were like that store aisle with shelves full of milk with various fat contents. Being among them, all you could do was return, return with your thoughts.

That Friday, you were sitting with your knees resting on his chest.

Your finger traced a path from his collarbones down to his lower abdomen and back again, and Spencer watched your movements, his lips slightly curled in amused curiosity.

"What are you thinking about?" he wanted to know.

He reached for your loose hair, gently pushing it over your back to see you better. To see all of you.

"Do you feel guilty for cheating on your wife?" you asked. "The beautiful, loving Vanessa? With your sick neighbor?"

Spencer was silent for a long moment, though he did not look away. If he had, it would have carried some shame, some guilt. But he didn’t.

“Desire is like a whirlpool that takes you down, with no possibility of return. Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary " he quoted softly, instead of directly answering the question.

"A guy who quotes classic literature after having sex with me," you chuckled. "Now, that's a first. But how does this relate to my question?"

"It relates in this way," he replied, "that desire is not something I have control over. It's a force that strikes unexpectedly, and although a person is often aware of the consequences it brings, they can't resist it. And I desire you."

"So you mean to say that cheating on your wife isn't your fault? Because you had no control over it?"

"Of course, it's my fault. And every sin is something a person eventually regrets, that's just how it goes. But I'm not there yet. I'm still too dazzled and enchanted by you. So, to answer your question, no, I don't feel guilty. Not yet. What about you?"

A strange feeling filled your body as you listened to his words, compliments, and devotion. It was as if you were swaying to the delicate sounds of some magical music, played live by a brilliant composer. Instead of answering, you returned to tracing the same path on his skin, starting from his neck and moving downward.

He inhaled sharply. This time, you did it with your lips.

Both of you, fully dressed, walked down the stairs. You wanted him by your side all day and night, but you couldn't have him. Not only because he had to go home in the evening when his wife was returning from work. He had other duties too, like grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning; he couldn’t devote all his time to you.

Your hand rested in his, but then you stopped suddenly, alarmed by a sound. A car pulling into the driveway.

"It must be Sarah," you thought right away. You had spent much longer in bed that day than usual, completely unaware that it was already afternoon and your sister was coming over to check on you. Spencer straightened up, surprised, and before he could say anything, you pushed him toward the cupboard under the stairs. You hadn’t had a chance to look in there yet, but it seemed like the best hiding spot. "Get in there, quickly...!"

Barely had the cupboard door closed when Sarah entered. She was holding a paper bag with groceries, nearly dropping it when she saw you.

“What are you doing here?”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“This is my house.”

“Shit, right,” she sighed, nodding. “Sorry, I just always found you in bed at this time, and… never mind. It’s good to see you on your feet. Want to help me cook?”

Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the kitchen. She moved through the house as if it were hers. Slowly, you followed her, wondering how to signal Spencer to cautiously leave the cupboard and return to his place. Though maybe that would be too risky? The cupboard door was visible from where Sarah was chopping vegetables for dinner; she would have to turn her back. Better for him to stay there until she left.

Actually, he didn’t even need to hide. You could just tell her that he came by to borrow something, like normal neighbors do. But just the thought of hiding him sent a pleasant shiver of excitement down your back. You entered the kitchen, watching your sister in silence.

“How’s your leg?” she asked over her shoulder, putting the newly purchased groceries into the fridge. “I see you’re walking normally again.”

“I take very careful steps and try not to put too much weight on it,” you replied, slipping further into the room.

You weren’t sure how to act; your gaze kept drifting behind her to the cupboard under the stairs, where Spencer was hiding.

Sarah seemed to be watching you more closely whenever she wasn’t chopping or stirring something. She probably sensed that something was off, even if she couldn’t pinpoint what.

A quarter of an hour passed, then half an hour. Meals prepared by your sister were never the quick kind.

“Fuck,” she suddenly exclaimed, her words preceded by the sharp sound of shattering glass. She had dropped one of the plates—the ones you and Richard had bought right after moving into this house. She glanced around the kitchen as steam billowed out of the pot on the stove. “Do you have a dustpan or something?”

You opened your mouth but said nothing. The truth was, you didn’t know. You didn’t cook or clean; you spent your days in the bedroom or by the window, waiting for Spencer.

Sarah caught herself, realizing how pointless her question was.

“Wait, Richard mentioned the previous owners didn’t clear everything out of the cupboard,” she said suddenly, pointing toward the very place in question.

Your entire body tensed.

Before you could react, shake yourself out of it, or get a grip on the situation, she was already opening the door. You stood frozen, your eyes wide, bracing yourself for her surprised scream when she stumbled across a strange man inside.

You felt odd, like you were waiting for a carnival vendor to hand you a stick of cotton candy. Like…excited, rather than terrified at the prospect of your secret being exposed.

Sarah returned holding a dustpan.

“See? It was there. They really did leave a lot of stuff behind. Richard needs to check it out when he gets back,” she said, pausing abruptly to scrutinize your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You only shook your head, unable to say a word.

The moment Sarah drove away, you practically sprinted to the cupboard.

Spencer burst into laughter at the sight of your astonished expression.

“God, you have no idea how scared I was when she came in. But I hid behind the door, and she didn’t even notice me,” he explained, placing a hand on his chest as if only now beginning to process what had just happened.

A moment later, you threw your head back, laughing uncontrollably. And as you let yourself sink into the hysteria, you pressed your lips to his, pushing him back against one of the walls. He drew in a surprised breath, momentarily breaking the kiss, but quickly dove back into it.

There was always a certain urgency in the way he treated you. As if he truly believed this might be the last time you’d see each other. The pace he set felt like a challenge, one you were determined to meet.

You allowed yourself a brief moment of respite, tilting your head back in satisfaction, as one of his fingers began tracing circles around your nipple. His entire hand slipped under the thin fabric of your nightgown, the other was sliding up from the opposite side. Oh, it was marvelous. The darkness that enveloped the cupboard contrasted with a single, narrow beam of light streaming through the slightly ajar door.

He knelt before you, your knees softening, buckling more and more with every passing moment.

You didn’t even need to close your eyes to feel consumed by that sensation. It seemed as though there was only one, specific point on your body, and the rest of you barely existed—like oxygen molecules in the air around you, invisible and undetectable to others, and even to yourself.

You let out a moan, not sweet, but more of a scream, cutting through the space.

At that moment, your gaze once again fell on that one illuminated strip in the dark room, a strange glow reflecting light off itself. The axe head, resting against one of the walls, much like you in that moment. Except that it was more stable and upright, its back not arching backward.

Well, it didn’t have a back, but you get the metaphor.

On weekends, Vanessa didn't work.

Spencer hadn't visited you for a while.

You spent those two days with your cheek pressed against the kitchen counter, watching your neighbor water the flowers. The thick roses with pink buds, their color matching the flush of effort on her cheeks as she gripped the heavy watering can. She wore tight black pants and a t-shirt, the complete opposite of your airy shirt. On a daily basis, you didn't wear anything else. Why would you? It was comfortable and provided easy access. All you had to do was slip your hand underneath.

Sarah noticed the deterioration in your condition and told you to call Richard. She probably hoped that hearing his voice would act as a cure for you. You didn’t need him; you had your own. You had your own miraculous move-on drug. It worked reliably, the only downside being that its effects were temporary.

The long-awaited Monday had come again, and you were afraid Spencer wouldn’t show up. But he did, as usual, holding a freshly retrieved newspaper from the mailbox. He always forgot to take it with him afterward, and a pile had already started to accumulate in your bedroom. Later, on Friday, you were lying naked in bed. You reached for one of them and tried to make a paper airplane, but you couldn’t remember how.

Spencer sat on the bed, the blanket wrapped around his hips, leaving his chest exposed.

"Show me," he asked, extending his hand towards you.

You followed the command, lying on your side with your head resting on your hand, watching his movements. He looked down, focused, his hair falling over his forehead. It was longer than Richard's hair, and you liked it, along with the untamed nature that always accompanied it. You would wish he never came back from that business trip. His plane could crash somewhere in the ocean or in the jungle, where he would be torn apart by wild animals.

Vanessa wasn't an obstacle, you imagined yourself approaching her from behind while she was watering the flowers. Then it would be just the two of you. You could never leave the house, never leave that bed.

"Ta-da," Spencer said, throwing the finished paper airplane so it rolled across the bedroom like a car on a circular racetrack.

You laughed, a sense of carefree joy filling you.

"I feel like a child again," you sighed, lying on your back. "Like I can dream again."

After a moment, Spencer joined you, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder and closely watching your profile.

"Don't you have any dreams?" he asked, surprised.

You paused for a moment. Yes, you had one. It involved stopping time, literally grabbing the hands of the universe’s clock and holding them in place. Right there, in that very moment. But out loud, you decided to say something else.

"I used to dream of moving to Florida. But I don't know if that even qualifies as a dream. A dream should be something out of our reach, or something that can’t be fulfilled. Something we can think about with excitement every night before going to sleep. And I, well, theoretically, I could move there. What about you, do you have any dreams?"

Spencer thought about it for a moment.

"By the way you put it, I guess I don’t. I’d like to buy a new car, but it’s not something I think about with excitement before bed," he said with a short chuckle, but suddenly his amusement faded, his unreadable gaze fixed on you. You turned your face towards him, gently studying his features with your fingers, starting from his lips. A short sigh escaped them. "Then… I think about you."

You kissed him gently, as if slipping a pill onto your tongue. Again, I thought of all those damned seconds, slipping away like the air from a punctured balloon. Like life, from a dying person. You wished there was a way to seal that hole or perform CPR so that the man could still survive. To make time stand still.

Suddenly, a sound broke the silence. The landline phone, sitting on the cabinet by Spencer’s side—well, actually, Richard’s side—rang.

You didn’t want to answer it, so you asked him to reach for it and hang up the call. But then it rang again, the sound felt like a personalized version of a spiked boot, kicking your head.

"Give it to me," you said with surrender, taking the phone from Spencer. "Hello?"

"Hey, babe. Everything okay? You haven't said a word," Richard's voice came through on the other end, sounding lighter. Like he was well-rested. Well, he had the chance, being far away from his fucked-up wife. Or maybe he just masturbated at the thought of Sarah, and it put him in such a good mood.

You glanced sideways at Spencer, signaling that it was your husband. For a moment, he didn’t move, but after a while, a somewhat arrogant expression appeared on his face, and you were curious about what it meant.

"You know I don’t like talking on the phone," you replied briefly.

Spencer positioned himself in front of your bent legs, gently spreading them apart.

"I know, but... I was still worried. Although, Sarah also called me saying you were feeling better." His lips touched the inner part of your thigh, you closed your eyes. Your breath had to stay steady. "Well, then she called again, saying that you were feeling bad again. I had no idea what was going on. Maybe you’ll tell me, hm? Have you settled in the area? Have you even talked to the neighbors at least once?"

You pulled the phone away from yourself, inhaling sharply as his tongue found its place exactly where it should.

"Spencer Reid, you absolute sadist," you said almost silently.

He laughed, his breath tickling you.

"Babe?" Your husband's voice came through louder.

You pressed the phone back to your ear.

"Hm? What were you asking? I can't talk right now," you said, sliding one hand into his hair, gently gliding it through the strands. At one point, your fingers tightened on them as the rest of your body tensed.

"Okay, fine," he said, not even sounding disappointed, more like he was tired of the conversation. And likewise. You wanted him to hang up already—his presence, even though miles away, filled you with a palpable disgust. "Oh, but one more thing. I hope you'll be happy."

Impatiently, you rolled your eyes, and at the same time, a moan slipped from your lips. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Richard remained silent—he must have heard it, but probably took it as a sign of curiosity toward his words.

The silence on the other end was almost theatrical.

"I’m coming back sooner," he finally declared. "We finished the project much quicker than we planned..."

You shot up to a sitting position, and Spencer jumped back from you, startled.

"When?" you managed to force out, the word laced with pure fear.

"Well, my flight is booked for today’s evening in my time zone..."

You hung up. An indescribable pain spread across your chest, as if someone had shoved a sharp instrument into it and left it there.

"What's going on? What happened?" Spencer asked, concern filling his voice as he moved closer to you, gently cupping your cheek.

You usually loved his touch; normally, you would close your eyes and surrender to the gesture. But you couldn’t. The realization that it was all going to end—that it was going to end tomorrow—made you push his hand away. For a moment, you stared into space, trying to steady your breath, but you couldn’t. It seemed like it would stay like this forever.

"I think it's time for you to leave," you said, your voice showing no emotion.

Maybe if he had sensed the despair in it, heard it crack, he would have stayed. But no, your command was cold, and it made him dress quickly and leave the bedroom almost immediately. You buried your hands in your hair, a high-pitched sound escaping your lips as you tore one of the newspapers into shreds.

Then you tore another one. And then all of them, into really small pieces, among which you curled up like a paralyzed person, lying still for the rest of the day and night. You remembered all the last beautiful days, your conversations with Spencer. Dreams of a plane crashing in the jungle.

Luckily, Sarah didn't visit you that day; she would have found you in a very strange state. First, in absolute disarray. Then, around four in the morning, wide awake like a junkie. Walking around the house, up and down the stairs, through the kitchen, even the bathroom, thinking and planning. What could you do? What was left for you?

You baked a cake. Your sister was right when she said that, as a child, you neglected all the chores your parents gave you. You never learned to cook, you only knew how to make the simplest chocolate cake.

The hands of the clock. To grab them and stop them. So that Richard would never come back, and Spencer could stay with you forever.

You sat at the kitchen table, even though it was Saturday. Spencer didn’t check the mailbox; he usually slept in on weekends. In fact, for the first time, you didn’t even wait for him.

You waited until Vanessa, as usual, began watering the roses by the fence.

And then, you went to the cupboard to get the axe.

Even then, you remained in your nightgown. The same one you wore when her husband had bandaged your foot. When it all began. A woman in lace, gripping an axe almost bigger than she was, what an unusual sight in a suburban neighborhood so calm.

At first, Vanessa didn��t even notice you approach, and when she did, she didn’t stop watering the flowers. She simply raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Meanwhile, your head was filled with a buzzing sound. You became increasingly aware of the weight of the axe in your hand. And then, the quiet, mundane neighborhood was pierced by a woman's scream.

Sarah found him smoking a cigarette outside the psychiatric hospital, inhaling the smoke so deeply as if he hoped it would give him lung cancer immediately. The sight surprised her.

"You smoke?" she asked, immediately realizing how stupid the question was. What did it matter whether he smoked? She probably would too if she found herself in such a situation.

Richard flicked the ash.

"I started again," he replied briefly.

For a moment, they stood in silence, struggling to find words in such a situation. Sarah stared at her shoes, still unable to grasp it all. Her own sister had tried to kill their neighbor, an entirely innocent woman, while she was watering flowers in front of her house. Because of... oh, that was probably the strangest part of it all. And it was what decided that instead of a cell, she ended up in a hospital under close observation.

She had convinced herself that, in her husband's absence, she had started an affair with her neighbor. And that led her to attempt to get rid of his wife.

"Did you see her?" she asked.

Richard shook his head in denial. He seemed exhausted, as though he had aged at least ten years. And had endured a series of life tragedies, including a war.

"I don't even know if I can," he replied, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He suddenly took a deep breath, his exhale trembling. "Do you know what the police found at our house? A cake. She baked it for me, supposedly as a welcome, even left a note with my name on it. She stuffed it with rat poison, do you understand that? She wanted to kill me. She wanted to kill me too."

Sarah was speechless. She covered her mouth with her hand, her fingers trembling, unable to control them for quite some time. They stood in silence for a moment, not knowing what to say, as she tried to recall the past two weeks. She analyzed her sister's behavior, only now realizing how twisted it had been. She had thought she was suffering from loneliness, not from... all this madness in her mind.

“Richard,” she managed to say his name carefully. The question she wanted to ask wasn’t particularly polite, but she had to know. “Why... why didn’t you send her anywhere after her last breakdown? To a hospital where they could take care of her?”

“Would I have to tell my parents that my wife ended up in a psychiatric ward?” he replied, voice low.

“Maybe now you wouldn’t have to tell them she tried to murder someone,” she snapped, a surge of anger rising within her towards him.

He rubbed his face, still holding the cigarette in his hand.

“Damn it, Sarah, I’m sorry... you’re right, God, I know you’re right. I regret so much that I did nothing back then, didn’t react... I... I fooled myself, thinking it would pass. That we’d move and it would get better,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

He tried to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away. For a long time, she had the feeling that her sister’s husband was trying to get closer to her in some way. He wasn’t pushy or disgusting, nothing like that. If he had been, she wouldn’t have accepted his offer to work for them at their house. But sometimes, she had the impression that during their conversations, he tried to flirt with her. For birthdays and holidays, he gave her expensive gifts, occasionally touching her briefly, but quickly pulling away when he noticed her gaze. Sarah had been with the same girl for three years, the one she was planning to propose to. Besides, she would never do that to her sister.

“Sarah,” he said, pleading. “Sarah, what am I supposed to do?”

Well, this wasn’t something she could advise on. Maybe no one could. However, she didn’t want to leave him hanging, without a conclusion, without reflection, before she went inside to see her sister for the first time since that incident. She looked at the barely glowing cigarette in his hand.

“Be grateful that woman survived,” she finally replied.

The cigarette butt fell to the ground, and she stepped on it with her shoe.

tag list: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #matilda's recs #spencer reid x oc #criminal mind #doctor spencer reid #spence reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

Text

Kissing König on the forehead

Masterlist Kissing Ghost on the forehead Kissing Price on the forehead

TW: mentions of social anxiety

His life consists of you. Literally: you have become the measure of everything. There are no more 'Fridays' or 'Novembers' - there are days, weeks and months, until he sees you again. No more rooms in his house - there is a wall to which he pressed his back, giving you more space to pass by, when he first saw you. There is a stove where you burned your fingers, making his heart ache when he saw your tears for the first time. There is a window, by which he fell on his knees and frantically stroked and kissed your hands, after he heard your timid confession. Anything beautiful he witnessed, anything meaningful he heard or read, made sense, only when he thought, how would he share it with you.

König knows, It's too much, his eagerness to be by your side constantly, his hunger for your touch, his feelings - he is too much. And he is afraid, so terribly and utterly afraid, that one day you see it too and leave him. So he restrains himself, tries to be less vocal, clasps his hands around his elbows to not hug you every minute, he is around. König carefully plans every conversation, you two will have, when he is back from deployment. Sometimes these imaginary chats end good, other times - you yell at him, but what is even worse - you cry. Your tears, even ones, he imagines pain him so badly - he immediately takes out his phone and texts you.

"I am so sorry, Schatz."

He snaps back to reality only when he gets your worried answer. Of course, you get scared and want to know, what happened. So he has to come up with some excuse.

"I am sorry for not being right now with you. I know, it's evening back at home, and you are probably watching some show, and I remember, how you like cuddling, while doing it. I'm sorry for not being there."

König finally puts the phone away, hissing at himself for this episode.

When he finally returns, you refuse to wait for him at home and come straight to the station. He allows himself to squeeze you in his arms, but deep inside his head, König counts. "One-two-three-four-five-it's time to let her go, you can't just stand there and embarrass her with your tenderness in front of everyone. You are becoming too much once again."

You interrupt his inner tirade. "Let's go home, love."

An entrance door shuts behind his back, and he finally takes a deep breath in, feeling the familiar scents of your shared house. König hears some strange repeating noise, lowers his eyes and notices that you are immersed in the fight with a jamming zipper on your jacket. On the very next moment, he kneels before you, moves your hands away from the zipper and tries to figure it out himself. It takes him a while, because he is afraid to pull too hard, finally destroying the jacket. You look at him warmly and laugh softly. "König don't worry, I can handle it."

At that moment, zipper finally breaks. König frowns.

"You couldn't just mind your business, you idiot? Now she is going to finally see, how overwhelming you are, how you break everything, you care for, how you smother those, who you love. Is that what you wanted?" An angry voice inside his head shouts and silences everything around, including König himself. He doesn't feel his lips starting to tremble, forming some apologetic mumbling. He doesn't hear, when you try to reassure him.

So you take a quick step forward, and embrace him, pressing your lips against his forehead. Maybe that angry voice exists only in his head, but it's not the first time, you witness König tearing himself apart for no reason.

"You are overthinking again, love. But its going to be ok, I promise." Another kiss on his forehead.

"You are not overwhelming to be with, you are not annoying. No." By this time, you know all the terrifying things König's mind whispers and shouts to itself.

"No one is going to get tired and leave you. Especially not me." You kiss his closed eyes, not caring for remains of dark camouflage paint on his skin.

"You are overthinking, and it is ok, because it shows, that you really care. It's not your fault." You press your lips against his face, so that he not only hears, but also feels, what you are saying.

And that silents Königs anxiety and self-doubt. He suddenly feels tired, but endlessly loved. He finally comes back home, pulling you into a long and tight embrace, not counting seconds this time.

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helaintoloki · 5 months ago

Note

Now that we know how Ben was a bit rebellious when he was a teen, how are we feeling about a fic where he used to sneak out to meet with reader, who is very much a sunshine person?

a/n: ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy ! also to clarify the ben in this piece is the original ben and not the sparrow

warnings: language

summary: ben manages to sneak out and pay a visit to his favorite person

At the exact stroke of twelve o’clock, three pebbles are thrown against the glass of your window to alert you of the waiting presence below. You’re quick to drop the book you’d been reading and lift the glass to greet your midnight visitor who immediately begins to climb through and into your bedroom.

“You’re late,” you tell him with an impatient look as he finally sets foot on your plush rug.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ben confesses apologetically before dusting himself off and removing his shoes. “Dad stayed up later than I thought he would.”

“What about Luther?”

“He swore to secrecy after I threatened to tell Allison he wet his pants last week because he couldn’t get his uniform off fast enough to use the bathroom,” the boy explains with a cheeky smile, laughing at the playful nudge you give him.

“That’s evil,” you scold him with a giggle that conveys your lack of conviction.

“Sometimes a man just has to resort to blackmailing his brother in order to successfully sneak out,” he expresses with an innocent shrug before enveloping your frame into a tight hug to emphasize his point. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. It’s been lonely without you around,” you admit as the ghost of a frown begins to form on your lips.

“Are your parents gone again?”

“Another business trip,” you confirm as nonchalantly as possible in hopes of masking your hurt at their neglect. “Won’t be home for at least two weeks, so it’s just me here.”

“I promise to sneak out and see you as much as I can,” Ben vows earnestly, carefully cupping your cheek in his hand and pulling your face closer to his own so that he may press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

“It isn’t so bad,” you admit with a lighthearted smile as you pull away from him and move towards your closet to retrieve something. “You want to see what I found at the bookstore today?”

Ben isn’t given a chance to answer your hypothetical question as you display the said item for him to see. It takes a moment for the boy to realize what it is he’s looking at, but once it processes an unamused huff of air leaves through his nostrils in response.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually spend money on that thing.”

“Technically I stole money from my mom’s purse to buy it, so no, I didn’t,” you correct him defensively before proudly holding up your purchase. “I figured if the real Ben can’t keep me company twenty-four-seven, then action figure Ben can.”

“That’s ridiculous!” He cries out indignantly before snatching the thing out of your grasp to scrutinize the details. “It doesn’t even look like me!”

“Of course it does!”

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Ben can only sigh and hand the doll back to you before moving to make himself comfortable on your bed. Having decided you’ve teased him enough for one night, you set the figure on your nightstand before moving to join him. It’s almost as if you naturally fit perfectly into his side when you curl up next to him and bask in the warmth of his arms around you. Nights like these have become more rare with time, so you like to make the most of it while you can.

“We should run away together,” you suggest casually after a comfortable bout of silence. You feel Ben’s chest rise beneath your fingertips with the amused laugh that leaves him in response.

“And where would we go?”

“Anywhere we want.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I can’t,” he reminds you. Frowning, you shift your frame and prop your head up on your hand so that you’re facing him.

“Why not?” You retort indignantly, almost offended by his immediate rejection. “My parents constantly forget that I exist and your dad is a complete asshole. Why should we stick around?”

“Look, my dad is a jerk, and I would love to just drop the whole super hero thing and never look back. But I can’t… I can’t just leave my siblings behind,” Ben explains gently while reaching out to push a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“So you’ll just wait for them to leave you behind instead?” You retort, aggrieved on his own behalf at the thought.

“They wouldn’t do that-“

“Five already did.”

A tense silence follows your words, and you bite your lip in regret at having let it slip. You know you’ve gone too far judging by the flash of hurt that passes on Ben’s face, and you’re quick to apologize for your lack of eloquent conversation skills.

“I don’t mean to be harsh,” you quietly clarify as you meet his understanding gaze. “I just don’t think it’s fair we both have to stick around and suffer because we got stuck with shitty parents. I want to get out of here, Ben. Don’t you?”

He pauses for a beat, his voice soft as he finally answers, “I do. And I promise you that one day we will. We just have to hold out for a little longer is all.”

“You swear?” You ask meekly, almost afraid he’ll change his mind and take it back. However, Ben takes your free hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze before replying, “I swear on my life.”

Placated by the sincerity of his words, you’re happy to resume your previous position of being nestled into his side as he begins to tell you the latest tales of the Umbrella Academy, and you can live comfortably without the knowledge of knowing that Ben has made a promise he soon won’t be able to keep.

#request #the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine

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saintwyfe · 5 days ago

Text

࿐ ˚ . ✦ YOU'RE KILLING ME, JUDE! jude bellingham

summary. holidays are meant for reuniting with friends and family. your ex? i think that depends.

cw. crack, a thing or two of cursing. not proofread.

wc. 1283

your ex-boyfriend, jude, knew how to push your buttons. it didn’t help that you were next-door neighbors.

so, when you’re back home from uni for the holidays, he finds himself staring at your window, every now and again. accidentally, of course. your room isn’t pitch black, but dim enough to read the pages from a book on which your attention is anchored.

he catches himself staring for quite a long time. it’s not until his dad yells for him downstairs that his eyes divert. then, he jolts toward his closet, trying to find some clothing to slip on as beads of water drip down his back.

he scratches his arm as he finally makes it to the kitchen to find his dad. he doesn’t say anything when he realizes that his parents are sharing a laugh with a guest—your mother—at their kitchen island.

“jude!” your mother, helene, gasps when she realizes he’s standing a few feet away from them. her arms open as he walks closer to engulf her in a hug. “haven’t seen you in forever—how are you?”

he pulls away, a smile etching the corner of his lips as his hip nudges the corner of the island. his parents are looking at them, burgeoning excitement, as they watch them reunite. after all, it’s been a while since the two families have had a proper get-together. years, probably.

“just football, y’know. always football.” he cocks his head as her fingers reach up to pinch his earlobe.

“gosh, you and jobe get taller every time i see you two,” her head shakes in bewilderment, despite only getting to see him once, maybe twice a year. of course, they’d grow just a tiny bit every time.

he wraps around the kitchen to grab a glass of water from the fridge. and they’re… still staring when he turns around. “speaking of jobe, where is he?” he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes once he’s figured that he hasn’t seen his younger brother since noon.

helene’s finger points in the direction of her home, next door. “he’s over hanging out with nate [your brother!]. fifa, i think.”

he shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head. “figured he’d be doing that.” carefully placing the empty glass in the sink. “i’ll head over there, then—just to see if i can join.”

“the door’s open. you’re fine to just walk in” helene waves goodbye and watches as he towards the front door.

giving the adults a quick goodbye, he slips some sandals on before walking a few steps next door. and of course, the only noise coming from the quiet house is upstairs, to the right. he follows the sound of the two boys yelling and cursing obscene things at each other. but, his body follows the door opposite nate’s, making a sharp turn toward your door. he stands before the door, leaning on the frame as he contemplates talking to you. after all, it’s true that he’d never gotten over his high school lover, the girl next door. but suddenly, the door opens, and his eyes widen in shock.

“what are y—” you stand in front of him, your voice slightly hoarse before he covers your mouth with his palm, redirecting the two of you into her room before shutting the door. thankfully, nate and jobe were still taunting each other in the other room, loud enough for no one in the house to hear the door shut. he locks the door shut, not pulling away his palm until you’re sitting on the corner of your bed, staring up at him with seething eyes as you try to tug his wrist away.

“if i let go, you’re not going to scream,” he mutters, his knee nudging the comforter next to your legs as he looks down at you with slight fear. you’re dumbfounded, tempted to bite the skin of his palm. shaking your head in confusion while furrowing your eyebrows, he slowly retreats his hand from your lips.

you wipe your lips, huffing as you scoot back on the bed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

he steps away a reasonable amount. “uh—my mom, she invited you over for dinner. i figured i’d come over and ask mys—”

“your mom has my number,” you interrupt him, giving him an annoyed look.

“doesn’t matter. it’s still nice to offer, y’know.” he retorts, giving you a smug look as he sassily crosses his arms. “clearly you don’t know anything about being nice, cursing your guests over. you haven’t changed a bit, y/n.”

you raise an eyebrow in confusion, humor… surprise? you didn’t know what to think. to scream, or to burst out laughing. “are you high?”

“what? am i high?” his jaw drops as he feigns offense. and this is when he goes off about how it was actually out of his kind nature to take time from his night to come over and offer dinner, and how your mom would be offended if she’d heard you tormenting him like this. you just stare for a few seconds as he rambles. then, you get the bright idea to lock his knees together and get the six-foot-one man onto your bed.

“WHAT ARE YOU DO—” he shrieks, but your hand covers his lips before he can finish his thought. someone from across the hall has definitely heard, and your heart can’t help but race, though the door is locked. you breathily giggle as you look at the door for a few seconds, sitting on his lap, and meeting his eyes with a you better hope no one heard look. your lips hover to his ear, taunting him in the same way he did just a few minutes earlier.

“are you gonna scream?” you whisper in his ear, smiling cockily—in a way where he undoubtedly hears you smile in your words, despite not seeing your face. he doesn’t say anything the first time, but his hand reaches your thigh and grabs the skin tightly, slightly stinging. he pushes your buttons so easily, but you can’t help but chuckle as you lay atop your ex-boyfriend of two years.

your hand clutches his mouth a little tighter, more aggressively. “i’m not gonna let go. if you scream, we’re so fucked—you’re so fucked.” all he does is look at you with narrowing eyes. but, you cave in, trusting that he isn’t going to rat himself out this blatantly. you pull your palm away, and he retains a calm composure for about five seconds before letting out a loud screech.

your eyes widen. before you can think, your lips crash onto his, trying to shut him up. shit.

his hands reach up to caress the small of your waist, adjusting your hips to sit more comfortably on his lap. he knew what he was doing, but you can’t help but admire how much you’ve missed his lips.

but, as you’re kissing each other, a loud knock sounds at your door.

“yo, are you good in there?” your brother, nate, asks.

your head is perked toward the direction of the door while jude stares at your lips, circling the skin of your waist. “i’m watching a show, sorry!” you can hear him shake his head and jobe giggling from across the hallway as they return to playing fifa. you look at jude in annoyance.

“swear, you like to piss me off on purpose,” you scoff, glaring at him as you hover over his face.

his fingers pull pieces of your hair behind your ear as he quietly chuckles. “can you do that thing again? where you kiss me like this?”

and suddenly, you're flipped on your back, engulfed in a kiss with giggles cascading the room, and it feels like you're both 18 again.

author's note - hope you guys like this! haven't posted in literally over a year--i'm so sorry. i missed you all though!

#jude bellingham #football imagine #football fanfic #football imagines #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #real madrid x reader

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escapisttt · 20 days ago

Text

make up sex

porter runs. he always runs, but he never comes back. what will happen now that he finally has?

cw: nsfw! smut with plot read the title lol, mentions of a previous argument, some hostile dialogue

authors note: was interesting writing gender neutral smut for the first time but it’s literally not hard so anyone who tells you it is is either selfish, lazy, or uncreative.

word count: 3.6k (also the exact length of my only other redacted fic okay)

steam billowed all around the bathroom, penetrating every surface with moisture and sticking to the large rectangular mirror. treasure began undressing themself with lumbering movements, constantly tipping over left and right. after trying to take their slippers off while standing up, they again became unsteady and caught themself on the sink basin. they chuffed. when was the last time they drank like this? every time they went to a bar, they had their friends to look after. nothing’s quite as lame as being the designated driver, they thought. to them, that was another indication of their plainness; they weren’t fun enough to party with. instead, they were left to scroll on their phone while sitting on a barstool, catching themself gazing wistfully up at the chalkboard drink menu. but tonight they had indulged. not at a bar, but alone on their armchair, sipping wine and watching their ceiling go in and out of focus. they knew they’d had enough when they watched the ceiling slowly bend, rise, and fall as if there were a pair of lungs under the plaster.

once they were fully bare, they carefully stepped under the scalding water. they flinched and then froze, willing themself to not back away. they weren’t the one to run. they wouldn’t run.

they closed their eyes and let the burning water hit their front. they could already feel their chest turning a darker, uglier color. but they wouldn’t step back. they wouldn’t turn the temperature down. it felt good, the heat. images of him flashed through their mind, causing their brow to furrow in helpless frustration. his hands, his fingertips, his breath, it was all so hot. they had never felt so much heat before him. now though, they had been left cold for days. just like the outings with their ‘friends.’ after he slammed the door and ran, they were back on a lonely barstool. cold. freezing. they’d never felt so much ice before him, either.

a figure hovered in front of the bathroom door. the smell of hair conditioner wafted to the creature’s senses, his red irises eclipsed by black need. the smell called to him, screamed his name. but he shouldn’t even be there in the first place. the instinct, the guilt, the aroma—what was the matter with him? he’d fed on some poor soul minutes ago and still couldn’t focus? he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and squeezed. they weren’t singing like they usually do. was that his fault? he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the door, focusing harder. a foul, shocking odor struck him. alcohol in their blood? was that his fault?

treasure heard the door creak open and yelped. before they could peek around the curtain…. “it’s me, darling. are you drunk?” they stayed silent and felt their fear morph into a melancholic frustration. any other well adjusted member of society would be full of terror and adrenaline if someone suddenly appeared in their home, but porter ripped away that sense of normalcy long ago. the mere sound of his voice caused an irritation, never mind him calling them ‘darling’ again. they rolled their eyes.

“what on earth are you doing here?! i thought you’d at least have the sense to throw away the key,” they spat coldly. porter’s shoulders shrank a little and he looked down at the tile. usually he would remark that he didn’t need a key anyway, but that attitude was exactly what had earned him this mess. his voice was low and small.

“you want rid of me that much?”

the rushing water dampened his sound a bit, but treasure could easily tell he was being wary and... something else. they pulled the curtain back just enough to reveal their head and took in the sight of him. a black blazer with a scarf, as usual, except his slacks were wrinkled. and his hair wasn’t even gelled. odd. they leaned against the shower wall as to not lose their footing and played off their disorientation by scoffing at him, ignoring his question. “did your king take away your wares too? you look shitty.” porter didn’t laugh, and he certainly didn’t miss the indignation behind the word ‘king.’ he approached and loomed over them, masking his annoyance.

“please, enough about him. you’re drunk.”

they scoffed again and went back to their shower routine, rinsing the rest of their hair. they didn’t close the curtain though. porter took the subtle invitation and leaned against the drywall, watching them through the gap in the curtain. he widened it a bit with his hand and started again. “i can fix that for you. give me your hand and you’ll be sober.” porter never knew them as one to indulge so heavily. he didn’t want to push as to why they had drank because he had a feeling it would only make them blow up at him, but he couldn’t deny there was a part of him that wanted to prod. the way they prodded him. but not this time.

treasure mulled over his words and extended their hand without looking back at him. they of all people knew how senseless drunk conversations can be. porter gently took their hand and tried not to linger on how whole it made him feel. using magic, he traced the excess amounts of alcohol in their bloodstream and dissipated it. he stood watchfully, trying not to overstep but wanting desperately to keep hold of them during the jarring sobering. they wobbled on their feet with their eyes closed for a moment before opening and snapping their gaze back at him. there was the alertness they were lacking. “clearer?” he asked, to which they gave him a curt nod.

now that they were in their right mind, they scanned over his form once more: he wasn't a drunken illusion. an awkward silence fell over the pair. treasure's eyes flitted back and forth between porter and the shower wall. when porter didn't take the hint, they eventually spoke up. “get in if you want. you just look stupid standing there,” they mumbled, yanking the curtain shut.

porter’s clothes instantly phased away as he yielded to the insult and stepped into the enclosed space. he stayed opposite of treasure and kept his back pressed against the wet tile, his arms wrapped around his middle. treasure threw him a look over their shoulder, snickering dryly. “you only have good manners after we fight?” the vampire let out an amused huff from his nostrils and hung his head.

“it seems it always takes something drastic to make me learn, yes.”

treasure turned around fully and reached for their body scrub, looking up at him as they bent down. their gaze was steely but their lips were tempting. “well i haven’t heard a ‘sorry,’ so do i have to beat one out of you?” they joked humorlessly.

those words caused the flame of guilt to lick at porter’s skin once more. ‘beat one out of him’—were they being sarcastic at their own expense? the inhuman strength in every muscle fiber in his body told him yes. god, he used that against them in their argument. he talked down to them, using ‘human’ as an insult, shoving in their face how much power he held over them. he didn’t start the fight, but he didn’t have to finish it like that. he’d never harm them, but he gave them such a strong implication that he could and made them feel bad about it. he called them stupid for even being with him, made himself out to be a monster they needed to run from. but they both knew porter was the one who was running. even so, in all of porter’s long existence, treasure was the first thing he’d ever ran back to. he could lose everything, but not them.

porter took a small step forward with his head still hanging and motioned for the container of body scrub. treasure gave him a puzzled look. the vampire sighed and took another step, gently taking the container from their hand and setting it down. “treasure, i….” he considered their choice of words again. he finally raised his head and looked into their eyes. “you can—you can do anything you want to me. i’m very sorry for what i said, but… whatever satisfies you. whatever gives you power.”

the vampire in front of treasure was not one they easily recognized. his eyes were nearly-black orbs and shone with desperate longing. porter solaire was a slighting creature, who was this? it was porter, just porter. treasure gave him a slow nod. “make it up to me.”

the vampire’s eyes lit up and he swiftly made his move. his lips attached to treasure’s neck, fangs firmly retracted. this wasn’t about him, nothing tonight was about him. his hands slid up the wet slopes of their hips and waist. a trapped moan escaped him when he felt them like that. he was touching god and it was burning, but he loved it. his kisses trailed across their neck and up their chin, aiming for their perfect lips. but when he tried to reach them, a resounding smack echoed in their steamy enclosure. porter blinked and his head was whipped around to the right, a red hot sting on his cheek. treasure’s hand returned to grip his jaw and pointed his head forward at them.

“i didn’t give you permission to kiss me. you think you deserve my lips?” porter could’ve cum right there. he shook his head.

“no, no i don’t. can i earn it?” his voice was like nothing they had heard before.

“you can. do what i said and make it up to me. you know what i like.”

porter nodded once more before sinking to his knees, his hands slipping down their body reverently. he groaned at the smell of their arousal, his eyes rolling back and then locking back onto theirs. he briefly recalled the night they first met. if only he had known how mad he would go for the taste of what was in front of him.

the vampire pressed light kisses around their groin with his eyes remaining trained on theirs. just how they like it. “i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry,” he repeated in between kisses. treasure's hand came down to muss up his hair and his erection twitched. they nodded at him with a pleased grin and gave him a tug as a reward. his precum dribbled onto the grout.

shortly, porter's efforts made it so treasure leaked more of their own arousal; that was porter’s cue. he licked a long stripe upward, collecting their slick on his flattened tongue and letting out a whine at their salty taste. he quickly dove in for more, moaning louder than treasure. his hands were planted firmly in his lap, not touching himself or the beauty before him; he knew he wasn’t deserving of doing either. treasure smiled and leaned their head back, their hips bucking in a smooth rhythm against his mouth. porter could cry at their movement—the gorgeous fluidity and the signal that he was giving it to them right.

nothing ever felt as right as when he was giving them pleasure. he couldn’t count how many nights he would spend god knows where, making god knows who disappear; it wasn’t in his nature to bring anything but pain. he was a sinner through and through, but that first night with treasure at skyside, he thinks, he began repenting. he found religion in every breath they took, every twitch of ecstasy he fed them. he felt holy at their feet.

“porter, i’m so close,” they gasped, causing the vampire’s dead heart to pound. he nodded emphatically, shaking his head side to side just to give them that extra stimulation. his desperate moans also sent vibrations to their sensitive flesh, setting their nerves alight. their grip on his hair was lethal and porter’s arousal was reaching a tipping point. he no longer had control over himself; treasure was pushing and pulling and holding his face flush against them until any normal human would’ve suffocated. porter’s mind was going hazy as if he was, his true feelings emerging from thoughtless bliss.

“i could die,” he panted as he gazed up at them, “let me die like this.” they climaxed only a second later.

ambrosia seeped onto porter’s tongue and he drank piously, catching every drop. treasure’s wanton whimpers and breaths filled the vampire’s ears and he couldn’t have been happier. he knew this is where he belonged, and he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for nearly forsaking it.

treasure finally let go of porter’s hair and he whined at the loss. they chuckled breathlessly and patted their chest, signaling that they wanted to be eye to eye. the vampire quickly stood, hissing quietly when his painful erection brushed up against their stomach. he swallowed at the closeup view of their blissed-out face; their eyes were in a lazy, seductive droop, but their grin was what ensnared him. he hadn’t seen one in days and now he’d earned one back, no matter the sadistic undertones behind it. they reached a hand out and cupped his cheek, smiling wider when his eyelids fluttered at the touch. porter didn’t notice their hand sneaking down to grip his base and his eyes shot open once he felt it.

“i’m assuming you want this taken care of?” they teased, tapping his cock against their stomach. he groaned pathetically, putting his hands on the wall behind them. he gripped at nothing, fingers clenching and unclenching around nothing and trying not to crack the tile. hovering over treasure was a beast of incomprehensible strength, holding himself back for one reason: forgiveness.

“treasure… i’m begging you.”

their wolfish grin slowly faded as they leaned in closer, squeezing his cock harshly. “and you’ll keep begging until i forgive you.” with that, they released him and shut off the water, promptly snatching their towel and stepping onto the floor mat without him. they left the bathroom before he could even process what they said.

the vampire blinked and hurried after them, bare and dripping wet. treasure was already laying on their back in bed, equally naked and damp. their towel was beneath them and they gazed at him expectantly. porter’s eyes widened as he realized what they wanted. he could hardly believe it. with vampiric speed, he was on his knees over them in a split second. their legs were spread and knees bent up, the sight making him look away and curse. god, he couldn’t take it. but treasure wasn’t having that. a smack to the thigh and his eyes were snapped open.

“you’ll look at me when you fuck me, or i’ll make you stop. don’t even fucking blink,” they threatened lowly. porter moaned but nodded, leaning down to be closer to them. without breaking eye contact, he spat on his fingers and rubbed it on their entrance, hoping to please them again. they sighed airily and reached down for his cock, unexpectedly prodding themself with it. porter gasped and almost lost his balance, catching himself on the pillow next to their head. they snickered and rolled their eyes, easing his length inside of them. it was still faster than porter ever started off, and he showed his unpreparedness by cursing and gripping their sheets. they swiftly got him fully seated and let them both settle into it, their gummy walls hugging porter’s cock snugly. he looked as if he was containing a scream.

“t-treasure you—gods, you could’ve hurt yourself doing that,” he heaved, his chest rising and falling as he tried not to cum. in response, they dug their nails into the small of his back and raked down to his ass, watching his head roll back and his mouth gape. always a sucker for pain, scratches were his favorite kryptonite. treasure had an unreadable look and gave the command he had been yearning for.

“i’m fine, just fuck me. don’t you dare go slow.”

porter was mildly concerned by their order, but he had to give them what they wanted. he would rather die than not. his hips pulled back until just his tip was inside before coming back down, thrusting smoothly into them. the sinful sound of his hips smacking into the back of their thighs drove them both wild. treasure’s nails only sank deeper into his skin, causing porter’s own wobbly grin to emerge. he fucked them faster, egged on by the delicious sting. he lowered himself more so their bodies were flush. their nipples rubbed against his chest and he panted in their ear, “like this, my love? tell me, please tell me i’m giving you what you want. fuck….”

in their own rapture, they nodded and turned their head to smile back at him. their words were mere breathy puffs of air. “uh-huh… yes, god yes. don’t stop ‘til i cum.” as if porter would’ve done otherwise.

treasure was making such a mess of themself it was audible. the vampire looked down and saw the telltale shiny slick, whining in their ear at the sight. they were so turned on for him. he put his weight on his left forearm which rested above their head and used his free hand to snake down their stomach, reaching their leaking essence. he put the pad of his thumb on their most sensitive spot and stroked up and down, up and down, earning strangled, surprised moans. his eyes bore into theirs as he continued his ministrations while fucking them, his expression one of a dog that just performed a trick for its owner: hopeful, eager, and aching for approval. “fuck, that’s how you like it…. i’ll make you cum, i’ll make you cum so fucking hard, treasure.”

the vampire was reaching speeds only his kind are able to, making treasure’s thighs ripple in ways they hadn’t felt before. porter never had a reason to fuck them this good before, and now that he was, they didn’t think they could ever go back. their body was bouncing as they lay down, mouth agape with licentious sounds pouring out. they hated that their hostility had crumbled under his hips, but they knew they’d have hated themself more if they pushed him away. right then, they just wanted to cum on his cock.

the bed frame squeaked and slid against the floor, banging against the wall. porter’s tempo was perfect, so fucking good against that sweet spongy spot inside them, his tip kissing it over and over. he didn’t know how he was holding it together. “i’m getting close, treasure. fuck, you have to cum, you have to,” he choked out in a frenzy. his thumb rubbed and stroked them faster, his hips losing rhythm but gaining speed. somehow through their pleasure-blinded haze, treasure looked porter in the eyes and raked their nails once more down his back. fuck, he wished he could scar.

“mm, beg me. beg for my cum,” they demanded with a groan. porter felt himself instantly melt under their authority and he whined in frustration, his knees almost buckling at their words. he fucked them faster and complied.

“fuck, please treasure! i need your cum, i fucking need it! i can’t—i can’t cum before you, i don’t deserve it. you have to cum for me, m-my love. i’ll never fucking raise my voice at you again, never. gods, oh my gods, please please please cum!”

he looked in their eyes the whole time, beggarly and despairing. treasure couldn’t help but succumb to all of the pleasure he was throwing at them. a few deep, swift thrusts later and they were creaming all over him. they went stiff and their mouth dropped open in a silent scream. porter felt their hole clench and pulse around him, effortlessly sending him down the same path. his cum pumped inside of them in thick ropes of ivory. he buried his head in their neck and let out a continuous string of groans and whimpers, hips shallowly bucking with each spurt of cum. his thumb never stopped stroking even as treasure reached the end of their climax. they enjoyed that slight bit of overstimulation, so they didn’t stop him. it was endearing how focused he was on making them feel good even in the throes of his own ecstasy.

porter eventually finished and collapsed beside them, eyes shut and breaths heavy. treasure remained on their back and stared up at the ceiling just as they were before he arrived. though, they were now drunk on him instead of wine. his cum steadily oozed out of them and they briefly thanked themself for having the foresight to put the towel underneath them.

“you’re cleaning this up,” they mumbled, breaking the silence. porter had practically rendered their shower useless, after all. the vampire cracked an eye open and wore a neutral expression.

“of course i am, my sweet, but in a moment. i missed this,” he replied evenly. treasure simply nodded and went back to staring upward. their gaze shifted to the ceiling fan and focused on a single fan blade, following it through each slow revolution. they felt a hand cautiously slide across their stomach, ending up cupping their side. porter scooted closer to them and held them like that, almost balling himself up in the fetal position beside them. they didn’t look over at him. they were afraid if they did, they would break. a part of them was still upset at him and knew they would confront him again, but the larger part told them that now was not the time. if they looked over at him now, they knew they would forget why they were even mad at him in the first place. for now, in this moment, they would let sleeping dogs lie and bask in the arms of a creature who would do anything for them, knowingly or not.

@vind3miat0r :)))

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted porter #redacted fanfic #redactedverse #redacted treasure #redacted fandom #smut

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guiltyasdave · 7 months ago

Text

strawberry sugar

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~1.8k

summary: Your boyfriend spoils you on your birthday morning. In some... unexpected ways. :)

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, food play, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), ridiculous amounts of fluff

meant as a follow-up to delicate, but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: written for @iamasaddie's kinky writing challenge with the prompt food play for oberyn martell. it's already june 1st where i live, so here we go!

thank you @northernbluess & @luxurychristmaspudding for screaming about this with me, i love you <3

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

“Good morning, princess.”

The touch of soft lips kisses your closed eyelids, your nose, your cheeks and finally your mouth, gently stirring you awake. You hum quietly, contentedly, snuggling closer into your boyfriend’s warm arms around you.

“Hi,” you smile, your breath ghosting against his lips, before you connect them with yours once more.

It’s almost as if you’re still dreaming, enveloped by soft sheets and Oberyn’s warm embrace, the golden morning light flooding the room when you finally open your eyes. He’s already looking at you, your favorite crooked grin playing around the corners of his mouth. The dimple on his cheek is especially pronounced like this, making your heart flutter even after waking up next to him on most mornings for months now.

“Happy birthday,” he purrs, one hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing the soft apple of your cheek.

Your own grin widens and you lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you say breathily, like speaking too loud might shatter the quiet peacefulness of the moment.

He kisses you again, lips moving against yours, giving you one swipe of his tongue against your bottom one before he pulls back, chuckling at the way you’re following to chase his touch.

“You stay right here,” he orders you gently as he swings his feet down to the ground and stands up, carefully covering you with the duvet that got ruffled with his movements. “Make yourself comfortable and I will be right back, yeah?”

You nod silently, your smile beaming by now. You watch his retreating figure, only wearing his black boxers, leaving most of his body bare on display for you. Cords of muscle are moving under his golden skin, the sunbeams falling through your windows are catching in his dark hair, still ruffled from the night’s sleep, and you’re mesmerized. You always are when it comes to him.

You hear his movements in the kitchen, the fridge and cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of something, and smile to yourself. When he had asked what you wanted for your birthday weeks ago, breakfast in bed had been your first response.

Sinking deeper into the sheets again, you grab your phone, reading a couple of messages congratulating you, laughing at the photo of your childhood self that your mom had sent you. A sweet scent wafts from the kitchen into the bedroom and your mouth waters.

Oberyn returns with a bowl of strawberries, another bowl of whipped cream and a stack of waffles, with a single burning candle on top of it. You giggle at the sight, scooching into a sitting position and helping him place the food on top of the covers.

He lifts the plate with the waffles to your face and, winking at you, tells you to make a wish. You close your eyes, the image of his face still vivid behind your lids, and blow out the flame. As soon as he sets it back down, you pull him in for another kiss.

“This is perfect. Already the best birthday ever. Thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you, my sun.” The endearment falls so easily from his lips, like he has no idea that it sends your heart soaring every time he says it.

He holds a strawberry to your lips, his eyes glued to your face as you take a bite. When you playfully nip at his fingers, the deep rumble of his laugh makes a home straight in your chest, filling you with warmth.

You watch him eat, watch his plush lips close around the fruit, his teeth sinking into it. His appreciative low hum at the taste in combination with the sight in front of you has you pressing your thighs together, your need for him always simmering just below the surface.

This must be what perfection is like, you think, looking around the room, taking in all the peacefulness that’s surrounding you right now. It’s almost overflowing, this love that you have for the man in front of you. And somehow, inexplicably, he loves you just as much.

When Oberyn’s teeth dig into another strawberry, he catches your gaze, must see the heat behind your eyes. He winks at you, deliberately slowly biting into the fruity flesh, licking his lips afterwards without ever dropping the eye contact with you.

“Are you full already?” he asks, a cocky smile playing around his lips.

“Not quite,” you tell him, eyes innocently widened. “But I got really hungry for something else just now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, pushing the food further away and reaching for you instead.

You meet him eagerly, pressing your lips to his hungrily. His hands are everywhere, spanning wide over your body, leaving a burning trail over your skin and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you’re already breathing soft moans into his mouth.

His fingers slide under the shirt of his that you’re sleeping in, trail over the lace of your underwear until he’s right between your thighs. The fabric is already drenched there, clinging to your heated skin. He growls at your obvious arousal, licks deeper into your mouth while his fingers trace the shape of you over your panties.

He sits back, watches you with dark eyes as you blink up at him, breathless and pleading. You pull the shirt off of your body, baring yourself for him, hungry for the expression that you see on his face every time he lays eyes on you like this.

“My pretty girl,” he muses, still lazily stroking his fingers over your underwear, not swayed by your desperate whine.

He picks up one of the strawberries, dips it into the bowl of whipped cream and brings it up to your lips, watches with rapt attention when your mouth obediently closes around the fruit. It leaves bits of cream behind, and he’s on you in a heartbeat, kisses the mess away and licks deep into your mouth. You love when he pounces on you like this, his movements all gracefulness and unrestrained strength.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers into your neck, nipping at the skin there.

You wiggle underneath him, trying to reach for a berry yourself, wanting to kiss the taste off his mouth as well. He stops you before you can dip it into the cream, one hand wrapping around your wrist, easily dwarfing it.

“I have a better idea,” he grins, all teeth, and a feral glint in his eyes. “Going to taste even sweeter.”

You watch in stunned silence as he finally peels your panties off of you and down your legs, then swirls two fingers through your wetness and sucks them into his mouth.

“So much sweeter.”

He easily plucks the fruit from your hand and moves closer to you, your legs easily parting wider around his broad frame. You whine his name, the realization of what he’s about to do slowly dawning on you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the mere thought.

Oberyn leans over you, drinking in your every reaction as he pinches the strawberry between two fingers and slowly trails it down your body. You shudder at the unfamiliar texture when he reaches your nipples, circling the hardened nubs and chuckling at your responding moan.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, wide smile on his face.

“So good,” you breathe, arching your back trying to get more friction, “please, Oberyn.”

With a hum, he stops playing with your breasts and continues moving downwards. When he finally reaches your cunt, you’re dripping for him, wetness spread over your skin. He moves the strawberry through your folds with ease, eyes glimmering and glued to what he’s doing. You could almost come from the sight of his ravenous expression alone.

He brings it up to your face again, showing you the red fruit coated in your slick. Holding your gaze, his teeth dig into it. You moan at the sight, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, pulling him into you once more.

“It is even sweeter than I thought, princess.”

You crash your lips against his, your tongue licking into his mouth with the need to share this with him, to taste what he tasted. It is sweet, mixed with the tangy hints of yourself. He pulls back much too soon, mischief dancing on his features.

“Let me get you your own one,” he purrs, already reaching for the bowl again. “As a present, hm?”

You watch with wide eyes as he goes straight for your pussy this time, dragging a second berry through your wetness, nudging at your entrance and bumping against your clit. A high pitched whine leaves you at that, and he arches an eyebrow at you, a smirk growing on his face.

“I wonder…” He trails off, swipes the strawberry over your clit again, more purposeful this time.

You're helplessly aroused, your hips twitching at his ministrations. He steals another kiss from your lips, before he sinks down between your legs, nipping at the soft skin of your upper thighs.

Another kiss straight to your clit, a swipe of his tongue, until it’s replaced by the foreign fruity texture again, rubbing against you with calculated movements now. His tongue laps at your entrance instead, drinking up your arousal, before he fucks it straight into you.

Your hips almost lift off of the mattress, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips, and you grab his head with both hands, fingers sinking into the dark strands of his hair.

“Fuck,” you whine, almost overwhelmed with the sensations and white hot pleasure coursing through your veins. “Right there, please Oberyn, I’m so close–”

His responding groan sends rippling vibrations through you, pushing you right to the edge within seconds. It swirls around you, the scratch of his beard against your skin, the wild glint in his eyes at your every moan, so obviously relishing in giving you pleasure, the movement against your clit, his tongue right where you need him – taking hold of you and sending you flying. You come with a shuddering cry, clenching around his tongue and flooding his mouth with your orgasm, as stars burst behind your eyelids and full bliss overtakes your body.

Oberyn works you through it, not letting up until you’re weakly trembling underneath him, tugging at his hair once more. His face swims into view in front of you, a brilliant smile grazing his features. It’s sinful, the way his pupils are blown so wide his eyes are almost black and your arousal is sticking to his beard. You want to kiss and lick it off of him.

Instead, the taste of fruit and yourself floods your mouth once more, as he brings the berry, covered in your orgasm, up to your lips. You share it with him, tongues and limbs tangled together.

“I love you,” you sigh happily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, ready to let him consume you entirely.

thank you for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are love and mean the world to me <3

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #pedrostories #janas fics #little lady kinky may

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