#actually maybe she can just be doing that. and take a full party with her just to be excessive

[sovonight]

,

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[nerdlvr]

just perfect.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you watched jisung's stupid smile spread across his face, his body leaning towards the mystery girls ear, his words mute against the music of the room.

"need a drink?"

even more perfect.

you felt your body tense as a soft breath grazed your neck, "yuta-"

his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest, "you can tell who i am just from my voice? such a sweet girl- i knew you'd never forget me."

his grip was firm as you tried to release yourself from his grasp, hands tugging at his, "let go-"

"look-" he placed his chin on your shoulder, chuckling softly, "little jisungie seems to have gotten tired of waiting around- first time you let him out of the house and he's-"

"stop that-" you turned around shoving his chest harshly, "stop messing with my head- you have no idea what's going on between me and jisung-"

"i don't?" you gulped as a smirk spread on his lips, body moving closer to you, "i don't know about your fake little relationship- how he just wanted to test out what it's be like to have a girlfriend? he just wants to fuck something, y/n- don't forget your place- you think he'll hang around after he gets his piece?"

you felt your chest tighten, words getting jumbled in your throat, "whatever jisung does has nothing to do with me-"

"oh but it does- it completely does sweetheart, because you thought he might actually be different, you thought he was so so sweet to you because he cared. and now you look desperate searching for him in a party."

you slapped his hand away as he reached for your face, "you know nothing about jisung."

you tugged your skirt down as pushed through the crowd, yuta's mocking laugh making your cheeks burn uncomfortably.

in all honesty- you also knew nothing about jisung.

age? 20. major? unknown. siblings? no even a clue.

you downed the first shot that was in your sight as you entered the kitchen, a shiver running down your spine as you gagged.

.

just perfect.

jisung's eyes scanned the room- where the hell were you?

first you tell him that you're not coming to the party, and then you're posted up on twitter showing off the sluttiest little cheerleader outfit he's ever seen- well maybe not the sluttiest.

the girl that had been annoying him for the past half hour had to take the prize for sluttiest outfit. she was barely clothed, tits on full display as she leaned in closer to him.

"park jisung- look at me!" she reached for his face desperately, manicured nails cold against his face.

he sunk deeper into the couch as he inched away from her grasp, "uh- just- just jisung is fine- no need for all the formalities." he laughed nervously as he sat up straight again, grabbing her hands to place them on her lap.

"have you by any chance caught a girl walking in? green cheerleader outfit, about- hm about this tall- curly hair- really really nice-"

"jisungie i have a green cheerleader outfit-" she played with the hem of her basically nonexistent skirt, a dumb grin on her face.

"uh-huh- i bet you do-" he sat up a little taller, eyes slightly squinting as he searched the room again.

"jisung-" she giggled as he jolted in his seat, her hands sneaking across his lap, "jiiisungiee-"

his smile spread as he gripped her hands, slowly dragging them away from his lap. she bit her lip as she waited for his next move, cheeks heating up at his touch.

he moved in closer, breath fanning against her ear, "you touched me- and my dick remained completely soft- now if you have the slightest bit of shame, you'd ask a guy if he has a girlfriend before throwing yourself at him."

she pulled her hands out of his grasp, moving away on the couch as he straightened her outfit- clearly embarrassed.

but jisung didn't even give her a second glance, his eyes now trained on the familiar figure in the crowd.

even more perfect.

his eye twitched as he watched your ex boyfriend reach towards your face. the hosts never show up so what was he doing here trying to make moves on you?

he got up from his seat, fingers nervously picking at the skin of his lips. after everything- would you drop it all for a moment of relief with your slimy ex?

the short answer was no. he grinned as he watched you push him away, you body moving through the crowd as you distanced yourself from him.

he didn't hesitant as he strode after you- not missing the opportunity to bump past yuta on his way.

.

"park jisu-" you gagged softly, the shot of patron already not sitting right in your stomach.

"hey- hey pretty girl- you okay?" he was quick to move close to you, hands moving up to cup your face, "how many have you had?"

you pushed him away, a grimace on your face, "stop acting like that."

he stood back to watch you, your fingers playing with the rim of your shot glass, "like what?"

"i'm not your girlfriend park jisung- barely friends- so stop acting all lovey dovey." you nodded towards the stranger that appeared behind you, his steady hands filling your glass again.

he scoffed at you, hands moving to rest on his hips, "i recommend you watch that pretty mouth of yours- i don't like my girls drunk."

"why not? isn't it easier to sleep with me if i'm drunk? that's what you want anyways right? why you're doing all this?" you lifted the glass to your lips, hands clenching as the liquid burned your throat.

you whined as you felt him tug the glass away from you, "what's wrong with you right now? i've been waiting almost 2 hours for you and now you're here giving me attitude?"

"waiting? i'm sure it was a long wait as you macked on some random girl." you took a step back, cheeks heating up at the realization of your words- what were you even saying?

"oh so you think you have the right to be jealous while you went looking for yuta first instead of coming to see me?" he leaned in closer to you, face only inches away now.

"i didn't come here for you park jisung- what don't you get?"

your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, chapped lips grazing yours.

"you came here for me- i know you did- just say it."

your breath hitched as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his lips still dangerously close to yours, "we are nothing park jisung."

his lips spread against yours, mouth turning into a wide grin, "i love that the idea of us being nothing upsets you."

you looked into his soft eyes, his gaze burning your skin, "w-what-"

"look at you baby- you're melting in my hands-" his grip on your waist tightened, your breath now caught in your throat, "i-i'm drunk- park jisung-"

"no you're not- you're horny-" he chuckled against your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as they dragged across yours softly.

you felt his arm wrap farther around you, hand snaking down past your ass to press against your aching core, "it's hot down here isn't it baby? so hot you want me to fix it for you?"

you gripped his jersey, lips parted in a moan as you nodded softly.

"go home." his arms detangled from your body, pushing you away with his hands so he could look at you.

you were flushed all over, skin slightly sticky with sweat as your chest rose and fell with each pant- his balls were going to explode.

"text me when you're home- i- actually- wait here for a sec, i'll call you an uber."

you watched him dumbly as he reached for his phone, tapping at the screen, "jisung-"

"car's right around the corner- get home safe- remember text me." he pushed you softly towards the door, patting your ass to urge you out.

he watched as you shuffled away, hands bunched at the sides of your hips as you hung your head low.

"dude did you just send her home- what are you- her dad?"

his head snapped up as his friend entered the kitchen, his arm lazily wrapped around his girlfriend's waist.

"he just pulled a me! remember when i made out with you during that halloween party and then left you with blue balls! he totally just pulled a me!" he watched mark's girlfriend happily jump in place, soft giggles leaving her lips at the realization.

"sungie- she'll be all over you in no time- trust me-" she threw her thumb towards mark, "it works like a charm."

mark reached towards jisung's shoulder, squeezing softly, "dude- you're in some deep shit now."

wait- why didn't he just sleep with you?

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com ~ 21. BOMBOCLATT

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

notes : you'll be banging on my chest, bang-bang, gorilla. idk where the angst went so i will try to start an emo fight next chapter cause how am i going to miss to opportunity for horny party scene COME ON NEOWWWW- ok but yeah next chapter we're mixing it and twisting it haha

taglist : @bunniin , @neverbeurs , @fakeuwus , @natokkiz , @222brainrot , @mystverse , @sk8mrk , @ksywoo , @snowyseungs , @nislost , @nosungluv , @jae-n0 , @peterm4rker , @livingdoll-hara , @doejaejung , @tommina , @413ktz , @aerivrs , @cyjzzl , @dolleyedgirl , @nneteyamss , @mrkleelvr , @4chensungs , @nctrawberries , @multifandomania , @catpjimin , @dudekiss3r , @yuujiswrld , @slayhaechan , @catdonut657 , @kodasity , @ohwowzersthatscool , @byeonwooseokabs , @hyucksunset , @rksbae , @hyucktion , @lionzyon , @baobeii55 , @jakesbubu , @axo-l0tl , @sunghoonsgfreal , @strawberrysavi , @hyunjungjae , @kookssecret , @babrieeee , @defzcl , @sikuthealien

[tan1shere]

Make You

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: first fic for my lil kinktober ... tanntober? No that's stupid everyone else's sounds cute mine sounds busted 🥰 anyways PLEASE ENJOY 😈

Summary: you hated eachother.. so it seemed.

Warnings: smut, hate sex ?, bondage, rough Billie, fingering.

Masterlist - Halloween ML

I hate you...

Yeah. Turns me on

You were really good friends with Finneas and Claudia. So you were around quite a bit. And tonight was another small party at theirs, they'd often have a tiny one with the friend group plus some others. So you ofcourse knew Billie. Did you two get along? Nope, and here's why.

For some reason when you first became friends with them Billie was iffy about you. You had become friends with Claudia first, then Finneas. And suddenly you were around all the time. You were always so kind with everyone, and it seemed to bother her. She actually had no idea why she didn't like you she just didn't. Then you'd get brought up by one of them, and that started to bug her.

She was working with Finneas on some music, they were taking a break. "Y/n took this cute photo of peaches last night! She's actually good at photography-" Billies eyes roll. "Can we get back to this, please?" He stares at her. "What's your problem with her, shes so kind to you and lately you've been rude even to her face. Like fine do what you want or say what you want to me, but the poor girls done absolutely nothing to you." - "Yeah well she bugs me. How did you even meet her she kinda just spawned." He sets the mic he had in hand, down.

"Claudia was taking a pilates class and Y/n happened to be there and they got talking. Found out she lived quite close by, got to know her better and she was really sweet." Billie was getting tired of hearing about you. "We don't know what her intentions are." "Billie." She just shrugs. "What! She could be after you or something, she was getting cozy with you the other day I saw. Maybe she's going to break you and Claudia up!" Finneas looks at her like she's insane. "You really need to get to know her better. She's most definitely not after me." Her brows furrow. "And how do you know that?"

"Shes gay Billie, full blown lesbian. If anything she'd be interested in Claudia, but she isn't because she's just a decent human being, something you're kinda lacking at the moment." Maybe she was being quite over the top. She still hated you. But she might of been starting to realize why. Especially when she heard you were into girls. There was no doubt you were beautiful, too beautiful for words. When Billie was giving you dirty looks all the time she actually wasn't, in her mind she was thinking how effortlessly pretty you were. Maybe those things bugged her more so than the reason she claims to hate you for. Maybe she actually liked you but used the hatred method to get over it.

Regardless she still 'hated' you. And tonight you couldn't take it anymore. You had arrived early as usual, carrying a bag of supplies. "You didn't have to do that!" Claudia smiles at the girl. "Ofcourse i did! You know how much I love helping out." - "Ugh you're an angel." She says, helping you bring it in. Billie was there too and she couldn't help rolling her eyes, you being some perfect angel, she didn't believe it still. Even if the true reason was right infront of her. You on the other hand, had really liked Billie at first. She was gorgeous, she was talented and you admired her deeply.

That was until you found out she hated you, you kinda picked up on it with the looks and the snide comments. You tried to ignore it, saying that maybe she's just going through something. But that's just who you were, you'd always give people the benefit of the doubt. But you were strong you could handle people who mocked and criticized you when you had to. You stood up for yourself. And you sure as hell did tonight.

People started coming in the small house, crowding it ever so slightly. You had a drink in hand talking with some mutual friends you had made in the past year of knowing Finn and Claud. But you felt eyes on you. Not admiring ones, deadly ones. You turn to see it was ofcourse Billie. You wanted to ignore it but the drink was telling you to do the exact opposite. You excuse yourself from the conversation you were currently in and approach her on the couch. You never really talked to her, nor tried to. You got the impression it was pointless.

"Can we talk?" You ask so sweetly, you never had any bad intentions. But oh God she just wanted to rip that soft voice out of you. On the other hand she was a little shocked you'd even speak to her, she reluctantly said sure. Very nonchalantly, shrugging at the same time. She gets up and follows you to a quieter area. "Have I done something?" You finally ask, after months of knowing her, after months of her being crude. Yet another shrug. This wasn't going to be easy at all. "Well it sure seems as if I have, can I fix it?"

All you wanted was to be friends with people, never enemies. "Why are you so hell bent on making things perfect all the time." She finally snaps. "Billie-" "I swear you come in this house being all 'look at me I'm wonderful' When i doubt that's truly the case." You stare at her in disbelief. Finn had told you about Billie being off about you. But you never realized just how much. You swallow, unable to process her harsh words. "Well. If that's how you feel." She soon after nods. "Yup." You just scoff slightly. "Wow. Glad to know where I stand with you." Your feet go to move, when you then hear her speak.

"Hopefully really far away." The response was cold. You could feel your throat tightening, and honestly wanting to cry. But you weren't going to give her that satisfaction. "You're a bitch." You breathe out. "Right back at you." All you could think of was getting the hell out of there. You brush past people, Finneas being one of them. "Woah woah- where are you going?" His bewildered look made you sigh. "Ask your sister." You speak bluntly. Leaving after that. His brows furrow, on his way looking for her. Once he finds her he strides over. "What the fuck Billie." Eyes roll. Again.

"Oh what, did she come crying to you like a God damn baby? She came to me, I didn't start it." His head lowers, shaking it. "Jesus Billie, no she didn't come crying to me, she whooshed past heading for the door, she most definitely looked upset though. Why? Why have you got such a hatred for her for fuck sakes?" She just looks at her brother. "I dunno." He laughs slightly. "I do." Her brow raises, the left one. "Enlighten me." "You like her, but you can never deal with your feelings properly so you're pushing her away before you can fall too deep for her." Silence.

He knew her better than she knew herself, but it was true. The first time she ever did see you. Her heart was melting but she had to stop it. Maybe because of situations in the past, but she was too far into the hatred. She was genuinely believing she hated you. Even though it was a lie. "Whatever, I don't care. She started it." "No. You did, this would've never even happened if you hadn't grown this disliking bull shit. It's stupid." That was the last thing said before he leaves, Billie standing there not knowing what to do.

Nothing changed. Not even after Finneas scolded her. If anything the hatred grew, larger, causing you to hate her in the process. It was silly, but it happened. It was yet again another party, Claudia's brand had a new big release, so they were throwing a bit of a celebration. She had a small one two days ago, but decided a more boozey one would be fun. And it was at first, you were enjoying yourself. Dancing with a mutual friend, this one girl you had grown to like, Ava. A closer friend of Claudia's. She was always so bubbly and out there you loved it. Music was blasting, crowds of people. More so than the usual parties they'd throw.

A few drinks down and all you wanted to do was dance, Ava seemed to be on the same page, extending her hand out for you to grab. "Dance?" You smiled. "I thought you'd never ask!" You say loud enough over the booming music. Huge smiles were on both of your faces, but you couldn't help feeling the opposite shooting daggers into the back of your head. You sensed something. So instinctively you turn around, seeing none other than Billie. This time your eyes roll. You were so incredibly sick of her childishness. It was getting pathetic.

Your attention is soon back on Ava as her hands move to your waist, it was flirty. The whole situation. You hadn't realized Billies stare changed considering you weren't paying her any mind. It progressed into jealousy. She didn't ever want to admit that but it was true. That should be her, but she's gone too far. Screwed up too much to the point where you hated her guts. Only because she falsely hated you. It was all her dumbass fault. After a few songs you go upstairs to find the bathroom, stumbling just slightly.

Thankfully if you ever drunk too much they let you crash at theirs. Always. You were like family to them, more so Claudia. Both of your bonds were incredibly close. You come back out, but unpleasantly you met those stupid eyes. Ones that were beautiful, but attached to the person who drove you mental. Potentially in many ways..

"What do you want." - "You into her or something?" You glare at her. "Excuse me?" She presses her weight on her right leg. "Ava, she was getting quite close to you earlier." A scoff was heard from you. "Why on earth do you care. Might I mention all of a sudden, when you normally want to 'stay far away' from me." There was a slight pause, was she thinking of a response. Your eyes roll as you go to brush past her but she grabs your wrist. "Do you like her?" You try to pull. "Leave me alone Billie. Your presence is already pissing me off." She lets out a dry laugh. "Trust me, princess. Yours isn't liked a whole lot either. Don't get a big head." You wanted to scream in her face.

She was so infuriating. And even though that name was meant to be mocking you stupidly liked it. You give her one last glare before you're storming down the stairs. Her feet on your trail. You go to Ava and grab her face. "Kiss me." You say sweetly, mixed with a sultry tone. She smirked slightly. "Say no more." And she did just that, attaching her lips onto your own. Billie saw, vividly. If this was a cartoon, you'd surely see steam piping out of her ears. But why? Why on earth did this bother her so much. For someone who didn't give a fuck about you. She sure did seem to care a fuck ton.

After an hour or so you were going back up to the bathroom, making sure everything's still intact. When your wrist is being grabbed. "He!-" Then a hand was slapped against your mouth. "Zip it." Your eyes meet hers in the mirror, your instincts finally kicking in after the initial confusion. You bite her hand making her retract, pushing her back. "What the fuck is wrong with you. Do tell cuz I'm getting genuinely sick of this shit." She laughs in your face. It was cold and mocking. Just like all the other times before. "You're just a spoilt bitch you know that." Your eyes roll but she grabs your jaw. "You love rolling your eyes huh."

You push her off of you, again. "What? you're the only one who can?" - "Smart mouth." She says.

"Fucking dick." You stare at one another for a second, something shifted in the air. Something different. She slowly backs you up against the sink. No words to be said, just actions. Her eyes going over your face, eyes, cheeks nose. Lips. Your heart picks up at the current moment. The whole situation being odd. Still no words. Her eyes linger on your lips, hands eventually making contact with your hips. What were you giving in to? It felt like you were. This new found tension. Her face was incredibly close to your own. You hated that you liked this, you hated how she has you currently. You felt weak, weaker than you had been.

"I hate you." You seethed, but it was hushed. Unable to focus on forming the right sentences. "Yeah, turns me on." Your breath hitches in your throat, only visible to your mind. Glad she couldn't see how wound up you are getting. You couldn't take the slight tease. You give into everything. Leaning in to kiss her, it was intense, messy. Hot, like lava. Her hands move over your body as you shift in her touch. "Hate you so much." You say on her lips. "Sure you do." You hum. Resuming the kiss, but hers goes to your chin, jaw. Neck. You breathe out. "Hate you.." - "Just shut up." Her teeth sink into your skin, doing just as she had asked. Your mouth shut tight. Eyes doing the same.

When all of a sudden your back hits the bathroom wall. Her hands grip your wrists and shove them above your head, against the cold brick. Your shocked expression makes her laugh. "I hate you too angel, with a burning passion." Her knee presses hard against your clothed cunt, causing your mouth to fall open with a gasp. "God you make me so angry, but look at you. At the same time I just wanna fuck you senseless. This time your eyes would be rolling for a different reason." "Please." Your voice was moany, whiney. All of the above. You needed this and now. She goes to lock the door, slithering her belt out in the process.

It was her HMHAS one, so it was perfect for what she wanted to do. "Everything off." And in a heartbeat her request was fulfilled. She sighs out, making your thighs clench at how hot it sounded. "Even through all the hate I still wanted you deep down." She admitted, making you swoon for this more. "Need you." She smirks at you, how eager you have become. "Yeah? Turn around, wrists together." How could you possibly deny that. Your back faces her as your arms go behind you. She ties that same belt tightly around them, fastening it in the black lock. You were truly trapped. And she was loving it.

"You gotta stay quiet though, can't have anyone know what we are up to can we?" You look at her. "What, wouldn't want people hearing that you don't actually hate me?" Your breath soon gets caught as she grabs the end of the belt, tightening it harder. "Watch it." She not only warns with her voice but her eyes too. You glare at her slightly, eventually feeling her tug you around and sitting you on the sink counter. "Stay quiet. If you don't do exactly as I say I'll leave you here. With nothing." Your eyes fell. Deciding to stop the act and just listen. Her fingers meet your wet pussy making your head fall against the mirror. "Fuck-" You bite your lip, remember what she had said.

"Mmm, close one huh?" You bit hard, nodding slightly. Her fingers slowly make contact with your entrance wasting no time into dipping them in, harshly. She was fucking evil. She wasn't even going to try be nice by taking it slow. Ensuring some noises come out. Your lip starts to bleed and she just laughs. "You stupid girl." You wanted to slap her, and you go to do so but remember. You can't. A tiny groan leaves your throat. "Uh-huh, think again." She says, noticing you struggle in the belt. When she hears you whine, muffled by your teeth sinking into your lip.

Her pace was ungodly, sending your eyes to truly roll back. "That's it, take them like the greedy bitch you are." You retreat your teeth from its former position. "Mm, fuck you." You mindlessly say. "Oh baby, don't say things you know you can't handle." You gave up, gave up with trying to outsmart her in any way. "Billie please, just fucking ruin me." Your request had her shocked slightly. "Don't underestimate me baby." - "I plan to."

Her fingers swiftly move out of you, earning a moan at the feeling and stretch. Her Jeans hit the floor, making you look infront at the fake dick. She looked so good, staring down at you with such lust. Enjoying the fact she was way taller than you now, your form sinking into the counter. Your body slumped. Anticipating what was about to come. Preferably you. The tip of the cock touches your weeping hole, making your mind race. You didn't care anymore you needed this more than anything. "Please put it in, please Billie-" And she does. Deep. Taking things on the faster side, fucking you absolutely filthy. Your head leans back again as it hits deeper. "Shit." You mutter softly. When you heard knocking. "Everything alright in there." Your eyes widen as you hear Avas voice.

She didn't know you were in there, but Billie needed her to. She had to show what was now hers. No one else was in here fucking your brains out, it was her. Just her. So she thrusts deeper than she had that night, hitting your g-spot causing you to let out a breathy moan. Bingo. "Yep! Just had a drunken lil accident and got hurt but it's all ok." Billie then replies. What a fucking liar, a good one because Ava seemed to believe it mainly. But Billie didn't stop, not one bit. "You're so annoying." You moan again. "Am I really? I'm just so annoying, isn't it so annoying that I'm fucking you so good. Your eyes are getting a good view of the back of your head. Yeah, how annoying."

Your eyes begin to shut, but her hand fixes on your jaw, holding tight. "Still hate me huh?" "Mhmmm." You say with your teeth back on your lip. "Mm, those noises tell me otherwise." She gets the perfect angle, hitting that blissful spot deep inside you. "Billie-" You gasp. "Go on, cum all over it. Gush all your hate on my dick baby." That alone sent you insane, your back arching as her thrusts continue. "Fuckfuckfuck." You chant as you felt it coming. Your orgasm has you shaking, has her satisfied. She was in awe seeing you like this.

"Still hate me, princess?"

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad

Quite surprised there’s not a lot of these AUs considering how much Steve apparently sleeps around but anywho.

Teen Dad Steve who finds out one of the girls he’d slept with pre-Nancy is pregnant and he damn well intends on helping out however he can.

Turns out; helping means taking his son (his SON) and having full custody because the mom, no matter how much she wants to be involved, can’t take care of him.

Steve’s alright for the first 6 months of little Louie Harrington’s life.

But then his parents come home and shit hits the fan.

Which— fair enough. He was only 17 and already had a whole ass son, they were gonna freak out.

But kicking him AND aforementioned son out? With no where to go? No money? Barely a job?

That’s just fucked up.

But Steve makes do, and lives out of his car for no more than a month before finally landing his hands on a cheap trailer in Forest Hills.

He and Louie move in and sure, it’s rough. But he’s got a nice paying job at the Diner and yeah maybe he has to skip some classes to get extra money but it’s fine. It pays his bills and rent and that’s all that really matters.

It’s fine.

And then the second wave of Upside Down fuckery hits, and Steve’s suddenly in the hospital with a grade 4 concussion (whatever that means) and his top priority is to make sure someone is with Louie.

Enter Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom.

She takes care of Louie for as long as Steve is in the hospital and then some when Steve can’t be left unsupervised in case his head worsens.

And that’s how the Party is introduced to little Louie (as they all call him).

Steve’s stunned to find out that Mike and Lucas are so good with little kids, but the two of them love stopping by the Henderson’s (and later on the trailer) to see little Louie and offer to babysit for him whenever.

The other kids take a little bit of time to warm up to Louie (and the fact that Steve’s actually a parent) but when they do Steve never ceases to have at least one of them over.

And with all the racket brings in the attention of nosy neighbors.

Steve is well accustomed to nosy neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln next door to his parents were always looking to snitch on him for something or other.

But Miss Bottomette and her grandchildren Noah and Casey were sweethearts. Steve didn’t mind having them over for dinner or going over there. Miss Bottomette was the one to teach him how to actually put his cooking skills to work.

Linda and Tom, a newly married couple down the road, were quite eccentric but that’s what made them charming. Steve found their dog, Dasher, quite the sweetheart.

And even Mr. Knowles, the grouchy old man next door to Miss Bottomette, seemed to take a liking to Steve and Louie.

It wasn’t long before the story behind the new boy in 2718 New Bird Ave was revealed: Teen Dad Kicked Out.

Then the whole town knew. And while most people were nice about it, even supportive of how he had taken a step into his child’s life, there were always those people who sneered.

Steve ignored them, loving the life he was working on making for himself and Louie in the trailer park.

The only neighbors he never seemed to meet, despite the looming presence, were the Munsons, right across the street.

Steve knew about the Munsons. Well— he knew about Eddie Munson; drug dealer who was on his second run of senior year. Steve actually shared a few classes with him.

He’d yet to meet the mysterious Wayne Munson, but that was to be expected with work schedules.

And then Steve was graduating, and his parents didn’t show up.

But that was totally fine. Cause the kids, Claudia, Joyce��� even Hopper with El— were there. They held up little baby Louie while Steve walked the stage.

He’d heard rumors of Eddie Munson having to retake senior year for a third time— but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Because sure, he missed more than his fair share of classes and scraped by with a C+ average.

But he did it.

And then summer hit, Dustin left for camp, and the mall opened up.

Steve picked up a job at Scoops Ahoy, cutting back on his hours at the Diner but still staying there because the money was needed and the tips were lovely.

And he meets Robin Buckley, and actually talks to Eddie Munson every once in a while when he stops in with his band, and lets the kids sneak into the movies because he’ll be damned if he robs them of a normal summer.

And then Dustin comes back and their reunion is short-lived because Russians are hellbent on torching non-existent information out of Steve and he’s busy getting his third concussion and then there’s a fucking flesh monster and Billy and Hopper for protecting them and—

It’s not a good night.

But then he’s rushed to the hospital and he tries to call Miss Bottomette only for the call to refuse to go through and shitfuckgoddammit.

Because what about Louie?

Miss Bottomette said she’d be alright watching Louie until Steve got home, but Steve wasn’t able to go home until someone was able to make time to take him home.

Usually, he’d lean on Hopper for this stuff, since his parents were out of the question. But—

But Hoppers dead.

So he’s stuck at the hospital for another day or two until finally, Claudia comes to pick him up.

He’s with Dustin in the backseat of the car, anxiously bouncing his leg and biting at his fingers and nails until Dustin gives in and just holds his hand. Robin’s there to, having been able to leave after the first night but coming with Claudia to pick him up. Steve’s relieved to have them both close by, even if his hands reach for Erica subconsciously.

His trailer’s empty when he gets home, and Miss Bottomette isn’t answering the door.

Steve’s on the brink of a full blown breakdown before Mr. Knowles— bless his heart— points them across the street.

The Munsons apparently have his son and have for a bit now since Miss Bottomette had a minor seizure and couldn’t be left alone with Louie. Mr. Knowles assured Steve that she and the kids were fine and staying with him for the moment.

Steve wasted no time afterwards sprinting to the Munsons and knocking on the door. Dustin and Robin are close behind him, Claudia waiting patiently in the driveway.

The door is answered by a gruff looking old man that’s taller than Dustin but slightly shorter than both Robin and Steve.

“You Harrington?”

Steve nods so fast he faintly wonders if that’s how bobble heads feels.

They’re let in in no time and the old man— the infamous Wayne Munson— calls out of Eddie.

Eddie Munson emerges a moment later with little Louie in his arms, bouncing softly on his feet to keep the baby calm.

Steve is in front of him in a second, scooping Louie gently out of his arms and into his own.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dustin’s rubbing his arms and Robin his back. Claudia is talking to Wayne, explaining what had happened (or the cover story version at least) and Eddie is hanging back a few feet from the three of them.

Robin takes little Louie in her arms and shoos Steve to the couch to calm down.

“Let him meet his auntie, Steve. You take a minute to breathe now, yeah?”

Steve was led to the couch with a soft hand on his shoulder from Eddie Munson, and they sat side by side while Steve worked on easing his breathing and to stop fucking crying.

Eddie’s shushing him and after a moment (and a clearly pointed cleared throat from Robin) Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shaking figure.

They leave the Munsons’ trailer is promises of new babysitters and a new friendship.

And then the fuckery that’s 1986 happens.

.

First Part:

[mulloey]

Can you write a full length fic of boyfriends!sanhwa reminding the reader who she belong to after someone tried to flirt with her at party and she was too oblivious to understand and went with it?

Can you include overstim and them having the reader on their lap. And a bit of size kink on sanhwa's part.

Do not include: mxm, misogynistic terms like whore and slut.

too sweet

san & seonghwa x fem!reader

words: 1k

join my taglist

warnings: overstim, punishment, soft doms!sanhwa, kind of innocent!reader, reader is smaller than sanhwa, big size kink (you’re referred to as small, tiny, little etc)

—

“Do you understand now?”

Seonghwa’s voice is low and teasing in your ear, making you squirm in his hold; he has you on his lap, your legs spread apart and held in position by his own strong thighs. His arms are wrapped around your torso, stroking your flushed skin as you sob through another orgasm.

You don’t know how many you’ve had now, nor how many you’re yet to endure; San’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy relentlessly, his other hand holding a vibrator firmly against your swollen clit. You writhe pathetically in Seonghwa’s arms but you all know it’s pointless; they could overpower you in your sleep, and when they’re this determined to teach you a lesson, there’s nothing you can do but take it.

“Yes, Hwa,” you hiccup. Your voice is tiny and pathetic, hoarse from screaming and begging for God knows how long. “Hwa, m’ sorry, please.”

He laughs softly into your skin, lips trailing across your neck. “Oh I know, honey,” he coos. “It must hurt so much, huh?” His voice drips with condescension and you know he doesn’t actually care if it hurts; he wants it to hurt, wants you so drunk on pleasure that you can’t think of anything except them, their hands, and how sorry you are for being so bad.

And you were really, really bad—or so they said. You don’t think it’s fair, honestly, to be punished for something you didn’t even know you were doing, but you’re not silly enough to protest; Seonghwa in particular hates when you try to weasel out of a punishment, sees it as the ultimate form of disobedience—so trying to talk yourself out of this would only have made it worse. For the nth time tonight your safeword dances on your tongue but you have no intention of using it. They know as well as you do that you absolutely adore being used like this.

Still, it would be better if this wasn’t happening as a punishment; then you’d be able to ask San to take it slower, or to pull his fingers out and fuck you instead. But if that’s what you wanted, then maybe you should have been more careful.

They knew they shouldn’t have taken you to that party. A company event filled with other artists and staff, it was all too easy to lose you in the crowd; you were smaller than most of the people, a social butterfly, and endlessly optimistic of people’s intentions. For just ten seconds San had looked away from you to chat with one of his stylists—but that was all the time it took for you to slip away.

It was Seonghwa that found you chatting happily with one of the choreographers. To be fair to the guy, he was new and didn’t know the nature of your relationship to them yet; but that didn’t make the sight of him leaning against the wall with his hand on your arm any more pleasant. And you, sweet thing that you were, had no idea what he was doing.

He got you out of there quickly, both of your boyfriends bundling you into the car despite your protests; Seonghwa nearly broke the speed limit trying to get you home before he snapped and took you right there on the motorway.

You’re just too sweet for your own good. And the noises you make as you approach another orgasm certainly are.

You can’t bear to look at San anymore; the focus on his face and the bulging muscles of his arms as he works you open are only turning you on more, so you bury your face in Seonghwa’s neck, crying pitifully into his hair. You shudder through your next orgasm, barely in control of your limbs anymore and San kisses your cream-covered thighs. “Pretty girl,” he croons. “Naughty girl.”

“M’ sorry,” you whine. “Sannie, please, I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Seonghwa says with a sweet smile. “You’re gonna, baby.”

San hums in agreement as he resumes his assault on your aching cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he purrs. “So tiny for us. Only for us, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “Only for— only for you. Only for Sannie and Hwa.”

“Good girl,” Seonghwa says. “Such a sweetheart, learning her lesson so well. Isn’t she, Sannie?”

“She is, yeah. One more orgasm, baby, then I’ll fuck you, alright?”

You nod dizzily, barely aware of what’s going on; just as your last orgasm approaches, San pulls the vibrator away and attaches his mouth to your clit, sucking harshly at it and it’s all takes for you to come crashing over the edge, releasing onto his face. He comes up with a grin, mouth and chin wet with your juices as he pulls you out to Seonghwa’s arms and into his own. He pushes you down on the sheets, hovering over you. “Hi, tiny,” he smiles. “Want me in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “And— and Hwa?”

San’s smile widens and you hear Seonghwa laugh from next to you. “Silly girl,” he says. “How am I gonna fit in there with Sannie? You’re too little, baby, we’d tear you open.”

“Don’t care,” you say. Your voice is stubborn and San pinches your thigh in warning.

“Be good,” he mumbles. “Hwa’s right, honey. We’re too big to fit in that little pussy. But if you ask him nicely I’m sure he’ll fuck your mouth, right?”

“Right.” Seonghwa grabs your chin gently, turning your head to face him where he’s kneeling at the side of the bed. His eyes are soft and impossibly aroused as he looks you up and down. “Want me in your mouth, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Please.”

“That’s not enough.” There’s a stern edge to his voice now that makes you shrink into yourself a little and his lips quirk amusedly when he notices. “You were really, really naughty tonight, baby. If you want me in your mouth you’re gonna have to beg for it, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you say. “Please, Hwa, I need— I’ll be so good. I won’t be bad again, I won’t let anyone flirt with me again, I swear I learnt my lesson, pl—”

“Sh, sh,” San soothes you with a chuckle, rubbing your pussy gently; the wet sounds make you blush. “We know, baby, good girl. Always so good.”

“You are,” Seonghwa smiles.

As you feel San start to push into you you feel the bed dip under Seonghwa’s weight as he climbs onto it. His dick is already leaking when he presses it against your lips.

“Open up, baby.”

—

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta @lemonkait00 @uhh-awkward-rightt @whyokoa @miyaluvvsyou @yabbadabbatuh @mylovelymito

requests open!

[amirasainz]

Can you write a Yn Alonso story where George and her have a proper British tea party. Geroge tells Yn that she is now a true princess. .ame it fluff and cute 🙏😭❤️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Unky Georgie

Three-year-old Yn Alonso, the tiniest bundle of joy in the paddock, bounced on her toes as she held onto her uncle George’s hand. Her rose-colored dress swayed with every step, layers of tulle billowing around her like the gown of a true princess. She gazed up at George, her eyes wide and filled with excitement. Uncle George, or “Unky Georgie,” as she liked to call him, had promised her something very special that day while her dad, was away at a meeting. Today, Yn was going to have her very first Princess Tea Party.

George knelt down to her level, smoothing out her dress a bit. "Alright, Princess Yn," he said in a very serious tone, his British accent making her giggle, "are you ready for your royal tea party?"

Yn gasped, nodding her head enthusiastically. "Yes, Unky Georgie! I'm ready!" She clutched a tiny pink purse to her side, her other hand wrapped around his fingers.

"Right this way, Your Royal Highness," George said, guiding her to a little setup he’d created just for her near the back of the paddock. He had found a small table with two chairs and had decorated it with a pink cloth, a little flower in a vase, and a selection of pastries piled high on a plate. In the middle, he’d set a small teapot with a delicate floral design and two matching cups.

Yn’s eyes sparkled as she took in the scene. "It’s so pretty!" she gasped, looking up at George with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "Is this… is this really for me, Unky Georgie?"

George nodded, his face lit with a proud smile. "All for you, Princess. Only the best for royalty, of course."

He held out her chair, and she carefully climbed onto it, smoothing out her dress like she’d seen princesses do in her favorite storybooks. Once she was settled, George took the seat opposite her. He poured “berry tea”—actually a bit of berry-flavored water he’d prepared—into each cup, trying his best to look as dignified as possible.

Yn picked up her cup carefully with both hands, peeking over the rim to look at George. "Do I look like a real princess, Unky Georgie?"

George smiled warmly, nodding. "You look like the most real princess I’ve ever seen." He raised his cup as if to toast. "To Princess Yn, ruler of the paddock kingdom!"

She giggled, clinking her tiny cup against his. "To the paddock kingdom!" she repeated, trying to sound very grand. Then she took a sip, her face lighting up at the taste of the berry water.

George took a pretend sip as well, lifting his pinky finger dramatically. "Now, tell me, Princess Yn, what does a real princess do at a tea party?"

Yn thought for a moment, scrunching up her nose. "Princesses talk about their… about their kingdom!" she decided. "And about the animals and… and the fairies and… and the horses!"

"Ah, yes," George said, nodding along. "Do you have many fairies in your kingdom, Princess?"

Yn nodded, her face very serious. "Lots! And they’re all pink and blue and sparkly, and they love tea parties. And they sing songs to the horses so they can go super fast!"

George chuckled, absolutely charmed by her imagination. "Just like your papa and his car! Maybe the fairies help him go super fast too?"

Yn’s eyes lit up. "Yes! Papa has fairies too. And… and maybe you have fairies, Unky Georgie!"

George gasped in mock surprise. "You think so? Maybe that's why I’m so fast!"

Yn giggled and reached for a tiny pastry from the plate. It was almost too big for her little hands, but she managed, taking a small bite and grinning at the taste. "Mmm, this is my favorite," she declared with her mouth full, looking at George as if they were in on a big secret.

"I'm glad, Princess. We have to keep the royal princess well-fed, after all." George pretended to munch on one of the pastries, savoring it dramatically. "These are delicious! Fit for a queen."

Yn looked delighted, holding her little pastry like it was made of gold. She glanced around as if worried someone might interrupt their special party. "Do you think Papa will come soon?"

George took her little hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Don’t worry, Princess Yn. He'll be here soon. And when he sees you looking so beautiful in your princess dress, I bet he’ll be so happy he might even want to join the tea party."

Yn’s eyes widened at the thought. "You think so? Papa will be a prince with us?"

"Absolutely," George replied confidently. "And you know what? He might even want to be your knight, protecting the kingdom."

Yn looked at him with all the wonder of a little girl who thought her papa was already the greatest knight in the world. "Papa would be the best knight!"

Just then, a familiar voice called from nearby. "What's going on here?" Fernando had returned from his meeting, and the sight before him nearly stopped him in his tracks. There was his daughter, perched like a little princess in her rose-colored dress, holding court over a tea party with her “Unky Georgie.”

Fernando’s heart melted instantly. He walked over, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took in the joy radiating from Yn’s face.

"Papá!" Yn squealed, jumping up and running to him, her arms open wide. Fernando scooped her up into a big hug, her tiny fingers clutching his neck. "Look, Papá! I’m a real princess now!" she declared, pulling back to show him her dress.

Fernando looked at George with a soft chuckle, his eyes full of gratitude. "A real princess, huh?" he asked, looking back at Yn with admiration. "Did Uncle Georgie make you a princess today?"

Yn nodded with pride. "Yes! And we had tea and pastries, and he said I have a kingdom with fairies!"

"That sounds wonderful, mi amor," Fernando murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’m so happy you had fun."

George stood up, giving Fernando a mock bow. "Well, I was merely following orders from Her Royal Highness."

Fernando laughed, shaking his head. "Thank you, George. This was… perfect." He looked back at Yn, his face full of love. "You know, Princess, if you need a knight, your papa is always ready for the job."

Yn’s face lit up, and she reached for Fernando’s hand. "Can we all have tea together? All of us, Papá?"

"Of course," Fernando said with a smile, taking a seat beside her and picking up one of the tiny tea cups. "For my princess, I’ll do anything."

George grinned, raising his cup again. "To Princess Yn, ruler of all the fairies and horses in the paddock kingdom."

Yn raised her cup with a giggle. "And to Papá, my best knight ever!"

As they sipped their “tea” together, Yn looked up at her father and uncle, feeling like the happiest princess in the world. And for Fernando, seeing his little girl so full of joy made him feel like the luckiest dad in the world.

[sundrop-writes]

Downhill

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

I’ve never spent a moment loving anyone but you.

And maybe that’s just something people say - but I hope it’s the truth.

Summary:

Draco knows his place in the world. He is a Malfoy, he is Pureblood. He is supposed to marry, carry on the Pureblood line. He is supposed to do everything that his parents would - including killing, if it's what his Dark Lord wishes.

Draco Malfoy is not supposed to hesitate. He is not supposed to feel fear. He is not supposed to have room in his heart for fondness, or even love. Not even when it comes to his bartered and bought fellow Pureblood fiancee.

Love is nothing but a weakness. And Malfoys are not weak.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage/Hesitant Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Half-Blood Prince.

Word Count: 20,100

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but it was written as a prequel to the fic My Bleeding Heart. Because the other fic is chronologically second, you won't be missing anything if you read this one first, but if you have read it before, then this one ties in nicely and informs more of the emotions between the characters.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic is equal parts smut and emotional angst; this fic does technically take place around Christmas (with the Slug Club Christmas Party being the biggest signal of that), but Christmas is not a huge overarching theme or presence in the fic if you don't celebrate or don't like Christmas; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; implications of the reader being fat/plus-sized (which happens with a lot of my fics); it is mentioned that the reader is wearing a dress and high heels to the party; the reader is a Slytherin; the reader is a Pureblood (and for the sake of the fic, I made up a random 'important' Pureblood family that she is from, but because she wasn't raised by them, she goes by a difference surname that can just be your literal actual surname); the reader is an orphan and never actually knew her Pureblood parents; this fic DOES use Y/N; the reader is called 'brilliant' and comes off as very intelligent and skilled with magic (skilled enough to get into the Slug Club); Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage for the sake of carrying on the Pureblood lineage, and it is discussed that the reader was 'bought' for Draco (a very large dowry was paid) (during the course of the fic, they are only engaged and not yet married); most of this is written from Draco's perspective and features self loathing, emotionally stunted Draco; jealous!Draco - Draco hears that the reader was talking to Harry and gets upset; mentions of the reader being left to the Malfoys by a neglectful godmother; I know there is debate about whether it's canon or not, but in this fic Draco's parents are abusive toward him - his father much more so and his mother is more of a neglectful bystander, and there is a lot of themes in this fic about Draco's trauma surrounding that and how he starts taking his first steps to break free from his abusers (this fic implies that Draco has been physically and emotionally abused by his father, as well as being severely emotionally neglected by both his parents); the reader character in this fic is also abused by the Malfoys when living with them - including an incident where she is hit by Lucius Malfoy and has her hand smashed into broken glass; an incident is described where Lucius casts a spell that chokes Draco (briefly) with the intention of physically punishing him, and the reader stops the spell; Lucius calls the reader 'slut' and 'whore' as insults; mentions of house elves and elf 'slavery' (feels like a warning I'm putting in here specifically for Hermione but I know people get upset about this stuff now lmao); descriptions of dead animals - a bird is killed while being transported through the not yet working Vanishing Cabinet; mentions of canon deaths (Cedric Diggory); mentions of 'Death Eater culture' - discrimination, violence against muggleborns, blood purity, etc.; discussion of Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore (and his mission to help the Death Eaters break into Hogwarts) and the stress that it causes him.

In his internal narration, Draco calls the reader 'naive' and 'innocent', but this is not a statement about the reader's level of sexual or romantic experience (the reader character is NOT A VIRGIN in this), this is a statement about the reader's level of experience with violence and death (and how Draco feels a need to protect her from being corrupted by the dark forces in his life); Draco grabs the reader's arm (in a slightly painful way, while arguing) - but they don't have a major physical confrontation and it does not escalate (their relationship has slightly toxic vibes, but they are forced to depend on each other); mention of Draco being 'thin'/losing weight due to not eating properly (due to the stress of a life or death mission hanging over his head); for the actual smut section - Draco has a kink for the reader wearing stockings/tights (don't ask me where I got this idea from, it just feels like it would fit Draco really well); the tone of the whole thing is very sweet, affectionate, passionate love-making; Draco calls the reader 'darling' and 'love'; oral - reader receiving; Draco fingers the reader while eating her out; a lot of passionate kissing and body worshipping (towards the reader); multiple orgasms/overstimulation (reader receiving); squirting (not played up as a major kink, but it does happen); Draco is anti-breeding kink (I know this is a new one, but try to stick with me) - Draco knows that the only reason for their engagement is to carry on the family blood like (to breed) and he is against that (because it means carrying out his parents' wishes and putting the reader in danger) so he refuses to fuck her because he doesn't want to get her pregnant, because he thinks that it will be cursing her with an attachment to him and he still wants to give her a chance to bail, so he specifically avoids PIV sex for this reason; the ending of the fic has some slightly dubious consent - because Draco starts thinking about the fate of the arranged marriage and feels self loathing but continues with the encounter anyway (he is romantically and sexually attracted to the reader, and there is no force, and the reader is enthusiastic about her consent the whole time, but Draco starts to withdraw his consent and is slightly unsure - it's adult and realistic and complicated); Draco masturbates while sitting on top of the reader to avoid having sex with the reader (in a way, this could be considered 'forced orgasm' because Draco is having a lot of complicated emotions and literally forces himself to orgasm to end the sexual situation); Draco cums on the reader's thighs; Draco cries after sex because of all his complicated emotions; Draco and the reader do talk about their feelings and (mostly) work things out; the ending skews toward light-hearted/sappy.

A/N: This fic is titled after the song Downhill by Lincoln - and I actually had a really hard time choosing which lyrics to go at the top, because I genuinely believe that all the lyrics from the song are so, so fitting here. So I do highly encourage you to go and listen to the song while you read this!! I actually started writing this fic many months ago when the idea came to me, and I got stalled on it, and then I randomly got inspired to finish it around mid-October, but I wanted to wait to post it until it was closer to Christmas because it is so rare for me to have a seasonally accurate fic on my hands so I actually wanted to post it during the seasonally accurate time lmao. I had a lot of fun writing this and exploring the relationship between these two characters, and I do want to write more for them in the future - especially because I am obsessed with the arranged marriage concept. (I feel like I need to write more fics with different characters that use arranged marriage as a trope because writing this just showed me how much fun it is.) Anyway, for now, I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think of it in the comments.

...

Moving from the bustling atmosphere of the Slug Club Christmas Party into the cold, empty corridor was certainly a drastic shift.

It felt like stepping through a curtain that drained all happiness from you, even if that happiness was only temporary, feigned, and fueled by the jovial holiday atmosphere rather than coming from anywhere true inside of you. It was a show you had put on for the sake of the social occasion. As an automatic response, you felt the fake smile fall from your face as the last murmurs of the guests and the last echoes of Christmas music disappeared faintly behind you. You were then fully flipped from the warm, welcoming environment of the party to the cold shell that was Hogwarts in the dead of winter as the cool air coming off the stone kissed against your skin. 

You couldn’t resist the need to hug yourself in order to cover up your bare arms, sharp gooseflesh already forming there. Such an occasion insisted upon something showy rather than practical, and with the December weather, you were finding it chilly. 

As you walked a few steps down from the entrance to the party, you found that a certain cloud of darkness began to consume you - even with the Christmas trees glistening brightly at either end, reminding you of the supposedly cheerful season. 

You walked toward Draco, where he was waiting for you, just as Snape had promised when he had come up behind you like a looming storm cloud and pulled you away so suddenly, so rudely from the rousing conversation you were having with Harry and Slughorn. But you had to turn your mind off from any showmanship that you had been forced to put into those conversations, and turn your mind onto something else now - someone else. 

Draco had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive suit, a stiff posture that could be seen even through the matching, all black attire. He was pacing along the mouth of the hallway rather frantically, threatening to wear holes in the soles of his custom leather shoes, muttering under his breath to himself. 

So far, this was the worst you had ever seen him. And that worried you greatly. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, the question naturally on your tongue. 

The sound of your voice in the otherwise empty corridor pulled Draco’s eyes up from the floor, snapping his attention toward you in a way that stopped his pacing in an instant, causing his posture to stiffen up tall as he turned toward you. It was an ingrained instinct - facing someone, giving them your attention when they spoke. Well trained unconscious physical etiquette whipped into a boy who was often very rude and careless with his words. 

For a moment, his fist tightened in his pocket, and you knew that he was clutching on his wand instinctively, his eyes flickering around, looking for an intruder - so perhaps, not entirely ingrained etiquette. Perhaps quite a lot of unconscious physical panic living within those muscles as well. Fight or flight instincts that never got a chance to turn off. 

When his eyes fell on you, recognition flooded his features, and his stiffness relaxed - even if only slightly. 

“Draco, what is it? Why did you pull me out of the party?” You prodded further, your curiosity growing into annoyance when he took too long to answer you. 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you out here if it wasn’t important.” Draco sighed, shifting from one foot to the other, not looking at you. 

“Well isn’t what I’m doing supposed to be important too?” You snapped back. 

Truthfully, you didn’t care about your ‘mission’. You knew that there would be consequences for you if you failed - but at this point, you weren’t all too afraid of being killed. 

When Draco’s parents had discovered that Slughorn was once again teaching at Hogwarts, they had sent you a letter asking to join his ‘Club’, telling you to get close to him. They knew that because of your brilliance, he would already be interested in you joining - and he certainly was. But you had turned him down multiple times because you found it to be an annoyance, and you didn’t want to have to worry about attending ‘club’ meetings on top of everything else going on in your chaotic life. 

Snape was the one who had explained to you why they wanted you to take him up on his nagging offer. The Dark Lord, who used to be known as Tom Riddle, was also once a part of that Club. And they needed to know how much Slughorn remembered about him, and if he was spilling any of the Dark Lord’s secrets to Harry Potter. They needed to know if Slughorn was revealing anything that might make The Dark Lord vulnerable towards Potter. 

Truthfully, you had been grateful towards Snape, and towards Draco for pulling you out of that social hell of fake laughter and performity and into the cool relief of the corridor. You had been dreading the thought of going to the party since Slughorn had first informed everyone about it, and you were grateful to escape it. Even if it gave a chance for the general darkness that Draco carried with him to begin biting at your sensitive heart. And even if it left Harry alone with Slughorn and his endless yammering in your wake. (You pitied him slightly, but you knew that he would be fine on his own.) 

You were mostly irritated with Draco because you hadn’t seen him in days. You felt that he had been strategically avoiding you. Somehow, even in the Slytherin common room or even when you looked for him in his own dorm, he never seemed to be there. And now, he was interrupting you during a crucial moment, daring to show his face when you had spent the better of the last week alone. 

You had invited him to attend the party with you. You thought that you would look like a fool, showing up without a date. And you had. Especially when nearly everyone at Hogwarts had your engagement as hot gossip on their lips just a few months prior. 

“Yes, but-” Draco began to explain himself, but you cut him off, your bubbling annoyance overtaking you in the moment. 

“I was talking to Slughorn when you so rudely interrupted me.” You said, emphasising the words in a way that made Draco childishly roll his eyes. “He was just about to invite me and Harry to look at some of shitty old mementos from previous class years when you had Snape pull me away-”

“Harry?” Draco repeated the name back, mouth gaped as his face twisted in disgust, getting far too caught up on the way you referred to his once rival - now someone who was very background to the rest of his problems. “What? Now you’re getting all cozied up with Potter, are you?” 

At the end of the day, Draco knew that you didn’t owe him anything. 

Essentially, his parents had bought you for him - just like they would have a new racing broom or a fancy set of robes. Since then, you had been nothing but kind to him. Well, aside from your mouthy attitude - which Draco actually found to be refreshing a lot of the time. And he wasn’t even sure how much of it was genuine kindness and how much of it was putting on a show for his parents in order to demonstrate to them that you were a good purchase - that you weren’t something to be disposed of. 

You had held his hand, been cozy and complimented him. He had been surprised the first time you kissed him - surprised by how genuine it felt, and how much he felt himself getting sucked into the emotions of it. But he knew that it was all just for show. 

Because at the end of the day, he knew that no amount of money could force him to own your heart. If you fell in love with someone like Potter, then he could do nothing to stop it. And frankly, he wouldn’t blame you. The heroics, and the genuine kindness, the niceties, the softness - Potter could offer you everything that he couldn’t. 

And in all honesty - something that Draco would only admit to himself deep within the confines of his own, quiet, quaking soul - that thought utterly terrified him. 

“Seriously, Draco?” You barked back, absolutely insulted at the insinuation. At the idea that you had been having fun at the party with Harry when it had been a pretty miserable time for you. “What kind of person do you think I am? I wasn’t there to flirt. Especially not with Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, that’s an awfully convenient story, love.” Draco scoffed, his voice brimming with disgust. 

When you made no further moves to defend yourself - when you didn’t beg for his affection or further insist that what you and Draco had was truly genuine and worth fighting for, it only filled Draco’s mind with more doubt. It only further inflated the idea that indeed, you liked Potter as a romantic partner. And you liked him better. 

“Fine then.” Draco sneered, turning on his heel and marching away, his shoes clacking loudly against the floor as he walked, creating an eerie echo in the empty hallway. 

You hated that your stomach curled with dread at the sight of his quickly retreating back. It had been a long, lonely week without him, and you hated to think of how much longer he would isolate himself if you didn’t take the chance to snag him now. 

“Draco, wait!” You rushed to stop him. 

He was the only person that you truly knew at Hogwarts. 

Yes, he had introduced you to his friends. Pansy Parkinson was nice enough, and she always tried to make girly small talk with you, which you usually returned. Often, her problems about which outfits to wear and how to do her makeup seemed insignificant compared to the literal life and death that Draco faced. But you could always go to her for a conversation that was distracting, a good mental escape. 

Blaise Zabini was more of the strong, silent type. Sometimes the two of you discussed books you had read (when you weren’t feeling too stressed out to read). You usually ended conversations with him early due to colliding opinions on such books. Naturally, he sided with the rich oppressors and you found yourself rooting for the underdogs in every single story. 

Somehow, out of everyone you found yourself surrounded with, Draco was someone you considered a friend. It was difficult not to after the summer the two of you had spent together. 

When your godmother had told you that some ‘old friends of your parents’ were interested in meeting you, you had been surprised. She had always been good to you - she had been friendly, always given you the basics and more in terms of what you needed. She was a very work-minded woman when it came to her job dealing with cursed objects, so she travelled often and left you to be watched over by the Muggle neighbours. Those were experiences that you treasured and often found to be fun. 

You had always grown up with the underlying knowledge that your godmother was not your ‘real’ mother. She always had you call her by her first name - never ‘Mama’, or ‘Mom’. Occasionally, you were mocked in school (because she had enrolled you in Muggle school for a basic education) because you were ‘adopted’. One day, this had led you to asking your godmother where it was that you had come from. 

She told you that your parents were from England, and they died fighting in a war against a terrible dark wizard. They had named her as the person who would take care of you in the event of their death, and though your godmother barely had any traces of an accent left, she told you that she once went to school with your parents at a place called Hogwarts in England. 

Your whole life, all you had known was Muggle New York City. When you turned ten years old, you knew Salem’s Academy for Fine Young Witches, which sometimes had social events (like Quidditch matches and weekend outings) with a brother school, Magorium’s Institute for Upcoming Magical Men. You had dated boys before, but you had never experienced anything too serious. You were a social butterfly well into your magical education who rode the subway during your summers and spent your time going to concerts, enjoying the Muggle library, watching television, going to the movie theatre. 

Even though you never knew your parents and you mourned the dreams of a life you could have had - your life was simple, and you liked it that way. 

Until your godmother took you on a trip to England, promising that it would be a pilgrimage to know more about your heritage, and nothing more. And then - over one dinner, she sold you out to the Malfoys for a dowry of two thousand Galleons. 

Apparently it was enough for her to retire so that she could write a book, as she had always dreamed of. And she was more than happy to be rid of the responsibility of a child that she did not birth. Something that you had heard her whisper to Narcissa when she thought you had not been listening. Up until that point, the only thing binding her to you had been a magical contract that she had signed with your parents before you were even born, naming her your carer in the event of their untimely death. 

The moment she signed a new contract - bidding you to the Malfoys as Draco’s future wife - she was completely free of her responsibility. The new contract that she signed dictated that the Malfoys would have to be responsible for you now. 

So - what you had thought would be a nice visit to explore more about the two dead people that you had never known quickly turned into a permanent relocation with only a small suitcase full of personal belongings, and little clue what the future held for you. Suddenly, you were in a brand new country, living with people you had never met before, betrothed to someone who seemed to hate you. 

And the more the Malfoys talked about The War and told stories of your deceased parents, the more you realised - your parents had died fighting alongside the terrible dark wizard, and not against him. But still, Narcissa and Lucius spoke about your parents as though they were heroes. Valiant heroes who had died at the hands of Aurors, protecting Voldemort’s cause. 

At first, it felt instinctive to hate Draco Malfoy. 

You wanted so badly to hate him. 

He was your betrothed, and though he was very handsome, he had been bitterly rude to you. It seemed that the forcefully polite kiss on the hand that he had given you upon first meeting - something that had given you butterflies in your stomach - had been nothing more than a front, a show he put on for his parents. Because he quickly soured towards you after that. 

He made it very clear that he was not a fan of the arranged marriage either. Even when his parents continually tried to pitch the idea to him and fluff it up for him - as much as they acted like you were a present being given to him on a silver platter (something that only made you feel more isolated and empty). 

There was a distinct point that made you come around to Draco Malfoy. 

The night when you had found out that it wasn’t just a visit, that the idea of the marriage wasn’t just being ‘floated by’ your godmother, but in fact, it was set in stone and you were being left at Malfoy Manor while she silently escaped in the middle of the night with her bag full of gold without even saying goodbye to you. You had sat on the edge of the guest bed they had you in and simply sobbed. You had never felt more alone in your life, never more abandoned, and all you could do was cry your eyes out. 

Draco’s room was across the hall from yours, so naturally, he heard this. It had been a purposeful move from his parents, putting the two of you in close quarters in the hopes that you would talk and interact more, wanting the two of you to at least like each other before getting married. After a few hours of being forced to listen to your chest-racking sobs, you heard a knock. You had been expecting it to be Draco, telling you to shut up so that he could sleep, but instead, a tiny voice asked permission to enter. 

It was one of the house elves - one you later learned was called Pippy, and when you gave her permission to come in, she shuffled along with a large tray in her hands and placed it on the nightstand. A teapot and an empty teacup. She poured you the cup of tea, and after she handed it to you, she patted you on the knee and said: 

“Mister Draco says peppermint tea is good for the bad days,” 

You took the cup in two shaking hands, thanking her meekly, enjoying it as a small comfort. When you watched the tiny elf shuffling back toward your door, you caught a glimpse of a bright blue eye peeking in through the crack, clearly trying not to be caught looking in. 

Even if he would never admit it then, he was growing soft toward you. 

And he had spent the next three months, the entirety of the summer, fighting with that softness as it grew within himself. He constantly battled between pushing you away with feigned annoyance and coldness and wrapping you in warmth, a wordless care. 

He would spend some of the nights in your bed cuddling you while you cried, staying completely silent as to dare not let any fond words slip out. He would defend you against his parents when you didn’t participate in their properly deemed etiquette (such as when you treated the house elves ‘too nicely’ or when you spoke about Muggle technology a bit too much). And yet, he never brought himself to say more than a few genuinely nice words to you. 

He was holding you at arm’s length. He was trying to be some snide, petulant boy toward you in the hopes that you wouldn’t like him. But truly, he was the only real kindness, the only real friend you had in this lonely new world. 

Draco stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling out his name. As much as he would never admit it, he was a puppet to your call. 

He heaved out a sigh and turned back around, so utterly drawn to you. He hated to see your eyes coated in glass - fear and sadness, the ache that you had disappointed him bubbling to the surface as he stared you down with a sour face, his hands still in his pockets, his entire body still stiff. 

Even though a sad face didn’t suit you, you were still beautiful. So damn beautiful. He hated that he had been so stupid as to miss accompanying you to the party. But he likely would have just been a grey cloud hanging around you, preventing anyone from talking to you and socialising with you. He would have been a roadblock to your mission. 

You were wearing a dress made of a fabric that looked like liquid silver melted down and poured over your body, so sparkling and flowy that you looked like a star that belonged in the night sky alongside the beauty of the moon. It wrapped around your body gracefully, with a tie to emphasise your waist and a low neckline that showed off your cleavage. He was only human - he couldn’t lie in how it appealed to him. Sitting in the middle of your cleavage was a necklace - it was an ornate ruby beetle, the sigil of your Pureblood family. You were the last remaining member of the Scaraflos house. 

The necklace had been handed down to you from your mother - literally the only thing you had from your parents. You had worn it for years without ever truly knowing what it meant. You had told Draco that when Narcissa showed you pictures of his parents and your parents from their school days and pointed out how your mother was wearing the necklace in those pictures, it was the only time you had ever felt truly connected to your Pureblood heritage. And you had no clue if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Anytime in years previous, Draco would have jumped to say that it was a good thing. Now, though - he wasn’t entirely sure. 

You were shivering slightly due to the fact that it had such short sleeves, but you were wearing black stockings on your legs (something else that Draco found irritably sexy, even though it covered more of your skin) and you had on a pair of simple, but elegant silver heels. 

Silently, unable to stand the sight of goosenips forming on your skin, he took off his blazer and took the few steps back toward you to wrap it around your shoulders. With his thinner build, it wouldn’t fit you well - but at least, it would shield you from some of the cold air in the castle. As he draped it around you, his eyes caught a glimpse of your hand as you reached up to hold the edge of the coat on your shoulder, clutching onto the fabric so that it wouldn’t fall. 

Draco couldn’t help it when his eyes fixated terribly on it - that damn engagement ring. 

It was something his parents had purchased without him ever knowing, and they had him present it to you as a form of ceremony. As if either of you had any choice in the matter. As if it was supposed to be romantic. As if you could have said no. Later on, behind closed doors, you told him that you would wear it proudly and he scoffed. He thought that the moment the two of you got to Hogwarts, when there were no more prying eyes on the two of you (because Snape certainly didn’t care) - that you would take it off and resign it to some jewellery box, or perhaps even throw it away. 

But you kept wearing it. 

When you thought Draco wasn’t looking, he sometimes found you twisting it between two fingers, looking down at it with an odd kind of fondness - or perhaps, even love. Always a deep, dizzying array of complex thoughts floating through your mind. 

He had no clue that you wore it because you thought of Draco as your family now. He was the only person you had in the world who hadn’t done you some kind of injustice. And you wore it to show loyalty to him. You wore it because it meant that you weren’t alone. You were an abandoned orphan, sold and bartered like livestock - but as long as you wore that ring, you belonged to someone. Someone who, despite his best efforts to appear cold and uncaring, did take care of you. 

“Draco, why did you come here?” You asked again, much gentler this time, lowering your attack for now. 

You stared at him expectantly as you clutched his blazer around your shoulders, trying to steal the last bits of his warmth out of the fabric before it faded away completely. 

He sighed, hating to admit that he needed help. He was stubbornly, bitterly independent, just as his parents had taught him to be. It was one of his biggest flaws. 

“I’m having issues with the Vanishing Cabinet.” He told you quietly, hesitant to admit it. Hesitant to admit failure. 

“Show me.” You told him, and he nodded. 

He led you to the blank wall on the fifth floor that somehow caused a door to appear. The first time you had seen it, it had astounded you. Even in a world of magic, some things still managed to surprise you. 

He had originally brought you there at the beginning of the school year when he had explained to you that he had been tasked to fix up The Vanishing Cabinet. He had called it The Room of Hidden Things. He had explained to you that any time someone wanted to get rid of a dangerous object, for that object to never be found again, they disposed of it within this room. Sometimes it was also a dumping ground for common junk, he had theorised, and he heavily believed that items that were hidden within other places within the walls of Hogwarts - a book tucked away in a random cupboard, a potion bottle hidden under someone’s mattress - somehow, those items ended up here if they were hidden with the same intention of disposal. They were all pulled here by the room’s strong magic. 

You found it to be hauntingly beautiful, like many other places within Hogwarts were. You couldn’t help but to enjoy the sense of mystery as you walked through the isles of piled up furniture, seeing all the strange items that you could barely put names to - things like dragon skulls, murky old potions rotting away in dusty bottles. Even a few trolls that had been killed and stuff (taxidermy style) that had startled you upon your first visit to the room because when you had first looked at them, you thought they were alive and waiting to attack. 

Draco brought you to the back of the large room, and you saw that he had already pulled the tarp off the overwhelming tall, ornate Vanishing Cabinet, so the dusty cloth was sitting in the pile at the cabinet’s feet. Without a word, Draco walked up to the cabinet, moving in stiff mechanical motions as he pulled open the doors. You took a few steps closer to get a better look, realising that he was trying to show you whatever was inside - that must be where the primary problem was located. 

You couldn’t hold in the gasp that broke out of your throat when you saw a dead bird sitting in the bottom of the cabinet. 

A bright yellow canary laying against the dark wood, belly up and completely still with its soft feathers rustled, a few of them missing. You had seen very few dead animals in your lifetime. Aside from the occasional New York City pigeon, laying on the sidewalk in a similar fashion after running itself into one of the hyper reflective windows of the tall buildings. You couldn’t even stand to look at those for too long. You still felt the same deep heartache while looking at it that you had for the poor pigeons. 

“Oh - oh my.” You gaped quietly. 

Draco was entirely surprised when you shouldered him out of the way, letting his ill-fitting borrowed jacket drop off your shoulders onto the dusty ground without care as you crouched down in front of him. You then scooped up the small bird in your hands, cradling it gently as though it were entirely precious. 

He thought that seeing the state of things, you might start suggesting spells, telling him ways that he could fix the obvious problem. But no - you were soft-hearted. The true problem hadn’t even occurred to you yet, because you were so caught up on the sight of a dead bird. You were emotional, struck by the shock of an innocent animal having its life prematurely ended. 

Draco envied you quietly for a moment as you sat on your knees in front of the cabinet, looming in his shadow as you held the bird in your hands. He realised that in order for you to be so startled over this, so heartbroken - it must be one of the first times you had been brushed with death. Draco envied that naivety. 

He wished he could rewind to the version of himself from a few years ago. A version that thought not being able to join the Quidditch team because of an age restriction was the worst tragedy in the world. A version that thought he got everything he wanted because he was genuinely deserving of it. Someone who couldn’t see that he was simply a spoiled brat. 

He wished he could go back to a version that hadn’t seen Muggleborns slain in his family’s dining room, begging for mercy where there would be none.  

When he had first seen that bird sitting dead in the cabinet, a frighteningly still, dead body draped in yellow - for a moment, he had been reminded of Cedric Diggory. Someone so undeserving, lifeless before their time. Used up and gone. 

But now, seeing the way you cradled it, fussing over something already dead and unable to benefit from your care - Draco was distinctly reminded of himself, withering and undeserving in your arms. 

“Draco, do - do you think we should bury it?” You asked, the gentle croak of tears in your voice as you considered a pointless funeral for the small dead thing. 

You suddenly rose up to your feet then, walking around Draco to look for something among the junk in the room, something to wrap the poor bird in - some kind of cloth, or perhaps a small box to place it in. 

This caused something inside of him to snap. The way your sweet demeanour ground against his nerves - his worry, his anxiety about everything mounting suddenly as you fussed over a tiny thing that truly didn’t matter. 

Eventually, your good intentions would get you killed. That gentle touch, that willingness to help - it would get you on the wrong end of a Killing Curse one day. (Especially if he didn’t protect you.) 

“It’s not about the bloody bird, woman!” He growled out, entirely frustrated with your delicate ignorance, your lack of seeing the true point. 

Draco turned to you, and grabbed your arm so viciously that your palms jerked apart and the small, lifeless body dropped onto the floor without a single bit of grace. The bird dropped against the cold stone so carelessly, as though it were an object that had not once had any life in it at all. You let out another gasp at this, and looked from the dull tuft of yellow feathers at your feet up to Draco’s face. 

“Draco!” You cried out sharply, protesting against his careless nature toward the innocent creature. 

His fingers were gripping your forearm fiercely, blooming small bits of pain - but you didn’t care. You felt a clench in your gut, distinct guilt overwhelming you. You told yourself that his anger was misplaced. You had to guess so. You didn’t have words, especially not while he stared you down so coldly. All you could do was stand tall, and stare right back, even while tears formed in your eyes. 

He tightly clenched his jaw. 

You were surprised when he spoke again. 

“How can you be so daft?” He said, almost choking on the words. 

That was when you knew for certain that all his bubbling anger was truly misplaced. He had called you brilliant before, and often made ‘jokes’ about how much you outsmarted him. It was one of the only things he had said about you that wasn’t sarcastic or backhanded in some effort to deter you. He didn’t think that you were stupid, not one bit. 

“Look, you know if I don’t get this thing working-” Draco couldn’t even finish his sentence before his throat closed around the words, threatening harsh sobs that he was desperate to contain. 

Instead, he turned abruptly, letting go of your arm - now completely uncaring of the misplaced conflict. You felt a wave crash into your chest as you realised it. He was right - how could you have been so stupid? 

Of course, he had no care for a small animal. 

It was about what that animal represented. His failure. Death looming over his head. 

The bird had obviously died in the cabinet, which meant that a living thing had yet to survive the transition from Borgin & Burkes into Hogwarts. If Draco couldn’t fix that problem - if there was some sort of problem when the Death Eaters tried to use the cabinet to get into Hogwarts and one of them died, then Draco would be on the line for it. 

They would kill him if he couldn’t get this right. 

Draco moved slowly, putting a hand on each of the cabinet’s doors and closing them. The harsh squeak of the old hinges resonating through the otherwise silent room spoke volumes. 

Then, for a few long, painstaking moments - neither of you said a thing. 

Your chest ached. You wished that you could find something comforting to tell him. For some reason, you knew that simply telling him ‘it’s going to be okay’ wasn’t going to cut it. You muddled in the silence and you hated it. 

He stood with his back still turned to you, with his arms outstretched, leaning on the tall, imposing wooden object. It felt like a shadow of death looming over the two of you. His shoulders held nothing but pure tension, even as he used the object for support. Soon, he took on a very unnatural, un-Malfoy slouch as he allowed his head to so tiredly droop down between his spread arms. 

After a few moments of that terrible silence, with you staring at his back, tossing your mind for something helpful to say as you chewed at your own lip - Draco took in a shuddering breath. Though you knew he was trying to hide it: he began quietly sobbing. 

You couldn’t help yourself then. 

It was something you knew that he pretended to hate, but you did it anyway. He could pretend to be annoyed with you if he wanted, but you both likely needed it right now. You stepped forward, over the dead bird, your shoes quietly clacking against the stone - and you settled yourself right up against his back, tucking your body tightly against him in a hug. You nuzzled your face into the tense muscles of his shoulders, and as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and squeezed him tightly, you felt some of the tension melt away as he unconsciously relaxed into your touch. 

You did worry about how much thinner he felt in your arms than the last time you had done this - obviously, he hadn’t been eating properly. But you didn’t bother to bring it up, not wanting to start another argument. 

Draco felt a grateful warmth spread over him. Still, he refused to touch you back. He couldn’t. At least not yet. 

He kept his hands on the wood of the cabinet, almost like a bold surrender, silently remarking that he would give into your touch, to your softness, but he wouldn’t return it. He couldn’t. He let out another shuddering sob - a sound he couldn’t contain now with the feeling of your warmth at his back. It was something he hated himself for. 

You hushed him gently. And then, miraculously, you found words. 

“We could leave.” You said quietly, turning your head so that your cheek sat parallel with his flesh, muttering the words against the fine silk of his button up shirt. “We could just… run away together. We don’t have to stay here, Draco. We could get to a fireplace and Floo out of here, or-” 

“We can’t.” Draco easily cut you off, stamping out the idea, his voice just as quiet, throttled by tears. “You know that we can’t.” 

You wanted to argue the point more. Obviously, he didn’t hate the idea. He just thought it was illogical. Likely, he thought it was too dangerous. But what was the alternative - possibly being killed anyway? Being tortured and then killed if he failed his mission? 

“If we leave, they’ll kill my parents because I couldn’t complete my mission.” Draco sniffled quietly. “At the very least, they’ll haul me in and have my head for being a traitor.” 

Draco straightened his stance then, taking his arms off the cabinet. You thought that he might remove your arms from his waist, finally rejecting your touch. But instead, he began tracing fingers from his right hand along the forearm of his left sleeve, almost scratching at it like it was a terrible itch. 

You had been there on the night when he had gotten the Mark. 

You had been brought into the room and forced to listen to his screams of pain before you even truly knew what was happening. When you had tried to comfort him about it, he had pushed you off so roughly that you had almost smacked your head into one of the walls - but you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry with him. You that he was taking that fear and pain out on you in that terribly misplaced way. 

Later that night, when he had been crying - sobbing harshly and running the freshly scorched skin under cool water - he let you run him a bath with soothing soaps. The two of you discussed Shakespeare’s plays (which you were surprised that he had read) while you washed his hair for him. 

“Now that I have the Mark, I can’t run anywhere.” Draco muttered quietly. “I can’t go anywhere that I won’t be found.” 

That part had never truly occurred to you before. 

You knew that the Dark Lord used the Dark Mark as a way for his followers to show their loyalty. The magic behind it also made it a way for him to summon them or even for them to summon him. Hearing his words, you guessed that Draco having it meant that he could be ‘summoned’ at any time as a part of the loyalty he had so unwillingly pledged. 

Even if he betrayed the Dark Lord morally, mentally, emotionally, and tried to do so physically by running away, as long as his arm was attached, he would still be in service to that horrible man until he and his followers decided otherwise. Especially because you couldn’t imagine Draco wanting to part with his arm anytime soon. 

“We’ll figure something out.” You told him, having little faith in those words yourself. You knew it was a truth that you had to speak into existence - otherwise, you were doomed. 

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, spreading more warmth through him. He clenched his fists at his sides, highly resisting the urge to reach for your hands, but silently hoping that you wouldn’t pull away. 

Draco resented your sense of hope. A lot of the time, he couldn’t help but to think that it was stupid - just your naivety poking through in a different way. Though, truthfully, in a lot of ways, he knew that your hope was the bravest thing about you. And these days, that hope was the only thing keeping him afloat in the chaotic sea that his life had become. 

Draco, unlike you, was a coward. 

He could come up with all the excuses he wanted not to run away, but truthfully - he was terrified. And every single day, his fear put you more and more at risk. 

… 

Draco thought back to a night at Malfoy Manor, when you had been having dinner with him and his parents. A night when, for the first time in his life, that streak of cowardice had somehow been broken. 

“Can you believe it? It’s completely ridiculous. A proposal to convert the entire Ministry from intern-departmental memos to this - this telephone nonsense!” 

Lucius ranted on as he cut into his food, taking out his aggression on the piece of meat in front of him as he recounted something that had happened a few months previous that still brought him particular frustration whenever he remembered it. 

“That Arthur Weasley is a stupid old bat, downright mindless, but even I can’t imagine where he gets theses ideas from-” 

“Telephones can actually be quite useful.” You piped up, interrupting his father’s ranting with a quiet, but polite comment. 

Without a word, all three others at the table stared at you as you continued to mindlessly poke at your dinner. Lucius glared daggers at you, his expression full of bitter venom, while Draco and Narcissa gave you the same distinct expression of shock - deer in headlights, mirrored over both their faces. Over the years, they had learned to simply be quiet and ‘listen’ to the rantings of their patriarch, especially if it was about the goings on at the Ministry, Arthur Weasley, or any number of other subjects that he knew he was right about. 

While at his own dinner table, Lucius Malfoy was not to be interrupted - much less corrected. 

You had just broken the golden rule twice over. You had interrupted him in the middle of speaking, and you had contradicted what he was saying. 

Draco’s gut clenched as he realised that he should have warned you beforehand to avoid such a faux pas. He should have told you that the dinner table was a place for quietly eating and answering direct questions in as few words as possible - not an open forum. 

Before he could apologise on your behalf, you opened your mouth again - doubling down on this accidental, horrible mistake. 

“Do you just find it confusing because you don’t know how they work?” You posed, reaching out to grab your glass for a sip of water, looking right at Lucius as you posed the question. “I know that a lot of Wizards who were born in the magical world can find Muggle technology strange and confusing, but-” 

Before you could finish speaking, Lucius reached off to the side and grabbed his cane, and brought down onto the centre of the table with an intense silent fury. He smashed your hand down into the glass that you had been holding, shattering it to pieces underneath your palm. Draco and Narcissa flinched at the sound and Narcissa backed her chair away slightly - but neither of them dared to speak, neither of them moved to confront him. In fact, Narcissa was very intentionally looking away, her eyes now glued to the floor. 

Draco could see blood pooling against the emerald green table runner, could see your flesh quivering in pain underneath the silver snake’s maw - but you stayed completely still, your eyes coldly locked on Lucius’ glare as he hovered out of his seat. Even with tears of pain dotting your eyes, your throat trembling as you held back cries - you kept a stiff jaw and refused to back down from the confrontation. 

It was braver than Draco had ever been, and he silently admired you for it. 

“If you think that stupid, filthy Muggles are so brilliant, then you can die like one.” Lucius ground out slowly, pure rage on his breath. “While you are living in my house, you will learn your place. You filthy, blood-traitorous slut.” 

Draco held his breath. He knew that if you backed down, if you shied away and admitted your wrong doing with silence or even an apology, then his father would let you go easily and then this would all be over. 

But of course - you weren’t going to back down easily. Not you. 

“And what place is that?” You remarked, pure snark in your tone. 

Draco’s throat clenched up. His father wouldn’t like that. 

Lucius lifted the snake’s bite off your hand, only for a second, and then - after placing down the cane, he sharply backhanded you. Draco knew that he wore thick, heavy rings on his hand and he worried for you - especially when you swayed on your seat for a moment before falling to the floor. The heft of the hit was enough to dizzy you, make you unstable and send you to the ground. 

“Your place is to be silent until I call upon you.” Lucius announced, seeming very satisfied with himself. 

Narcissa refused to look in your direction, and Lucius moved to sit back in his chair. For once, going against everything he had been taught since childhood, Draco rushed to get out of his. He knew that it would have been expected for him to ignore you. For you to be isolated in your pain. But he couldn’t help himself. 

Draco rushed to your side, collapsing onto his hands and knees before you - instinctively, he sheltered you in his arms, trying to get you upright again. 

“Y/N?” He croaked out quietly, only now realising how close he was to tears. 

“I’m fine, Draco.” You quickly lied. “I’m fine.” 

“Draco.” 

Lucius’ tone was entirely dead, almost calm, and somehow menacing in the same breath. Draco looked over your head, your slouched, defeated posture making you too small in his arms as he held you against his chest, and he caught his father’s eye as the man glared at him with pure violence dancing in his cold eyes. Any other time, Draco would have folded to that silent threat so easily. But with you there - with the feeling of you quivering against him, clearly holding in sobs - it truly injected boldness into him in those moments. 

You were such a fragile thing. For once in his life - something he needed to protect. Something only he could protect. 

“Draco, sit down.” His father ordered, clearly annoyed when Draco took too long to move away from you. “You haven’t been dismissed from my table yet.” 

Draco laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, and somehow, entirely against his own will, untangled you from his arms. When he stood, everyone in the room thought for certain that it was to comply with this order. But instead, he moved toward his father’s chair with sharp footsteps, putting on his best faux confidence and standing tall as he spat out his next words. 

“I swear to Merlin, if you ever put a hand on my fiance again, I will end you.” 

Naturally, Lucius didn’t find this threat to be the slightest bit intimidating. 

His father let out a dark chuckle, clearly amused by seeing Draco posture as a man when he knew that his son was nothing more than a spoiled, cowardly child. 

“Let’s not forget who bought you the little whore.” Lucius laughed. “There’s no need to get sentimental, Draco. You should be paying attention. Learn how to train up your wife now, before she becomes a disobedient brat. You should never let anyone talk to your father like that, remember, loyalty comes-” 

Draco took out his wand then, much to his father’s surprise. With it poised in Lucius’ direction, he received a sharp glare. 

“I understand loyalty perfectly well. Father.” Draco said, his voice short. 

“Incarcerous.” Lucius hissed sharply - then, as if out of nowhere, a thin black rope appeared and whipped around the middle of Draco’s neck. In an instant, it began tightening, choking him. 

Immediately, Draco dropped his wand and fell backwards, landing beside where you were still kneeling on the floor - you panicked as you watched him choking and gasping for breath. 

“Lucius!” Narcissa cried out, begging for the end of the conflict. 

The man ignored her. 

“You will learn to respect me in my own house, so help me, if I have to-” 

“Finite.” You held your good hand above Draco’s gasping face and muttered the counter curse, releasing him from the rope, performing an impressive feat of wandless magic to get him free.

Lucius glared at you once again, locking you and Draco in a harsh stare as you helped him sit up while he struggled to catch his breath. 

Before any further words could be said, Lucius pushed out his chair and stomped out of the room like a child having a tantrum, obviously upset that his intimidation and abuse had not gotten him the result he wanted. Narcissa said nothing, only giving you the saddest eyes as you helped Draco off the floor. The two of you left to go clean the glass out of your palm, spending the rest of the night locked in Draco’s room, licking your wounds in the relative comfort of each other’s silence. 

… 

That had been the first time Draco had ever properly stood up to his father. 

Draco still wondered if that was a good thing or not. 

Before he could venture any further into that very dangerous can of worms, you pulled Draco back to the present when you stepped back from the hug. Draco resisted the urge to pull you back, to steal more of your warmth. 

You noticed something out of the corner of your eye that caught your attention. 

A mattress laid out on the floor. 

It could have just been one of those random pieces of stray ‘junk’ furniture, but something about it caught your attention. For one, the fact that it hadn’t been in that position the last time you had been in this room. And two - there were a few random, stray blankets placed on top of it in what was very clearly an improvised sleeping area. As though someone had gone through the random objects in the room in order to compose a makeshift bed. 

With Draco’s bookbag sitting beside the mattress, open - you quickly clued into the truth. It was absolutely no trouble to figure out why you hadn’t seen much of him over the past week. He had been sleeping here. 

It was a revelation that shocked you. 

Especially considering that this looked quite shabby in comparison to the comfort of the Slytherin dorms. And you knew that at home, he was used to being spoiled with a thick, three foot tall mattress on a four poster bed and goose feather down pillows. So - why would he choose to camp out here? Why would he want to be closer to The Vanishing Cabinet - something that was actively giving him stress? 

“You’ve been sleeping here.” You said, disappointment ripe in your voice as you walked over to the mattress as toed at one of the blankets with your shoe. “Why?” 

“Why does it matter?” Draco huffed, picking up his jacket that you had dropped onto the floor and tossing it into the middle of the mattress. “Can you help me with The Cabinet or not?” 

“I can help.” You answered simply. “But I want to talk about this first.” You said, motioning toward the area where he had slept. 

Draco let out a sharp breath and turned around, rubbing his hands across his face in sharp frustration. 

For a moment, you thought that he was simply going to leave again, forcing you to chase him, trying to outrun the conversation. It had been a favourite tactic of his when the two of you had been living at his parents’ sprawling estate, a place that he knew much better than you did. The second that things got a bit too personal, he would slip into some random hallway or sneak off around a private corner, and it was like he had Disapparated - with how quickly he had moved, disappearing into the bowels of the house so that he could escape talking to you. 

You wouldn’t let him escape this time. 

You stepped up to him and put your hands on either side of his face, and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch. 

“Draco, please don’t hide from me.” You told him quietly. “You don’t have to be alone in all this. I know… I know I’m just some stupid girl that your parents bought for you, but I want to be a good wife for you. I want to be the person that you can come to with your problems.” 

Draco didn’t think of you as just some ‘stupid girl’. 

He didn’t think of you as a gift, as a purchased object that he could throw away like he had with every other toy that he had carelessly broken in his life. 

Honestly - you were the first real friend he ever had. You were the first person who was truly honest with him, calling him out on his bullshit, barring any consequences of his reputation or anything that his parents might do to you. You didn’t flock to him for popularity or status. You were forced to be near him, but you didn’t always act polite toward him by force. When your sweetness came to him, it was in waves. And it came along with sour notes and rudeness and harsh honesty that he needed. 

That kind of honesty was something that he had never experienced from anyone else in his life. 

And all of it was so incredibly genuine. 

You were someone who should have hated him, but you always smiled at him; someone who said his name with nothing but pleasantness in your tone, where others said it with venom or coldness. You were one of the first people he felt like he could open up to, and that was dangerous. 

Of course he was hiding from you. He needed to hide from you. 

He was a coward. And lately, the thing he feared most, even above losing his own life - was losing you. You were probably the only good thing he had ever possessed that was actually irreplaceable. If he lost you, he knew that he would never recover. He would actually willingly fling himself off the Astronomy Tower if he was somehow responsible for getting you hurt. 

That was what kept him at a distance. Hoping that he could actually grow cold toward you. Hoping that he could learn to genuinely hate you if he escaped from your sweetness. 

He also hoped that you would grow to hate him so that you could simply detach and go off on your own. You didn’t have The Mark, you could still run. At least before making your marriage vows, you could. But no - you were too good. You were too kind hearted to truly abandon him. 

And every time Draco saw you, he only became more nauseated with the realisation that he was becoming more and more fond of you. He would always look for your face in the crowd at the Great Hall, he would always wait for that smile to come across your lips when you locked eyes with him. 

And he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle you. He couldn’t handle being the one responsible for the destruction of your life. 

So he spent more nights, longer nights in the Room of Requirement, slaving over The Vanishing Cabinet, writing down increasingly stupid plans for how he could kill Dumbledore without actually waltzing up and just murdering the man. He had to complete his mission if he was going to keep you safe. 

“Draco, please-” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t listen to the sweet sadness in your voice curl around his name like a canary’s song, another sweet little bird ready to die by his hands. He couldn’t stand you talking to him like you actually cherished him - like he was actually something worth having. 

He reached up and gently cupped the side of your face, tucking his arm inside of yours to do so where you still held onto his cheek, the two of you becoming so entangled, just as he had feared. 

Then - he pulled you into a kiss. 

It was an addition to only about a half dozen kisses that the two of you had shared before this. And in an instant, this was the most desperate - emotions that he desperately wanted dampened off and hidden wringing through his lips and into yours. Entirely against his will, another hot tear escaped, and he let out a small gasp when you were quick to thumb it away. 

You wanted to cheer at the feeling of his lips against yours. You knew that before this, he was actively pulling away from you, putting himself in isolation, marching in his suffering alone because he thought that he had to. Or simply because he was used to it, from what you had seen of his home life. 

You knew what a horrible curse loneliness was, and you never wanted him to suffer through it. Especially not on top of everything else he was already going through. If he had to suffer through everything that his parents had put onto him, then at the very least, he didn’t have to suffer alone. 

Having his lips pressed so tightly to yours - it felt like progress. Feeling the whimper that echoed out from his throat as he held your face so delicately, like you were a perfect, soft doll - like you were something so precious - it felt like you had broken down a wall that he had been trying so hard for so many months to keep up as a barrier against you. 

This felt like saving him. 

It felt like doing what little you could within your limited power to create light in the darkness he was trudging through. Or at the very least, it felt like you could assure him that he wasn’t stuck in that darkness alone. 

After a few moments, Draco pulled away from the kiss. When he reached up to pull one of your hands away from his face, you worried that he might just shove you away and walk away altogether, finally coming to his senses against the affection. You worried that he would suddenly become cold toward you as he had done many other times, in an effort to turn you off. 

Instead - he surprised you. He did one of the most endearing, heart-melting things that he possibly could have done. 

He clasped your wrist gently between his cool fingers, thumbing along your pulse in a way that made you hold back a moan, and then he raised the heel of your palm up to his lips. With his eyes gently closed, refusing to look at you, he kissed along the fading scars that had been left there when his father had smashed your hand into a wine glass over dinner. 

The marks were something you didn’t pay much mind to these days, especially not with the ornament of your engagement ring as a much more pleasant distraction on that hand. But feeling Draco’s pillowy, light kisses grazing across your skin in the best, deepest apology he ever could have offered you - it made your stomach clench with overwhelming emotion as tears formed in your eyes. 

“Draco-” You choked on his name this time, and he moved your hand to sit on his shoulder as he turned his attention toward your face. 

Glassy, tear-kissed eyes faced your own, and you knew that there were no words for it. 

The universe had brought the two of you together in the strangest way and drowned the two of you in the most unpleasant circumstances. But you couldn’t help thinking that this is exactly where you were meant to be. 

“Hush now, darling.” He told you, his voice whisper-quiet, not daring to get much louder lest he risk breaking those tears in his throat. 

Darling. It was the first time he had ever called you that. He had thrown out the occasional snide ‘honey’ or ‘wifey’ in front of his parents or even behind closed doors, very rudely playing on the fact that he was supposed to treat you like a girlfriend, like his beloved. He thought it was amusing to taunt you with the sarcasm that he never actually would hold any true affection for you. 

This was the first pet name he had given you out of genuine affection. 

He pulled you back in for another kiss, and the moment his lips touched yours, Draco could feel himself losing it. The softness of your pillowy mouth against his, the way your fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him like you truly needed him as an anchor. The little moan you let out - making him desperate to chase more of those sounds from you. 

All of it was slowly driving him insane, leading him further astray from his goal of detaching from you. 

He should have tossed you out into the hallway. He should have yelled at you, called you horrible names. He should have pulled out every single rude, bratty thing in his repertoire to make you absolutely hate him. Instead - he found himself getting lost in you more by the second. He found himself letting your softness roll over him in waves, turning him weak. 

Draco held the back of your head with one hand, pinning you into the kiss, holding you against his mouth like a dehydrated man would so desperately hold onto a decanter of water. You let out another sweet moan, louder this time, and he didn’t hesitate to shove his tongue past your lips, dizzy and needing to drink right from the source, wanting to devour you whole. He needed to see if he could taste the light that radiated out of you. He needed to see if he could find that fatal thing inside of you that made you have a fondness toward him. 

This was nothing like snogging random Slytherin girls out of boredom.

In that moment, Draco felt important. He felt needed. He felt like he served some grander purpose of good in the universe because you held onto him tighter, because you pulled him closer, because you kissed him back with ferocity and sucked on his tongue. Because you wanted him. He felt that if your attention shifted from him for even a moment, he would wither away and cease to exist because he only mattered under the warmth of your gaze. 

Draco felt like he was tempting fate when he moved his hands down your shoulders, down your back, daring to touch more of you - daring to ask for more. That he was playing with fire, letting his well-ingrained greed get the better of him once again. But he couldn’t help himself. 

He cradled his flat-handed touch across you with the intention to feel you in a way that he never had before. Yes, he had held you before - hugged you, pulled you close to him when he was stuck for words and wanting to comfort you, especially seeing as comforting words had never been a skill taught to him. But other than a few grazing touches against your hands or your cheeks, he had never dared to invite himself to the rest of your body. 

Before this, he had never touched you with lust on his mind. 

He had never truly thought of you as his property, something he could possess and own and take. He thought for certain, at any moment, you would push him away for being so brazen - and he would simply have to add this rejection to his pile of heartbreaks and move on. 

Instead, he felt something inside of him ease with relief when you sighed with delight - one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. And then, in a moment so perfect, you leaned into his touches. You kept one hand tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt and the other reached up and wound into his neatly slicked hair, instantly messing up the tresses and making them wild at the back. 

But he couldn’t care, not for a moment - especially not when you let out another sweet moan into his mouth and leaned your whole body into him, pressing against him so that he felt every inch of your gorgeous curves through the thin fabric of your dress. 

Draco had felt you pressed this close against his body before, but it had never been like this. 

Before it had been like a delicate bird being held in a cage - like some sweet, innocent thing he was trying to protect. 

But now, it was like a man truly feeling a woman. It was a potential husband truly seeing his future wife for the first time, and his body responded in the only way he could. He let out a shuddering moan and he felt his cock hardening up. Of course, he didn’t want you to feel it. He didn’t want this to happen. He shouldn’t let this happen. 

He was supposed to be distancing himself from you, not letting you dizzy him like he was some stupid lovesick fool. He was supposed to be severing these ties, not burrowing himself further inside of you. (And just that thought sparked a certain imagery in his mind that made his cock twitch and swell to full mast. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. He was a fool.) 

Draco pulled back from the kiss and you let out a disappointed sound - like the creek of an old door, tired and waning. 

Draco forced his hands back to his sides, despite how fantastic the warmth of your flesh felt under his touch. 

When he tried to step back from you, you refused to let him go. The grip you had in his hair caused a small twinge of pain across his scalp, and he was forced to open his eyes. The look on your face - kiss bruised lips, eyes still closed, a quiver across your chin, filled to the brim with disappointment, likely knowing what was going through his mind - it made him weak. It gave him pause. 

He was too damn weak. 

“Y/N-” He said your name in a whisper - about to tell you that the two of you shouldn’t be doing this, but you cut him off. 

“Draco, please.” You whimpered quietly. “Please, don’t push me away right now.” 

He reached up and gently gripped your forearm. He should have used the touch to untangle you from him, but he found that he didn’t have the strength to. Whether it was a mental strength or a physical one, he wasn’t even sure. 

“I need this.” You whispered, your voice hoarse and strained, and for the first time that he had ever heard - desperate. “I think you do too. Please.” 

He was a horrible, selfish man - but he told himself that a good husband would never deny you of your needs. 

Draco swept you into another kiss, wrapping one of his arms around your back, firm and protective as he always had been, determined to serve your needs with more ferocity than ever. While you moaned into his mouth, he guided you backwards until your ankles hit the edge of that mattress. The one he had been sleeping on to flee from this big, horrible thing that had been building between the two of you that had now crashed down upon his head with inevitability. 

Even dizzy from the feeling of his lips on yours, you instantly understood the wordless signal. He laid you down on it as gently as he could, taking the gravity in slow pauses rather than simply letting you fall backwards, and as he fixed some of the blankets under your head like a makeshift pillow, you felt like a queen, being treated with the highest affection and handled with the most gentle hands that her beloved could muster. 

Part of you yearned for a rougher touch, to see Draco let loose on you - but you knew that this was what he needed. He needed to treasure something. He needed to know that he could have something good that wouldn’t end up dead or broken because of him. 

Draco paused above you for a moment, holding himself there with a hand beside your head - he felt a pure, stabbing pain in his gut when he looked down at you and all he could see reflected back up at him was pure, shining, sickening love. Your eyes practically glowed with it in the dimly lit room. He didn’t want to admit it then, but he knew he was so utterly fucked. 

He felt a curse curling up inside him - the urge to mirror that back to you but the inability to proclaim it. Feeling like he was some filthy dead thing that would never truly mean anything to you while wanting so badly to be the solid earth beneath your feet that you needed to function, he wanted to be your everything. His voice became strangled in his throat and instead of making that impossible proclamation, his body moved frantically as he began kissing down your neck. 

It was a worship - it was a proclamation in silence. It was all he could muster, but he hoped that it would please you nonetheless. 

Please. 

He whispered wordlessly against your skin, tonguing along the planes of your neck as you moaned for him so beautifully. 

Please, notice me. Find me worthy. 

After lavishing gentle attention across your neck and your clavicle, coating you in salvia that cooled across your skin and made you shiver, he reached your bust line and easily buried himself there. He nestled along the skin so tenderly that you found your heart wanting to burst out of your chest to reach his lips, your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head in what you hoped was an equally tender gesture while he laid the sweetest, simple open-mouthed kisses in your cleavage. 

This was a Draco that you had never seen before. This was not the surly-mouthed, harsh, bitter man you had come to know. And if you had fallen for glimpses of his sweetness before, then you were quickly being catapulted off the edge into full on adoration. Into something deeper and much more dangerous. 

“Draco, please.” You moaned out, pushing your chest further into his touch, somehow already breathless and beating hard between your thighs for him. 

Of course, he thought. More. 

She deserves more. 

Draco moved the hand that was supporting himself to push into the mattress beside your waist, holding his weight there now. And then, he used his other hand to reach into the front of your dress. He felt lucky when you sighed with delight rather than revoking his permission to touch you, even though his fingers were cold and icy upon your breast as he moved the fabric of your dress and the cup of your bra off to the side. 

This left the deep V of the wrap sitting at your ribs, presenting one of your breasts to the open air, an absolutely beautiful sight as your nipple pebbled up with the coolness of the room. He didn’t leave the flesh cold for long before he cupped your breast with tender fingers and fed your nipple into his hot mouth, eagerly sucking - as though he could communicate better every tangled bit of emotion he felt for you with the intricate swirls of his tongue. 

“Draco!” 

You moaned and arched up into his mouth, encouraging him further to explore the beauty of your breast with his tongue. 

You surprised him slightly when you moved underneath him, parting your legs and moving to bracket your knees around his narrow hips. He couldn’t help but to moan against your breast when he felt the overwhelming heat of your core settle against his cock. Even through his trousers, with your dress pooling up around your waist, it was like feeling the morning sun kissing your face after opening the curtains. It was a wave of warmth that threatened to overtake him. 

Draco couldn’t hold back the instinctive movement, and he ground his hips downward, seeking more of that addictive heat, needing more of it on his hard, aching cock. He felt as though he had found liquid euphoria when you let out a crackling moan in response, the sound shaking everything inside of him that made him actually feel good for once. 

The feeling was enhanced when you threaded your fingers into his hair harder, your fingernails scraping across his scalp as your body echoed a natural response to him - you clamped your thighs down on his hips, trapping him there, and you began to grind yourself into the hardness of his cock, clearly needed more for yourself. 

He knew that he shouldn’t be allowed to have this - he shouldn’t be allowed to taint something as perfect as you. But he let himself continue to selfishly take, and take, and take more. He was a greedy brat, as he always had been, and he couldn’t bear to change his ways now. 

“Oh fuck, Draco.” You moaned out so sweetly. 

Draco pulled back, and began kissing along the side of your breast. 

“Shh, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He said quietly, swallowing sharply, desperately trying to chug in more air. 

He had no clue when he had become so light-headed, but if you were the thing making him so dizzy, so distant from reality - then you were his fondest drug, and he was never going to let you go again. 

Draco descended then - he had the utmost urge to please you, to hear more of his name on your lips. 

A near feral groan escaped him when he finally caught a glimpse between your thighs. 

With that silver skirt pooled around your waist, he could see properly now - those black stockings that he already thought were too sinful now took on a whole new meaning in his realm of fantasies. You weren’t wearing any panties beneath the semi-transparent garment - the thick seam of the stockings was stuck to your wet cunt, dipping into your pussy right where he wanted to be; your wetness leaking right through the nylon and causing it to stick to your cunt, making it shiny and utterly perfect in the dimly lit space. 

Draco groaned from deep in his chest, his voice edging on whiny, even to his own ears. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about how pathetic he must have sounded. You were just too perfect. He was drawn in by the siren call of your perfect cunt, one hand with a thumb drawing circles on your hips and the other gently skimming fingers up the back of your clothed thigh as he scooted himself further down the mattress. 

He couldn’t resist the urge, when he leaned down, he latched his mouth onto your cunt through the wet, shiny fabric, unable to resist the pure need to taste your essence without taking off the stockings first. 

“Draco! Oh-!” 

You let out a needy moan, which only spurred Draco to suck harder, even tonguing sharply against your clit through the fabric. It created a sharp itch, a raging need - it was not enough contact, tedious and harsh and something that made a vicious, rolling ache inside of your cunt. You needed more. 

“Please, more!” 

Again - he would have been cruel to deny you. And though, up until this point, he had been a reluctant and unwilling paramour, he was nothing but a slave to you and your desires in those moments. 

Acting purely upon instinct, he raised his head slightly to give himself room to work and then brought fingers to the nylon fabric, trying to tear it apart. His head was filled with nothing but animal need now, bloated and high on the affection that he had been denying himself for months he had been unwillingly engaged to you. Months of denying that you were exactly what he needed, his other half - the other half of a lonely broken person clinging on that he had been so desperately trying to shake off. 

Draco let out a growl of frustration - his nails were blunt and dull and he slipped hopelessly against the wet fabric. Before it could truly be formed as a thought inside his mind, he leaned down and pressed his teeth into the stockings against your mound, right above your clit in a way that made you whimper from the contact. Then - he bit harshly into the fabric, tearing a small hole into it that he could then rip wider with his frantic hands. 

It made you gasp, being exposed to the cold air within seconds - feeling your hot, pulsing cunt quake as the cool air licked at every single bit of your wetness. It was a shocking turn-on, feeling the seam of your tights being so easily demolished, leaving you as nothing but a wanton, exposed gash from the bit of your pubic hair sticking out to the way the new edge of the fabric rubbed against your arsehole. 

Now, instead of being a gentle thing he had to protect or some stranger that he was trying to distance himself from - you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck. And you absolutely loved it. 

“Draco, please-” You gasped out again, feeling his fingers tickling against your thigh, feeling his breath still huffing out in harsh pants over your now bare pussy, waiting for him to do something more. 

You were struck by lighting when he latched onto your cunt, moaning just as loudly as you did when he was finally able to taste you, able to feel you completely unfiltered for the first time. 

You arched up wildly and your thighs quaked against his cheeks - he made little effort to hold you down, too busy selfishly enjoying your pussy now. He took in a deep breath against you, inhaling a greedy whiff of your scent so close to his nose while he gulped down a filthy slurp of your warm, wet pussy, moaning loudly from the back of his throat the whole time. You were so hot under his tongue - you were a heartbeat, a new breath, something so alive that he certainly shouldn’t have been allowed to drink from. 

But you were now his to freely feast upon, as if he wasn’t already spoiled enough by the world, tainted by the mangled silver spoon he had been gnawing on since his birth. 

“Draco, fuck! So good!” 

You wailed out, letting out sounds that Draco had never before heard, sounds he never thought you were capable of. Back at The Manor, even when you cried, you clearly tried to be conservative, stay quiet, not to be a bother. It was only now that Draco realised he had never truly witnessed you losing control of yourself. Even when you had faced down his father’s fury, you somehow stood tall and composed, an impeccable monument to emotional control. 

It was only now that he realised how truly badly he wanted to see you lose that control. 

He never thought of you as property, of course - but if you were so stubbornly intent on owning his heart, his emotions, his vulnerability - then he would get to own yours as well. He would get to own your weakness. He would get to own the single moments in life when you truly lost your composure. 

Draco set about devouring your cunt, keeping this mission in mind. He wrapped one arm around you from underneath your ass, holding you tightly to his face while he used the other hand to prop himself up slightly, pushing closer, easily getting lost in the beautiful heat of your pussy. He moaned against you as he drank you in, lavishing his tongue up and down your folds, intently focusing on the perfect little bead of your clit while it bounced and thrummed over his tongue. 

Your body sang for more of his attention, shaking like a signal for him as you were wracked with more uncontrollable moans. He heard more distant groans in his muffled ears and hardly attributed them to himself, getting too lost in you, enjoying your taste too much. He was far too intent on burying himself in the first warmth he had felt in years, now determined to shut out the cold and make a new home for himself between these perfect thighs. Especially if it meant making you moan like this more, hearing more of his cursed name on your precious lips. 

“Draco, Draco, oh, fuck! Draco, please!” 

At this point, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were begging for - for him to bring you to orgasm, for him to stop because it was so overwhelming, or for something else entirely. His name just felt so right on your lips. Somehow, he seemed to understand better, seemed to know something that even you didn’t. 

He rumbled out a hum of acknowledgement against your cunt, and then, snuck his free hand up between your thighs. He teased two fingers against your fluttering entrance, slippery and off-target for a moment with his shaking hand - making you moan out brokenly as you felt the touches not quite where you needed them most. 

“I’ve - I’ve got you, love,” 

He said, pulling away for a moment to gulp down breaths - feeling spiteful of the air, spiteful of the minimal space between the two of you; spiteful of the fact that he felt like he was drowning and somehow forcing himself further into you wasn’t the solution. 

“I’ve got you.” 

You curled your fingers into his hair again and tugged him close, pulling him back to your pussy, and he decided that he would never breathe again if that’s what you so desired. He swept a flat tongue across your pussy, eagerly gulping down more of your wetness while he gently pushed those two slender fingers forward, finally inside of you for the first time. 

Your heat was even more evident now, even more apt to drive him insane. Your pussy surrounding him turned his cold flesh warm within seconds, causing him to drive forward without even thinking, eagerly chasing more of that warmth against his touch. Part of his mind was thankful when you let out a beautiful moan in response and wiggled your hips closer to him, rather than feeling pain at the harsh, sudden, jabbing intrusion, and the other part of him selfishly didn’t care. 

You had offered this up to him, you had begged him not to turn away - and now, you would have to face the consequences of inviting a cold, dead beast into your den to feast. He was lonely, he hungered - he would consume everything good inside of you and leave you with nothing. And it would be your own damn fault. 

Draco moaned against your cunt again, feeling that hunger now more evidently than ever, and you squeaked and choked on the air as he began fingering you harshly. He was desperate to feel more warmth, to explore more of that velvet softness inside of you that he so badly wanted wrapped around his cock (nearly forgotten, throbbing, leaking into his pants and making a mess). But he somehow couldn’t think too much about his forgotten cock when your next words overtook his mind. 

“Close-” You breathed out, and then sucked in more air. “So close - gonna cum!” 

You were going to cum. 

You were going to become unravelled on his tongue. 

Draco moaned against you fervently, now wildly eager for this to happen. He suckled against your clit and harshly rubbed his tongue over that tortured little bead even more furiously. He continued to fuck you with his fingers while your thighs clamped around his head, further shutting out the world, allowing him to have a few precious moments where all those deadly responsibilities simply didn’t exist. In those moments - it was just you and him. It was just his own carnal greed, a man fucking his wife. Just the small precious world he had balanced on his bitter tongue. 

“Draco!” You choked out his name as your orgasm overtook your body. 

You arched up again, your body practically whipping to his whims, being played like an instrument that only he knew the songs to. With your fingers entwined harshly in his hair, holding him to a place he would never want to part from while he mauled your pussy - it was perfect. 

He moaned against you and nearly choked on the juices that he eagerly drank down, pumping his fingers into you with sharp jabbing motions, any effort toward technique completely gone. His mind was nothing but a pathetic soup of desperation, an animal clawing toward your warmth, determined to suck the life out of you and have it for his own. 

Your cries of pleasure turned into sobs as you were crested over the hill into overstimulation, and when Draco pulled away for a breath, you thought perhaps he might finally let up. That he might pull his fingers out of you and the two of you would simply take a quiet moment to breathe. 

But while your thighs continued to shake and you sucked in harsh breaths, his shoulders became tight with something utterly vicious, and he continued to stare down your pussy with rapt attention, some beast inside of him screaming out for more. More of the life you could give him, more warmth, more of everything he would ever demand from you that you had been so foolish in offering up. More of everything that you would never supply enough of to meet the bounds of his already dead soul. 

“Draco-” You gasped. “Too much, too-” 

“Please,” 

Draco begged in return for the first time that night, peering up the length of your body to look into your eyes with the most utterly pathetic glassy eyes you had ever seen. The moment he met your gaze, it became too much for the both of you - like a stab through the gut, a connection that had always been there being tugged in the most painful way. He quickly dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut to further avoid this, pressing his forehead into your thigh as he continued to sharply spear his fingers into your pussy. This created sloppier, wetter sounds with each passing movement. 

“Please, please, please, please, please-” 

He pleaded so sweetly, yet so abrasively at the same time. Begging in a chant, in a way he never had for anything else in his life. 

And just like everything else in his life - he wasn’t denied of this. 

You strangled out another sound, and then you were seizing up again, squeezing his fingers tightly as you were slammed into another orgasm all too soon. You gulped for air like a mermaid on dry land, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes due to how overwhelming it all was, feeling as though the entire world was squeezed tight around you in those moments. 

Draco held a sob tight in his chest as the unknown ‘more’ he had been looking for flooded over his palm - more of your wetness, more of your warmth. A wonderful flood of more that soaked across your thighs and made a small puddle on the mattress beneath you. He greedily dove down to lap it up, making your thighs clench around his head as he tongued your ultra sensitive entrance and even began using his fingers to drive more of it out of you and into his waiting mouth. 

After a few moments of this, you tangled shaking fingers into his hair and did your best to force him upward. Though your body was practically jelly now, almost as if you had been jinxed, and completely devoid of any strength. He did soon get the hint, and he laid a gentle kiss on your inner thigh as he slid his fingers out of you, making an oddly loud ‘squelching’ sound in the room. 

He trailed a few more kisses across your pelvis, revisited your breast, and went up your neck with his now very wet mouth before you pulled his mouth against your own. You couldn’t help but to moan quietly in satisfaction at the taste of your pussy on his tongue. 

Draco thought this might be the end of it. His own cock was even more nagging now - rubbing against the warm, inviting plushness of your thigh through his pants. It was even more annoying now that he intimately knew the warmth and wetness of your cunt. That he could so perfectly imagine what it would be like to slide his cock inside of you and feel that perfect, hot wetness surrounding him. 

But part of him, something in the back of his mind was screaming: bad idea. Something persistent and loud was telling him that he didn’t deserve to fuck you. That this should be a worship, only about you - he’d had his selfish moment, it was over now. 

An alarming clarity was rocketing back into his head as he continued to kiss you. 

It was an alarm that blared ever louder when you reached for his belt. 

He snapped away from your lips and looked down, frozen with hesitant shock now as you slipped the belt out of the buckle and reached for the zipper on his pants. When you felt him tense up, and saw the grimace forming across his features, you paused with your fingers grazing lightly over the zipper’s teeth. 

“It’s your turn now, right?” 

You breathed lightly against his cheek, your voice so sweet, so perfect. You were too damn perfect. You snuck your hand down to grope his cock through the fabric of his pants in a way that made him shudder. Oddly enough, that selfish streak didn’t creep back in. 

“Come on, Draco. I want this too. I want your cock inside me so damn badly-” 

This was about you. Your needs. Your wants. 

Draco tried his best to push aside any hesitation, trying to push the world back out again. He wished he could just crawl back between your thighs and live there. But you wanted something different now. Something that meant a lot more. Something that might have bigger consequences than simply spilling a beautiful mess on his jacket that was crumpled beneath your perfect arse. 

He sat up on his knees, shucking away your hands and replacing them with his own, getting the zipper down by himself. Finally, he got his cock out, the hard smoothness now resting against his fingers that were still slick with you. He pumped his cock a few times, almost numb to the pleasure of it - he was supposed to be enjoying this, right? Why the hell couldn’t he? 

Because his damn mind had turned back on. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, anticipating, your skin glistening with a slight sheen from his earlier efforts, your lips kiss-swollen. And somehow, a terrible flurry of thoughts attacked his mind like the snow storm raging outside the stone walls of the castle. Horrible things all able to get in now that he didn’t have the fatal projection of your thighs around his ears, keeping the world out. 

As you looked up at him, more angelic than ever with your kiss-bitten lips, your silver sparkle dress askew, revealing your smooth skin and your goddess-like body - Draco, with his hard cock in hand, was persistently reminded of one stupid thing. The reason that the two of you had been forced together in the first place. 

The only reason any pureblood marriage is arranged: to carry on the pureblood line. To breed - to make more pureblood babies.

Draco found himself curling in disgust at the idea that this was what he was about to do. He was about to give into their whims, about to curse you even further with the evil of his name by fucking a little Malfoy into your belly. 

Somehow, out of all the evil he had so carelessly committed himself to - this was something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. Not when he would be doing it to you. 

“Draco-” 

You breathed out his name again, concerned by the clear warring on his face. You were about to tell him that it was okay if he didn’t want to continue - and you became deeply confused by what he did next. 

He gripped his cock tightly and began rocking his arm back and forth, quickly picking up an urgent, break-neck pace as he jerked his cock - his face twisting with an expression of near pain as he circled a tight fist over his cock, urgently, again and again. 

“Draco-?” You tried to question him, but he let out a groan in response. 

“Look at me.” He choked out. 

Zapped by the electricity in the air, the sharp demanding in his words, your eyes flew right to his. You found yourself almost possessed by the emotions lingering there - lust, regret, hatred. 

You had a distinct feeling that it wasn’t directed at you. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed out, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his clothed thigh. “It’s okay, Draco.” 

These simple words - this tiny pacification that Draco had never before received - he broke. Your gentleness tore through his body like a dragon tearing into a fresh kill. It wounded him in a way that insults never could. 

He let out a strangled cry, and unexpectedly, his orgasm punched through his gut - tears flooded his eyes as weak spurts of cum flowed out of his cock, making a mess of his fist as he slowed his touch. His release dripped down to ruin his pants, and weakly splashed against the bareness of your inner thighs were the hole in your tights gaped open, smearing onto the nylon in some spots. 

When Draco was sure that he had wrung the last bits of weak pleasure from his cock, he fell on top of you. It was something entirely against his will, as he was now all too weakened by your soothing words, your soft touch, your welcoming eyes that seemed far too forgiving toward him. With his face tucked against your breast, tired and unable to hold it back any longer - he began to sob. 

It was a dam broken from months, possibly years - a mask that he had been putting on long before you had ever known him. 

It was an inherent shock to your system, going from that lustful tingle to feeling nothing but shock and pity for him. But you did the only thing you could do - you cradled the back of his head, holding him close, petting a hand down his heaving back in an attempt to comfort him while he wailed so harshly. You knew that it was what he needed. And it was what he had done for you all too many times since meeting you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

You assured him, not entirely sure that he heard your gentle voice over the sound of his own sobs - your throat too sore from your own previous wrecked moaning to try and speak up any louder. 

“It’s okay. Shh. Just let it out. I’m here with you. It’s okay, Draco.” 

It went on like that for what felt like hours. Your previously sex heated skin became cold in the room once again, distinctly reminding you of every single spot that was ripped open and exposed by your already weather inappropriate outfit. But instead of getting up to attend to this, you simply laid there, soothing him, trying to comfort him as his chest-racking sobs lulled down into calmer cries and then died off into sniffles. 

You thought he might say something - thank you, apologise. 

You were even further surprised when his sounds switched again, and a low chuckle came from his throat. A small sound that quickly hitched into an epic, near maniacal laughter, puffing against your breast as he tried his hardest to heave himself up on weak arms, tearing out of your comforting touch. 

He looked utterly broken - his previously near hair a complete mess, falling across his sweat streaked forehead, his teeth bared, laughing so tiredly with tears streaking down from his now red, puffy eyes. 

“Merlin - I’m so fucking pathetic, aren’t I?” He choked out. 

“You’re not.” You argued, your voice dull and hoarse but still firm in your conviction. 

You wanted him to know that it was okay to cry. That under his circumstances, anybody would have snapped a lot sooner than he had. 

He didn’t reply, but instead moved to get off you entirely. He stumbled on his feet for a moment as he stood up and began straightening out his clothes, finding his wand and muttering some cleaning spells to deal with the mess he had left on his pants. 

You sat up then, your back now quite sore from the poor quality of the abandoned old mattress. And from having Draco stiff on top of you for so long, and you began doing the same to yourself. He watched quietly as you righted your clothes and did a few simple (talented, wandless) cleaning spells of your own, and then finally, he spoke. 

“You should leave.” 

He said quietly, moving to turn away from you completely as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. He was likely going to slip into the confusing maze of furniture that he knew better than you did in order to lose you - to avoid further conversation. 

“No.” 

You baulked out defiantly, making an effort to heave your stiff body up to standing level in order to look him in the eye. 

“You can’t keep doing that!” You shouted at his back, growing frustrated once again. “You can’t keep running away from a conversation every time it gets a little too serious for you!” 

“What do you expect that I do, then?” Draco asked, his voice strained with fatigue and heaviness, his throat worn out from the tears, his eyes still red and exhausted when he whipped around to face you. 

“Stay.” You offered weakly. 

You knew that in one simple word, you were asking too much of him. You were putting such a grand task onto him that he could barely surmount to. 

His chin quivered as he bit his lip, swallowing down the weakness of the confession: 

I can’t. 

He wanted to be good enough for you. 

But he wasn’t. He just wasn’t. 

He wasn’t some perfect harbor you could cling to in a storm. He was a heavy iron anchor sinking you to your drowning death. 

Feeling all of his bitterness swelling in the air, something truly defiant came up inside of you. A deep urge to defy everything he thought he was, everything his parents had painted into him that made him run from you the moment you treated him like a person. 

You would not have a marriage where your husband held you at arm’s length. Even if you had to strangle him, smother him with your good intentions in order to get him close. 

“Draco, please, I lov-” 

“No.” Draco choked out, cutting you off, dreading hearing those words. “Don’t.” 

It wasn’t true. 

You were tied to him by force. 

You were someone bought into his life through gold and cruelty, someone forced to be by his side. 

If you loved him, it was as a prisoner loves their cell. 

He wouldn’t let you waste those words on him. 

You let out a harsh sigh and shook your head, wanting to scream. But you knew that he was far too used to screaming - used to harshness, frustration. He wasn’t prepared for the thing you needed to give him most. You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, and whispered your next words as a cursed promise into the chilled air: 

“I love you, Draco.” 

He sucked in a rattling breath, and it only took him a moment to find the strength to fight back. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

He said, shaking his head forcefully at you, once again resisting the urge to turn around and slink off. He wanted to slither away and hide from you like the serpent that he was - cold blooded, alone, a creature of the shadows who previously never needed your warmth. 

“Shut up!” 

You barked back, surprising him with the passion, the fury that lit up your face as you rambled into your next declaration. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy - you may think that you know everything, but I can assure you, you do not.” 

He wanted to argue, even opened his mouth to do so, but you rolled right over his breath, speaking in such a powerful way that demanded he quiet down and simply listen. 

“Your family may have bought me to marry you like some kind of broodmare, you may be rich and respected, you may be some fancy highborn pureblood - you can tell me what to wear, when to speak, where to go, but you certainly cannot tell me about my own thoughts and intentions. You cannot tell me what I feel.” 

You spoke sharply and firmly, your words tearing right through him, causing goosebumps to light up all over his skin. 

“You cannot tell me what I do and don’t mean. And I mean this: I love you.” 

The radical truth behind your words shook Draco to his core. 

Since he had known you, it had always been the truth. When you cried, it had always been with your own honesty. When you smiled at him, it had never been as some kind of act. When you called him an asshole during your private conversations - it was nothing but your own honest feelings coming to words. 

He could never control or dictate your feelings, and it was one of the things that he liked best about you. 

So why did he so badly want to control this? 

Perhaps because… when you said this, it sealed your fate to his in the worst of ways. 

It meant that even if you had a chance to escape this life… you wouldn’t take it. 

It was so much easier when you didn’t like him at all. 

Love was such a foolish, difficult thing to sever. 

You saw the pain and hesitation written all over his face, and you stepped toward him, putting a gentle hand on his cheek. Oh-so-gently you sealed your lips against his in a sweet kiss that evoked nothing but more tears from him. 

“I love you.” 

You whispered against his mouth, now much more certain in your declaration. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” 

Your throat clenched with your own tears, clearly waiting for him to say it back. 

His fingers shook as he brought a gentle touch to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. Sullenly, all he could offer you in return was: 

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you can love someone like me?” 

You were entirely certain in your answer. 

“Yes.” 

Draco itched with the urge to run away again - but instead, he leaned back in and kissed you. 

That night, the two of you fell asleep together. You were huddled into each other for warmth, cuddling on the thin old mattress that he had been sleeping on for the past week in order to escape you. It was the easiest that sleep had come to him since the days during the summer where you had crawled into his bed, looking to be just a bit less alone. 

… 

Ironically, Draco woke up alone. 

Sunshine was flooding the room - he wasn’t entirely sure how a room that technically didn’t exist within Hogwarts could have windows, but he didn’t care to think too much about it. Especially because it made him feel slightly less disoriented to have the bright morning sun flooding the room. Though the sunshine warmed up the room slightly, he still felt a bitter coldness in not having you beside him. 

Perhaps you had finally realised what a stupid mistake you had made the night before. Perhaps you had taken your own advice - taken up on your own plan and gotten to a fireplace to abandon Hogwarts altogether. With any luck, you were far away and would never be seen again. Not by him or anybody else associated with the Dark Lord. 

Draco felt a pinch of disappointment when he heard footsteps - calm, certain, someone walking a path among the furniture to be somewhere. Not someone wandering with curiosity because they had just discovered the room. It had to be you. 

He sucked in a harsh breath and let out a groan as his tired body stretched, his muscles protesting the shabby sleeping arrangements as he forced himself to sit up. Surely enough, as he blinked through the sharpness of the morning light, you rounded the corner. 

You were dressed much differently than the night before. Your previously neat hair was now a half-picked apart and messy style, your make-up mostly smeared off or intentionally wiped off in a haste. You were wearing a thick woollen jumper and a pair of comfortable looking loose pants, along with your favourite slippers - a pair of very fuzzy boots that he had laughed at you for wearing before, called them dead Puffskeins attached to your feet. 

You looked tired, but comfortable as you came to sit on the mattress at Draco’s hip. 

Somehow, with the golden light dancing on your skin, you looked more beautiful than ever. Perhaps it was a testament to the nature of your beauty, how sought after you would be if you weren’t already betrothed. Or perhaps it was that petulant withering thing inside of him that was starting to wane in the name of your death sentence of love. 

(Draco didn’t want to think about the fact that you likely were sought after, despite the fact that you were engaged and it was widely known. He just didn’t have his head in the Hogwarts gossip enough these days to notice if anybody was talking about fancying you or trying to ‘steal you away’ from him. He didn’t want to think about the prats he would have hexed to hell and back if he ever heard them daring to want you.) 

You took something out of the pocket of your jumper - a napkin, and unravelled it in your lap. Draco saw that you had come back with a couple of pumpkin tarts, likely from the breakfast table. It was only when you brought it up to your lips to take a sip that he also noticed you had also been carrying a large mug of steaming tea. 

You offered him the mug silently over your shoulder, and he couldn’t deny how appealing it was. Though he wanted to scoff at the softness, the domesticity of sharing something off your lips, he welcomed the heat and the familiarity. He couldn’t reject it in the wintery coldness of the room. 

Of course - English Breakfast Tea with just a bit of sugar. No milk. You had started drinking your tea the way he liked it. Probably because it was the way he always made it for you when you were silent and stony in your pain and he had no other choice but to be just as silent in his caring toward you. He always made tea for you this way because you never told him how you liked yours. Every cup of tea you drank at The Manor had been like this. 

It was an odd, comforting habit that you had picked up from him. 

“I fixed it.” You said quietly, nodding toward The Cabinet as you broke off a piece of one of your tarts and chewed it. 

You offered him a piece and he swapped it for the tea mug. He chewed the small piece of tart slowly while his eyes studied the tall, dark, imposing Cabinet, wondering what you had done to it. His gaze migrated over to something new in the landscape of junk - a bird cage sitting on top of a small wooden table. 

Within it, there was a live, seemingly content, purring white dove. In front of the cage, you had perched up a piece of paper. Even from a few feet away, Draco recognised the curls of the handwriting as belonging to his mother. 

‘Well done.’ 

He wanted to ask in detail about what you had done to The Cabinet in order to fix it. But he knew that would be beating a dead horse. It was another problem off his plate, and he should be relieved. 

He wouldn’t burden you with any of his other problems. 

“I miss coffee.” You remarked, looking down into the mug with a sodden kind of resentment. “British people are all about tea, tea, tea… you can’t get good coffee anywhere here.” 

Distantly, Draco was reminded that you had been cursed with more than a marriage to him when your godmother dropped you off with the Malfoys and left you without warning. Your entire life, everything you had known, everything you had grown up with - it had all been ripped away from you. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to be pulled away from his parents, plopped into the middle of Muggle America and forced to live there. 

He knew it wasn’t just coffee - you likely missed so much more. 

“Should we release it?” You asked, taking another sip of the tea. 

You held out another piece of the tart to him, and reluctantly, perhaps not even knowing how hungry he was, how much the anxiety and worry had blocked him from feeling it - he took it. 

“What?” He muttered out, unsure what you meant. 

“The dove.” You clarified. 

Yes. Of course. You still had pity for the small creatures. It had been meant as nothing more than a test subject for his family’s greater plans, nothing but a pawn to them. But you still saw it as a precious life. 

“No, it-” 

‘It’ll die out there in the cold.’ 

Draco cut himself off, knowing that such harsh words would have hurt you. Any time before this, he would not have cared about how his words hurt you - he would have simply told you the truth. But for some reason, now - it felt wrong to be so bluntly cruel. 

“Too cold.” He muttered, accepting the tea from you again. 

You stared him down during this passing of the mug, and he was fully able to see that pain glinting in your eyes. Clearly, you knew that ‘disposing’ of the bird might be the only humane thing to do. Draco scrambled for something more. Something to make you happy. Damn it. 

“Bring it to the giant.” He remarked, swallowing down a mouthful of the hot tea. “He’ll care for it now, and he can release it in the spring.” 

The smile that graced your lips was small, and fleeting - but it made him feel as though he had accomplished something worthwhile for the first time in a long time. 

“Do you think he will? It won’t be too much trouble?” You replied, hopeful. 

“He has to. It’s his job.” Draco bit back firmly, his voice swelling full of his usual entitlement. 

Before - when you had been helping him clean up after he had gotten The Mark, you had discovered one of the fading scars he still had from the feathered beast’s claws slashing across his arm. When you had asked him about it, you had clearly been expecting some story of his father’s abuse, or a tale of something else attributing to Draco’s twisted internal torment. 

But Draco’s father was always smart enough never to leave marks. 

When he told you what had happened - how he had rushed upon such a gentle creature, reeking of entitlement and landed on his stupid idiot brat arse - it was the first time in years that he had truly reflected on what had happened. It was the first time he had come to realize that he had gotten the beast killed. Even back then, he was unsure why his father had caused such a fuss over the accident. Someone who called Draco useless and disposable behind closed doors and publicly claimed that a single mark on his arm was a world-ending tragedy. 

At the time, it was just another thing about reputation that Draco had yet to understand. 

“And - he likes those things. He likes his little creatures.” He added on quietly. 

(And, his big awful ones - Draco resisted the urge to amend.) 

Draco couldn’t take your bird there himself. Hagrid owed him no favors, that much he knew. But the man - or, half-man - certainly wouldn’t turn you down. Nobody would say no to your sweet voice and kind eyes when you asked them for something. 

You nodded, content with this answer. You took another sip of the tea before you put the cup down on the floor beside the mattress, and shoved a large piece of the tart into your mouth before you put that aside too. 

“For now, I have to bury this one.” 

You said, your words slightly muffled as you chewed, getting up to grab a small wooden box. In a moment, Draco realised that it must have been the dead canary that you had fussed over the night before. 

Now, you were telling him that you intended to bury it, rather than asking him. 

“I’ll do it.” He said, standing up to come beside you, holding out his hand so that you might offer him the box. 

You looked him up and down with suspicion, like he was trying to trick you. Although, as much as your relationship had been filled with bickering and discontent, he had never been dishonest with you. This just seemed strangely out of character for him. Before you could fully question it, he provided an explanation. 

“You’ve been awake all night fixing my problems,” He said, motioning toward The Cabinet. “So let me help you with yours.” 

He could see that you had barely slept. It was written all over you. 

“Let me do this for you.” He insisted, holding his hand out once again. “And you go to the dorms and get some proper rest.” 

You nodded, finally surrendering the box. 

“Come find me when you’re done, alright?” You said, not entirely posing it as a question. “Don’t disappear on me again.” 

Draco nodded, and you sealed this deal with a kiss. 

…

He intended to walk you back to the Slytherin commons before he went outside, perhaps he would even get himself a thicker jacket from his dorm. Your path took the two of you past the Great Hall. 

Draco felt a pang on one of his last nerves when a very familiar voice called out your name. 

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” 

Potter. Of course. 

You turned to meet Harry as he ran down the corridor toward you, and Draco slinked back to lean against one of the nearby walls - waiting for you. He hated that he felt the need to stick by you, to watch over you. But something nagging in him wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew that you were tucked into bed, resting. 

Potter jogged to meet you, wearing full Quidditch gear, carrying his broom - clearly set for an early morning practice. This caused an odd pang of mourning within Draco, yearning for a time when he used to be competitive, for when he used to actually care about the outcomes of school Quidditch games. Back when his life was so simple. 

“Morning, Harry.” You greeted him quietly, dully, obviously still tired. 

“Hey, good morning.” Harry said, nodding at you with a smile - a look way too fond for Draco’s liking. “You left the party so suddenly last night, and Slughorn was asking after you. Nobody knew where you went, and I was just wondering - are you alright? Did something happen?” 

Harry eyed Draco sharply, a sideways glance, just for a moment. Clearly, he was suspicious of Malfoy and his presence around you. Clearly believing that he was the problem in your life. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. Saint Potter. Checking up on you. 

Part of Draco itched with jealousy, knowing just how utterly desirable you were, and another part of him said that it was a good thing. That you should have somewhere safe to fall when you inevitably realised a life with him was a short, unlivable one. When you wanted out, when you wanted to run. 

Hopefully, sometime soon. 

“I’m fine.” You easily lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just - um,” You struggled to think of a convenient lie for a moment, knowing that you couldn’t tell Harry the truth. “My pet canary died very suddenly. And Draco came to get me to tell me about it. And I’m sorry, I must look terrible - I’ve been up all night crying about it,” 

Draco wanted to commend you for the brilliance of your lie. Something sensitive enough that Potter wouldn’t question it - something that easily explained the small box in Draco’s hands and explained away your tired appearance. And it more than explained why you had left the party so suddenly and not cared to return. 

“Oh.” Harry said, clearly unsure how to respond. His eyes flickered from you to Draco, taking in both of your messy appearances, clearly wanting to question it as something more, but having absolutely no grounds to do so. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

“Thank you.” You replied quietly. “Draco actually offered to bury him for me. So, he was just going to do that.” 

“Let’s get you to bed, first, love.” Draco said, pointedly steering you away from the conversation - banishing Potter off with this final thought. 

He put a hand on your shoulder and steered you down the hall, away from Harry, and you began slowly walking away, believing that he was right behind you. But Harry stayed firm in his footing, and soon, Draco became captured in his fierce gaze, challenged in an all too familiar way that he was far too tired to truly engage with. In a kind of well practiced routine, he lingered back for a few moments. 

“Malfoy,” Potter said sharply. “If you do anything to hurt her, I will end you.” 

It was his usual hero routine. Intimidate, swell with confidence, over-inflate to seem bigger than the bad guy. It would have worked, if Draco hadn’t already been so terribly small. 

“Promise?” Draco croaked out quietly, tears dancing in his eyes. 

He could think of no better end than one of vengeance in the wake of your pain. He could only hope that if he did ever hurt you, he would be met with a clean, swift end. One where you would then get to run into the arms of a man much better than him. 

Potter gaped with confusion, and Draco turned, walking in quick steps to catch up with you. 

…

You and Draco stayed at Hogwarts that Christmas. 

On Christmas morning, you did not expect to receive anything. Pansy gifted you a set of new quills in pink with a set of pink glittering inks and a fluttering giggle about being able to write ‘proper’ love letters to Draco. Blaise gifted you a history of all the Pureblood families in Europe - for ‘proper’ education. One that you had never been ‘privileged’ to have before. 

There was another package, delivered by a gorgeous white snowy owl - a book. A basic guide to Quidditch with a handwritten note that said it was from Harry, remarking that you should come to his next game and ‘check it out’, in order to see if you truly liked the sport or not. 

At the party, you had told him that you probably didn’t like Qudditch because you didn’t understand it very well, hoping to get out of a long conversation that he and Cormac were rambling on - which only led to him trying to explain the rules to you in a toddler-like fashion. You couldn’t tell him the truth, that when you had been at Salem, the Quidditch games between the two sibling schools usually led to a lot of loud parties and drunken hook-ups that made you mourn for the simplicity of your old life now. 

Draco resisted the urge to throw the book into the fire. 

(You gladly would have let him.) 

There was a final package. One wrapped in gorgeous emerald paper - with your name on it, written in Draco’s handwriting. Oddly, not signed from him. When you opened it, you found a bag of very expensive looking coffee beans, a grinder, and a French press. Draco would forever deny that his joy was directly tied to the look of awe on your face as you discovered the gifts, and the tiny moan of pleasure you made when you sipped your first cup of freshly made coffee. 

He didn’t love you back. 

He couldn’t. 

No.

...

A/N: This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but if you liked this, then feel free to go read the chronological sequel My Bleeding Heart. I do have more ideas to add more to this by writing more oneshots in this universe between these two characters, but this is all for now. If you are going to comment, please comment about the content that has already been written instead of asking for more. Happy reading, and Merry Christmas!

[supernovafics]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do 

author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness. 

It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility. 

“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”

Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”

The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”

You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”

“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”

“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”

Fun ended up being an understatement. 

Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin. 

You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink. 

“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.” 

You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips. 

You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”

He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”

“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?” 

Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all. 

“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.” 

Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.” 

You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized. 

Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year. 

It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she. 

You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.

You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house. 

“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.

Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.” 

“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.” 

She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.” 

Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.

“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair. 

She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.” 

Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.” 

He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.” 

He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”  

If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.

Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.” 

He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”

“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”

She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was. 

It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.

“What’s wrong?” 

You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him. 

“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.” 

His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment. 

“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”

“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.” 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.

“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”

Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be. 

“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.” 

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”

“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again. 

“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.” 

That managed to finally get a smile out of you.  

“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning. 

You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed. 

He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.” 

The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head. 

“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”

“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”  

You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.” 

“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.” 

You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”

“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”

When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”

At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”

“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.  

As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had. 

“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”

You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room. 

“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”

Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”

Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”

“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”

You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[jessiexflem]

– photograph | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

word count: 2.9K

“Slow down!” you pout, your voice drowned out by the Christmas music playing over the speaker. 

Your older sister quickly took off on the ice, leaving you by yourself as you held onto the gate of the rink. The sting of the London winter hits your face, giving your cheeks a rosy blush. Your parents had dropped you off at the local outdoor rink, under the promise from your sister that she would keep an eye on you. Unlike most Canadians, skating did not come the most naturally to you, and you spent most of your time glued to the wall unless your mom was there to hold your hand.

“Excuse me?” a shorter girl, clad in an oversized hockey jersey, peers at you from under her beanie, “Do you need help?”

You nod warily, “I’m stuck.”

The girl holds out a gloved hand, giving you a smile, her two front teeth missing. “I can help you! I’m Jessie.”

“I’m Y/N,” you take her hand, wobbling slightly as you let go of the wall, “I’m scared of falling.”

“I won’t let you fall, I’ve gotten good at this,” the girl reassures, “How old are you, Y/N? I’m five.”

Jessie holds up her fingers on her other hand, gliding the two of you around the rink.

“Me too, but I’m about to turn six,” you say matter-of-factly, “Do you want to come to my birthday party? My mom bought ZooPals for it.”

“I have to ask my mom,” she shrugs, “Can I have the duck one?”

You nod, catching a glimpse of her black skates, “Your skates look funny.”

“Nuh uh,” Jessie frowns, “Yours look funny!”

“They’re figure skates,” you huff, “I’m going to be a figure skater just like my big sister!”

“Mine are hockey skates, and I’m going to be a famous hockey player when I grow up. You can come to my games.”

“I’ll go to your games if you come to my birthday party,” you bargain, holding out your pinky, “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Jessie locks her pinky with yours.

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

“Jessie, stop!” you hide your mouth with your hand, “I told you not to look!”

“It can’t be that bad!” 

You frown, wincing at the pain shooting through your gums. After months of attempting to convince your parents that your teeth were fine, you were dragged to the orthodontist’s office that morning, leaving with a full set of braces. Every word, every facial expression, everything made your mouth hurt.

“Speak for yourself, you’re not the one who has to have them!” you roll your eyes, “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” Jessie sighs. 

“But you still choose to be friends with me,” you giggle, the blue bands on your braces visible.

“You actually got blue?” your best friend raises an eyebrow, “I assumed you were still going to end up picking pink.” 

Your memory flashes back to the bet you had made with Jessie in gym class last week. You were running a 1,500 meter race against your classmates, and you told Jessie that if she won she got to pick what color bands you got. If you won, she had to give you the cookie from her lunch. Naturally, Jessie smoked you, running faster than the entire grade seven class.

“Of course I did, Fleming, I keep my promises,” you attempted a grin.

“We’ll work on smiling later,” she teases, “Maybe try and look less pained.”

“I should’ve picked pink.”

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

The smell of hairspray fills your nose as your sister completes the finishing touches on your hair. A fishtail braid cascades down your back, your side bangs pinned out of your face. Gold, shimmery eyeshadow was swept across your eyelids, and your lips tingled from your sister’s lip plumping gloss. You slipped into your dress, your mom and sister helping adjust the corset back.

“Y/N! Jessie’s here!” your dad calls from the living room. 

You and Jessie had decided to attend your high school’s winter formal together, neither of you having a date. You wobble to the top of the stairs, cursing yourself for picking out heels instead of flats. Jessie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding a small plastic container. Unbeknownst to you, too focused on not tripping down the stairs, your best friend watched you with a glimmer in her eye, confused at why butterflies began to stir in her stomach.

“We dress up nice, don’t we, Fleming?” you grin as you get to the bottom step. 

“You look, uh, really pretty,” a blush creeps to Jessie’s face as she holds her hand out, “This is for you, by the way. My mom got them for us.”

Inside the plastic container was a corsage adorned with white roses and gold ribbon, matching your dress. Jessie had a similar one on her wrist, her ribbon silver rather than gold. 

“It’s so pretty, thank you,” you smile, “Put it on me?”

Jessie’s hands shake as she struggles to open the clamshell packaging. You watch her patiently, smiling once she pulls the corsage out of the container. She slides it on your wrist, a flash going off in the corner of your eye.

“Mom!” you groan.

“Come on, Y/N,” your mom frowns, “You two never dress up, let me and Mrs. Fleming get some pictures out of this.” 

You and Jessie posed for a few hundred photos to appease your mother until it was time to leave. Taking a step toward the garage, you grab Jessie’s arm in an attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m definitely going to fall in these,” you laugh, adjusting your heels.

“I won’t let you, I promise.”

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

“Got a hot date, Fleming?” Hailie asks from the opposite end of the locker room.

“Don’t you know? Her girlfriend’s coming to visit!” Teagan shouts in a teasing sing-song, drawing ‘oohs’ from the rest of the team. 

Jessie looks up from where she had been shoving her cleats into her backpack to glare at her teammates, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “How many times do I have to tell you that Y/N is not my girlfriend?”

“You mean how many times you’re going to lie to both me and yourself?” the Australian raises an eyebrow. 

“She’s my best friend, Teags, that’s all.”

A hurt look flashes across Teagan’s face, but her tone drips with sarcasm, “Ouch, I thought I was your best friend.”

“Whatever, Y/N was asking if you wanted to come to dinner with us,” Jessie sighs, secretly hoping her roommate has plans.

It was October of Jessie’s sophomore year at UCLA, and due to distance and conflicting schedules, she hadn’t seen you since the beginning of the summer. Luckily, your university’s fall break fell over a weekend that the Bruins were scheduled to play at home. Your plane was due to land in thirty minutes, and Jessie insisted on picking you up despite having to rush to the airport right after practice.

“So, you’re inviting me to third wheel?” 

“Wait, Teagan, I thought you were coming over tonight,” Hailie interjects.

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you, I’m sleeping over at Hailie’s tonight,” Teagan flashes Jessie a cheeky wink, “Figured you’d want the room to yourself tonight.”

“I take it back, you’re uninvited.”

“Just doing both of us a favor!”

After eating dinner at a restaurant near the airport, you and Jessie headed back to her dorm. Seven hours of travel and a full terminal sprint to catch your connecting flight had you ready for nothing but sweet slumber. While Jessie’s in the bathroom, you glance around her and Teagan’s room. Teagan’s unmade bed was covered in laundry, and papers were strewn across her desk. Jessie’s side of the room looked the complete opposite, not a pillow out of place. Her homework was tucked into her backpack which sat in her desk chair. An extra pillow and throw blanket sat on top of her desk. Throwing the pillow on the floor, you began to shake out the blanket as Jessie stepped out of the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Jessie frowns, “You aren’t sleeping on the floor.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“On my bed?” she gestures at the lofted twin bed, “I’ll take the floor.”

“Absolutely not, I am not kicking you out of your bed, Fleming,” you shake your head. Jessie had a game tomorrow afternoon, and you knew sleeping on the floor would end up in her barely being able to move in the morning. 

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t realize Teagan had the air mattress in the back of her car, take my bed,” Jessie tries to take the blanket out of your hands, but you refuse to let go.

“You are not sleeping on the floor,” you frown, “Your back’s going to kill you if you do.”

“It’s just for a night,” she shrugs, “We’ll get the air mattress from Teagan tomorrow.”

You mull over her words for a moment before pulling yourself onto Jessie’s bed, scooting as close to the wall as you can, before patting the mattress. “Plenty of room. Alright, Fleming, time for bed.”

It’s Jessie’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “You can’t be serious.” 

“Dead serious.”

“Y/N–”

“Come on, Jess, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, beds that were made for two people, not one that I can barely keep myself from falling off of.”

“We’ll just have to cuddle then,” you tease.

Jessie reaches for the pillow on the floor, trying to hide the growing redness in her face. She tosses both the pillow and the throw blanket onto her bed, before using the bedframe to pull herself up. Once she’s settled under her covers, you notice that she’s practically hugging the edge of the mattress. 

“I won’t bite,” you laugh, “Scoot in, I don’t want you to fall.”

Jessie flicks off her lamp before timidly inching toward you, worried you would hear her heartbeat in her chest if she got too close. You had turned to your side, laying facing the wall.

“Goodnight, Jess, try not to fall, okay?”

Too late.

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

“Bon appétit,” you tip an invisible cap, fake French accent at full force. The smell of fresh basil and vodka sauce fills the room. You sit across the dining table from Jessie, pulling your legs criss-crossed in the chair.

“This looks amazing,” she smiles appreciatively, “But since when did you learn how to cook?” Chelsea had a last-minute, late evening training today, the team wanting to tweak a few things prior to their UWCL quarterfinal, so you spent your time alone preparing dinner.

“Lots of time at home during lockdown,” you laugh, “That pact we made freshman year is getting closer and closer to reality, and I figured one of us needs to know how to cook.”

If you noticed Jessie freeze, fork stuck in her bowl of pasta, you didn’t let on. Her cheeks turn red, thinking about the pact you had made years ago. “If we’re both alone when we turn thirty, let’s get married,” you had proposed one night when the two of you were up late at a sleepover.

“You still remember that?” she chuckles nervously, “You wouldn’t want to go through with it, now, though?”

“Is this your way of telling me that you don’t want to marry me?” you tease. 

“No!” Jessie answers, a bit too forcefully for her liking, “I mean, I–uh.”

“I’m just kidding, Jess,” you laugh, “How was training?”

For the rest of dinner, Jessie’s mind races as she pushes her food back and forth around her plate. “You’re being ridiculous, Fleming, it’s just Y/N,” she thinks to herself.

“Everything okay?” you frown, standing to place your dish in the sink, “It wasn’t bad, was it?”

Caught. Fuck. 

“No, it was great,” Jessie shakes her head, “Uh, I’m just still a bit full from a protein shake I had earlier.” 

And now she’s lying. Her stomach twists with hunger pangs, but she can’t get herself to take more than a couple more bites of pasta. Your words from earlier sat in her mind as she dwelled on the idea of marriage. The idea of marrying you. However, marrying you meant that Jessie had to actually tell you how she feels about you, which definitely wasn’t going to happen. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the friendship you’ve had for the last eighteen years.

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“What?” Jessie bites her lip, avoiding your gaze, “I’m not lying.”

As if on cue, Jessie’s stomach betrays her, audibly growling. You raise your eyebrow at her, silently waiting for an explanation.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“What’s wrong, Jess?” you step toward her, resting your hip on the dining table. 

Jessie weighs the options in front of her. Tell you the truth, and risk making the rest of your London trip incredibly awkward. Lie, and know that you can see right through her. It used to be easy for Jessie to push her feelings aside through the past few years due to much of your friendship being long distance. However, every time you came to visit, she found it increasingly more difficult to keep her feelings a secret.

“Did I say something wrong?” your voice draws her out of her thoughts, “When I mentioned the pact?”

Jessie sighs, unsure of how to answer. You knew her too well.

“I’m sorry, Jess, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” you force out an awkward chuckle, “It was a joke, and I di–”

“I love you,” your best friend cuts you off, her eyes growing wide at the realization that her mouth decided not to consult her brain before speaking.

“I love you, too?” you reply, confused as this wasn’t anything new said between you two.

Well, it’s now or never, Jessie thinks to herself. “Uh, no, I–fuck,” she shakes her head, staring everywhere but at you, “No, Y/N, I love you, actually I think I’m in love with you, and I need you to stop talking about us getting married or it’ll be all I can think about, and I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin anything because you’re my best friend, and you definitely don’t feel the sa–”

“Jess, slow down,” you bite your lip, placing a hand on her arm, “Who said I don’t feel the same way?”

“What?” her eyes meet yours, giving you an incredulous look.

“I don’t think you’re ruining anything,” you smile, “Unless you don’t want me to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I want to be with you, then we can pretend like this conversation never happened.”

“You? Want to be with me?” Jessie asks with an air of disbelief to her voice.

“Okay, now you’re just drawing this out,” you tease, “But, if it’s what you need to hear, then yes, Jessie Alexandra Fleming, I, too, am in love with you and have wanted to be with you since I made that pact with you when we were fourteen.”

A smile quirks at Jessie’s lips as her eyes light up. Butterflies soar through her stomach, except this time they aren’t met with a feeling of stress or confusion. 

“Well, are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to keep looking at me with your cute face?” you smirk.

Pulling you into her lap, Jessie places one hand on your hip, the other cupping your face. Her eyes travel down to your lips, leaning in. Your eyes flutter closed, your lips meeting hers. When you pull away, you open your eyes to see Jessie flashing you a cheeky grin.

“So, fourteen-year-old you had an ulterior motive this whole time, huh?” 

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

“What are you looking at?” Jessie asks, sitting next to you on the couch, “Are these for the reception?”

You nod, holding up a picture of you and Jessie at the ice rink from the day you first met. Jessie’s arm was around your shoulders, and your arms wrapped around her waist, both of you cheesing toothless at the camera. Her mom had snapped a photo of you two after forcing her to arrange a playdate with your parents once they came to pick you up. “We were pretty cute, weren’t we?”

“Real cute,” your fiancée chuckles, pulling a print out of the stack. The two of you at your middle school lunch table, Jessie making a face to get you to laugh.

You flick through the remaining photos, which were meant to be framed as centerpieces for the tables at your upcoming wedding reception, each memory bringing you back to a different moment in your relationship. 

“You know, Teagan was about to kill me that weekend,” Jessie gestures at a picture of the two of you after a UCLA game, “After I dropped you off at the airport, she yelled at me for not telling you how I felt.”

“Only took four more years, right?” you tease, holding up a print of your first photo as a couple, a selfie taken on Jessie’s London flat’s couch.

“I guess I could’ve mentioned something a bit sooner,” she blushes.

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart,” you smile, setting the prints on the coffee table, “I wouldn’t want anything different.”

Jessie shakes her head, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Agreed, I’m really, really lucky,” you place a kiss on your fiancée’s cheek, “I can’t wait to marry you, Jessie Fleming.”

“C’mere,” Jessie pulls you in, pressing her lips to yours, “I love you, Y/N, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

[stonerfromlesbos]

You asked for it. | b.e

warnings: angst kinda?, smut, strap usage (r! receiving), angry sex, orgasm denial, pet names (baby, honey, darling, babydoll), spanking, degrading, hair pulling, !dom billie, !sub reader, toxic and mean billie, reader is desperate and dumb, they basically fuck the problem away, and lastly… THE BELT.

summary: you knew just what u were doing, walking like that, talking like that, looking like that to someone who wasn’t her… but you know, she will make you pay for it.

— 11pm, grammy’s after party. —

You felt her eyes burning on you, at each move you made, smirk you gave, and she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

You thought it would be an great revenge, you were mad at her, she wasn’t being herself lately. The work, the pressure, everything made her forget about you. And it only got worse, you felt invisible, unattractive, worthless.

So you decided to make her pay, but at what cost? well, that didn’t matter anymore. You would do anything to make her look at you, even if she’s burning in jealosy.

“i could take you to my house today… what do you think about that?… hey?..” you just was too focused on looking at billie, desperate for her attention. But suddenly, she gets up, and start walking towards you and… maybe julie? jade? jane? you couldn’t care less about what was the girls name.

“shes with me, come on, we have things to do.” billie spoke, with an cold raspy voice. She couldn’t even look at your eyes, she didn’t even grab your arm, her look on you made you feel gross… but you still knew, she had asked for it.

— 11:45pm, a lot of places actually —

You two entered her dodge challenger, she didn’t open the door for you, it looked almost like she was avoiding to be close to you. You kept your head down the whole drive, and she was quiet, deadly quiet. You couldn’t take anymore.

“don’t act like im the only asshole here.” you said finally looking at her, as she entered the garage. Her gaze was finally on you, her look was angry, sharp, possessive. You didn’t know how to feel about it, you’re glad that she was finally looking at you, but.. you’re still afraid of what she was going to say.

“well, you’re the only whore.” her voice was harsh, you took a deep breath and replied.

“don’t blame me for your incompetence.” you said in the same tone as her, even angrier. She was getting really pissed by this.

“excuse me?! what the fuck you just said?!” she wasn’t believing what she heard.

“its not my fault you didn’t even try to make me cum lately.” you stared deep at her eyes, as you saw the look of confusion? angriness? you couldn’t tell anymore.

“you fucking asked for it.” she got off the drivers seat, opening your door and dragging you inside by the arm. She was pissed, but still being careful to not to hurt you in anyway.

You couldn’t tell when you had took all of your clothes off, you just remember being pressed against the kitchen counter with billie tearing apart your fancy dress that she bought you. She made you turn your back to her, as you felt the pressure of her strap on your ass.

“why did you had to be so bratty today, baby? i know you can feel it… i was going to give you what you want, even more…” she spoke on your ear, as she continues to tear apart your dress.

“please.” that whine just escaped out of your dirty mind.. as you felt her hands grabbing your hips harshly, making you arch your back with the light pain.

“now you are begging huh? aren’t you the little slut who was flirting with some weirdo in front of me?” she spoke as you kept quiet, her grip on your hips was getting really harsh.

“bend over.” she said making you bend over the kitchen counter, as she took off her new belt from her hit me hard and soft merch… you could see her adjusting the belt on her hand, as you were with your full body exposed to her. You felt one, two, three smacks on your ass… still holding back every single moan.

“do you think that she could fuck you like me? huh? do you really thing she could treat you like the dirty slut you are?” you just shut your eyes and tried to make your mouth as closed as possible, and she didn’t liked that. She grabbed a fist of your hair, smacking your ass with the belt even harder as she pulled your head back.

“answer me.” she said with an low and raspy voice that made you shiver, since you were in this position, you couldn’t hold back anymore… you just let out an moan when she smacked your ass.

“mhm… n-no, no one can… please bills.” you said as she put your head down again, as she continues to smack your ass, harder and harder until she was done spaking you. It hurt, but it hurt so fucking good. She carried you in her arms to your room, placing you carefully on the bed.

“im gonna give you what you want now, darling.. face down, ass up.” she spoke in a demanding way, you did what she asked you to, she just pushed your underwear to the side to reveal that sticky wetness.

“i think you like being spanked a little…” she spoke, pausing to press her thumb against your clit as she smirked “…too much.”

“y-you’re fucking mean bill-..” you were harshly interruped with another slap on your alrealy bruised area, making you moan again.

“i don’t remember allowing you to speak, honey.” she said as her pace on your clit got faster, but she suddenly stopped.. as she unzipped her jeans.

She placed the strap on your entrance lubricating itself with your own liquids. She got in slowly to make you get used to it, but it was too big to be that easy. You grabbed the bed sheets almost as if your life depends on it.

“its only half way in, babydoll.. sure you can take all of it?” she said getting worried with you.

“yes.. i can.. please fill me up.” that was the only thing she wanted to hear, when you realized, she was already fucking your brains out.

She was pounding you harshly, you could swear that the whole fucking world could hear how loud you were moaning, but you couldn’t help it. Billie was pulling your hair as she hit your g spot, again, and again, and again… She had skilled fingers, and you knew that better than anyone. Without a warning, she begin to play with your clit like it was a fucking toy while she was making a mess out of your poor cunt.

“im c-close.” you said as you holded into the bed sheets once again, feeling your orgarsm coming… but she stopped touching you, she pulled out her strap as you whimpered.

“do you think you really deserve to come after all you did? come on.” she smirked, as you were compleatly at her mercy

“you asked for it.”

— GUYSS, thats my first oneshot here… english its not my mother language and im sorry if theres some grammar or spelling mistakes in this, hope you guys liked itt… horny freaks.

[oatmealwrites]

Initiation

nsfw [FRAT JJK AU] CHOSO X F! READER

Hematology Student! Frat Brother! Jealous! Choso x Grad Student! Reader

Synopsis: It's Yuji's pledge initiation and you've been dragged out to the JJK function to celebrate the fact he's a full member now. Of course the main reason you want to go is to see the one man completely off limits: Yuji's brother Choso. With alcohol flowing and music playing, maybe he'll admit the only reason he comes to these parties is the off chance you show up

NSFWWW (porn with plot LMAO, mdni) Roomate Suguru, slutty Satoru, mentions of alcohol, oral [m receiving], oral [f receiving], female anatomy, she/her pronouns, p in v, unprotected, creampie, aftercare, yuji is a cockblock, helpless pining, jealously, established relationship at the end

this is a LONG ass fic but I had wayyy to much fun writing it hehehe [i wanna keep doing fics like this in the future too]

Word count: 12.8 k (LET ME COOK OK)

Masterlist

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Papers scattered, Red Bulls empty, and lofi playing in the background, it’s one of the rare evenings Suguru joins you at the shared kitchen table to study for an exam. Silently, you pass snacks and drinks to each other, only looking up from your content material to stretch the ache building in your back muscles. On any other Thursday night Suguru would leave you, his roommate, alone in the shared apartment for a ‘chapter meeting’ and return late in the night to continue his studies alone in his room while you stayed in the same position hunched over the wood table for hours on end. 

A comfortable silence lingers between the two of you, each too focused on your separate exams to make small talk, but enjoying the atmosphere of not studying alone. It’s a routine that occurs several times a week, and one of the rare occasions you’re actually productive. Eventually the lofi playing on the tv in the living room hits an ad roll and you both take it as a moment to break from the material.

“God this exam is going to be the end of me… remind me why I chose oncology as my specialization again?”

“Pretty sure it was just because Satoru persuaded you to stay in the same med field as him-”

He kicks your shin from under the table and laughs with as much emotion as he could muster given the 3rd hour of review you’ve begun. You weren’t in the same field as Suguru, hell not even the same school of study within the university, but that didn’t stop you from spending hours together reviewing material in a shared state of depression.

“Speaking of which- Satoru’s on his way over.”

Suguru scrolls through his phone mindlessly and pushes back from the table to clear some of the empty snack wrappers that littered the kitchen. You lean back in your chair and frown at him, “Huh? I thought your stupid chapter thing was cancelled.”

He takes a moment to step back from the running sink and flicks some water at you with a smirk, “Ok it’s not stupid, it’s called loyalty to a frat.”

“Yea more like cult-”

He splashes you again, laughing at the way you shriek and desperately try to protect your notes from the potential water damage.

“Ok Ok fine, frat. But why is he coming here anyways?”

Suguru dries his hand on the cheap kitchen towel you bought together when you both moved in and slides his phone off the counter to check his messages again; his other hand runs through the long dark hair he’s let hang freely down. 

“Hmm, not sure. He said he’d be here in 10 minutes roughly an hour ago… so that means-”

There’s a quick courtesy knock at the door before the sound of the spare key turning the lock clicks and the wood swings open. Satoru saunters in, no backpack with him, and shuts the door before pulling out a chair, throwing his coat somewhere on the floor, and sitting like he is a third unannounced roommate. 

“Hey~”

Suguru opens the fridge and slides him a canned soft drink before walking around to sit back in his original spot.

You don’t mind him, but you do mind the fact this small 15 minute study break could very well turn into a 90 minute one if he plans on staying a while. 

“Hey, what are you doing here? No exams to cram for?”

He slides off the sunglasses covering his eyes, even though it’s 6pm, and rests his chin in his hand, letting strands of milky white hair swing idly. 

“Nah, not into all that stuff-,” Suguru and you exchange a tired look, “I’m actually here to collect my vice president.”

Suguru sighs and leans his head to the side, making no effort to hide the exhaustion on his face, “Seriously, Satoru? What do you need me for? Chapter’s cancelled this week to prep for the pledges’ final initiation.”

“That’s why I need you! Nanami is holding the frat treasury hostage as we speak– without your override we won’t be able to pay the downpayment on the rental house.”

There’s a twitch in your eyebrow at the conversation. Nearly all your friends were involved with Greek Life in some sort of way, but the frat JJK was infamous for their extravagant parties. Most likely the white haired man’s fault for his expensive taste in renting out a house for each function- finding it easier to simply pay the damages and cleaning fees than actually take care of the property. 

“I’ll go with you to Haibara’s, but that’s it Satoru.”

You snap back into the conversation between your roommate and his best friend for the last few sentences, “Suguru and I planned on a delivery order while we studied. Do you wanna come back here with your bag afterwards and join us?”

Satoru breaks the pleading look on his face and turns to you with an airy laugh, “I already said exams aren’t really my thing, I don’t really like trying that hard. Besides,” he puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I’ll probably be borrowing him for a few hours anyways~”

Suguru shakes his head and stands up to head over to the coat rack and flip through the jackets before sliding on his winter coat. Satoru follows suit and stands up but doesn’t leave the table’s edge; instead he admires your burnt out state. Hair sloppily thrown back, one of Suguru’s undergrad sweatshirts, comfy pants that are nearing 4 years old, and skincare done but no makeup applied. 

“You should come.”

“What?”

Satoru makes no move towards his jacket and stays looking at you, “You should come to this party once I get Nanami to approve the budget.”

You stay motionless for a few seconds, already knowing your answer of ‘no’ before the sentence can form on your tongue. 

“That’s not her vibe Satoru, you know that,” Suguru wraps a dark scarf around his neck and tosses the puffer jacket towards his friend. 

“Still, it would be good to get you out of the house.”

A small ‘V’ is formed by the scrunching of your eyebrows as you watch the man now finally shimmy the coat he threw on the floor back onto his shoulders.

“I do leave the house for your information. I actually go to class and regularly study at the library in addition to meeting with my thesis professor.”

Satoru lifts his hands and rolls his eyes dramatically, “Oh my, what a great social life you got there. At this rate I’m sure the space between your thighs has grown cobwebs.”

“Hey!”

“Satoru-” Suguru warns his friend with a slight shove. 

He raises his hands in defense but turns back to you, “ok my bad, rude wording. But still, you need some stress relief,” he snaps his fingers, “or sex relief.”

Suguru smacks him again while Satoru is too busy laughing at his own joke before pulling up the zipper on his jacket. You stand and turn to the fridge, trying to avoid letting the truthfulness of the commnet get under your skin. You’ve gone on dates before, mostly with assholes who never get a second one, but it’s not like you were actively trying to stay single, just no one caught your eye.

Ok that’s a lie.

In all honesty nearly every member of that stupid frat was painfully attractive, but the one you couldn’t help thinking about was the only one totally off limits: your best friend Yuji’s older brother. 

God even thinking about him was enough to make you lose focus as you dug around in the fridge for another energy drink. Dark hair pulled back, a scar? No, birthmark? Tattoo? Across this bridge of his nose, and a body you’re sure is sculpted from marble. To top it off he never once made you feel uncomfortable or objectified like half the members of the frat did when they flirted at parties. Nope, he was a total gentleman who always put his brothers first and never asked for anything in return. 

Suguru brings his index finger under his chin in a silent thought while Satoru rubs the spot on his arm where he was just punched.

“Come to think of it, when was the last time you brought someone home?”

An apple from the refrigerator flies towards both of them, but Satoru catches it with ease and begins to howl with laughter. Suguru laughs a little, though less mockingly than his friend, “you know I wouldn’t mind having to give you a noise complaint once in a while.”

“BOTH OF YOU-!”

The two men continue their laughter and torment, making your frustration only grow inexplicably bigger as you watch. 

“Alright well,” Satoru wipes a tear from his eye and opens the door to slide the spare key back under the welcome mat, “Wish us luck on getting this party approved! See ya later babe~”

Suguru gives him one last push before waving off and shutting the door behind him while you sit alone at the kitchen table now listening to the subtle lofi continuing to play in the background. It’s lonelier but not unfamiliar as you collect your papers and organize them into your backpack, unable to focus in the apartment anymore. 

It would be impossible to face Yuji at this moment, too caught up in the terrible thoughts about his brother infesting your brain. Instead you slide out your phone and click on Megumi’s contact before hitting ‘dial’. There’s a dial tone that rings three times before a gruff voice mumbles out a short ‘hello?’. 

“Hey it’s me! Wanna go to the campus library?”

*******

A few days go by and most evenings are spent alone in the apartment with Suguru being dragged by Satoru to finalize purchases for the now approved function. Nanami and Haibara gave the green light on the rental house, but it left a majority of the budget unable to cover the steep alcohol costs. Not that any of it would deter Satoru of course: being heir to his family’s extremely successful private hospital left him swiping his metal black credit card without a second glance at the final price, purchasing enough alcohol to stock an entire bar. 

This Wednesday night is like many of the others you’ve had this semester so far, sitting in the campus library with Megumi and Toge reviewing projects, editing thesis papers, and cramming content before exams. The three of you work silently, sipping on to-go coffee cups and listening to music playing in your respective headphones. Occasionally a ‘ping’ from Toge texting you memes causes a slight break to giggle at his antics, but they’re short lived and the three of you continue working again. 

“Hey guys!” “See? I told you they would be here!”

Yuji and Nobara stroll up, dressed casually and without any backpacks in tow. The three of you at the table exchange a quick glance before sliding chairs over and making room for them to sit. 

“You have to come Y/N,” Yuji whines while shaking your arm back and forth in a pleading manner, “You literally never attend the functions.”

Any attempt to continue reviewing your lecture notes is thrown out the window by now as Yuji continues to shake your arm with vigor.

“Yuuuji. Why do you want me to come to this one so badly?”

“It’s my first party as no longer a pledge! I can finally get drunk with no one to drive home and no repercussions. You. Have. To. Come.”

He shakes your shoulders now with each word while Megumi shrugs his shoulders at Nobara who is attempting the same conversation on him.

“You’re on attendance probation for missing too many social events Megumi, you have to attend.”

“I don’t even wanna be in this frat anyways, wouldn’t probation be beneficial to me?”

Toge leans across the table, already deciding he was indeed going to the party and carpooling with Yuta to the function; he gives Megumi a confused look silently before Nobara explains.

“His dad is a legacy member, so he was basically born to be in the frat,” she turns to Megumi, “It’s also highly unlikely you’ll ever be kicked out too- with that idiot Satoru as your big, he’d never let you drop.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and huffs, looking at you in exhaustion and longing to continue studying already. Yuji continues shaking you until you’re able to pry his hand off your shoulders for a moment, a small headache forming from the yelling.

“Ok ok, shush please! I don’t wanna get kicked out.”

He dulls his whines to whimper.

“I’ll go ok? But who else is even going to be there?”

Yuji breaks into a grin and Nobara nudges Megumi to indicate he has to come too, otherwise he’d be the only person not attending.

“It’s the pres and vice pres of course, Nanamin, Haibara, Shoko, Todo, Choso, -”

The list of names grows but you stop listening after Choso’s name is mentioned, the sound of it bringing your heartrate up immediately.

“Choso..?”

“Huh? Oh yea,” Yuji pauses and grins, “He’s always been set on staying sober during my pledge time with me, so now he can finally get shitfaced with us!”

It’s the type of thing you’re not surprised to hear, Choso being so supportive of his brother and even voluntarily having mediocre Friday nights just to keep him company. He’s been to your apartment a handful of times before, studying for medical exams with Suguru and Satoru when they took shared courses in Hematology, his own specialization. He never came over empty-handed, bringing energy drinks and snacks, and even staying after to clean up any mess they had made.

Every time you would come back from the library or leave your room and see him sitting at your kitchen table like he belonged there, like it was the most natural sight to see, it was enough to make you a stumbling idiot. The scent of his cologne would linger in the air hours after he left, and despite being so collected, he would always text you when he inevitably left something behind. It started out as a pencil case, then a scarf, and now even his sweatshirts had all been left accidentally and only returned when he would call you the next day and offer you coffee in exchange for the forgotten items. 

It’s bad. So fucked up to even think of him like this. This is Yuji’s half brother and now full frat brother– pull yourself together. 

Yuji continues talking but the only thing running through your mind is the image of Choso’s hair when he lets it down in concentration, the image of his biceps flexing as he slings his heavy backpack on his shoulders and waves you goodbye, or the way his thighs strain against the fabric of his jeans-

“Is that plan ok with you?”

You blink and snap back to reality, now noticing everyone staring at you expectedly and waiting for your response. Yuji points to his phone, open to a message from Suguru aimed at you, “Suguru told me to let you know he wants your help setting up the house on Friday since you’re coming.”

“You already told him?”

Yuji blinks, “Yea I told the group chat…”

A sigh escapes your lips and any excuse now to bail at the last second has dissipated. “...alright.”

****

Steam rolls out of the bathroom door and you use the edge of your robe to swipe away the fog of the mirror,feeling fresh after a grueling ‘everything shower.’ Suguru grunts a small, “finally” before ushering you out of the room so he can piss. 

Stepping out into the living room and pivoting into your room, music can be heard in the kitchen, likely Satoru’s doing to fill the silence while he works on packaging liquor bottles and decorations into cardboard boxes.

Skincare, haircare, and lotion on, you rummage through your closet for clothes. On your bed sits a variety of party outfits, though all holding very different vibes. Jeans and cropped shirt were a bit too basic given the ‘initiation’ Yuji kept talking about, and the mini dress seemed too formal considering it was technically still a frat party. 

You shuffle through a variety of tops until you settle on black opaque tights under a black miniskirt and an off-the-shoulder tight long sleeve top. The outfit is slutty enough for a frat party but cute enough for a first date if you wanted to recycle the look in the future. 

Taking your makeup bag off your dresser and stepping into the living room, you notice the sound of running water from the bathroom.

“Hey! I thought you were just gonna take a piss!”

Suguru can’t hear you or the knocks on the door, but Satoru wolfishly laughs from behind you. Cutting your losses, you place the makeup bag on the kitchen table and slide a few boxes over to make room for you to spread out. Without looking at Satoru and using the compact mirror that came with your blush, you begin applying products. 

“I didn’t know you cleaned up this good Y/N.”

“That’s because you never actually see me outside of this apartment,” you grumble, now pressing powder to set your foundation.

Satoru shrugs and continues filling boxes with an array of liquor bottles, but lowers the volume on his phone to make the conversation easier, “Well if I had known, I would’ve made some moves on you sooner.”

You roll your eyes at his exaggerated smile and now focus on applying eyeliner without skimming the surface of your cornea. Before Satoru can thickly lay on another pick up line, Suguru steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and snuggly tied just below the ‘V’ line of his pelvis.

You don’t bother looking up, having seen this sight a million times before, and instead you raise your eyebrows dramatically to apply a thin layer of mascara on your bottom lashes. Suguru whistles at your appearance and steps into his room to throw on a t-shirt and jeans while Satoru slides the last few bottles into the final box.

You click your compact shut and zip up your makeup bag, satisfied with your look, and slide your lipgloss into your purse to reapply later. Suguru enters the room and counts the boxes, silently working out in his brain how this would all fit in an Uber with the three of you.

Satoru saunters up next to you and shrugs with a slight wink, “Well if you want those cobwebs cleared out for you I don’t mind helping. Take a quick ride to the party~?”

“That’s my roommate, asshole.”

Suguru nudges him in the rib cage and slides the remaining decorations of strobe lights and speakers into an oversized IKEA bag, waiting for Satoru to help. The white haired man laughs and shrugs with a light ‘worth trying’ mumble before Suguru shoves him again. 

You slide on a pair of chunky docs and sling your purse over your shoulder before grabbing Suguru’s phone from the table.

“Hey– Uber’s here.”

The three of you lift as many boxes as your strength allows and make your way down to the apartment lobby to load them into the trunk of the SUV. It takes 2 trips up and down with all three of you carrying boxes until the back is completely filled and the driver looks between you uneasily. Suguru shrugs and sends a few messages to the other brothers while the driver pulls out of the apartment complex and heads towards the rental house; glass bottles clinking with every turn.

You’re squished between Suguru and Satoru, giving a slight nudge to the flirtatious man on your right.

“Hmm? Can’t keep your hands off me already?”

“Ugh, just make sure to tip this guy extra once the ride is over ok?”

Satoru nods and smirks into a shit eating grin, “Of course~ now is there any tip you were hoping to get too-?”

“She’s. My. Roommate. Asshole.”

You laugh lightly and sink into your seat, pulling out your phone and messaging the small group chat with Yuji, Megumi, Toge, Maki, and Nobara that you were going to be setting up the house soon. 

******

The rental is huge, fitting the extravagant nature of the man who protested so badly to have it and confirming that Nanami’s hesitation for the budget was completely valid. Boxes filled with alcohol sit on the marble kitchen island while Yuta and Toge work filling coolers with ice and assorted beer bottles and Maki and Nobara stock the freezer with handles of vodka and tequila. 

You let out a whistle and do a quick 360 in the room, taking in how the boys have already shoved the sofa and loveseats closer to each other to make room for the pong table Megumi and Yuji were setting up. The house is an open concept with the entire first floor connected except for the staircase leading up to the second floor bedrooms and bathroom. 

“Alright, speakers are set up and lights are all working– are the drinks nearly finished?”

“Yep,” Maki shuts the freezer door and turns to Nanami with a thumbs up, “All done!”

Satoru claps his hands and looks around the crowd, “Alright remember– no normies unless we actually know them OR they can name at least 5 brothers. Keep the ratio good, yea?”

The group mumbles a response and breaks up to complete the last few touches, Haibara dims the lights and Suguru sets up his music playlist to the speakers, already queuing a few songs that Shoko recommends him to play. A group of you decide to take a few pre-game shots to loosen up and then split to finish up preparations before anyone arrives.

You walk up to Yuji and help arrange the red solo cups in a pyramid formation on the folding table, “Where’s your brother?”

“Hm? Oh! Choso and Todo are picking up Maki’s sister and a few others. Should be here shortly.”

Yuji is buzzing with energy, excited to get the night started as more pledges begin to trickle in and assist with the final preparations. After a while Haibara officially cuts the overhead lights and turns on the ambient strobes while Suguru increases the volume on the speakers; after another 30 minutes the house is fairly packed with everyone now dancing and drinking. Enough alcohol is coursing through your veins to feel relaxed and warm, but not enough to make you irrational. 

You grab a drink from the kitchen and admire the party, giggling with Nobara as Yuji is already borderline shiftfaced and yapping Megumi’s ear off despite the speaker next to them deafening every word.

“Should we stop them?”

“Nah,” Nobara laughs into her drink and points at Todo who’s walking over to the two of them, “I think it’s about to get good.”

“My brother! How can you claim you’re officially a brother when you are unable to win a single game of pong?”

Yuji turns to him confused and Megumi takes this as his opportunity to escape with Nobara following after him and laughing hysterically.

“What does pong have to do with being brothers…?”

“My best friend–” A single tear threatens to fall from Todo’s eye as he grasps a metal chain necklace longingly, “If you can’t increase your skills to win a single game we can’t possibly stay friends. A brother of mine would never be complacent with their mediocre skills!”

Whatever energy Todo emits is enough for Yuji to yell out his passion for improving in beer pong and the two take to the folding table to begin a game. Yuji misses the first few shots, but sinks two in after a few turns and evens the game.

“Geez, they’re really going at it huh?”

The voice is deep and rumbles loud enough through the music to immediately indicate it’s Choso’s. He stands tall next to you, giving you a slight smile and dragging his eyes up and down your outfit before coughing lightly and turning his attention back to the game.

“Oh yea.. Ha! They really are quite passionate.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you stand side by side and watch the game unfold, giggling at their dramatic reactions and downing the liquid in the cups when their adversary sinks one. 

“I’d want to go in there and help him but…” Choso scratches the back of his head awkwardly, the dark hair cascading down instead of being pulled back into his usual hairstyle, “It’s a rite of passage I suppose for this frat.”

You have to physically peel your eyes off the man to avoid staring any further, his hair sexily falling around his face, dark piercings in his ears reflecting the strobing lights, and the powerful body standing idly and awkwardly at your side. The conversation isn’t out of place or forced; the nature of it makes you regret not coming to more functions if it meant you could've been this close to him the entire time.

He looks into his cup and takes a big drink before continuing, wincing slightly from the burn of alcohol, “You know I’m actually glad you came– I know you usually don’t go to these sorts of things.”

A blush warms your cheeks and you look at him for a moment before sheepishly laughing, “Ah yea... Usually school takes up so much of my time. I’m surprised you noticed considering how busy frat life and med school can be.”

“-Of course I noticed!” 

He looks around awkwardly and shivers slightly at his outburst before attempting to save face, “I mean you’re one of Yuji’s best friends… he always mentions how bummed he is that you aren’t around..”

You blink and swallow thickly, “right…” of course Yuji would be the one actually wondering why you didn’t show up, “I feel bad about letting him down.”

Turning back to the game of pong, you miss the way Choso cringes hard at himself, completely unable to rephrase the sentence into admitting how he was actually the one who would look for you at every party and stand in a corner moping when he realized you didn’t show, waiting until his brother was ready to go home. Instead, he downs the rest of his beverage and turns back to you, “Would you like a drink? I can grab us another and then we can continue the conversation–?”

You turn back to him and look at your own empty cup, it’s a bad idea to continue but you don’t want the conversation to end just yet. Even if Yuji is standing right in front of you both, and can plainly see the way you're hopelessly staring into his brother's eyes, you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Yea, I’d like that.”

Choso smiles lightly at the opportunity and takes the plastic cup from your hands, “Something sweet but not too sugary, right?”

Your insides melt when you nod and he walks off into the kitchen while your eyes stay focused on his ass for just a moment too long to be casual.

“Hey~ enjoying the party pretty?”

An arm is slung around your shoulders and the mix of cologne and tequila sunrise is enough of a scent indicator to know it’s Satoru who’s gripping you so close. 

A sigh leaves your lips but you don’t make an effort to move, watching Yuji miss his shot while Todo scrambles to try and pry the ping pong ball from where it rolled under the couch.

“Sure, it’s actually kinda fun.”

“Kinda?”

“I’m not giving your ego anything else besides that,” you shrug his arm off and he feigns a wound from the action before laughing and taking a sip of his own drink.

“Talk to anybody yet hmm? My offer of stress relief still stands if you strike out– I’ll keep the door open for ya if you ask nicely~”

You roll your eyes and arms cross at your chest, you deadpan at him, “Seriously, Satoru?”

He shrugs and raises his hands up in defense, “It’s just a casual offer, for real. Suguru is your roommate and we’re friends– I’m not trying to make things awkward.”

“You already are.”

You and Satoru swing to see Choso carrying two red cups tightly, with his fingers bending the plastic, and approaching with an unamused scowl. Satoru lets out a low whistle and chuckles to himself before leaning into your ear, “Alright you got your relief plan sorted out.. Guess I’ll look elsewhere.”

He stands up and gives a nod to Choso before turning over his shoulder and waving off, yelling Suguru’s name to skip the current song.

Choso watches the man walk off until he disappears into the crowd before he slips a cup into your hand and looks at you concerned, “You alright?”

You take the drink and smile lightly at him, noting the way his shoulders are tense and eyebrows are knit together, “Yea, I’m alright. Thanks.”

He breathes slightly before his eyes shoot open wide and he brings his hands up apologetically, “I hope I didn’t misread that then… if you are interested in Satoru I completely understand,” he looks back at Yuji’s game now speaking quieter, “Don’t let me ruin your plans.”

It takes a few blinks before you sink into the exact meaning he was hinting at and you instantly raise your hands in defense and embarrassment, “NO!”

A few people look in your direction and you pull Choso down closer by the fabric of his band t-shirt, his height towering over you regardless, “I mean.. Trust me, I don’t like Satoru like that. We’re buddies.. Not romantic at all.”

He examines you for a moment and looks back into the crowd nervously where Satoru had walked off, “But physically?”

You lock eyes with him and your lips widen in slight shock before you gently shake your head, “No. Nothing like that.”

He holds your gaze for another moment before smiling gently and standing back up, he takes a sip of his drink, “I’m glad. I was worried I made myself look like an ass there for a minute.”

“You never could.”

He glances back at you with a pink dust on his cheeks, looking into the liquid of his cup once again and releasing a shallow breath of relief. There’s an unspoken tension building between the both of you, though you can’t tell if it’s all in your head or in your pants.

The familiar heartbeat feeling pulsing in your panties and you opt for downing half your drink and watching the stupid exchange of ping pong balls instead. Choso rocks idly and shimmies from side to side to let people continue past him, making no effort to move from the spot by your side despite the lull in the conversation. 

He takes another long sip, some alcohol dripping down from the corner of his mouth and trailing down his neck eroticaly; you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, consumed in the way he looks. Choso wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and takes a deep breath with a pitiful smile on his face when he turns to you.

“You know I couldn’t help but worry. I know you don’t always come to these parties, and I was worried that my one shot to have you alone was already taken by someone else.”

His eyes are focused on only you and his voice is raw with a rare vulnerability, his cheeks dusted pink with embarrassment and heat from the alcohol. Your heart rate picks up exponentially and you stare at him openly, not even caring if Yuji can see the way you look at his brother. 

Before you can issue a response, Nobara scuffles past the back of Choso effectively knocking him forward and spilling the remainder of his drink all over your shirt. Nobara offers a short ‘shit’ before getting pulled through the crowd by Maki towards the beer cooler on the patio.

Choso’s eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen and his eyebrows furrow as if he could cry from frustration and disappointment. His hands twitch as he quickly drops the empty cup and carefully approaches you, worrying this would be the moment you yell at him to leave you alone and never speak to you again.

“I-I’m so sorry… Y/N.. I didn’t..”

The words die in his throat as he watches you look down at your shirt in surprise and slight disgust at the sticky feeling of alcohol coating your chest. You place your drink on a nearby table and pull the fabric from your stomach to examine the damage.

“It’s alright! Really…” you bite the inside flesh of your cheek with your molars and gnaw on it, wondering how to get the stain out.

Choso gently steps closer and reaches out to take your hands gently, “Here– let’s go to the bathroom. Let me help,” he looks at you with pleading eyes, “Please.” 

You nod once and he leads the way to the stairs, gently slipping between bodies to clear a path for you to step through and ascend the stairs. Leading you down the hallway, he enters the second door on the left into an empty bathroom and shuts the door promptly behind you. 

His hands rush for the faucet while you dig around on the linen shelf to pass him a washcloth; he tests the water’s temperature before raising the cloth to your shirt.

“It’s not too hot right? Not burning at all?”

“No, I’m alright.”

You’re leaning against the counter, feeling the vibration of the bass from the music playing beneath you shake the marble countertop. Choso’s touch is gentle, though his hands shake from nerves and the acute drunken state he’s in; his face is full of self-loathing. 

“Choso.”

He’s kneeling down in front of your torso delicately working on the stain and tilts his head up longingly as soon as his name leaves your lips, “Yes?”

Tongue running over your bottom lip for a moment, you place your hand on his to stop his actions and get his full attention, your own mind still reeling.

“Why did you want to get me alone then?”

He blinks and looks back down at the fabric of your shirt gripping the folds slightly, “Oh.. that?” He looks dejectedly at the stain and frowns harder. 

With a sigh of defeat he keeps his head down for a moment, “I thought I was being so obvious… 

I offered to study at Suguru’s apartment because I thought maybe you’d be home, and always stayed sober with Yuji during his pledge phase just in case you called one night and needed a ride…” he releases your shirt and closes his eyes, “I always wanted to get a moment alone with you to tell you how I felt– but I fucked it all up didn’t I?”

His face is contorted in frustration and self-deprecation; nearly acting in a trance you gently lift your hands to cup his face and pull his attention back to you. He looks back up into your eyes longingly and full of vulnerability, he says nothing as you pull him to his feet and look between his eyes and then his lips. 

Not wasting a single second you slide your hands from his cheeks to wrap around the base of his neck and pull his lips in to meet yours. Choso doesn’t waste a single second either, sighing lightly through his nose and bringing his hands to the plush of your waist. His fingers dig imprints into the flesh on the back of your hips while his thumbs press lightly into the bones of your pelvis.

His lips are nearly glued to yours, tilting his head to the right to allow the kiss to deepen and increase the force he pushes behind it. Your hands tangle in his hair, gently pulling at the raven strands and scratching his scalp while occasional gasps escape his mouth. Moans escape between the both of you, drowned out to the rest of the party from the music, but nearly deafening to the two of you. 

With one more tug of his hair, his tongue gently swipes your bottom lip and without a moment of hesitation you part to allow access. The action has some lip gloss rub off on the flesh of his upper lip, though Choso takes no moment to stop, instead he lifts his left hand to tilt your head further to the side and push his tongue into your mouth. 

The muscle is warm and tastes like a light beer; he takes his time to swipe it along the tip of your own tongue before pushing it deeper. You groan his name and try to pull him even closer to you if it were possible, sighing as he swaps between messy open mouth kisses and closed ones that allow your lips to mold into one. 

With another push of his tongue in your mouth you taste the beer once again but also the sensation of something cold and metal. It takes you a minute to figure out what you’re feeling, the cool orb rolling against your tongue and occasionally clinking onto your teeth when he pulls back. 

Taking a slight breath, he dips his head down in the crook of your neck and breathes deeply while whispering your name, enjoying the moment before he begins to bite and suck along the flesh. You sigh at the feeling and can feel your senses overloading, the heartbeat in your ribs and panties, the scent of his cologne, and the hot tongue running down your neck being cooled by the little piercing in the middle.

“You didn't.. Aahh,” you swallow lightly, “didn’t tell me you have… a tongue piercing…”

Choso groans a response but doesn’t pay attention, nipping at a particular spot just beneath your jaw where his nose tickles the flesh under your ear, “right.. Here?”

His lips suck onto the flesh and his teeth pinch the skin while you squirm beneath him in pleasure; his hand leaves your head and hips to now push you firmly against the counter to keep you still. Choso’s actions are relentless, running his tongue flat across the flesh and letting the metal piercing cool the spot before he continues bullying it. 

“It’s gonna nnngh, leave a mark-”

“-Good.”

Choso remains buried in the corner of your neck but he lifts his lips from the angry purple bruise to speak, “I’m tired of the way everyone stares at you all the time– fuck even Maki and Shoko looked you up and down a few times tonight.”

You run a hand through his hair and pull at the scalp to lift his face to you. His pupils are blown wide with desire so dark it seems the iris is pure black and his shoulder sag with every pant he takes to catch his breath. Despite it, the timid and awkward demeanor remains hidden for a moment, “I want people to know who you’re here with.”

He leans down to kiss the purple hickey, “Not Suguru.” kiss.

His lips trail to the pulse point on the opposite side, “Not Satoru.” kiss.

Lips hover right above yours a moment before he connects them, “Me.”

You push him back gently and Choso’s facade nearly breaks when he thinks you’re trying to make distance and tell him he’s got the wrong idea. Instead, you spin to push him flush against the counter and drag his face back to meet yours in another kiss. 

Instinctively his hands rest on your waist as if they were made for him and he attaches his lips against yours like second nature. Sighs escape him every time your nails gently scratch his scalp and tug at his hair and when you drop your arms lower there’s nearly a whine in disappointment. 

Instead, you run your hands flat down the front of his chest, feeling the swell of his chest rise with each breath and trail down to gently feel the outline of his abdomen muscles with the pads of your fingers. Airy breaths escape more frequently, as Choso fights the urge to escalate things even further. 

With a featherlight touch and without ever breaking contact from his lips, you skim the hem of his shirt and gently graze the flesh underneath. Choso feels like his body is on fire at every touch you make and his grip on your hips intensifies, the heartbeat in his ears louder than the music blaring from outside the bathroom.

His abs flex subconsciously with your touch, and you can’t help the arousal growing in between your thighs as he begins to grind into you. Back arched to keep the angle of his tongue exploring your mouth, your hands dip back down to his navel and run through the course happy trail leading into his jeans. With gentle precision, your fingers dip just the tiniest bit lower to skim the seam of the denim and lightly play with the brass buckle of his belt. 

Choso pulls his mouth from yours before grabbing your hands in his own to pause your efforts, panting in between each word. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you…”

His eyes are sincere and there’s never been a moment in your life you’ve been more sure of than this, “I’m sure Choso. I want to do this with you.”

He continues breathing until his lungs steady out again before running a hand through his hair with a frustrated look on his face, cheeks still red and puffed from the intimacy of the situation.

“Yea but… Look don’t get me wrong I want this to happen more than anything,” he pauses and scans your face before continuing, “and I know I’m gonna hate myself for stopping here but.. I don’t want something just casual or physical with you. I think… I think it would kill me if you only saw me as a one night stand when you’re so much more to me.”

His hands sweat as they hold yours, and his eyes search yours for any sign of reciprocity, and the whole situation is so sweet you could cry. After so many assholes and douchebags, his words are enough to make your knees weak from only kissing.

You remove your hands from his and before his eyes could portray the heartbreak about to happen from the action, you pull him back in to meet your lips, “I want the same thing Choso. I do.”

He pulls away to see your face, but you connect your lips again between each sentence, “I almost feel bad for all the times I invited Yuji out to things because it meant I could see you.”

Choso lets out a chuckle of relief and connects your mouths again with longing before you pull back to continue, “I want this.” Kiss.

“I want you, Choso.” Kiss.

“All of you… and not just for tonight.”

He swallows thickly and his Adam's apple bobs again, pupils still blown out as you kiss his lips one last time before sinking just a bit lower onto the plush bath mat. Your hands fiddle with his belt again, and this time he doesn’t stop you, letting you slide it out of the loops of his jeans and toss it onto the floor without care. Chaste kisses go down his navel, your nose tickling the hair that pokes out right about the seam of his boxers before sinking down just a bit further. 

His hands grip the countertop with enough force his knuckles turn white from the pressure, “ohh fuck Y/N.” 

Your fingers trail just a bit lower, spreading the fabric of the zipper fly open and letting his erection push out into the air, only restrained by the thin material of his boxers. He stares at you intently, watching the way you trace the outline of the small liquid patch of precum forming as his hips twitch in anticipation. 

You meet his gaze and drink in his disheveled and eager appearance before facing his erection again. Placing a few chaste kisses to the tip of his cock that’s now pushing past the fly of his boxers, he sucks in a wince and jerks his hips forward subconsciously in search of some sort of friction. 

After a few more kisses, you look back up to him with a nod and raise your fingers to the elastic of the band and seam of his jeans. Hooking your fingers under the fabric and pinching it with your thumbs, you tug it down maybe 3 inches before his hands stop yours one last time.

“Wait– I uhh..” his hands shake nervously, “I just haven’t shaved in a minute… I’ve not exactly been sleeping with anybody recently.”

You blink and grin up at him, kissing his knuckles gently and then shooing his hands away to tug the materials down juuuust a bit further. His happy trail dissolves into a bit more hair, but nothing unruly, and the ‘V’ line of his pelvis connects to several protruding veins that all lead down to the base of his cock. 

Despite the steamy atmosphere, Choso winces at the change in temperature and jerks his hips forward again; this time the flushed red tip connects freely to the corner of your mouth and smudges any remainder of your lipgloss.

His dick is long with a few prominent veins tracing alongside the under border of the shaft that disappear behind a small tuft of dark hair at the base. Not necessarily thick, but heavy enough in your hand you can’t help but wonder how’d it’d feel inside you. Pearls of precum drip from the slit at his tip and the ghost of your breath against the skin is enough to have him nearly begging for something anything. 

Opening your mouth, you guide his cock to your tongue laying flat and lick a few long stripes along the shaft before focusing on the tip. The action is enough for Choso’s hand to lose balance for a moment and send a few soap bottles on the counter scattering onto the floor in a string of curses.

You pay no mind, licking a few more strokes to lubricate his dick before sucking in your cheeks to build enough saliva to spit onto his cock. It’s messy and wet and when you finally inch him into your mouth and stroke the base you can’t reach, he’s buckling at the knees. 

“Oh shittt…. Yea,” his hands run into your hair, pulling any loose strands away from your face and allowing him an unobstructed view, “J-Just like that… fuck baby”

Your thighs squirm at his praise, feeling yourself grow embarrassingly wet just from the way your name begins to slip from his lips like a prayer. Slight tugs on your hair earn grunts from your throat, and the vibration makes Choso twitch with each bob of your head.

A dull ache in your jaw, you alternate between taking him in your mouth with hollow cheeks and tight suction to using both your hands to jerk him off while your tongue laps at the tip of his cock. The skin is fresh and salty precum coats your taste buds while your nose is tickled by the strands of his pubic hair that linger at the base. 

“S-Shit.. I’m gonna-”

Choso holds your head steady while he lightly thrusts into your mouth, not too deep to gag you, but enough to cause a few tears to prick at the corner of your eyes. You purse your lips to give him just a bit more contact, “Fuck.. Y/N.. I’m…”

“Choso? You in there?”

There’s a knock at the door followed by Yuji’s slurred voice, “You’ve been gone for while… everything ok?”

You pause for a moment and look up at Choso, who’s released his grip on your hair and resorted to covering his mouth with his palms. Taking the opportunity, you resume your actions, bobbing along his shaft, kisses and licks to his tip, and the occasional graze of his balls when you jerk his shaft to the same rhythm as your lips.

His hips jerk and his face shows the most worried and sex-drunk expression you’ve ever seen. Lips quivering and trying to remain silent while his body betrays him and grunts and flinches with immediate response to each of your touches. 

“Hello..?”

The handle to the bathroom jerks slightly, now immediately known to the both of you how it wasn’t locked.

“Wait!”

The door stops and remains shut, Yuji hums in attentiveness at the response, “Ah so you are in there! Hurry up– I need a new pong partner bro!”

Choso watches the door in horror and resorts to biting the knuckle of his right index finger to avoid moaning out your name.

God he really was the worst brother huh? Here Choso was, getting the best head of his life from the girl of his dreams, aka his brother’s best friend, at a party which was THROWN FOR HIS BROTHER.

“I-I’m not…ughh… feeling too well..”

Choso shivers and hunches forward in pleasure, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face while his eyebrows contort in pure ecstasy. 

He was going to cum. He was going to cum in the mouth of the woman he’s been helplessly in love with, who is the one girl completely off limits, with his brother unknowingly listening to it on the other side of the door. 

“Oh really? Hmmm, just pull trigger and meet me downstairs– ‘kay?”

Choso barely lasts the extra second of seeing Yuji’s shadow under the door disappear before his hips jerk from your grasp and cums. Hard. It’s messy, not quite in your mouth, but also not aiming for your face; insteads pools of it make it onto your tongue with others now clinging onto the apples of your cheeks and strands of your hair. 

“Ohhh shit–”

 He helps you pump him a few more times to ensure it’s all out while you swallow the load in your mouth and wipe at the remnants on your face. The stars eventually pass and his hips stop twitching in slight overstimulation as the weight of everything clarifies in front of him.

Immediately he takes your hands and raises you to your feet, helping to clean your hair with the forgotten washrag from the stain earlier. Gently, he wipes everything away, careful to not mess up any makeup, before sighing at the sight of your bruised and red knees.

“You didn’t have to swallow you know…” he blushes but keeps looking at you, “your knees-!”

You tilt his head back to face yours and connect your lips to his. Any flavor of lipgloss is replaced by the taste of his own cum when his tongue slides into your mouth again without any hesitation. Your tongue flicks against the metal orb a few times before pulling back and wiping a stray line of saliva from the corner of your mouth.

“That was… fuck Y/N,” he keeps panting before you nudge him slightly in the shoulder.

“Well, aren't you going to chase after Yuji now?”

“Why would I?”

You blink in a slight shock at his immediate reaction, never seeing him prioritize anything besides his brother’s happiness. He looks at you as if you had asked something ridiculous, though he doesn’t hold any ounce of condescension on his face. 

“I just figured–”

“ –Figured I would walk away from the beautiful girl in front of me to go play beer pong?”

You shrug into a blush and dig your chin down slightly at the embarrassment of hearing the question out loud. Choso chuckles and lifts your chin to kiss you again, “No I think I’d like to stay by you if that’s alright. Though the thought of Yuji potentially hearing us will haunt my brain for years to come.”

You chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again while his hands find solace at their home on your hips.

“Let me reciprocate, okay? I wanna make you feel good too.”

A shiver runs down your spine and your back arches involuntarily at the anticipation; nipples hardening into the fabric of your bra from the thought. Choso’s hands wander further down to the swell of your ass and give a light squeeze before resting on the flesh under your thighs.

“Jump for me.”

Obeying the short command, you give a slight hop and allow him to rest his forearms under your thighs with the palm of his hands gripping onto each cheek of your ass. His biceps flex from the weight, though he holds you as if you were only as heavy as a housecat, shifting your weight in his arms but never struggling to maneuver. At eye level he nudges you with his chin for one more kiss before spinning and letting you open the door of the bathroom. 

With a short peer down the hallway, he makes a quick break for one of the bedrooms and this time remembers to actually lock the door behind him. Gently, he places you on the edge of the queen size bed sitting on the left side of the room, kissing you once again before stepping back watching you kick off your doc mary-janes and unties the laces of his own boots. 

Music is still blaring off in the distance, though noticeably quieter, and Choso flicks on a dim floor lamp in the corner for some light. He steps between your thighs and runs a hand through your hair with a slight tug before sinking to his own knees at the foot of the bed.

He plays with the hem of your skit absentmindedly and kneads the flesh of your thighs before looking up and swallowing, “Can I?”

A simple nod is all he needs to hoist up the edge of your skirt to pool around your waist and scoff in frustration at the opaque tights now in his way. Shifting his hands from your waist, he takes some of the tension from the fabric around your pussy in between his fingers and rips it open.

“Hey-!”

“It’s in the way..” he whines quietly with no ounce of actual remorse in his voice. 

He takes the fabric and rips it further, exposing the dark purple lacy panties covering what he was so desperately searching for. A dark patch stains the fabric from your helpless desire and whimpers escape your lips above him when he drags a single finger up and down the material in awe. 

“All this– for me?”

“Shut up..”

Your face burns in embarrassment but Choso doesn't care, gripping the fabric and pushing it to the left to expose half of your sopping cunt. He shudders at the sight and immediately places a few kisses to flesh, addicted to the way you squirm with each contact. Though he grows frustrated quickly and tugs at the rest of your tights, keeping your panties caged on.

“Stupid fucking–”

“Choso.”

He looks up, impatient, while you lean onto your back to shimmy the elastic band of the tights down to your thighs and lett Choso drag the material down your legs and throw them to the floor.

“See? You didn’t need to rip them.”

“Hah.. sorry baby.”

There isn’t a chance to react to the pet name he’s begun calling you before he takes a moment to admire the way his favorite color looked when it decorated your pussy, and drags it down your ankles to join your tights on the floor. 

Instinctively your thighs move to shut, but his hand splay them back out to expose your cunt further. A shiver running down his back and a new erection growing in his half-worn boxers, he leans down to admire it further.

“Stop staring. It’s embarrassing…”

 You’re mumbling with your attention turned anywhere else in the room as your cheeks burned. 

Embarrassing? How could this be embarrassing?

Choso looks up at you and then back down, “How could this ever be…? This is the pussy I’ve been dreaming about for months, and you’re going to say it’s embarrassing?”

He takes a moment to let his tongue lay flat and lick a long stripe up the core of your cunt, “This is the only thing I can ever think about…”

The warmth of his tongue makes you wither from the sensation and the cold metal ball in the center causes your spine to arch from the contrast. Taking a few more licks he pushes your back onto the bed and makes space for him to now also lay on the comforter, hanging half off the mattress and humping against the box spring while he makes out with your pussy without shame. 

His tongue drinks up your arousal without hesitation and his tongue dips into your core while his hands wrap around the underside of your thighs to keep them open for him. The piercing bumps into the spongy interior of your pussy while his nose grinds against your clit,  his head rocking into your cunt at a steady rhythm. 

 You groan his name and grab a fistful of his hair and tug hard while he moans in response. After a few more licks he kisses your clit, “Alright.. That should be good…”

Wearily, you look up and watch as he sucks his index and middle fingers in his mouth before he spits down onto your cunt and sinks a finger inside. Throwing your head back from the slight stretch, he watches the way his finger disappears into your pussy, “Shit.. fucking tight as hell baby.”

Choso thrusts his finger in and out and in and out before returning his lips to your clit and sucking on it. 

“Oh my.. Nnghh...”

His other hand holds your hip steady before increasing the pace of his finger and pulling back from your clit slightly. Choso watches your face as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt as well to ensure there’s no sign of pain before thrusting his hand harder.

“Fuck!”

That unexplainable feeling builds in your gut and your hips rock to meet his lips in more friction to chase that high even quicker. Choso notices and twists and bends his fingers from within you, eager to find that one spot while leaning back down to suck at your clit again.

With one more bend of his fingers he can feel it, the spongy rough patch that nearly feels like a citrus peel, and as soon his fingertips graze it, your back arches even more. Grinding down his fingers, his name leaves your lips like a mantra.

“Choso… FUCK.. yea, like that– haa.. Yea that..”

He grinds his hips along the mattress to get some sort of friction while his fingers increase the pace, committing to memory every single sound and taste. Your eyes are screwed shut in focus and shamelessly groaning out as you chase your high.

That knot in your gut forms and gets exponentially tighter before inevitably snapping. The feeling leaves you twitching against his lips and hand, riding out the pleasure and whimpering at the inevitable overstimulation when his mouth refuses to part from your cunt.

“God,” he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue instead, “taste so fucking good. What the hell.”

You claw his hair to part from your thighs but he makes no effort to move, the muscles bulging in his skin, refusing to move from their position as he drinks in every drop of your orgasm. The piercing tickles you as his tongue continues to flick inside you, only pulling back for air and to admire the fucked out face you’re now making. 

Completely pussy-drunk he pulls himself back from your thighs and licks at the sheen of your cum still resting on his lips before climbing over you and connecting your mouths. The taste of your own orgasm would cause pause any other time, but Choso is kissing you with so much want and desire it makes your mind go fuzzy.

“Feeling ok? Sorry if I got carried away,” he nuzzles down into the crook of your neck on the side without the hickey, “just wanted to do that for a while now…”

Wearily, you pet the strands of his hair before Choso sits up and takes the hem of your shirt in his hands and pushes the fabric over your head and off the side of the bed. He admires the pretty lace of the matching purple bra and skims over your hard nipples with the pads of his fingers, the black nail polish glowing in the dim light as he pinches the nerves. 

After a few open kisses to the swell of your breasts and leaving a few marks along the way, he shimmies your skirt off and tosses it to the ground. With a pout you sit up and wrap your fingers along the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, pausing when his chest is revealed. 

Abs sculpted from stone and a variety of small scars along his ribs from stories you’d like to hear one day are enough to make you nearly drool while you stare. It’s the ultimate sleeper build that he’s kept hidden behind baggy t-shirts for way too long. 

“Ok I think I get it now when you said it’s embarrassing.”

Choso looks to the side and gently smiles, his ears dusted pink before you lean up to run light kisses along the mark across his face and trail down to his cheek and navel. 

“So pretty.”

“Don’t you mean handsome?”

“That too.”

He smiles and meets your lips again while your hands go back down to his jeans and attempt to push them down before reaching back and unclasping your own bra. Immediately, he dips down to wrap his tongue around your left nipple, running the piercing over the nub while his hand kneads the fatty flesh of your other breast in his fingers. After a few additional licks and bruises are added around the left tit for good measure, he swaps and pays equal attention to the other one.

He’s in heaven. Silently thanking the gods above for this opportunity and wondering if maybe in a past life he had been a hero of some sort to deserve this experience with you. 

After a moment you push him back and tug his pants and boxers back down the rest of the way, giggling when his foot gets caught in the material and ‘interrupts the mood’ as he calls it. 

“Ah wait.”

Choso pauses from his position of gently pushing you flat against the bed beneath him, wondering if this was too far for your first evening as a… couple? The idea is more than enough to make his cock twitch in anticipation. Fuck, even being called your ‘boyfriend’ could make him bust on the spot. 

“Do you have a condom?”

Choso’s eyes meet yours and he looks back to his jeans, wondering if his wallet would have one or not but ultimately deciding there’s no chance he would actually carry one with him. To be fair, the goal of this party was to ask you on a date without the company of Yuji or Suguru, so to get this far is a miracle in his book. 

“No.. I don’t”

You gnaw your lip and look between the both of you, his long hair tickling your cheeks from the proximity and the tip of his cock occasionally kissing the entrance to your cunt with every twitch. Fuck.

“We don’t have to–”

“Buy me the morning after pill?”

Choso sputters at your response, eyes nearly falling out of his skull, the first time he gets to sleep with you, he gets to hit it raw?

Ok he must’ve been a knight or a king to get this kind of treatment. 

“Y-Yea, of course.”

You pull him down for another kiss and admire the way his hands now shake in anticipation and worry; nearly the same face he made before cumming earlier. It’s a fair assumption considering Choso is convinced he may bust after maybe three strokes. 

The humiliation would kill him, so he swallows and glides the tip of his cock up and down the folds of your cunt a few times. Getting some of the lubrication from your earlier orgasm, he also spits into his hand and coats the shaft to make it smoother. 

With a tap on your clit for good measure, he lines up with your entrance and slowly sinks inch by inch inside. The feeling is a stretching burn that doesn’t hurt but needs a moment of getting used to while Choso cages you underneath and whispers patient soft praises into your ears. 

After a moment he finally bottoms out and the hair from his pubes tickles your clit as he fills you to the hilt. A breath of relief at the sensation while Choso releases a breath of focus, his hair sticking to his forehead in slight sweat. 

His knee pushes up on the bed and opens your thighs wider before he begins to slide in and out, mumbling nonsense with each stroke. The missionary position befits his immediate possessive nature, giving him a perfect view of your face and a decent angle to watch the way his cock disappears into your cunt with each thrust. 

You pull on his strands and kiss him, licking the metal orb on his tongue before admiring the way his abdomen flexes with each movement.

“Oh fuck-”

It’s hard to tell who’s talking in between both of your incoherent babbling, your mind growing fuzzy from the stretch of his cock and smack of his pelvis on your clit, and his brain going completely pussy-drunk and murmuring a string of sappy promises of how happy he is to finally have you to himself. 

Tilting his head to the side, you dig your canines into his neck in an attempt to mark him in the same way he had done previously. 

“Shit.. ahh”

His hips rock unevenly so you increase the suction and dig your teeth once more before a particularly rocky thrust has you biting down harder than you intend. A slight metallic taste of iron coats your tongue and you immediately pull back and apologize for breaking the skin.

“N-No… shit..ahhh baby.. Do it again…please”

Choso keeps his neck open for you to continue sucking on, stuttering with his words and hips at the sensation of his warm blood gently trickling down his flesh. Wordlessly, you move down to another spot and bite down, though not enough to tear the skin and Choso whimpers pathetically from above you. 

“Wait actually–” he pulls back and gently pulls out, hissing at the lack of contact before sitting on the bed next to you and pulling you to straddle him, “I’m gonna cum too fast like that… haaa, you can just ride me, ok? Ride me however you want, baby.”

Sinking back down and sighing in relief when he’s finally kissing your cervix with his cock again, his hands lift to play with your tits while you grind against him. Hands on his shoulders and focused on achieving an orgasm, you rub down especially hard on his slight bush for the friction against your clit. 

Choso admires the way your chest bounces with each movement and settles his hands on your hips, helping you fuck him senseless. 

“Haaa.. you know it’s funny” Choso pants in between bounces, “I always wanted to give you a ride home…”

You laugh and shove his shoulder slightly, falling forward and grinding the tip of his cock against that spongy patch inside your pussy again. Immediately your hips falter and your shoulders slump forward while Choso wastes no time in sliding back down on the bed and planting his feet firmly. Grabbing your hips, he flexes his thighs to meet your thrusts and push further into that spot with his dick with more even force.

“Yea that’s it.. Just fucking use me okay?”

Your thrusts are uneven as your hips twitch with every thrust, feeling that familiar sensation building inside once again. Every thrust has your face contorting with pleasure and Choso can feel himself also ready to finally let go and cum; having been trying to think of anything else to make himself hold out just a little bit longer. 

After a few more strokes, your face is warped in pleasure while he continues thrusting from underneath to drag out the orgasm. Twitching with spinal convulsions from the intensity, Choso watches in awe as he fucks you through the overstimulation and watches the creamy ring from your cum form around the base of his cock. He takes his fingers and pushes it back onto his shaft as more lubrication,taking any remainder on his fingertip to his lips and sucking it off.

You fall in a slump on his chest and he plants his feet firmly onto the mattress, fucking up a few more times before erratically grinding into your pussy and reciting your name over and over again while hot streams of cum fill your cunt. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N-”

The sensation is filling and warm while his hips jerk up a few more times to ride through his orgasm and ensure no drop of his cum is left. His arms are wrapped up and around your while both of your bodies stick to together from the sweat and fluids.

“Haaa,” Choso lets out a half laugh and pushes some hair out of your face before leaning up to kiss you again.”

“That was great.”

“Mmmm, yea,” he pecks your cheek again, the intimacy of the situation becoming not just sexually, but emotionally raw as well, “Let’s do it again?”

You look over at him with a fucked out expression, your hair a complete mess and makeup poorly smudged.

“I mean not now! Haha,” he slides out from your cunt and sighs from the loss of contact as his erection deflates back down to flaccidity. “I think I’m empty.”

You nod and roll off his body but stay intertwined with his limbs as you lay next to him, silently wondering what the fuck the plan was now. Tracing his jaw with your fingers absentmindedly and skimming the mark across his face, you notice the way his eyes never leave yours and his head leans into your every touch.

“Oh that’s right–” Choso looks at you with realization and an embarrassed smile on his face, “Can I take you out sometime?“

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yea…?”

You laugh and lean forward to kiss him and Choso immediately meets you in the middle as if he was constantly waiting for the next time your lips would meet his. 

“I’d like that. Get breakfast tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

His voice is too excited and he instantly backtracks in a poor attempt to act casual, “Oh tomorrow? Yea… yea I should be free.”

“You’re such a dork, you know that?”

He kisses the hand you use to flick his forehead and smiles up at you before biting one of your fingers idly, “But aren’t I…. your dork now?”

You sit up in the bed and lean down to kiss him, “Yea, you are,” before shimmying off the bed and wobbling around to find the remnants of your clothes and shoes.

Choso watches from the edge of the mattress, an obvious pout on his face at the loss of contact from your body.

“I just need to pee ok? I am NOT about to get a UTI before exams.”

Choso huffs in defeat and stands up to sort his clothes from your own, wincing in weak remorse when you throw your ripped tights into the bedroom trash can.

“I’ll join you in a moment.”

You step out of the bedroom and wobble your way down the hallway, not bothering to relock the door, while Choso slides on his boxers and jeans in one pull. He moves around the floor in search of his shirt when footsteps quickly approach the bedroom and Yuji swings the door open.

“Oh there you are!”

Choso is frozen solid standing in a room torn apart that reeks of sex while being covered in sweat and remnants of cum.

“I just saw Y/N walking sooo funny to the bathroom and flipping me off,” he laughs and covers his abdomen, “She totally just got fucked-”

There’s a silence between the two men.

“Hey where are your clothes?”

“Uhhhh…”

Choso stands half-naked with his shirt not even around his neck as Yuji quickly begins putting dots together and stares at his brother in complete shock. Before another word can be issued between them Todo appears and smacks Yuji’s back.

“My best friend, why are you interrupting your brother at this moment?”

“He’s,” Yuji points out, still in complete shock at Choso, “He’s banging my friend!”

Choso winces but Todo just crosses his arms and sighs in disappointment, “Allow him to relish in the feeling of finally getting the person who he desires the most.”

“Yea but she’s my-”

“If I had the opportunity with Takada or YOU had the opportunity with Megan Thee Stallion or Megumi.. Would you want HIM to burst into the room?”

Choso has no idea how this idiotic comparison is somehow making Yuji ok with the idea of him sleeping and now dating you, but he isn’t about to ruin the opportunity. 

“No… I wouldn’t”

“See? You’re growing up nicely. But!” Todo returns his hand to Yuji’s shoulders and guides him out of the room, “You still have training to do until then… you need to beat me at flip cup now!”

Choso waits half a moment before sighing in relief but knows when Yuji’s sober he’ll have to come clean in a better way; he slides his shirt back over his head and scurries out to the bathroom. A quick courtesy knock before he swings it open and shuts it, before standing behind your figure washing your hands. His hands wrap around your waist while he places small kisses on your shoulder.

“Choooosooo”

“Hmmm?”

“You left a million hickies!”

He giggles and laughs into your shoulder before mumbling ‘good’ and spinning you around to face him. 

“Everyone will notice.”

“That’s the point.”

You roll your eyes playfully and then look back down at your shirt, still uncomfortable from the sensation of the now cold and sticky fabric.

“It’s kinda gross…”

“So wear mine.”

You look back up at him as he effortlessly slips his own shirt off and tugs at you to do the same, though his eyes linger on the swell of your tits long enough for you to swat him away playfully. It’s an oversized band t-shirt that nearly falls to the same length as your skirt and smells just like his cologne. 

“I might never return it.”

“I’ll give you a million of them if you promise to always wear them,” he kisses your lips, “especially around Suguru and Satoru.“

“Hmm? Jealous?”

He chuckles and keeps his hands planted on your hips, “How could I not be? Those two get to see you all the time while I have to pretend to leave shit at your apartment as an excuse.”

Your heart tugs at his confession and you push the hair falling into his face back for a moment before it cascades back down to its original spot, “You know you can see me whenever you want to as well now?”

He smiles wide and plants a few more pecks onto your flesh, the awkward and emotional side of him creeping back in.

“Wait, you’re gonna be shirtless now?”

“Yea, I don’t really mind if it means you’re comfortable.”

“But everyone is gonna see the hickies I left on you.”

Choso smiles and pivots to admire his back in the mirror, “Hey don’t forget the scratches– ow!”

You shove him lightly and laugh before opening the bathroom door and making room for him to step out after you. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight? I don’t really want the first thing I do when I wake up to be to explain to Yuji about all of this.”

“Yea, that’s fine.. Was there something else you were thinking of doing when you first wake up?”

He follows you to the edge of the stairs, the music getting louder and louder, “I have a few things in mind, but–” his eyes trail down to his own doc marten boots and your mary-jane ones, “I want the first thing Suguru and Satoru see when they get to the apartment to be my shoes next to yours.”

OMGGG a really long one shot and my first NSFW on this app hehehe

hope you liked it! I'm gonna make a list of holiday topics and try to grind them out despite it being halfway through the month already whoops -> Choso's would be a part 2 to this one :)

reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated <3

-oatmeal

[moonstruckme]

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!

Thank you lovely!

cw: mention of kidnapping/missing girl (that’s the backdrop of the scene so please be careful with yourself), Spencer has some dark/hopeless thoughts about the case

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets. 

“Hey.” 

He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, you look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand. 

“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?” 

Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.” 

A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.” 

“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.” 

“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out. 

She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else. 

Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.” 

“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.” 

“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that your cold face might be warming some now. “I figured you might need them, so.” 

“You were right.” 

Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?” 

“That’d be great,” he says, relieved. 

He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours. 

“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!” 

“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?” 

You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.” 

“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.” 

“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.” 

The backs of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks. 

Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm. 

“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job. 

You straighten immediately. “We were just—”

“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.” 

Spencer suspects his face is pinker than can be explained by the chill as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.” 

“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest. 

He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug. 

“This has lipstick on the lid.” 

Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.” 

“So you started on mine?” 

“I sampled.” 

“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.” 

He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”

[screaminglygay]

Watermelon, sugar, high.

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you are not a big fan of collage parties, but maybe you´ll change your mind, when there´s an interesting person around.

warnings: stoner!wanda, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, swearing, bad flirting, making out while being high

word count: 2.6k

an: this fic is not meant to encourage people to use drugs!! i want to have a flirty chat with wanda and i also want her sweet lips on mine:)

"Hiii!" Your friend links hand with yours.

"Abolutely not." You shake your head.

"Come on! It will be fun." Your friend begs you to go with them to the usual Friday party.

"Drunk people grinding agaisnt eachother is not fun," you take look at them as you start heading out of the school.

"Oh my god! If you don´t want to grind on people, that´s fine, don´t do it," they roll their eyes at you, "but you have to come, please! Pretty please."

"I hate you." Now it´s your time to roll your eyes.

"You don´t, you love me and that´s why you´ll be ready at eight." You´re already done for today, so you take a nice walk back into your apartment.

It´s not like you hate parties, but you´re just socialy awkward and you don´t really see the point of drinking tons of alcohol, making out with a stranger and having a hangover the next day. Maybe you actually do hate parties.

With a resigned sigh, you settle on an outfit that feels comfortable yet still a bit stylish. Black on black. It's not perfect, but it will have to do. Glancing at the clock make you realize that your friend will be here soon to pick you up, expecting you to be ready. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Maybe it doesn't matter what you wear—maybe it's just about showing up and enjoying yourself.

Enjoying yourself in a house full of alcohol, drugs, drunk and horny people. How can you enjoy yourself there? Oh god.

Your friend arrives right on time, honking the horn playfully to announce her presence. You grab your phone, keys and wallet and rush to her car.

Buckling up, you can't shake the anxiety gripping you. "I really hate parties," you admit with a sigh, meeting her gaze as she starts the engine.

She glances at you, empathy softening her expression. "I know you do," she acknowledges gently, her voice laced with understanding. "But tonight's going to be great. Just relax, enjoy the fun, and embrace your youth."

"Embrace your youth?" You roll your eyes. "I just never feel like I fit in."

"Trust me, once we get there, you'll see that no one cares, everyone is just in their little head, like you are." She smiles at you.

You fidget with your shirt, still hesitant. "What if I don't know anyone?" you ask, nerves creeping back in.

She reaches over, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "I'll be right by your side," she assures you, her reassurance grounding you.

And that was a lie.

"I´ll be back in a second," your friend said - and that was like a 40 minutes ago.

You glance around awkwardly, attempting to look engaged while secretly wishing for your friend to reappear. People bustle past, engaged in their own conversations and laughter, oblivious to your internal struggle.

A burst of laughter erupts nearby, drawing your attention momentarily. You force a smile, trying to appear approachable, but no one even looks at your direction. The music pounds in your ears, a constant reminder of the pulsating atmosphere you're trying to navigate alone.

"You look like you need some company," you hear raspy voice behind you and then you see a face, pretty face. Tall girl with long brown hair in a black skirt that falls to mid-thigh, paired with a dark gray long-sleeve shirt that drapes softly against her silhouette, her outfit complemented by a delicate necklace that adds a special touch to it all.

After you basically checked her up and down, you slightly shake your head, "not really, no." You sip from your drink that tastes like shit, "my friend just went to the bathroom."

"Are they okay? I mean being in the bathroom for," she looks at her phone, "over 30 minutes is a long time."

"How do you know that?!" You tilt your head as she leans closer to you.

"I know a lot of things, malysh. I also know that you need company or you gonna pass out from all the stuff that it´s happening in here, follow me." She offers you her hand.

"I´m not gonna follow a stranger somewhere… away from the crowd."

"I´m Wanda, you are?"

"(Y/N)."

"Now we´re not strangers," She takes your hand in her soft one. Oh her hands are nice. A sly smile as she leads you outside, on the roof to be specific. Suddenly the world goes quiet - yes, you still hear the music, but this feels way nicer and you breathe some fresh air.

"Better, (Y/N)?" Wanda smiles at you.

You nod, "yeah, a lot actually," you smile back at her.

Wanda nods, she walks further away from you, sitting on the edge of the roof, "this is my favorite spot."

"Oh, so this is your house?" You look around once more, then you go and join her.

Wanda nods, pulling a small bag with… weed. You look back at her.

"Shouldn't you be downstairs, enjoying your own party?" Your gaze drops to her hands, each adorned with unique silver rings that catch the light as she expertly crushes the dried herb in her grinder. With practiced finesse, she meticulously spreads the cannabis along the length of the rolling paper, ensuring an even distribution.

"My brother is enjoying that for the both of us," her fingers, nimble and fold the paper around the herb, creating a tight cylinder.

Once satisfied with the shape, she licks the edge of the paper, sealing it with a practiced flick of her tongue. And from her pocket she pulls out a black lighter. After few seconds the scent of cannabis permeates the air, blending with the distant bass thump of music from downstairs. She puts her lighter back into her pocket.

"So not a party person?" Your eyes are concentratates on her lips, she´s really beautiful.

Wanda exhales, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Parties can be… overwhelming," she admits. "I prefer quieter moments like this, where I can think and breathe."

You nod in agreement, "it's nice up here," you offer, glancing at her with a small smile. "Peaceful."

"Yeah," Wanda murmurs, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I come here a lot, away from the noise of the world."

As you both settle into a comfortable silence, you can´t help but glance at her time to time. The more you look at her, the more you find her beuatiful.

Wanda notices the way you´re basically staring at her, "would you like some?"

"Oh no, no, I- uh never had… that." You point to her blunt between her pretty fingers.

"Never?" Her smirk widens.

You shake your head at her question, "never."

"Wanna try it?" She take one more puff of the joint.

"I-" You want to try it. "I´m not sure." You manage to say.

Wanda smiles and nods, "Okay, no preasure here."

"No, I want to try it, I… I don´t know why I said I´m not sure…" your eyes went from Wanda to her fingers and then back up at her.

"Looks like you need to relax a bit." Your hand reaches for the blunt, but Wanda moves away, her fingers gracefully taking hold of it. Her touch is delicate yet firm as she brings the blunt to your lips, guiding it with a steady hand.

"Open, but don't inhale into your lungs," she instructs softly, her voice a soothing.

You follow her guidance, parting your lips as the tip of the blunt touches them. The smoke tickles your throat as you tentatively draw it in, but despite your efforts to follow Wanda's instructions, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelms you. The harshness of the smoke makes you cough.

"Oh god-" it feels like your insides are on fire.

"It´s okay," her other hand falls on your knee and softly rubs it up and down to sooth you, "let it all out."

After few deep breaths and few tears from your eyes, you finally speak, "that was… horrible."

Wanda chuckles, "the first time is always bad, unless you´re eating edibles."

"Can I try it again?" Your eyes meet Wanda´s ones, "please?" You add.

She smiles at your politeness and nods, bringing her hand back to your mouth, as you inhale a bit, you cough again. Her hand never left your knee, slowly running up and down to sooth you again.

"I don´t know what I though-" another absoutely horrible inhale, making you cought even more than the first try.

"It's okay," she reassures you, her voice calm and steady. "It takes time to get used to it. Just take it slow."

You nod, taking comfort in her words and the steadying touch of her hand. With each attempt, you feel a bit more at ease. Despite the coughing and the burning sensation in your throat, there's a strange comfort in sharing this moment with Wanda, her presence grounding you amidst the new experience.

"You're doing great," Wanda encourages, her smile warm and genuine. "It gets easier, I promise. And I think that for the first time, few puffs will be just enough for you." She chuckles.

Her encouragement fuels your determination, and you take another small puff, this time managing to hold it in for a moment before exhaling. The smoke swirls around you, mingling with the cool night air.

"See? Getting better already," Wanda praises, her hand still gently caressing your knee. The warmth of her touch feels so good.

You hum. "What's supposed to happen after smoking weed?" you ask, curiosity mingling with uncertainty.

Wanda smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, it varies from person to person, but usually, you start to feel more relaxed, maybe a bit giggly or nostalgic. It's different for everyone."

You nod, processing her words as the minutes tick by. Slowly, a warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body. Your mind begins to feel lighter, the edges of your thoughts softening into a pleasant haze. The world around you seems to take on a softer, more vibrant hue.

After some minutes of silence, Wanda notices the look on your face. "How are you feeling?"

You take a moment to consider, a small smile creeping onto your lips. "I feel… good. Warm. Like everything's a little more… interesting," you say.

Wanda's smile widens, and she nods in understanding. "That's the idea. It's all about letting go and enjoying the moment."

As you sit there, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything and nothing—your favorite books, funny memories from childhood, and even some old cartoons you used to watch as a kid. Wanda listens intently, her laughter ringing out occasionally, filling the rooftop with a joyful sound.

At one point, you find yourself marveling at the stars above, their brilliance more vivid than ever. "Do you think there's life out there?" you ask, your voice dreamy and reflective.

Wanda tilts her head, considering the question. "I think the universe is too vast for us to be the only ones. It's kind of comforting, in a way, to think we're part of something much bigger."

You nod, feeling a profound sense of connection to the universe and to Wanda next you.

"You're really good at this," you say suddenly, looking at her with wide, appreciative eyes.

Wanda chuckles softly. "At what?"

"At making me feel… like it's okay to just be," you reply, your voice sincere.

Wanda's expression softens, and she reaches out to gently squeeze you thigh. "Happy to be at your service," she says simply.

You find yourself staring at Wanda, unable to tear your eyes away from her. The way her lips curve into a gentle smile, the way her eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and understanding—it's all captivating. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in sharp focus.

Wow… why didn´t you come to the party before? It´s just so… fascinating.

Wanda notices your intense gaze and smiles knowingly. "You're adorable when you're high, you know that?" she says, her voice low and teasing.

You blush, but you can't look away. "Am I?" you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the weed.

Wanda leans in a bit closer, her eyes locked onto yours. "Absolutely. You have this… innocent charm. It's really endearing."

You giggle nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You're not so bad yourself."

Wanda's grin widens. "Oh? What do you like about me?" she asks, her tone playful and flirty.

You bite your lip, feeling a surge of boldness. "You´re beautiful. So beautiful that I want to kiss you."

Wanda's eyes darken with interest, and she leans in closer, her lips just a breath away from yours. "Well, who am I to deny a request like that?" she whispers.

Before you can respond, Wanda's lips brush against yours, soft and tentative. The kiss is gentle at first, a sweet exploration. Your heart races, and you find yourself leaning into her, deepening the kiss. Wanda's hand slides up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin.

As you kiss, Wanda's other hand rests on your thig. "You taste sweet," she murmurs, her voice husky.

"And you taste like… heaven," you reply, feeling a little dazed but incredibly happy.

Wanda laugh at your words, finding it absolutely adorable how high you are, her eyes sparkling. "Heaven, huh? I like that."

The weed might be helping, but you truly feel like you´re in "heaven", you nodd.

"I think I'd prefer us both to be sober for the rest," she whispers, her eyes looking into yours. "How about we continue this on a proper date?"

You nod, your heart fluttering with excitement. "I'd like that," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's smile widens, and she presses a quick, soft kiss to your forehead. "It's a date, then," she says, her tone filled with promise. There is a comfort silence, until she speaks again. "So, I guess I should ask for your phone number," she says, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

You giggle, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Yeah, that would be a good idea," you reply, reaching into your pocket for your phone. Your hands are a bit shaky, but you manage to unlock it and hand it over to Wanda.

She types in her number, then hands your phone back to you. "There you go," she says, her smile warm and genuine. "Now we can plan our date."

You grin, calling her so she has your number as well. "I can't wait."

Just then, you hear your friend's voice calling your name from below. "(Y/N)! Are you up there?" she shouts, her tone a mix of concern and impatience.

You sigh, glancing at Wanda. "Looks like my friend is looking for me."

Wanda nods, her expression understanding. "Looks like we have to say our goodbyes," for the first time you can see Wanda´s smile dissapearing. "But tonight was fun. I'm really glad we met."

"Me too," you say, standing up and brushing off your clothes. As you move toward the door, your friend appears, her face a mix of relief and exasperation.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you," she says, crossing her arms. "It's late. We should get going."

"Here I am." You smile proudly.

"Goodnight, Wanda," you say softly.

Wanda smiles, her eyes warm and full of promise. "Goodnight. I'll text you soon," she winks.

As you and your friend walks back down, even at your state you can feel them staring, "we should party more often, it´s fun. Very fun." You mumble looking at her.

They look at you with suprise. "What made you change your mind? Your new friend?"

"Just the vibe is great and you know… it´s all about the vibes. And mostly pretty girls. Pretty girl." You smile to yourself thinking about Wanda again.

Your friend looks at you and it finally clicks, "oh my god, are you high?"

Thank you for reading, I had so much fun writing this hehe:)

[phantom-dc]

Vivisection Deception

“Yes, dad. I will vacuum the living room. Yes, I will also do my homework. No, I won’t forget the Ecto-filter. Love you too, say hi to mom and Jazz for me, bye!”

Danny hung up the phone. Sitting back into the booth at the Nasty burger, he got back to his burger. Tucker took a big bite, before talking with his mouth still full:

“So, your parents and sister are all out of town for the whole weekend? They had no problem leaving you alone unsupervised?”

Sam looked at Tucker with disgust, warning him to empty his mouth first. Danny nodded, agreeing with Sam:

“Yeah! Jazz wanted to explore different universities for when she graduates, even though that’s still a few years away. Still, mom and dad agreed to drive her if they could combine it with a visit to a convention for the Occult. Pretty sure they’ll be the only “scientists” there again, but that’s not my problem. Mom decided that she I could stay home alone. A sign of trust, Jazz called it. Something about "improving through positive reinforcement", I guess.”

Sam finishes her salad, and looks jealous. Danny invites both her and Tucker over for a weekend of gaming and fast food, but both decline, to his surprise. Sam groans, frustrated:

“I would love a weekend with no parents! Mine are forcing me to this, rich people yacht party. Mom keeps saying I might find a nice boy there, so I know it will be a weekend full of mom trying to play matchmaker with snotty rich boys. YUCH!”

Tucker apologizes as well. His parents are taking him to visit his grandma this weekend. He hasn’t seen her in a while, so he can’t cancel it, either. Danny looks a bit sullen about that, but smiles through it:

“Guess I’ll have the weekend to myself then! Maybe I can actually get this book report for Mr. Lancer done… Or I can even play a bit of Doomed!”

Friday evening, Phantom is flying back home. He has just seen Sam & Tucker off at the airport, and was looking forward to a weekend of peace and quiet:

“Man, sometimes I just forget how rich Sam is! I didn’t know her family has a private jet-“

Suddenly his Ghost Sense goes off. Getting into a battle stance, Phantom looks around. He is just in time to dodge a pair of claws heading straight for him! Turning around and shooting an ectoblast, Phantom tries to figure out who the ghost is. When the ghost taunts him at becoming slower every day, Phantom recognizes his voice:

“Bertrand! I am SO not in the mood for you!”

Bertrand laughs, and says that he was hoping for that. He attacks Phantom again before flying off, taunting Phantom to chase him. After a few hours Phantom lost his trail, and heads home. De-transforming before going inside Fentonworks, Danny is annoyed he’ll have to deal with Bertrand, but at least Spectra wasn’t with him. She’s the real threat.

When Danny steps inside, he finds the house is a mess! There are cannisters with Ectoplasm throughout the house, and the temperature is set to near freezing. Confused and suspicious, Danny goes to the lab. There he finds the cause of the mess:

“Mom?? What are you doing home? Aren’t you supposed to be with Dad & Jazz on her University trip?”

Maddie turns to Danny and quickly puts a strange gasmask on him. She is wearing one as well, along with her safety goggles:

“Hello sweetie! Quick, put this mask on! The samples we managed to collect give of Ectoplasmic fumes, so you’ll have to keep wearing it in the house, ok?”

Danny follows her advice, and puts it on. He again asks her what she is doing home, when Jack enters the lab as well, also wearing a gasmask and his safety goggles. Danny thinks the fumes must be pretty dangerous if his dad is wearing the goggles. He usually forgets to put them on. Jack gives Danny a big hug that would cause many regular humans severe backpain:

“Son, you’re home! We were worried sick when your mother and I got home early and you weren't here. Jazz thought we were “hurting her chances” to get into the school of her dreams, so she sent us home.”

Danny rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what kind of antics his parents could get up to when left unsupervised. He asks Maddie what is up with all the cannisters in the living room. Maddie apologizes, while turning the heat down even further:

“We managed to find a way to extract even purer Ectoplasm from the Ghost Zone! We took so many samples we can’t even fit them in the lab, this will be great for our research! Oh, but I am sorry, sweetie. The samples need to stay very cold, so we can’t turn up the heat. If you need, I can get you more blankets?”

Danny sighs frustrated, not looking forward to a weekend of cold. He declines Maddie’s offer, instead opting to go to bed. It is very late after all. Which is when Jack blocks the way upstairs:

“Don’t think you can distract us that easily! Or did you honestly think we didn’t notice?”

Danny is confused, but before he can answer Maddie interrupts him:

“That’s right, it IS late! In fact, it’s 2 hours past your curfew! Now why do you keep doing this, Danny? We’re not asking much of you, only that you come home at a reasonable time! Just because we weren’t supposed to be home yet, doesn’t mean you can stay out until who knows when! You are grounded, young man! You’re not allowed out this weekend, and hand over your phone!”

Danny tries to protest, but it’s in vain. Handing over his phone, he heads to bed, dejected. As he lies in bed, freezing, he wonders if things would be easier if he could just tell them what he was doing. Judging from that time with Freakshow and the Reality Gauntlet they would accept him, right? If they knew he was Phantom he could just tell them he was hunting Ghosts…

Saturday turns out to be the worst. Danny is woken up forcefully by his dad, who tells him he isn’t allowed to sleep in as long as he is grounded. Sleepily, Danny goes downstairs, a blanket around him and that stupid gasmask on his face. He asks Maddie how he is supposed to eat breakfast with that thing on. Maddie seems to think for a bit, and says that he is right. She will allow him to go out to get himself something to eat.

Danny quickly races upstairs, a bit confused about that break of curfew but not wanting to lose the chance to get out off the house. After getting dressed Jack tells him to get home back after immediately, or else he’ll be worse then grounded! That was a few hours ago. Cursing his bad luck, Danny races home:

“Please, please, PLEASE be too busy in the lab to notice I’m late! Of course the Ghosts also decide to ruin my weekend! First Ember doing an impromptu concert at the Nasty Burger, which means I can’t get breakfast. Then Johnny & Kitty are fighting it out at the food court in the mall, so I can’t get lunch either! If mom & dad send me home without dinner…”

De-transforming and entering Fentonworks, Danny looks around. The living room is still a mess of cannisters and the place is freezing, but he doesn’t see his parents. That means he might be able to bluff he was home for a while and they didn’t notice. If he can just get his chores done before they come upstairs…

“DANNY! COME DOWN TO THE LAB, NOW!”

Hearing that, Danny groans. This weekend is going from bad to worse! Putting on a gasmask, he heads to the lab. There he finds Jack & Maddie preparing a table with a big drill attached to it. Danny lies that he going to do his chores quickly while they are still busy, and empties the Fenton Thermos into the Ghost Zone without them noticing. When he turns around, he is not prepared for what happens.

The next moment he is trapped in a ghost-proof net, shot from a Fenton Net-bazooka. Confused, Danny asks what is happening, but receives no answer. Instead, Jack electrifies the net, causing Danny to instinctively transform into Phantom to protect himself, before passing out from the pain.

When he comes too, he is in hell. His parents saw him transform outside on new camera’s that Danny didn’t know off, and denounced him, both as a human being and as a son. They see his act of releasing the Ghosts back into the Zone as a sign that he too is evil. Danny is cuffed to an examination table and his powers are restrained. He is truly trapped as Maddie makes the first incision. Hours pass and Danny wonders how he can still be alive and conscious. He wishes he wasn’t. He didn’t know what was worse, the pain or the constant venom coming from his parents mouths, calling him all sort of horrible things. They must truly hate him. Danny, now terrified of every move his parents make, can only think of one thing:

Escape.

He must get out of here or they’ll kill him for good! He needs to get as far away from here as possible! For once, it seemed his Fenton Luck decided to show mercy. When they reached his Core, Jack had grabbed a remote. Shouting with a sick glee that he had the drill ready for this, he pushed a big red button. Maddie looked up, shouting that was the wrong remote, but it was already done.

With a loud noise, the cuffs popped open and Danny was free! Not thinking for a second, he shot into the roof, out of Fentonworks and towards the horizon. He need to get out of there! He’s never looking back!

Inside the lab, Jack & Maddie look at the spot Phantom fled through the ceiling. Suddenly Maddie begins to laugh:

“HAHAHAHA!!! It worked! That was absolutely delicious! He’ll be miserable for the rest of his life!”

Taking off the gasmask and goggles, ‘Maddie’ reveals herself to be Spectra in disguise! Next to her, ‘Jack’ morphs back into Bertrand.

“A brilliant plan, truly! Not only are we rid of that little Freak, but the misery of his little friends will be a great dessert!”

Spectra takes out Danny’s phone, seeing several missed calls from the real Jack & Maddie. Throwing it on the Ectoplasm and blood covered table, she decides to go celebrate. Heading into the Ghost Zone to get Ember and Kitty to repay the favor, neither Spectra not Bertrand notice the Portals Ectofilter beeping dangerously, since they had inadvertently prevented Danny from replacing it.

Outside, the Fenton RV rolls up. Jack, Maddie and Jazz are worried sick since Danny isn’t answering his phone. Jack is about to open the car door when the Portal explodes, taking Fentonworks with it. Months later the Fentons still blame themselves for leaving their son home alone. Police reports will later say that the only casualty is Danny Fenton.

Several states away, homeless boy Danny Nightingale attracts the attention of several heroes and villains alike…

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Girl next door type/Sweet!Pouge Reader: He sees her at a party and he sets his eyes on her, wanting to hook up with her for the night and ditch her the next day. He gets surprised thought when he actually talks to her, how kind, sweet and genuine she is # and to also find out that she is the relationship girlfriend type that would never have sex with someone random # but does not end it right there with him then trying to find someone else for the night but actually find himself drawn to her and wanting to take care of her/protect her and offers to drive her home (and whatever else you can think of, just a suggestion)

lamy's notes: i hope you like it, angel!

the party is in full swing, neon lights flickering against the walls, bodies packed tight with the heady scent of sweat and liquor thick in the air. rafe cameron leans against the kitchen counter, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, half-full of something he’d stopped tasting an hour ago. his sharp blue eyes scan the crowd, predatory, practiced, already picking out his next conquest.

then he sees you.

it isn’t like the other girls he usually finds himself entangled with. no plunging neckline, no practiced sultry gaze or desperate attempt to get his attention. you’re different—sweet-looking, soft around the edges, the kind of girl who smiles at people like she means it. the kind of girl who doesn’t belong here.

and fuck, does that make him want you more.

you’re laughing, head tilted back just slightly, talking to a couple of your friends who don’t seem nearly as enthralled by you as they should be. you aren’t drinking, he notices. just standing there with some soda in your hand, cheeks flushed but not from alcohol. from joy. genuine, untainted joy.

rafe smirks. this will be easy. the sweet ones always melt in his hands, naive enough to believe whatever story he spins, desperate for that kind of attention from someone like him. he pushes off the counter and makes his way toward you, predatory confidence in every step.

“didn’t peg you as the party type,” he murmurs, sliding in beside you. your head turns, and when those warm, wide eyes meet his, something in his stomach twists.

you smile. actually smile at him. no coyness, no pretense. just a simple, friendly, fucking devastating smile. “yeah, i guess i’m not,” you admit, a little sheepish. “but my friends wanted to come, so here i am.”

rafe arches a brow. “and you’re not drinking?”

you shake your head. “not really my thing.”

his usual lines, the easy teases and flirtations, catch in his throat. there’s nothing to latch onto here, no feigned innocence waiting to be shattered. just…you. real. unaffected. completely unlike anyone else in this house.

“not your thing, huh?” he echoes, tilting his head. “so what is?”

you give a small shrug, your fingers curling around your soda cup, you begin to ramble about random things. “i don’t know. movie nights, bonfires on the beach, making pancakes at midnight just because. you know, wholesome stuff.”

wholesome.

jesus christ.

rafe hasn’t felt this off-kilter in years. he came here tonight looking for a quick fuck, someone to drag upstairs and forget about the next morning. and yet, here he is, utterly hooked on you talking about making pancakes at midnight.

“you’re not from around here, are you?”

you laugh, light and warm. “born and raised.”

“huh.” he studies you, trying to pinpoint exactly what makes you so different. maybe it’s the way you look at him, not like he’s some trophy to be won or some cautionary tale to be avoided, but just…like a person.

he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“so,” he tries again, leaning in slightly. “if you’re not into parties, what’s keeping you here?”

you tilt your head, studying him right back. “good company, i guess.”

rafe isn’t used to being caught off guard. isn’t used to having the script flipped on him like this. but instead of pissing him off, it just makes him more intrigued.

for a split second, he thinks about cutting his losses, about finding someone else who’d be easier, who wouldn’t make his chest feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with lust. but the thought of walking away from you right now?

doesn’t sit right.

“let me drive you home,” the words are out before he even realizes he’s said them.

your brows lift slightly, surprised but not suspicious. “you sure? i wouldn’t want to take you away from the party.”

he smirks. “believe me, sweetheart, nothing here’s worth sticking around for.”

you hesitate for a moment, then nod. “alright. that’d be nice.”

rafe has never been interested in nice before. nice doesn’t get you anywhere. nice is weak. but as you walk beside him out of the house, trusting him in a way he knows he hasn’t earned, he thinks—

maybe nice isn’t so bad.

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