#again. please don’t come at me if you disagree

[littlejoyss]

𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

Stray Kids - Non-Idol! Hyunjin x Reader

Twilight Inspired Fic (but major differences such as age)

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3, more to come!

You sat on the edge of the river. Hyunjin sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that it felt overwhelming.

“You asked me why I saved you,” he said after a long silence. “Why I care.” You glanced at him, waiting. “I told you I’m more than what I am,” he continued. “And I’m not the only one.”

“The Strays,” you guessed, remembering the name you’d overheard before.

He nodded, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the damp earth beside him. “We aren’t like other vampires. We don’t hunt the way they do.”

“You don’t kill people?” You asked.

He nodded. “We made a choice a long time ago. We only eat from wild animals. I joke we’re vampire vegans.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Vampire vegans? That’s... not what I expected.”

Hyunjin grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “What, you thought we’d be brooding in candlelit castles, sipping from goblets of stolen blood?”

“I mean… maybe a little. The name ‘The Strays’ made it sound like some underground, mysterious group. Not a bunch of ethical vampires.” You look over at him again. “Do you burn in the sun?”

Hyunjin scoffed, leaning back on his palms. “Yeah, sadly. I wish I could tan like everyone else.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself. 

He exhaled, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to understand the secret vampire society I accidentally stumbled into.”

“Fair.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. “So, what else should I know? Do you sleep in coffins? Turn into a bat? Have a weird obsession with counting things?”

Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head. “No coffins. I don’t sleep. No bat transformations, though that would be cool. And the counting thing? Isn’t that from Sesame Street?” He leaned in slightly. “But I am pretty good at math.”

You grinned. “I knew it. Next, you’ll tell me you don’t even have fangs.”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he let his lips part just enough for you to catch a glimpse of sharp canines. “Oh, I have them,” he murmured.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you hated the way your stomach fluttered at the sight. He must have noticed because his smirk deepened.

“See? Harmless,” he said, flashing them one last time before leaning back again.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the deer you snack on would disagree.”

Hyunjin laughed, full and warm. “You’re fun, you know that?”

You cleared your throat, looking back at the river. “So, what’s the deal with The Strays? How do you never age and people don’t notice?”

“We move around. This is around the fifth time we’ve lived in Forks.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Fifth? And no one notices?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “You’d be surprised how little humans actually pay attention.”

“That’s both reassuring and a little insulting.”

“It helps that we tweak things. We switch up our looks a lot. The last time I was here, I had blonde hair and glasses. Before that? A tragic side part.”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “A tragic side part?”

“It was a dark time,” he said, shaking his head.

You shook your head, fighting a smile. “So, what happens when people do start noticing? When they realize you’re not, y’know, aging?”

He sighed, leaning back again. “We leave before that happens. Start fresh somewhere else.”

“That sounds… lonely.”

“It can be.”

A quiet breeze rolled over the river, and you watched the water ripple. You let your gaze drift, watching as your own reflection stared back at you. But, something was off.

You blinked, shifting your focus. Your reflection was alone.

Your breath hitched slightly, and a strange unease settled in your stomach. The space beside you, where Hyunjin should be, was empty. In reality, he was still next to you, but in the water? Nothing. No dark eyes watching you, no familiar smirk teasing at the corners of his lips. Just empty space, like he wasn’t there at all.

You turned your head slowly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked at peace, his gaze turned up toward the sky as if he hadn’t noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Like this wasn’t the first time someone had realized.

Then, he noticed you staring at him and looked back. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. Then, without warning, he scrunched up his face in the most ridiculous way. His lips were twitched and his nose was wrinkled in a silly way.

The eerie weight of the moment shattered.

You let out an ungraceful snort, covering your mouth as laughter bubbled up. “What- what was that?”

“A distraction,” he admitted, grinning. “Did it work?”

You rolled your eyes, still giggling. “You’re such a dork.”

His grin widened, a hint of smugness creeping in. “A devastatingly handsome dork, though.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Unfortunately, yes.”

He placed a hand over his chest in mock flattery. “Oh? So you admit it?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you leaned back beside him, letting your back graze the cool grass. “It’s tragic, really. A dork trapped in an insanely hot body.”

“The burden I bear,” he murmured, staring up at the sky.

You turned your head to look at him, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Must be exhausting.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, shutting his eyes like he was deep in thought. “Constantly being admired, fawned over… It’s a curse, really.”

“Wow. You must be so strong to endure it.”

He cracked one eye open, smirking. “I am, aren’t I?”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a small laugh. “Unbelievable.”

For a moment, the teasing quieted, replaced by something softer. The river murmured beside you, fireflies flickering lazily in the distance. Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, watching you like he was memorizing something.

“You’re not scared,” he said after a beat, voice quieter now.

You blinked at him. “Of you?”

He nodded.

You thought about it, about everything that had happened today. Maybe you should be. But when you looked at him, you didn’t see a monster lurking in the shadows. You saw someone who made stupid faces to make you laugh, who seemed more human than he wanted to admit.

“No,” you finally said. “I don’t think I am.”

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, and then he smiled. It was small but real.

“Good,” he murmured. “I’d hate to scare you away.”

⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You were busy looking at your phone in the school hallway when Hyunjin came behind you. 

He leaned over. “Tyler wants to ask you to the winter dance.”

You nearly dropped your phone, spinning around to face him. “Excuse me?”

Hyunjin grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You heard me.”

“How do you even know that?” You narrowed your eyes. “Did you eavesdrop, or-” You paused, then gasped. “Oh my god, did you read his mind! Great. Now I have to avoid Tyler for the rest of my life.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Not into him?”

You shot him a look. “Absolutely not. Plus, isn’t it still too early to be thinking of that? It’s October.”

He shrugged. “Apparently not for Tyler. He’s been thinking about it for a while.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to dramatically slide down the lockers. “This is the worst news I’ve received all week.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Hyunjin said, crossing his arms. “Just say no if he asks.”

You sighed, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “It’s not that simple. Tyler’s nice, and I don’t want to be mean about it. But now that I know it’s coming, I’m going to be stressing over how to let him down easy.”

“Just be honest. That’s usually the best way.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I just hope it doesn’t make things awkward.”

“It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward.”

“Wow. So wise.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when he finally works up the courage.”

You groaned again, already dreading the conversation. “Can all vampire’s read minds or something?” You made sure to talk in a hushed tone.

“No. Only certain vampire’s have powers and they’re all different. Mind reading is mine.”

You frowned, considering that. “So, like… superpowers? Special vampires gets something different?”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “That’s… kind of terrifying.”

He smirked. “Only if we want it to be.”

You ignored that and pressed on. “So, you got stuck with mind reading?”

He scoffed. “Stuck with? It’s useful.”

“You literally just used it to gossip about college drama,” you pointed out.

Hyunjin sighed, shaking his head. “And this is why I don’t tell people things.”

You grinned. “So, if everyone has different powers, what do the rest of The Strays have?”

“Like I mentioned, only certain vampire’s have special abilities. Felix can see the future. He can’t see it clearly but it’s there. And Jeongin can control mortals emotions.”

“Just you three have special abilities?”

He nods. “You should really meet my all of my coven.”

“A mortal in a room of seven vampires? That doesn’t sound like a good idea…”

“Oh, come on. You make it sound like we’re going to eat you.”

“You can’t blame me for being cautious. I don’t want to end up as dinner.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You won’t. Besides, you’ve already been around me, and I haven’t so much as taken a bite. I already told you we’re vegan.” He laughs at his own joke again. “If it makes you feel better, we don’t exactly invite humans over all the time. But you’re… different.”

You frowned at that. “Different how?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know yet. But Felix saw something in one of his visions.”

Your stomach twisted. “About me?”

He nodded. “Not clearly. But you’re involved in something. That’s why they want to meet you.”

You swallowed hard, glancing away. “Yeah, that’s not ominous at all.”

Hyunjin gave you a reassuring look. “It’s not like that. You don’t have to decide now, but at least think about it?”

You exhaled, rubbing your arms. “Fine. I’ll think about it. No promises.”

“Good enough for me.”

‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Charlie was going to be working late today. He called saying his team found a new development in the bear attacks. 

This mean’t you had the house to yourself.

You sighed, stretching your arms over your head as you glanced around. The stillness felt heavier tonight. Maybe it was because of everything Hyunjin had told you earlier, or maybe it was just the way the wind howled faintly outside, rattling the windows every so often.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, you decided to keep yourself busy. You put on some music, made a quick dinner, and let the familiar routine settle you. By the time you curled up on the couch with a blanket, you almost felt normal again.

You tried focusing on the movie playing in front of you, but your mind kept wandering. The bear attacks. The Strays. Hyunjin’s mind-reading. Felix seeing the future. And Jeongin controlling emotions.

Just as you were about to shake the thoughts away, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise made you jump. You exhaled, reaching for it and glancing at the screen.

A call from Chan.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, steady and calm. “You doing okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah… why?”

“I heard about Charlie working on the bear attacks.”

You frowned, shifting on the couch. “Yeah, he called earlier. Said they found something new.”

Chan hummed on the other end, but he didn’t say anything right away.

You bit your lip. “What’s going on?”

Another pause. Then, his voice dropped slightly. “Just… be careful, alright? Stay inside. Keep your doors locked.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Too late for that.”

You could hear the hesitation in his breathing, the way he was carefully choosing his words. “I just think you should stay put tonight. Trust me on this.”

You swallowed, glancing toward the nearest window. The backyard was shrouded in darkness, only the faint glow of the porch light keeping it from being pitch black. The night suddenly felt too quiet, too still.

Your grip on your phone tightened. “Chan…”

“I’ll check in later,” he said, tone firm. “Just promise me, okay?”

“No. This is sketchy. We’ve only chatted around five times since I’ve came back and now you call me with a warning. What’s going on?”

“Remember when I told you about The Cold Ones?”

“Vampires?”

“The Cold Ones.”

“Fine. Yes, I do. Very well.”

“It’s more than just The Strays.”

You frowned, gripping your phone tighter. “I know there are more vampi- Cold Ones. Yeah.”

“Yeah. Actually, don’t worry about it. My family is dealing with it.”

You groaned. “Chan if you know anything you need to tell Charlie and his team-”

"Charlie and his team are looking for bears, not Cold Ones. Trust me, getting them involved won’t help."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself. As much as you wanted to believe that your dad and his officers could handle whatever was happening, deep down, you knew they were outmatched. Guns and searchlights wouldn’t do much against creatures that could move faster than the human eye.

"Then tell me," you insisted. "Tell me what's really going on."

"A coven passed through last week. They didn’t stay long, but they left a mess behind.”

Your stomach twisted. "The attacks."

"Yeah."

You squeezed your eyes shut, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

Chan spoke again, “Don’t feel the need to tell your inhuman friends. They already know. I just want you to be safe because you’re involved in this world now. You smell like them. Mortal’s don’t usually smell like Cold Ones.”

You froze, the words sinking in. "What do you mean I smell like them?"

“Your scent is different now. You’ve been around them long enough that it’s… noticeable." He spoke almost in disgust. "It makes you a target, especially for the coven that came through. They’ll be able to sense it, and not everyone in that world is friendly." His voice was serious now, the tone of someone who had seen too much. "That’s why I need you to stay put tonight. Lock up, stay inside. Don’t let anyone get too close."

"Okay, I will. But you have to tell me more. How do you know about all this stuff? I know you said it’s in your family history, but you’re also human. How does your family just casually take care of Cold Ones like this? I’m already in deep. I can’t just stay in the dark."

“Do you really not remember anything I told you at La Push?”

“About The Cold Ones? I thought we already established I remembered that very well.”

“Of course that’s the only part you remember…”

“Chan, what-”

He hung up.

You stared at the screen of your phone, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration swirling in your chest. "What the hell?" you muttered, trying to process everything he had just said.

You paced around the room, running a hand through your hair, unsure of what to do next. Part of you wanted to call him back, demand answers, but something about the way he had ended the call so abruptly made you hesitate.

You checked the locks on the doors and windows again, though you knew it wouldn't make a difference if something wanted to get in. Chan said they were long gone but you had to make sure you could do as much as you could.

⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Ultimately, the next Saturday you agreed to meet with The Strays. You needed answers.

As you stepped outside, the cold fall air hit you like a splash of cold water. You could feel the tension in the pit of your stomach as you made your way to the driveway. When you saw Hyunjin’s car pull up, you exhaled, trying to push away the knots in your chest. 

Hyunjin smiled slightly when he saw you approaching. It was moments like this when you were grateful he couldn’t read your mind. He got out of the car and opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“You good?” he asked as he helped you into the seat.

You gave him a small nod. “Yeah. Just preparing to be in a room full of vampires.”

Hyunjin gave a small nod back, his expression softening. He buckled you in carefully, taking a moment to make sure the straps were secure before stepping back. He closed your door with a soft click and walked around the car to the driver's side. It was a small action, but the fact that he cared to help you made you smile.

When he slid into the driver's seat, he shot you a quick smile, one that made you feel a little better. “You ready?”

You nodded, but as he started the engine, your eyes wandered to the seatbelt. You noticed that, despite buckling you in, Hyunjin hadn’t buckled himself up. He was focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel loosely as he pulled the car out of the driveway and onto the road.

“Hey,” you said after a beat, your gaze flickering back to him. “You’re not gonna buckle up?”

He glanced over at you, his grin playing at the edges of his lips. “What’s the worst that can happen? I die?” He joked.

You rolled your eyes. Right. He’s already dead.

The drive stretched on longer than you expected, the roads becoming narrower, the trees growing denser as Hyunjin guided the car deeper into the woods. The further you went, the more the town lights faded behind you, swallowed by darkness and thick foliage.

Your fingers curled into your lap as you glanced at Hyunjin. The dim light between the clouds cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. His eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. One of his hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, but it was the other that caught your attention. It rested on the center console, fingers splayed, inches from your thigh. 

Eventually, the car slowed as the trees gave way to a clearing, revealing a house. No. This was a mansion. It looked like any glamorous house, but with more curtains.

Hyunjin turned off the engine, letting the silence settle thick between you.

“Well,” he exhaled, glancing at you. “We’re here.”

You swallowed, staring at the grand estate. “This is where you live?”

He smirked slightly. “What, were you expecting a crypt?”

“I don’t know what I was expecting. But not this.”

Hyunjin huffed a small laugh before stepping out of the car. You barely had time to process the sudden blur of movement before he was there, standing beside your open door, one hand braced against the roof of the car, the other extended toward you. 

"Come on," he murmured, voice smooth, almost teasing. "I promise we don’t bite… well, not all of us."

You narrowed your eyes but placed your hand in his anyway. His fingers curled around yours, cool to the touch, yet oddly grounding. He led you up the walkway to the massive double doors. He didn’t bother knocking. Instead, with a casual push, the doors swung open, revealing the tidy entryway.

The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, polished to a gleam beneath the golden glow of chandeliers hanging high above. The scent of aged books and something faintly sweet, like old wine or honey lingered in the air.

Your steps were slow, careful, as you trailed behind Hyunjin, taking in the way the candlelight flickered against the deep blue of the curtains, how the walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched impossibly high. 

As you moved further inside, the atmosphere shifted. The faint hum of voices drifted through the air, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of kitchenware. The scent of something rich and savory curled around you, surprising given the nature of the house’s occupants.

When you two went up the stairs you stopped at a display of graduation caps. They were all hung in a row orangzied by the names of The Strays. 

You laugh, “You’ve been to a lot of colleges.”

Hyunjin turned slightly, following your gaze to the neatly arranged caps. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. You could say we have a thing for knowledge.” He joked.

Each cap bore a different school emblem, some old enough that the institutions they belonged to had probably changed names or shut down. Some were crisp and new and others slightly frayed at the edges.

As you reached the top of the stairs, the scene before you was even stranger than you had imagined.

The kitchen was warm and alive with movement. Pots clanked against the stove, the soft sizzle of something frying filled the air, and the scent of herbs and something buttery filled the air.

Han turned to see you, “Oh, guys! She’s here!”

“You couldn’t tell? I could smell her from a mile away.” Changbin chimed in. 

You stiffened at the comment, instinctively taking a half-step back, but Hyunjin's hand found the small of your back, steadying you.  “Don’t be an ass,” he muttered, shooting Changbin a pointed look.

Changbin shrugged. “I’m just saying. She smells… interesting.”

“Can you not be creepy for once?” Minho sighed, barely glancing away from the pot he was stirring. “We’re trying to be hospitable here.”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “This is (Y/N).”

A chorus of greetings followed.

Changbin looked up from his phone again. “Welcome, human. We slaved away in this kitchen for hours just for you.”

Seungmin snorted. “You literally cut one vegetable and then sat down.”

Hyunjin pulled out a chair at the long wooden table, raising a brow at you. “Sit.”

You hesitated. “I already ate.”

A collective groan filled the kitchen.

You bit your lip. “I just assumed because vampire’s don’t eat that I wasn’t going to be fed…”

Jeongin spoke up. “It’s okay guys. She was trying to be considerate. We weren’t really getting anywhere anyway…” His eyes shifted to the piles of burnt meat on the counter.

Felix winced. “Yeah… turns out cooking isn’t exactly our strong suit.” His eyes lingered on you. 

Minho scoffed, still stirring his pot with an air of superiority. “I was doing just fine until you guys started messing with the heat.”

“You were about to burn the garlic,” Han pointed out, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s called caramelization-”

“It caught on fire, Minho.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh as the group dissolved into bickering. The whole scene was so normal. You had expected something ominous, eerie, maybe even threatening. Instead, they felt like any other group of chaotic friends trying (and failing) to make dinner together.

Hyunjin sighed beside you, rubbing his temples. “This is why I told you to let me handle the cooking.”

Changbin smirked. “Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have gotten to see the sheer horror on your face when you walked in.”

Hyunjin muttered something under his breath before turning back to you. “Alright. How about we just head to my room?”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank’s for the thought guys.”

Seungmin chuckled to himself. “Just get out of here before Minho tries to force-feed you.”

Minho shot him a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the pan, clearly determined to salvage whatever he could.

Hyunjin placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the kitchen. On your way out you saw that Felix was still looking at you. You stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

His eyes widened. “Sorry. You’ve been in a lot of my visions. Seeing you in person is different.”

You nod and follow Hyunjin. As soon as you stepped into the hallway, the warmth of the kitchen faded, replaced by the quiet, eerie stillness of the rest of the mansion.

You followed him up another flight of stairs, the wooden steps creaking under your weight. “Is your room in the attic or something?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Hyunjin chuckled. “Something like that.”

Finally, he opened a door, revealing a surprisingly minimalistic space. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, old drawings, and a few scattered trinkets. A large window overlooked the dark forest, the trees swaying slightly in the breeze. The only source of light was a single lamp.

You look around some more. “No bed?”

“I don’t sleep, remember?”

“Right.”

Your fingers skimmed across the spines of the books, some titles faded with time, others fresh. Some were in languages you didn’t recognize. Some looked handwritten, as if he had filled the pages himself.

Then, the sketches caught your attention.

Dozens of them, scattered across his desk, pinned to the walls, tucked into books like forgotten thoughts. Each one was breathtaking in its own right.

And then you saw yourself.

Your stomach flipped. “You… drew me?”

Hyunjin leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, watching you. “I draw whats on my mind.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a slow-building warmth curling in your chest. You swallowed, picking up one of the sketches and studying it. “And how long have I been on your mind?”

Hyunjin smirked, stepping closer, his presence like a shadow moving through the room. “Long enough.”

Your pulse quickened as he reached past you, his fingers barely grazing your wrist as he took the drawing from your hands. He studied it, as if seeing it through your eyes for the first time.

“I don’t usually draw people,” he murmured. “Not like this.”

You turned your head slightly, his face now inches from yours. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his features. He was close enough that you could see the slight flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“Like what?” you asked softly.

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Like I want to remember every detail.”

Your breath hitched. The air between you felt fragile, electric. He reached up, trailing his fingers along the edge of your jaw, his touch cool against your skin.

“Are you always this intense?” you teased.

Hyunjin smiled, slow and knowing. “Only when it comes to things I don’t want to forget.”

You felt your breath catch as he leaned in, slow, deliberate, giving you just enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, as if testing the moment. Then, when you didn’t move away, he pressed in deeper, capturing your mouth with a quiet urgency. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

He tasted cool, like something untouchable, yet here he was, pressing into you as if he needed this just as much as you did.

Your hands found his shoulders, feeling the tense muscle beneath your fingertips, as if holding him in place, afraid he might disappear like a dream if you let go.

Hyunjin exhaled softly against your lips, his other hand ghosting down your waist, barely touching, yet setting your skin on fire. He kissed like he drew. Carefully. He has an artist’s precision as if memorizing every curve, every response, every small hitch of your breath.

Then, just as slowly as it started, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. His hands were still resting on you as if he wasn’t ready to let go. Your own breathing was uneven, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I forget what that feels like.”

“And?” you asked softly, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I think I like it.”

Slowly, your hands slid down his arms, fingertips skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Do you always do this?” you asked, voice light but teasing. “Lure unsuspecting humans into your attic just to kiss them?”

“If I said you were the first would you believe me?”

“Proably not.”

“You should. You mean a lot to me.”

“Hyunjin-” you started, but he shook his head, his fingers ghosting over your cheek.

“I’m serious,” he murmured. “You’re not just some fleeting thought, not just another sketch on my wall. You’ve been in my head for longer than I even realized.”

Your heart pounded, warmth spreading through your chest at the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something worth remembering.

“I don’t usually get attached,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But with you… I don’t think I have a choice.” He chuckled. “Which is funny because that’s usually what the mortal is supposed to feel about a vampire. Not the other way around.”

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself under the weight of his words. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe it is. Maybe you’re the most dangerous thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Then he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second, as if he wanted to memorize exactly how you felt in his arms. And you let him.

Taglist: @beewilko @darklove2020 @antiyoubutimkidding

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE LOVE ON THIS STORY SO FAR I DON'T HAVE WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW GRATEFUL I AM. <3

[thegrinningghost]

Waiting

Prompt: Starscream and Skyfire reuniting, but to the storyline, lyrics and vibes of WYFILWMA (EPIC)

Characters: Starscream and Sky/Jetfire

TW / CW: alluded to attempts of su!c ; please be safe and don’t get any ideas or don’t read if you’re feeling too emotionally or mentally vulnerable to handle it, even if it’s minor, thank you!

Credits: Concept belongs to awesome-normal-heroes | Characters belong to Hasbro, Universal and all the other creators of Transformers | Moodboard and story belongs to me

Tag(s): @awesome-normal-heroes

— •

It had been years. Long, slow years full of rotten memories and broken promises. Perhaps it was fated that he’d lose himself to his pride. After all, he’d already lost his love to the snow, and then to his rage. Even still, years of war had not killed is gentle heart, no matter how hard he fought to disagree. Hardened, but not gone. 

It wasn’t often that he left for a place to rest, but certain habits had to be broken in order to continue traditions. Although, he wasn’t entirely sure why he kept up this tradition. It had been far too long; far too long for him to have been able to survive, far too long for attempted communication, and far too long for him to have been considered being forgiven. There was a point to his visits, though. He knew that. And it wasn’t just attempting to freeze himself on every trip.

The air was warmer this time around. He supposed that his jets didn’t help. Time and time again would he come back to the Antarctic. It was the first place he lost him, sure, but it was also the place they would go to escape. There was a surprising comfort in the white that contrasted the grey from which they came. What used to be annoying minor inconveniences had come to be aspects he adored about this place. The still chills and the embraces they’d share when the winds got too strong. The tiny inhabitants, and the playful interactions that came from their curious inquiries. The water he feared, and its mysterious creatures that his lover often reassured posed no threat. 

All that used to seem like a blessing from this place turned rotten for Starscream. And for what reason? None other than the brutal wound he held from when he lost the other part of his spark. A world left behind, one that he could never return to.

— •

He had been wandering aimlessly, kicking up powdery dust as he went. The creatures would perk up, staring as though they recognized him, but he was far too different for such a belief. It wasn’t until one sound echoed from another. Birds. Tarn or Shag, he could never tell the difference. They were flying and diving eagerly, flocking towards one direction. Perhaps it was the nostalgia he received from being in such a place, but his curiosity was piqued, so he followed, shooting up towards the sky and following a ways above them. 

It had become a routine to sit by the sea for the shuttle. Ever since he was found, systems eaten away by the ice and time, he was stationed safely in his eternal home. Upon request by the Autobots, he was not supposed to leave. Too dangerous, one would say; he still needed time to recover and understand, would come another excuse. He wouldn’t argue with them, though. Most days he didn’t even have the energy to move, much less come up with a good enough reason to leave. Besides, he had nearly everything he could ever want: peace, a scientific station, and many natural occurrences to study. 

The Elephant seals had taken up playing next to his station more recently, and so he often sat out, watching and recording data about their habits. Sometimes other creatures would join, though they often got scared off by the larger animals around him. Today, however, it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. The Shags had settled upon the ground, some even on his shoulders and helm. They were peaceful, that way. His presence was one that offered them a place to rest without being in the reach of danger. And, of course, he appreciated their company.

But of course, there always was a bigger creature.

There was a faint whooshing sound before snow poofed up as something collided with the ground. The sudden movement spooked the birds and seals, even causing Skyfire to be startled. Most of the Autobots couldn’t fly, much less dive like that. And as for animals, none of them could make an impact as large as that. Fortunately, the mystery wasn’t long hidden. Unfortunately, the air was quick to tense as Skyfire stood, facing his deathly loyal ex-companion.

“Is it you,” the question echoed, causing the short seeker to turn, preparing a leave that would’ve been followed through had the frostbitten shuttle not continued. “Have my prayers been answered? Is it really you standing here, or am I dreaming once more?”

Starscream flinched when there was a sudden touch on his shoulder, a pale shadow covering his sight of escape. He couldn’t keep himself still, but he couldn’t bear moving. Not from him, not again. Skyfire searched his appearance, aching at the sight of every change that was made and everything that stayed slightly the same. “You look different. Your eyes look tired. Your frame is lighter, your smile torn.” Gently, he released his hand from the seeker’s shoulder, moving both of his servos to cup both sides of his star’s helm. “Is it really you my love?”

For a flicker of a moment, Starscream looked up at him. It was as though he was being stared at by the past, and in truth, he was. And due to that, he had to break away. “I am not the bot you fell in love with,” he began. “I am not the bot you once adored. I am not you kind and gentle conjunx, and I am not the love you knew before.”

That’s how he should’ve left it. Denied every question asked and escaped back into the cold winds of the sky. Far, far away from this world. The frost would embrace him and soon he would forget. But what was there to deny without asking something in return. A masterful deciever and expert at scheming traitorous acts, sure, but never one to miss up on an opportunity. And so, despite himself, he found himself looking back towards his embracing sky, questions slipping from his bitter spark one after one. “Would you fall in love with me again, if you knew all I’ve done? –the things I cannot change. Would you love me all the same? I know that you’ve been waiting, waiting for love.”

Skyfire smiled solemnly, stepping forward to reach for his star, a guiding light towards something that could be resparked. “What kinds of things did you do?”

Starscream turned, backing many paces far from his lover, turning with a glance towards the sky, dreading the trembling that occurred every night he fought not to remember. With a shaky breath, he began to quietly explain. “Left a trail of death on every planet as I traded allies like objects I could use. Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands … but all of that was to bring me back to you!” His cry echoed across the sea as, what could be closest to tears, began to gather near his optics as he faced and called back to his lover once more. “So tell me: would you fall in love with me again? If you knew all I’ve done? The things I can’t undo. I am not the star you knew! I know that you’ve been waiting, waiting–”

“If that’s true,” Skyfire interjected, bitting the rest of his words for a moment as he thought. He never was quite as good at scheming as his star was, but that isn’t to say he ever lacked ideas. With a strong idea and an absent smile, he continued, “could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labour that would bring me some peace.”

Seeing his star nod, he led him towards the station the Autobots lent him, starting up one of the computers that held all his research. Turning back to face his lover, a faint smile crossed his face at the shock and curiosity they wore before he coughed, gesturing towards the screen. “See this shut down file? Could you uncode its password, select everything inside, and transfer it far away from here.”

At first, Starscream was all too willing, but he recognized that file. The title was all too familiar. He snapped his head, perhaps a little too fast, towards Skyfire who stood as though the works inside were completely unimportant. He straightened himself out, words bitter as he spoke: “How could you say that? We had worked for that data through our tears and sweat. Collected it for cycles since the day we met. A symbol of our love everlasting,” he explained, voice rising as he took steps quicker and quicker towards who used to be a dear comrade. “Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way you’ll move it is if you tear my spark out, too!”

“Only my conjunx knew that, so I guess that makes him you!”

The two had been nearly touching when Starscream processed Skyfire’s words. He faltered, stumbling several steps back. “Sky …”

Skyfire smiled, bending down and reaching for his lover’s servos, gently entrapping them in his own. “I will fall in love with you over and over again. I don’t care how, where or when; no matter how long it’s been, you’re mine!” Suddenly, he stood, pulling Starscream up with him. “Don’t tell me you’re not the same person! You’re always my conjunx and I’ve been waiting, waiting–”

“–Skyfire …”

The shuttle broke down, as though everything they had dealt with together was being relived in a single sitting. Quickly, Starscream tugged him back into a sitting position, wrapping around Skyfire in a hug, holding him as the bot kept repeating empty words. “Waiting, waiting. Waiting, waiting, oh!”

He vented, voice unsteady as he looked down at his star, curled around him, to which he returned the gesture, finishing quietly what he had meant to say. “For you.”

— •

Against the stars sat two, gentle bots. One of a shorter stature with a fire in his spark, another with a mind like a gentle sea, returning chilling embraces. With a smile, Skyfire pulled Starscream close to him, wrapping an arm around him as he held their servos together. Quietly, he asked: “How long has it been?”

Starscream looked up at him, a silent laugh reverberating in his chassis as he leaned against Skyfire. “Twenty vorns.”

“I-I love you.”

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[nodoubtily]

Look at me…

Warnings:: SMUT so MDNI! (Happy now?) possessiveness if you squint, dirty talk, begging, crude language, just missionary, spit/spitting, talks of pregnancy as a form of dirty talk, squirting, hickies, unprotected sex (DONT BE SILLY, WRAP YOUR WILLY.) SoftDom!Niki x WhinyFem!Reader, Niki IS an adult and if you disagree then you can fuck right off with your delusions. Proofread!

“Oh, fuck-“ it comes out in a choked gasp as you slowly take Niki all the way, him slowly driving his cock deep inside you. “S-so…full-“ you say with difficulty, as you rake your hands down his bare back. He sucks in through his teeth when he bottoms out. Niki leans lower, large hands gently brushing hair off your face as you take deep breaths, taking time to take his fat cock. “Nice and full. You’re so good to me, baby.” He gently kisses you, rocking his hips gently to replace the pain with pleasure, which he does with ease. “So tight, all f’me, yeah?” “Yeah.” You whine out, “All…yours.” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

With time, Niki speeds up, to the point his hips are mercilessly hammering into your sopping pussy, rambling. “Fuck, baby. Keep looking at me, wanna see you fucking cum. Oh shit, shit shit.” Niki grinds against you, your clit coming into contact with his public bone as he grinds up messily against you. “Need you to cum in me, baby. Please, god I need this so- fuck!” You’re too far gone, only being able to take his sticky sloppiness as he pounds into oblivion, the smell of sweat and pure sex fogging the room. “Take it. Take-this-fucking-“ every word is followed by a hard thrust. “Dick, oh shit- I’m gonna cum.” He whines out, sending signals straight to your clit. Your legs wrap and lock around his waist, keeping him where you both want him to be. “Give it to me, baby. Give it to me.” You feel yet another orgasm rushing straight from your clit to your stomach, the band winding so tightly that you’re slightly scared for it to snap. “Gonna cum inside, give you my fucking babies and make you a mama. Fuck-“ a guttural whine escapes from his chest, awakening a form of feral-ness you didn’t know you held. You’re cunt is begging him to make that noise again, pussy throbbing, tightening around Niki’s big dick. “Fuck!” He moans again with a snap of his hips. “You just got so fucking tight then.” His pace becomes irregular, begging to cum because it hurts. “Don’t take your fucking eyes off me. Take my fucking dick while you look in my eyes.” His hands hold the side of your face, holding your head so you can only stare back up at him in a lustful gaze. Niki thinks you look so heavenly sinful with your hair ruffled, lips swollen and pink, covered in his spit as he drops globs of saliva into your mouth, neck adorned with dark crimson bruises. “I’m going to cum again.” You announce; your hips raising, inviting a new angle as you brace for an orgasm that feels weirder, almost like you need to pee. “Wait, baby-this feels diff- ohhhh shit.” Your orgasm rushes to you, a very powerful, delicious orgasm as you squirt everywhere, having it land mostly on Niki’s abs and pubic bone. He sits up, so he’s resting on his knees as he stares at your pussy in nothing that could’ve been mistaken for awe. “Baby girl just squirted all over-me. Fuck!” Niki’s hips speed really quickly until they completely come to a halt, a chest-heaving whine leaving his swollen, wet, bleeding lips caused by immense lip biting. “Good girl, oh good girl.”

THIS SMUT IDEA WAS GIVEN FROM A SMUT AUDIO OF NIKI! When I find the creator I’ll tag them. They start with ‘Yucky’.

UPDATE:// the creator I got this idea off of’s user is in my comments, under the helpful user who helped me remember. Please, check out both creators!

UPDATE 2:// CHAT LOOK

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!

You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.

Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight. 

Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.

The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.

Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish. 

A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”

“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.

“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.

“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”

You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.

“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”

She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.

“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”

She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.

“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”

“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.

“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.

“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”

You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”

Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.

“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.

You snorted, “since when?”

“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”

“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.  

“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”

“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.

“I know that too,” you smiled.

Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.

“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”

She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.

“No! I fell!”

“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.

“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled. 

After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.

When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror. 

“Baddie,” she winked at you.

You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”

Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re not wearing that.”

You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.

“Why not?”

“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.

“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.

“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.

“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.

She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time. 

As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.

“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”

You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.

As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.

It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though. 

Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.

You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.

“Thirsty?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.

He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.

When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.

“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.

Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment. 

At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.

Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.

“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.

“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.

“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.

“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door. 

Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.

“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.

“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.

“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”

“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”

“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.

“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.

He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.

You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.

The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.

You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.

“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender. 

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”

The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.

“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.

“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”

He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.

Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.

Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.

“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.

“Nah, not tonight bro.” 

Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.

“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.

“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”

As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.

“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”

It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.

You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor. 

Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.

After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which. 

Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.

With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.

“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.

“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”

Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.

“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him. 

His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”

“Cute?” 

You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,

“So fucking beautiful.”

You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.

“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.

His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days. 

You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking. 

All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.

“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”

Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.

But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.

“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.

You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard. 

After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.

It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.

Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.

“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster. 

You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.

“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?” 

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.

Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.

“Got it,” he shrugged.

“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified. 

“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.

The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.

“I can’t,” you shook your head.

Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What? You can’t what?” 

Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.

“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”

“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”

“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”

“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”

“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”

“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”

“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”

Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face. 

“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”

It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.

Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”

His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.

With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.

“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”

You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”

(chapter 7)

a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[notafunkiller]

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

*

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as  he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents  prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Filled (Dean Winchester x female reader)

Dean and you are out of condoms, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to give in to temptation.

Read it on AO3

My 2024 Kinktober series

Rated E. 1.3k words. Unprotected sex. Breeding kink. Pies (of the cream variety)

It’s damn stupid and you know you shouldn’t do it, at least that’s what your brain is telling you, but your brain isn’t in the driver’s seat right now. How could it be, after Dean has made you come not once, not twice, but thrice with his fingers and mouth.

You’re about ready to pass on to the great hereafter, but still somehow, inexplicably, you have the overwhelming need to feel Dean inside you. You agreed that you wouldn’t, agreed that you would simply get each other off, but you don’t think you’ll last another five seconds without outright begging him to fuck you.

It’s this damn case, that has you miles and miles away from the next town. You packed everything, food, clothes, goddamn books that Dean hasn’t taken a single peak at, but not condoms, because you thought you’d be too busy to need them. Dean disagreed from the get-go, but you thought the small stash he always carries in his wallet would be enough.

You’re on day five, solved the case on day two and ran out of condoms on day three. It’s another day until you’re set to be picked up by Sam, and you’ve been getting each other off for almost all of that time since, without Dean entering you with anything but his fingers and tongue. But yeah, you’re not sure how much longer you have the self-control for that to be enough.

“You can just pull out,” you mutter against Dean’s cheek, while his hard cock is pressed against the outside of your thigh and you run your hand over him. Dean’s eyes are closed, and he’s frowning a little, looking pretty as a picture.

“Too risky. Can’t believe I paid more attention in sex ed than you did,” he says, voice a little cracked and you grin, snuggle closer to him.

“Please, Dean, I want to feel you,” you say, and he groans.

“Darlin’,” he says, tone a little warning but it’s tough to be authoritative with him leaking against your thigh.

“Come on, a girl can’t live on come alone,” you say, voice slightly petulant, referring to the egregious amount of blowjobs you’ve given him in the last 48 hours. Dean huffs, then opens his eyes, looking into yours only a few inches from him.

“Fuck it,” he says and rolls you over on your back, gets on top of you, making you squeak. He kisses you, hard and needy, and then he’s pushing your legs apart. He presses against you, your thighs tensing from how sensitive you are, and when he notices he goes slower.

That means you get to watch his face, get to see every detail of his expression as he enters you bare for the first time.

“Holy shit,” he says and then looks down at where your bodies are meeting. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You want to say something about how cussing like that will send him to hell, again, but you can’t, because he’s right. It’s different and it’s better and it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. You raise your head so that your forehead meets his as you whimper, the sheer feeling of his skin directly against your most sensitive parts overwhelming.

You look at Dean’s lips as he slowly continues pushing into you, then pulls out almost all the way again, before pushing back in until you can feel his pelvis pressed against you. You lift one leg up high and Dean hooks it against his side, allowing him to go deeper.

“Oh God, you feel so amazing,” you stutter, and Dean barely manages to nod.

“Don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he says, voice cracking. “You feel too damn good, gonna come in no time.” He picks up his pace a little, and you sling your free leg around him instead of answering, pull him closer.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he says, voice warning, and you know he’s not far off.

“Come inside me, Dean,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide for a second. “Don’t care, I just want to feel you, feel your come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Dean groans, and instead of pulling away, he goes faster, making your head drop back and moan his name.

“Want me to fill you up, is that it?” he asks, and his words send such an intense flash of arousal through you that you clench down on him. Dean groans, but he isn’t done with whatever magical dirty talk he has for you. “You want me to get you nice and knocked up?”

You don’t, not really, but the way he is saying it, the risk and the primality of it make you desperately pull at him.

“Yes,” you huff, moving your hips to meet Dean’s movements, your leg still keeping him close to you. “Yes, oh God, yes, Dean!”

It’s not clear if he expected what he’s saying to have that kind of effect on you, but he looks damn happy with the results. His hips move faster, and with one hand he cups your face, steadying you so that you can’t turn away from him.

“You’d look so beautiful with my babies inside you,” he almost groans and you wrap your arm around his neck, pull him close.

“Fuck, Dean, just—don’t… stop!” is all you can say before you are coming, your lower body bucking up, high pitched whines leaving you.

Dean keeps thrusting into you, uncoordinated now and then he stills, pressing his face against yours as he pumps his come into you. You can actually feel the spread of warmth and it’s the goddamn nicest thing in the world.

Dean’s head falls forward, and he rests on your shoulder, grinding into you a few more times to ride out his high, and it makes his spendings seep out of you, and that’s a sensation you’re not likely to forget anytime soon. He gives one more groan, and then both of you are quiet. You absent-mindedly run your fingers through the short hair at the back of his head.

After a few seconds, Dean needs to pull out and roll off you and you gasp as you feel more of what he left you with leaks out of you. It makes Dean look down at you, and he raises his eyebrows.

He pushes himself up a little, towards you again. Then, for the grand finale, he takes his still hard cock in his hand, crowds in close to you and runs its head against your entrance to collect what has run out of you. Then he pushes back into you again. You whimper at the feeling, the sensitivity, but also at the warmth.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“That… is very hot,” he says, and looks back up at your face when you chuckle.

“Yeah?” you ask, voice a little broken. “How hot is it going to be when we have to ask Sam to get me the morning-after pill before he comes here tomorrow?” Dean chuckles, drops his head down. He pulls out of you again, the emptiness disappointing, but then he opens his arm for you to move in, lay your head against his chest.

“I’m sure Sammy will love that,” he says, and you grin. Dean’s hand lands on your shoulder, and he caresses it for a while, before turning his head towards you, his mouth close to your ear.

“Or we risk it?” he whispers to you. “Could be fun.”

You grab for a nearby pillow and swing at his face. Dean raises his hand in time but it makes him laugh.

“You are a damn fool, Dean Winchester,” you say and Dean pulls you close, pins your arms and throws a leg over you.

“Just saying,” he says as you snuggle against him. “I meant what I said. You would look hot pregnant.”

[angelfic]

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.  

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

 Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

© angelfic 2023.

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕥𝕨𝕠)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: lots of cute first date jitters, reader is clumsy, also a lot more cheese 🧀 — take your lactaid besties.

part one | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: i’m honestly blown away by all the sweet comments on that first little blurb. shy reader is 1000% me, so this is very near and dear to my heart. i hope y’all like this one just as much! also big kisses to my lovely angel @undead-supernova for looking this over for me <3

“This looks stupid.”

You huff, glancing at your reflection before rushing back over to your closet for the 3rd time in a span of twenty minutes.

But Nancy grabs your wrist from before you can make it there, pulling you down onto the bed beside her.

“Everything you’ve tried on has been cute… I don’t see the problem here.”

You groan and flop back onto the mattress, covering your face with your hands.

“I wasn’t exactly trying to go for cute, Nance.”

Your words are muffled behind your palms, but she gets your message loud and clear.

“I know you want to impress him, but my best advice is to just be yourself… that’s why he asked you out in the first place, right?”

You sigh, uncovering your face to look up at her. She has a brow raised, and as much as you’d hate to admit it— you know she’s right.

“Do you always have to be right about everything?” you puff out a small laugh and she beams, nudging your knee with hers.

“Of course, I am the brains of this operation, remember?”

You roll your eyes fondly before returning to your feet, smoothing over the denim of your skirt when you meet your reflection once more.

“Oh god, what about make up?!”

You only managed to change your shirt one last time before Nancy had to practically barricade your closet door shut with her body. Reminding you that, once again, you looked great.

It doesn’t help much to soothe that little voice in the back of your head that disagrees— but the rumble of an engine and a blaring guitar riff distracts from those thoughts momentarily as the panic finally starts to set in.

“Shit, shit, shit! He’s here already?” you squeak, glancing over at your beside clock.

6:45 pm.

He was 15 minutes early.

“He’s early… color me impressed.” She grins before peeking out your curtains.

“I’m… I’m not ready, Nance.”

Your heart is about to pound out of your chest and your palms are beginning to sweat. She steps away from the window to put her hands on your shoulders, face full of determination.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ll go down and let him in, you just take a minute and come down when you’re ready.”

You nod dumbly, eyes widening further when the doorbell rings.

Eddie’s here… actually standing on your front porch. Bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his own sweaty palms.

“Thanks, Nance.”

She just gives you a reassuring smile before starting down the stairs and opening the front door. To say Eddie is surprised when Nancy Wheeler appears at your front door instead of you is an understatement.

“Uh… please don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong address,” he steps back to take a look at the number on the house again.

“No, you’re at the right place. She’s just finishing getting ready, come on in.”

Nancy can see the way his shoulders sag in relief before he steps past the threshold. Dark eyes wandering around the interior of your entry way in utter curiosity. Pictures of you and your parents line the walls, but one in particular catches his attention.

You’re smiling up at the camera, eyes scrunched closed behind the round frame of your glasses— with your two front teeth missing.

The sight has him grinning despite himself, already catching more of a glimpse of the girl that’s been on his mind for the better part of that year.

“So… where are you taking her?” Nancy asks casually, leaning against the doorframe of your kitchen.

Eddie turns then, still clutching the flowers tightly in his fist.

“The Palace… and then Benny’s. But don’t worry, I’ll have her back before 11 pm. Scout’s honor.” He grins, raising his other hand in a mock salute.

You can hear their voices floating up the stairs, which only seems to worsen the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You take one last look in the mirror to straighten your top and make sure your eyeliner wasn’t smudged before you turn the knob and make your way down the hall.

The creak of the floorboards alerts them both to your presence when you slowly begin to descend the stairs. Your hand grips the railing tightly, eyes finally lifting once you reach the landing.

“Wow,” he whispers in dumbstruck awe.

You can feel your skin warm under the intensity of his gaze, tucking your lower lip between your teeth to hide a grin.

But the sweet moment is quickly squashed when your foot catches on the edge of the step, and you go tumbling forward. Eddie drops the flowers in his haste before closing that short distance between you to catch you in his arms. Your bodies collide, much like what happened earlier in the cafeteria.

Only this time he doesn’t let you go right away.

“Steady now,” he chuckles, and your eyes can’t help but drift lower to stare at his lips. “You okay?”

You nod, not fully trusting your voice when he’s so close like this, you swear he must be able to hear how fast your heart is fluttering beneath your ribs.

“Oh goddammit, the flowers.” Eddie groans, making sure you’ve got your footing before he bends down to pick up the crumpled bouquet.

“Uh, I promise they weren’t like this when I got here...”

He hands them out to you with a sheepish grin, the apples of his cheeks now flushed a soft shade of pink. And from this close proximity you can see the faint freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose.

Man, he sure is pretty…

“They’re beautiful,” you smile, finally finding your voice. “Thank you.”

“… well, you two should probably get going, right?”

You had almost forgotten Nancy was even there.

“Oh what about—” you gesture to the bouquet in your hands, but she quickly cuts you off.

“I’ll put those in some water and lock up for you, sound good?”

You don’t have much time for protest when she carefully takes the flowers from your grasp and nudges you right into Eddie’s chest. You apologize between small giggles when he steadies you again, and Nancy disappears into the kitchen.

His eyes are almost sparkling in childlike delight at the sound of your laughter, and it’s something he’d like to continue hearing for a long time. Eddie guides you both toward the front door. His rings clink against the knob when he swings it open, taking a slight bow before motioning you forward.

“Your chariot awaits, mi’ lady.”

The Palace is packed by the time you arrive, but for a Friday night in Hawkin’s— that’s no surprise.

Young teens dart between the different games with renewed excitement while Keith watches on with a bored expression. Eddie’s hand is held loosely in your own, fingers intertwined while you decide what to play first.

You both agree on air hockey, allowing him to tug you toward the table with a newfound pep in his step. He hands you the blue paddle, teasing telling you that red is always his color before he crouches down to slip two coins in the slot.

“Prepare to be demolished, sweetheart,” he grins cheekily.

Your stomach flips at those seemingly innocent words, and Eddie silently pats himself on the back for how flustered he’s already made you. That’s not something he’s used to, making a pretty girl fumble over her words. But it’s something he’s decided he wants to see a lot more of tonight.

Eddie ends up winning two rounds of air hockey, but his victories were entirely due to the fact that you were so distracted. Poised across from him, you spent more time admiring the way his tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration— or when he had to pull his wild hair back into a bun when it kept flying into his face.

Not that you would ever mention that little fact to him.

“What’s next?” you ask, unable to hide your glee when he takes your hand without hesitation this time.

“Have you tried Dragon’s Lair?”

He nods his head over to the game that was just recently abandoned in a fit of rage by short boy with dark hair. If you were being honest, skee ball and air hockey were more your speed when it came to arcade games. But the look of absolute delight on his face has you willing to try regardless.

And just as you suspected, you’re terrible at it.

You’re barely able to get past that first level without dying repeatedly but Eddie continues to give you an encouraging smile while he leans against the machine. He adores the way your lips are pouted in a slight frown when the dragon engulfs the knight in flames again.

“Here,” he mumbles, sliding in behind you. “Let me help.”

His arms cage you in against the machine, and you can feel the heat from his chest seeping through the thin cotton of your blouse. Ringed fingers gently hover over where yours are stationed on the controls, and in your nervous state you don’t notice the way his fingers tremble slightly.

Eddie guides your hands with ease, all but playing the game for you at this point. But your focus is no longer on the dragons and knights. They instead settle on his hands, and how they completely engulf yours in size. And the way his chain bracelet rattles against your skin with each flick of his wrist on the joystick.

They continue to travel a little higher, noticing how the muscles in his forearms contract each time he pushes that red button in rapid succession. It has your mind wandering to places that it definitely shouldn’t be…

Like how his hands would feel gripping your hips…

Stop that.

When you take a shuddering breath, you get another whiff of his spicy cologne when he leans his head forward. The faint hint of tobacco and mint still lingers on his lips when he blows a breath out in frustration when he finally looses that round.

The words GAME OVER flash across the screen in brightly colored letters, and you feel a little disappointed when he begins to remove himself from you. But you’re suddenly feeling a little bold, gently turning to grab his hand before looking up at him.

“Show me again?” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

Eddie grins down at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth for a fleeting moment. But his next move has your brain about to melt out of your ears.

He takes your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, carefully removing it from between your teeth. He allows the pad of his thumb to graze over your lip while the other slips around your waist. Eddie guides you back around by your hips, quickly resuming his position behind you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore

[hannahbarberra162]

Imagine Getting Baby Fever with Crocodile

TW: talking about children in the beginning, breeding kink

~800 words, F!Reader

First part fluff, second part smut under the cut. I have nothing to say for myself. Send me to the horny dungeons.

~

“Aw, look at that little family,” you said quietly, watching a father play with his toddler on the playground. The mother was sitting in the shade, waving with a smile to the laughing baby while she sipped on a lemonade. The toddler’s short curls and chubby cheeks were so cute you just wanted to squish them between your hands. The baby ran to its mother, the husband chasing it playfully. Shortly thereafter, the trio left with each parent holding one of the toddler’s chubby hands, laughing at something or other the child had said. The sight warmed your heart and you yearned for something you'd always wanted but hadn't the courage to ask for. You were in the city center with your husband Sir Crocodile, enjoying sitting in the shade during a short break in his day. He, of course, was smoking a cigar and idly playing with the halter strap of your sundress with his hook. One wrong move and your top would fall, but then he never made wrong moves.

“Dear, have you ever thought about having children?” you asked quietly. Crocodile glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hm,” was all he replied to you. But not his disinterested hum, you'd learned enough to know that was him allowing you the space to talk without disagreeing outright. He puffed smoke out of his cigar, tipping the ash off with his hand to the pavement below.

“I just - we could try? If you don’t want to, I won’t ask again,” you said, testing the waters. 

“Alright,” Sir Crocodile agreed easily, resuming playing with your dress.

“That’s it? I - I must admit I am surprised, Love. I thought you’d be harder to convince.”

“I’ve given the idea thought before. It has merit.” 

“I didn’t know you’d thought about it before,” you replied, your eyebrows hiked high. Crocodile shrugged before placing his hand across your back, cupping your neck with his hand. Pulling your head towards his large body, he kissed you gently on the temple.

“Before you, I didn’t think about marriage either,” was all Crocodile said before removing his hand from your neck. Standing up, he extended his hand towards you, giving you a lift off the bench. He reached into his pocket for his Baby Den Den.

“Daz, please clear my schedule for the afternoon. I will be otherwise occupied,” he said, giving you a once over.

“Go eat a nutritious lunch, Tesoro. I will need a few minutes to prepare,” he said enigmatically, kissing your hand.

“I told you not to waste a single drop, and yet here you are, leaking all over me. What do you have to say for yourself?” Crocodile tutted at you, dragging the dull middle of his hook through the slit of your dripping pussy. You could feel the cold metal through your folds, gathering some of the copious come he’d already left there, making you shiver. 

“I thought you wanted me to breed you but you waste my gifts. I suppose I’ll have to start all over again,” he said with a heavy sigh. In reality, you knew he wasn’t put out at all. Crocodile had been fucking you raw since the early afternoon and didn’t have any intention of stopping. You’d come more times than you could count, your pussy taking pounding after pounding. He treated each round like a separate event, often enjoying a cigar and scotch afterwards while you remained in position to better accept his cum inside you. He kept you well hydrated, taking the gag out of your mouth and giving you sips of water for as long as you needed. But as soon as you were done drinking, the gag went back in and Crocodile went back in you.

At the very beginning he had you in a mating press with your legs hiked high over his muscular arms.

“You want my seed? You want me to make you a mother?” he’d  said, holding your legs in place with his bulky frame.

“I n-need it, I ah ah need it,” you’d mewled into him. He’d come shortly thereafter, using his fingers to fuck his come back into you as he stared at your messy pussy.

“This will never do, my Love. You’re spilling,” he tsked at you. Shortly thereafter, he’d manhandled you into a breeding stand. You weren’t sure if he’d had it made in the hour you were eating lunch or he had it prepared beforehand. The stand was simple in design, a metal frame keeping you positioned on all fours with an attached collar around your neck and another around your waist. Crocodile had thoughtfully placed it on top of a comfortable rug on the floor which kept your knees from hurting too much. The height of the neck collar kept you lowered onto your forearms and your ass high in the air.

He’d been fucking you ever since, filling your sopping pussy with load after load of his come. After each time he would examine your cunt to determine if you’d sufficiently kept his come inside. You had yet to pass his examinations. He often used a vibrator to tease you in between sessions, leaving you wanting until he determined it was time for the next round.

“You’ll need to learn this lesson a few more times today. And of course, we try again tomorrow,” Crocodile said, licking his hook.

[ilwonuu]

please me

⇢ ˗ˏˋ yang jeongin࿐ྂ

☆ paring- meandom!jeongin x sub!reader

☆ warnings- rough sex, tease!jeongin, dirty talk, slight degrading, unprotected sex(guys i know), multiple rounds, mutiple creampies, masturbation (m), praising kink, smut with no plot, jeongin is very needy, lmk what else

☆ summary- you’ve never seen this side of your boyfriend. you love it so much. a little too much.

☆ a/n- i loved writing this. i got kinda carried away.. HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!! 400 follower celebration!!!!<33

☆ word count- 1,050

jeongin has been suffering silently. he wants you so bad it’s not even funny anymore. him quietly loudly jerking off in your bathroom. too embarrassed to wake you up to help him. unknowingly waking you up anyways with his loud moans and cries for you.

“jeongin?” you call out for him. he quickly shifts in the bathroom pulling his pants up trying to hide his erection. stepping out of the bathroom as soon as he looks presentable. or he thinks.

“sorry -uh did i wake you?” you shake your head innocently. pretending to not hear a thing.

“no just missed you. come lay with me?” he nods quickly joining you back in your shared bed. he pulls you into his arms cuddling you. your back pressed against his chest. his dick getting harder as he feels you start to grind back against him. “innie?” you call out to him.

“y-yea?” you smirk slightly. “want you so bad. need you.” you moan slightly. he almost cums just from your words. “w-what? what do you mean-“ he questions. you start the grind back against him again.

“o-oh fuck.” his hands going to your hips. “fuck me jeongin- i want it so bad.” he thinks he might die right there. something shifts in him.

immediately loving the sound of you begging for him. “keep telling me how bad you want it.” he takes in your appearance seeing as you’re wearing his shirt and your underwear only.

he groans not even taking the time to pull your underwear off. pulling it to the side as he pulls pajama pants down to pull his dick out.

“you think you can t-take it?” he tries to act like he isn’t about cum all over your ass. he wants to seem composed. not sure if you’re believing his act. you know he’s just as needy as you.

“fuck me innie. know how bad you want it.” he can’t simply disagree with that statement. his dick rubbing against your slit teasingly. his groans are loud against your ear.

“you’re so fucking- open your fucking legs wider. just like that.” he says in a smirk. forcing your legs open more as he pushes his dick into you.

“been thinking a-about this all day.” his movements and his words causing you to squirm. his confidence going up quicker than you expected. his voice sounds so good. as he starts to fuck you stupid on your bed.

“in-innie slow down-“ his hands haven’t moved from your hips. you try to run away. his grip tightening to hold you in place. “fuck, you are taking it so good tho? you like it like this right?”

he laughs at your needy moan. your plan to tease him backfiring on you. he is teasing you loving the way you fall apart for him.

“you never answered like a good girl. only good girls get fucked like this. answer me pretty or i’ll stop.” the last thing you want him to do is stop. quickly trying to form words. “please d-don’t stop. so good shit-“ he shifts to move on top of you. fucking you deeper spreading your legs wider. if that was even possible.

“you’re so fucking wet. sliding in so good. wanted to do this all day.” his thrusts are hitting you in the perfect spots. you are moaning for him.

his dirty talk making you more aroused. “good fucking girl. can’t wait to cum inside you. you want that right? tell me you want it.” his face making a teasing mocking expression of your pleasured face.

“p-please cum in me.” he laughs at your state. “yea? don’t you worry. gonna fill you up- fuck.” as soon as his words leave his mouth your clenching on his dick. “cum on it. just like that. fucking you so good.”

his hips speeding up as you come undone making a mess where you two are connected. “gonna fuck my c-cum so deep- take it all baby.” his hips losing rhythm as he sloppily fucks you full of his cum.

“got to stay full for me. fuck- can hear how full you are baby. so fucking good.” his hips don’t stop fucking into you just yet. “you think we’re done? how cute? gonna take more of my cum. you can do it right. my good girl.”

how would you ever say no? you wanted it so bad. his hips stopping as you feel him pull out of you. “n-no please want it-“ he cuts you off.

“relax baby. gonna give you everything you want. just turn over for me.” he doesn’t know how he is managing to keep it all together.

watching you turn over to lay on your stomach. he doesn’t wait a second before he is rubbing his dick against you again. pushing in slightly.

“so fucking- tight.” he his roughly but slowly rocking his dick into you. “jeongin-“ you feel so dizzy in the best way. no was has fucked you rid of your thoughts. all you can think about is how you’re gonna want this all the time. “feel good? you look so pretty baby.”

he pulls your back up against his chest fucking you at a deeper angle. “o-oh innie-“ his smirk would be so annoying to others but he looked so good teasing you. well from what you can say from looking back at him. loving the way you fell apart for him.

“yea i know- feels so good like this? such a good girl. gonna fill you up with so much cum.” his dirty talk getting more and more desperate as he his completely shameless.

“i’m cumming-“ you say shaking against him. “yeah fuck just like that. s-so close.” he feels you cum again. making a wetter mess on his dick. “innie-“ he groans at the nickname. cum filling you up. “take it fucking all.” he thrusts hard fucking his cum inside deeper.

“so perfect for me. such a good girl. “ you moan again calming down slightly. his dick slowly down as he pulls out of you. “was i too rough?” he asks immediately concerned at your tired body. you shake you head.

“no- i loved it. you never told me you were a menace in bed.” he laughs a little kissing your lips after. “only for you.”

[lightseoul]

hi! please could you do number 7 with the mc having a ghost-related quirk??

decided to quickly write this one just in time for halloween! i hope y'all enjoy this little piece amidst the boop war we all find ourselves in right now lol. thank you for playing n have a nice day <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

7. "THE GHOSTS WOULD DISAGREE WITH YOU." (1.3k)

“you’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”

you don’t even look up from the churro you’re munching on, opting to ignore the ash-blonde sitting right next to your left.

“what,” he continues, and if you didn’t know any better, he’s starting to sound a little annoyed. “you’re not even gonna defend yourself?”

what you’re not about to do is tell him you’ve heard that taunt over and over again growing up, lest you end up seeming pitiful, which you aren’t.

so you merely shrug. “i don’t see the point. i know it’s not true.”

at that, you finally glance at the man, who’s looking nothing short of speechless under the dim light of the lounge that’s decked out with ‘spooky’ embellishments.

cute is the first thing that comes to mind.

he just fucking insulted you is the next.

still, you can’t help the smile that takes over your features. “you’re the weird one, anyway. why would you say that to your date?”

bakugou promptly breaks eye contact, choosing to stare at the human skeleton that’s conveniently parked at the corner of the room. you follow his line of vision, and you have to stop yourself from snorting at the sight.

the people manning this haunted house-themed attraction sure took budget decorating to the next level.

beside you, the pro-hero huffs. “i’m only saying that because this is your idea of a good first date,” he gestures vaguely to your surroundings, an incredulous expression on his face as he tosses you a pointed look. “a horror escape room? really?”

“what?” you say, trying to sound the slightest bit defensive for the sake of it. “it gives us plenty of excuses to get closer.”

whatever bakugou expected you to say in response, it surely wasn’t that.

the man only splutters, quickly diverting his gaze and plopping back against his seat with his muscled arms folded across his broad chest like a petulant child.

he then mutters something that you wouldn’t have caught for the life of you if it weren’t for the thing.

you grin.

“you wanted me to latch onto you for safety? you could’ve just said so.”

almost instantaneously, bakugou whips to stare at you, an absolutely horrified expression etched all over his face.

“what the fuck?”

you flash him the most innocent look you can muster. “what?”

he’s now glaring at you, but there’s no missing the redness that has crept up the high planes of his cheeks. he opens his mouth as if to say something but hesitates. he tries again, gaze fixated on you for a couple more seconds until he shakes his head in disbelief.

“…there’s no fucking way.”

you shrug again, but bakugou only stares at you, eyes squinting in suspicion. “unless…”

and, in a blink of an eye you almost could’ve missed it if you weren’t staring at him yourself, you see profound realization dawn on his features.

you gulp despite yourself.

“you have a fucking quirk?”

the truth must have been written all over your exterior, because the man leans back in slow motion like the way one would when faced with a relatively shocking revelation.

you rub at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling too self-conscious. this was the part that always made you feel uncomfortable, no matter what the context.

but especially during a first date.

“i never said i was quirkless…”

“yeah, no shit,” he retorts, not missing a single bit. “what is it, superior hearing or something?”

you shake your head slowly, “no, but it does make me privy to things that i don’t perceive with my own senses.”

bakugou’s eyebrows furrow in what you think is confusion. “what else?”

“uh—” you pause, eyes drifting down to your fiddling fingers, “—i can also levitate, be invisible, and permeate through things.”

when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you finally chance a glance at the man, and he’s looking honest-to-god gagged.

pro-hero dynamight is fucking gagged and it’s because of you.

before he can get a word in, though, you quickly follow it up with: “but they make me so nauseous that i can barely pull them off. they’re useless, really.”

when you’re met with nothing but silence, you continue.

“i know,” you chuckle, although it comes out awkward and stilted. “it’s weird. you’re right, after all. i was just messing with you.”

more silence.

not knowing what else to do or say, you take a huge bite of your pastry, although you’re far from hungry, stomach now churning in embarrassment.

you’re in the middle of chewing the remnants of your last bite when bakugou finally speaks up.

now, you’ve heard about how the #9 pro-hero, despite his aggression and temper and generally unpleasant personality, is exceptionally intelligent, perceptive, and intuitive, but you never really thought much about it.

not even when you found out a few hours earlier that the blind date your friends set you up with was your distant superior dynamight himself.

and while you always had a thing for capable men, you didn’t want to fall early and hard lest you hurt yourself in the process. so you merely pushed back against the prejudices and expectations you had of him, and decided to just observe the person who was actually in front of you for the rest of your date.

but when he says the next thing, everything you’ve heard about him suddenly makes sense.

“…so it’s a ghost quirk.”

you don’t even get the opportunity to choke on your churro or gape at him because bakugou shakes his head so fervently, before: “that’s such a fucking waste.”

“e-excuse me?”

at your query, he locks eyes with you. “you have a strong-ass quirk, yet you’re working in admin for us. you could be doing more.”

a thousand questions fight to escape your lips, but what manages to emerge victorious is: “how’d you know i’m working admin for ground riot?”

bakugou scowls at you, but again, there’s that scarlet on his cheeks. he doesn’t answer your question, though, instead going for: “that’s your fucking takeaway?”

you shrug, not knowing what else to say. “i know my quirk is strong. but i was always made to feel like i was weird and creepy for it growing up—and until now, actually, which is why i don’t really talk about it—so i just learned not to use it.”

“well, most of it,” you add, and bakugou cocks his head to the side in question.

you take a shaky inhale.

“…ghosts still choose to talk to me.”

“that how you pick up on things beyond your five senses?”

you try not to gawk at him and at how fast he put two and two together. “…yeah.”

neither of you says anything for a few moments before bakugou finally shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back.

as he does so, he pipes up with: “well, i guess they’re not always accurate, though.”

you frown. although you rarely use your quirk, you still pride yourself in your capacity. “what do you mean?”

at that, bakugou turns to regard you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. “i did not want you to latch onto me.”

this time, you really can’t help it. you snort, and that grants you a glower from the pro-hero. you take it in stride, though, waving him off.

“sure, big guy.”

“don’t—” he sits up, “fucking—i’m serious—”

“yeah, but the ghosts—” he throws you a punch, which you dodge, “would disagree—” you dodge another, “ with you—” he barely misses you, “—though,” you finally finish.

and really, you don’t even need your trusty ghosts to know that—the blush that’s taken over the entirety of his face is all the proof you need.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write Benji x wife newlyweds fluff?✨✨💗💗

Just Benji being such a sweet, soft sucker for his spouse.

Reader is fem but it’s used very loosely.

It hadn’t been long since you and Benjicot were wed and the butterflies within your stomach has yet to subside, but a small part of you had grown partial to the feeling, especially when that feeling was brought back tenfold as you looked over at Benjicot on the bed; only to see him staring at you adoringly.

‘What?’ You asked, feeling a little exposed beneath his gaze and giddy that you got to be the recipient of such a sweet, genuine gaze as his.

‘This isn’t a dream is it.’ Benji asked softly as he reached out to grab ahold of your hand, pulling you to stand in between his legs, ‘please tell me this isn’t a dream. I don’t think I can handle it if all of this is just something I shall eventually awaken from unfairly.’ He adds as you crane your head down to rest yours easily against his own.

‘This isn’t a dream husband of mine.’ You reassured him softly as you stroked your thumb across the back of his hand, watching fondly as Benji’s face visibly relaxed at the sound of your voice, a soft smile hatching across his lips that left your heart melting every time you were blessed with it’s appearance. ‘What makes you think that any of this could only be achieved through a dream?’ You asked, curious as to know how his mind went that that conclusion because to you everything leading up to now has felt all too real to be a dream, you felt too awake to believe that you were in some way in a deep sleep.

‘You.’ Benjicot replied. ‘You’ve always felt like a dream come true to me since the day we met, and in such a way that I could never describe accurately, at least until now that is.’

‘And that is?’

Benjicot got up from the bed and moved his hands to securely hold your face between his calloused palms as his eyes flickered across every aspect of your face, almost as though he were committing this very moment to his memory, like he was scared that he was bound to forget all about it sooner or later and he was desperate to remember how your face looked now; hopeful that it will force his mind to remember the best moments of his life all over again. ‘That you were always meant to be apart of my life. It is as if the old gods made you and I to one day be bound in a shared fate that concludes with us still being together when it all ends. You are the other half of me that I can’t live without.’ Benjicot says as he peppered soft kisses across your face, making you smile at him warmly and reaching your hands to rest atop of his own.

‘You’re too sweet to me my beloved.’ You murmured as Benji pressed a kiss to your lips. ‘You must’ve been a poet in a previous life.’ You added cheekily before squealing when Benjicot playfully bit your lip in retaliation.

‘I meant that in a good way!’ You cried, lightly snacking his bicep.

‘To you it does, but to me it sounded very much like a playful jab made at my expense.’ Benjicot said and moved his hands to your waist, where in which he gave a swift tug and you were brought tightly against his chest, but you weren’t in any position to complain as you quickly latched your arms to his waist and rested your head firmly in the crook of his neck, kissing on it a little as a content smile blossomed across your face while sinking into his warmth.

‘Agree to disagree.’ You said, voice muffled against your now husband as the lull of sleep began to weigh heavily on your eyelids. The excitement of the day had long since drained you and all you wanted to do was to sleep in the arms of your beautiful husband, you couldn’t help but feel giddy calling Benjicot your husband no matter if it was aloud or to yourself, it just felt right.

‘Agree to disagree my love.’ Benjicot echoed as he helped you to bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, nose and lips before getting under the covers to join you as he held you protectively in his arms, just a pair of lovers spending their first of many nights cuddled up to each other as though fearful of being separated from one another.

[theonottsbxtch]

Hello! I would like to ask a Latina reader with bf Max where is Christmas’s and her aunts keeps asking her where the boyfriend at and why she doesn’t have a boyfriend until max shows up and greets everyone, also can we make her cousins fans of f1, can everything be based in Mexico? Please wand thank you, this is my first request and I’m kinda excited, I love your writing! ❤️

MI NOVIO, MAX VERSTAPPEN | MV1

an: nonnie this was such a lovely request, thank you! i hope you like it and i hope i lived up to your standards. it was the first thing i saw when i woke up this morning and i've was slowly working on it throughout the day. i hope that this lets you build the confidence to send more requests through! also all this spanish knowledge is from when i did spanish 5 years ago in school so i apologise if its bad/if the mexican traditions are incorrect!

requests: open

wc: 2.5k

When Max had told you he couldn’t make Christmas you weren’t that upset, at first. But the longer you spent in Mexico while he was in Monaco, the more you were beginning to feel the sadness seep into your bones. 

Walking home arm in arm with your mama after midnight mass, you laid your head on her shoulder, looking up at the stars as they were twinkling in the overhead sky. 

“Hija, when are you going to bring someone home?” Your mama asked, looking down at you. This was the one topic you wanted to avoid this Christmas. While you knew that it was bound to come up, missing Max and the classic yearly conversation weren’t a good mix. Before you could stop them, you could feel the tears line your lower lash line. 

“No sé mama (i don't know mum)” you muttered. You and Max had first started dating about two and a half years ago, but there was a commitment with bringing home, a commitment you weren’t too sure either of you could handle. Bringing home made it almost permanent and while you knew you and Max were going to be permanent. You didn’t if he was ready for that. 

No matter how many times he said he was ready, there was something about introducing him to your family and culture that didn’t sit right with you. To start, he wasn’t Mexican and you weren’t too sure how your mama would react to that. Second, you knew that if you brought him over once, your mama would want him to come all the time and with the schedule he had, you didn't want him to feel forced to do anything he didn’t want to do. 

“Tu hermana, she has Léo. Y tu hermano, he has Rebecca.” She stated, you knew where she was going with this. “I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“I’m okay mama, I promise” you said, looking away from the sky for a second and looking at her, praying she didn’t notice the way your eyes were sparkling. 

“Ay, please don’t think I am forcing you hija. I just want you to be happy.” She rubbed your arm in comfort. 

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, your sister let go of her husband’s arm and came barrelling towards you and your mother. “Mama, please don’t tell me you’re pestering her about a boyfriend again” 

“I am not!” Your mum huffed. 

“You totally were! Leave her alone, mama. She’s happy, she’s working in France. What more could you want?” She chided, unlike you, your elder sister never had a problem with telling your mother the facts as they were. In fact, she was the only one who knew about you and Max. The only one out of your hundreds of family members. Pulling you away, she linked her arm in yours and walked a step further from your mother.

“You’ll have to tell her one day, you know.” She said softly, “you can’t keep hiding him out of fear that he’ll break up with you the minute you show him your family.” 

“I don’t think he’s ready.”

“Have you asked him, I’m sure he’d disagree if you asked.” The way your sister said that made you feel stupid. It was such a simple task, but you didn’t know how to go about it. 

“Look, manita . It’s Christmas. We’re about to have a very long dinner. I miss him and would like it if we stopped talking about him.” You rushed out, it was better said that way. 

Huffing out a dramatic huff, she pushed a piece of hair that had fallen into your eyes away. “Whatever you say, chiquita.” 

By the time you’d reached your family home, the place was bustling with action. From your little cousins running in between the elders legs as they helped set up the table to your grandparents shouting from the sofa in front of their telenovela. 

“Abeula, come eat.” You called out to your grandmother who was slowly getting up from her seat directly in front of the television. 

Before you, the table was covered in a variety of your favourite foods; tamales, buñuelos and romeritos. It was a sight to take in, this was why you didn’t mind the 12 hour flight every christmas. The table has fifteen odd seats that were rapidly filled with all your grandparents, both you parents, two siblings and their partners, and your three elder cousins. Besides the big table, there was a smaller table with six seats for all your little cousins, who themselves were already digging into their food before making their prayer.

At the head of your table, your abuelo linked his hands with either abuelo and abuela on each side and waited for all of you to link hands.”Bendícenos Señor, y bendice estos alimentos que vamos a recibir, y que nunca falte en nuestra mesa el pan de cada día."

Once the prayer was over, you muttered a quick “Gracias a Dios” and tucked into your food. You were surrounded by the sounds of laughter and conversation, but your mind kept wandering to Monaco. To him. It had been weeks since you last saw each other, the time difference making your late-night calls even harder to sustain. You had both promised to make it work over this Christmas period, but the ache in your chest hadn’t lessened. It was always there, especially now, as you sat at this table surrounded by family, feeling like a piece of you was missing.

The food was delicious—the tamales were just as perfect as you remembered, the buñuelos warm and crispy, their sweetness filling the room—but even the familiar flavours couldn’t fully shake the quiet sadness. You poked at the romeritos on your plate, trying to focus on the sounds of your little cousins giggling at their own table, but it was impossible to ignore the empty feeling you were cradling in you. He should be here.

“Are you okay?” your sister whispered beside you, nudging your arm. She always knew when something was off.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, managing a weak smile. You knew she wasn’t convinced, but thankfully it was believable since it was almost one in the morning.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, and for a moment, the table fell silent, all heads turning toward the front of the house.

Your mamá began to rise from her seat, but your sister shot up faster, her movements quick and purposeful.

“I’ll get it!” she said with a wide grin that you couldn’t quite understand.

Confused, you glanced at her. “Why are you so—?”

“Why don’t you open it?” she interrupted, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous. Before you could protest, she was already pulling you up by the arm, practically dragging you toward the door.

“Manita, what—” You barely had time to question her as you stumbled toward the front of the house, your heart suddenly racing. Your fingers hesitated on the doorknob, a strange sense of nervousness washing over you.

With a deep breath, you twisted the knob, and as the door creaked open, your world stopped.

There he was—Max—standing on the doorstep, dressed in his classic white shirt and jeans, his suitcase at his feet, looking ridiculous compared to you in your nice dress. His face was lit up with the biggest smile you had ever seen, his eyes bright with excitement. The warm Mexican air framed him, but all you could feel was the warmth that flooded your chest the moment your eyes met his.

“Feliz Navidad,” he said softly, his Spanish still as atrocious as when you’d last seen him, his voice full of affection.

For a second, you just stood there, frozen in disbelief. Your mind struggled to catch up with your heart, which was already racing. Max was here. After all those weeks apart, after all the lonely nights spent staring at your phone—he was actually here.

Without another thought, you flung yourself into his arms, tears welling up in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest. The warmth of his embrace was overwhelming, and the scent of his cologne—a familiar mix of cedar and something faintly sweet—was like coming home.

“You’re here,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you clung to him tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms wrapping securely around you as if he never wanted to let go. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this. I needed to be with you, liefje.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hand trembling as you brushed your fingers along his cheek, making sure this wasn’t a dream. He smiled down at you, his eyes full of nothing but love, and you couldn’t help but laugh through the tears.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to be here with you.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped up in each other, for what felt like forever—until you suddenly remembered where you were. Slowly, you pulled away, wiping at your tears as you turned back toward the dining room. Your entire family was staring at the two of you, some with their mouths slightly open, others exchanging curious glances.

Your mamá stood at the head of the table, her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in a mix of surprise and confusion. Your abuelo looked over his glasses at the scene, clearly intrigued, while your little cousins whispered to each other at their table, giggling at the sudden interruption, some looking at you in shock as they recognised him.

Your sister, on the other hand, was beaming like a Cheshire cat, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered reaction. She gave you a subtle thumbs up behind your boyfriend’s back.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face your family, feeling your cheeks heat up under their curious stares. “Um... everyone,” you began, your voice shaky. “This is mi novio, Max.”

You could see the shock ripple through the room like a wave. The word boyfriend hung in the air, and for a moment, no one said anything. You hadn’t told anyone about him yet, only your sister knew, as of three months ago when she started snooping and realised you were no longer living in France but in Monaco. Your relationship had been something you wanted to keep just for yourself for a little while longer. But now, here he was, standing in the middle of your family’s Christmas dinner, a smile on his face as he awkwardly waved at your relatives.

“I wanted to introduce him sooner,” you continued nervously, glancing at your mamá, who was still looking at him, studying him. “But... surprise?”

The silence stretched for another second before your mamá’s face softened. She slowly approached, eyeing Max from head to toe, and you held your breath, waiting for her reaction.

Finally, she smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made your heart swell. “Bienvenido,” she said, her voice kind as she reached out to embrace him. “Welcome to the family.”

Max looked slightly taken aback but quickly returned the embrace, his smile widening. “Thank you, Señora,” he said, his accent endearing as he stumbled over the Spanish.

Just as your mamá let go of Max, the room settled into a brief moment of quiet. Your abuelo was still smiling warmly at him, your cousins exchanging glances, when suddenly, your little cousin Mateo, the one with the wild mop of curls and boundless energy, jumped up from his seat at the kids’ table.

“¡Espera! (wait!)” Mateo shouted, his eyes wide as saucers, pointing directly at Julien. “¡Lo conozco! (i know him!)”

Everyone turned to look at Mateo, confusion washing over the room. Max raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, clearly unsure of what was happening.

Mateo’s excitement was contagious, and before anyone could say anything, he ran around the big table and skidded to a stop in front of Max, his hands on his hips like a detective who had just solved the case of the century.

“¡Eres tú! ¡Tú eres Max Verstappen! The Formula One driver! I saw you on TV in Abu Dhabi with Papá!” he exclaimed, his voice practically shaking with enthusiasm.

There was a collective intake of breath as everyone slowly started to understand what Mateo was saying. Your abuelo’s eyes widened, and your mamá’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

Max chuckled softly, glancing down at Mateo with a grin. “That’s right,” he said, squatting down to Mateo’s level. “You watch Formula One?”

Mateo nodded furiously, his eyes practically sparkling. “I love it! My papá and I watch all the races! You’re so fast! You won the championship!” His words were coming out so quickly, you weren’t sure he was breathing.

Max laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I did, maybe one day I can show you the trophy!”

Mateo looked up at you, then back at Max, his expression suddenly turning serious. “Wait... you are his girlfriend?” he asked, pointing at you with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe his cousin was dating a Formula One World Champion.

You blushed, nodding sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Mateo’s jaw dropped. “No way!” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “You never told us you were dating a Formula One driver! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Before you could answer, the room erupted into laughter, your cousins and siblings throwing questions at you all at once.

"How long have you been dating him?"

"Is he as fast in person as he is on TV?"

"Wait, does this mean you get to go to all the races?"

Your mamá, still a bit wide-eyed, looked at Max in awe. “Un piloto de Fórmula Uno... Wow,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, her expression softened again, a proud smile spreading across her face as she turned to you. "Mira a mi hija, con un piloto famoso." (look at my daughter, with a famous driver.)

Max smiled at your mamá, standing back up and pulling you close to his side. "She’s the real big thing," he said, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into him, grateful that your family was slowly warming up to the whirlwind surprise.

Mateo, still in shock, tugged on Max’s sleeve, his face beaming with excitement. “Can I get your autograph later? I have all the Formula One cards!”

Max laughed again, ruffling Mateo’s hair. “Of course, mate. Anything for mi amore’s family.”

As Mateo ran back to his seat to excitedly tell the other cousins who his new hero was, the entire room buzzed with energy, the surprise turning into the kind of joyous chaos that only a big family dinner could have. Your abuelo poured another round of drinks, your mamá called for everyone to sit back down and finish the meal, and you couldn’t help but smile as Max pulled your chair out for you, his hand brushing yours as you both returned to the table. Something about the scene felt so domestic that you couldn’t remember why you didn’t want to introduce him in the first place. 

“Feliz Navidad Mi Amor (merry christmas, my love),” you whispered to him as he took in the scene in front of him.

"Vrolijk Kerstfeest schatje. (merry christmas sweetheart)” he replied, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve sighs as Robin cackles and opens the door to the break room to add yet another tally to the “You Suck” side of her whiteboard. He hopes she lingers for a bit so he can get a break from the constant reminder that yes, he does suck. But the stupid hat and sailor uniform is enough of a reminder already.

And okay, maybe he enjoys Robin’s company a little bit, so maybe he doesn’t want her to linger for too long.

But he’ll never tell her that. Not in a million years.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone walk into the entrance and he turns to give his “ahoy there” speech that Robin refuses to utter a single word of. Only, he gets a little choked up when he realizes he knows the person.

Well, not exactly knows him. But it’s hard not to know of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Especially if you go to high school with him and happen to be a jock, god forbid. Not that Steve ever disagreed with the things he said, although some of it went right over his head - okay, most of it did. But! All things said, Eddie had a habit of making himself known to people.

“Ahoy there!” Steve announces louder than intended. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain.” He leaves out his name because what’s the point? It’s not like Eddie isn’t aware of his existence or at least his last name which sometimes made a feature in his tabletop speeches.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie says for him, apparently knowing his first name. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Surprisingly, it’s not said in complete distaste. In fact, Eddie is smiling widely at him, eyes roaming over the uniform and landing on the hat.

Steve sighs, “Trust me, I know. So, what can I get for you today?”

Eddie smiles wickedly and asks, “Why don’t we set sail on this ocean of flavor and you can show me around, captain?”

A blush creeps its way up Steve’s neck and begins to burn at his cheeks. Probably from the humiliation. Nevertheless, he points out each different flavor and goes into detail about what’s in each since Eddie seems to be enjoying the humiliation, but Steve doesn’t mind it too much since he feels like he’s getting his undivided attention. And something about that makes Steve feel… less sucky.

He glances up at the end of his speech about the last flavor and catches Eddie staring at him with a small smile on his face, more genuine than before.

“What?” Steve can’t help but ask.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, but the lie is clear to both of them. “I’ll get the USS Butterscotch.”

Something about the flavor makes Steve hesitate.

“What?” Eddie asks this time, slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Cup or cone?”

Eddie laughs, “Come on, you can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Make that face and then pretend like you weren’t thinking anything.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “And you can?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he leans across the top of the glass dramatically and puts his head in his hands. “I’ll get a cone please.”

Something about the image makes Steve laugh as he grabs a cone and scoop, making the order for Eddie. "You know." he says, wishing the ice cream was the slightest bit softer, "I was expecting you to get something like death by chocolate or coffee."

"Why's that?" Eddie asks curiously.

Steve glances up at him and shrugs. “Those flavors are more…” he struggles to find the right word.

“Metal?” Eddie asks, sounding almost hopeful.

“Exactly.”

The smile on his face grows. “Well, I’m glad you see me as someone metal, Steve. But what, just because you’re a jock, I’m supposed to expect you to like some gross flavor like bubblegum?”

Steve frowns. “I like bubblegum ice cream.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Of course you do.” He takes a moment to look over Steve again. “But looking at you now, I’d assume your favorite flavor would be the USS butterscotch.”

“Because of the stupid hat, right?” Steve asks as he drizzles extra caramel on the top of the cone.

“I think the hat is cute,” Eddie replies.

The comment sends Steve’s heart into a bit of a frenzy for a moment before he collects himself and hands the cone over in exchange for the bill in Eddie’s hand. He counts the change two times, trying to make sure he doesn’t make a mistake as a bunch of panicky thoughts go through his head. He hands the change over quickly but hesitates when Eddie stares at it and frowns. “Something wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at the menu, down at his change, and takes a moment before saying, “Sorry, you just charged me for a single scoop when this is a double with an extra topping.”

Steve frowns and looks at the cone. “The topping is on the house, but that’s a single scoop.”

Eddie glances up at him and raises his eyebrows.

“A generous single scoop,” Steve corrects himself.

There’s a pause before Eddie’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up cutely. “I think i just found my new favorite ice cream place.”

Steve laughs, “Better than Linda’s Ice Cream Parlor?”

“Linda would call this a triple scoop and wouldn’t give me a topping but she would still make me pay the extra just for asking,” Eddie complains with a smile.

“Well, I would never do that to you.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, leaning forward a bit.

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips momentarily as he tries to come up with a response.

“Hey dingus, there was a horrible delivery you missed…” Robin trails off as she looks between the two, effectively ruining the moment.

“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink, tongue darting out and gathering up a bit of white ice cream and letting it disappear into his mouth.

Steve feels a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach and nearly groans. Instead he hurriedly tells Robin, “I’m taking my break!” And effectively ignores the look she’s giving him.

Back in the break room, Steve walks up to the board and stares at it, glancing at the “You Rule” column and whispering, “Almost,” before sighing and putting his head in his hands.

He can’t believe that Eddie Munson is sending him into a sexuality crisis. Yet, he hopes he comes back often the rest of summer. And maybe he’ll finally be able to get that “You Rule” tally.

[hyukalyptus]

or else what? —hueningkai x fem!reader | enemies to enemies with benefits(?). NSFW/MDNI!

cw. mean dom!kai, reader and kai are mean to each other, feat. soob and yj and their partners for a very short amount of time (not in smut part tho), camping, reader is a type A boss bitch kinda person, mentions of rain, kissing, hair pulling, mean names (slut, stupid, dumb, loser), pet names (baby), sex, light restraining, ruined orgasms, biting, nipple play, some dacryphilia, maybe a lil bit of publicness? (theyre at a campsite but implied no one else can hear anything), creampie, reader is embarrassed that she did stuff w kai and tells him, reader has a dog, reader is good at video games, chubby!reader implied, lmk if i missed anything! notes. im usually not one for mean stuff, im way more of a softie, so i tried something new but im quite nervous about it. oh! and this is based off a thought i posted the other week. lmk what ya think ;) smut under cut. wc. 4.1K

“Why are you being nice to him?” You snap at your dog who is currently greeting your friends at your front door. Normally, you wouldn’t mind, of course, but they have taken a particular liking for Kai. Apparently, you’re the only person in the world that hates him. Kai that is. The constant laughing, the sickeningly sweet optimism, and his sheer humility—it all screams fake to you.

You hate every little thing about him and he hates you right back. The way you disagree with everything he says just because, how you’re always pointing out when he’s wrong, how you seem to be depressingly pessimistic. You put up with each other for the sake of your friends—not everyone in every friend group has to get along, right? 

“Nice to see you too.”

“Someone separate them please?” Soobin asks. “I can’t deal with another argument right now.” He rubs his temple out of caution.

Everyone’s over for a game night—Soobin, his partner, River, as well as Yeonjun, and your best friend, Sage, who has been in an on-again-off-again relationship with him since they met. Right now, they’re off, but definitely still friendly. 

“How about some Smash Bros?”

“No,” you say to Kai. “Mario Kart.” 

“River and I have been talking about playing Smash Bros all day.”

“Not my problem.”

“How about we take a vote?” He suggests. You reluctantly agree, watching as you’re the only one that raises your hand to play Mario Kart before you glare at Sage, guilting them into voting for it too. Regardless of their vote, though, it’s still four against two. Kai sticks out his tongue at you just to rub it in your face. God, you hate it when he wins. 

“Maybe you should stop pouting,” Sage says, nudging your shoulder. “Beat him in the next round. You know you’re better than anyone here.” You take the opportunity to easily—and quickly—beat Kai in a one-on-one match. Now it’s his turn to pout while he grabs a snack. 

Luckily, everyone makes it through the night without any blood or tears shed but when the group’s annual camping trip comes up, the cold weather mixed with the prolonged close proximity to people leads to a grumpy Kai arguing with an even grumpier you. 

The reason behind the initial argument is long forgotten—you’re seemingly arguing over anything and everything from you stopping too often to take pictures to him taking sips from your water bottle, which he insists was an accident. Everyone’s keeping you two as far apart from each other as possible, with him leading the pack and you bringing up the rear. 

“It looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” River points out. “We should probably set up camp.” Everyone agrees, setting sights for the campsite. 

“What do you think about this spot over here, Sage?” You ask but are immediately answered with the guiltiest look from them, eyes glancing between you and Yeonjun. “Don’t tell me.” You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. “You’re back together?” You ask quietly.

“Please don’t be mad,” they say. “It’s going really well this time.” 

“I didn’t bring another tent.” 

“Kai’s tent is huge,” Sage says, loud enough for Kai to hear, as if they’re making a suggestion to him. “Can she stay with you?” 

“I thought Yeonjun was sleeping in my tent.” 

“I was gonna stay in Sage’s,” Yeonjun responds, with an attempted wink. Everyone looks between each other, dodging each other’s eyes, no one wanting to give in. Everyone’s desperate to stay with their partners but you and Kai are desperate to not spend a single second alone together. Soobin and River won’t budge. Sage’s pleading eyes looking at you added to the pleading eyes Yeonjun sends Kai, you look at each other before he finally agrees—

“Fine,” Kai says, dropping the poles to the ground. “You gotta finish setting it up though. I’m gonna go get some water and refill the cooler with ice,” he says, leaving you with an impossible task. There’s a reason you didn’t bring your own tent.

Struggling with the tent for at least thirty minutes, it’s even less put together than when Kai turned the task over to you. The two couples have snuggled into their tents for the night and the drizzle is quickly turning into a downpour. Soaked, cold, and annoyed, Kai’s making his way back to you, anger etched all over his face when he doesn’t have a dry tent to walk into. 

“Do you not know how to put a tent up?”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“I could’ve set up three tents by now,” he says, but doesn’t have time to be much madder—he’s gotta get a roof over his own head. Without speaking, he takes over completely, getting it up in about ten minutes. It would’ve been quicker if he didn’t have to work in the rain. 

Settling in, you try to dry the parts of the interior that got wet from the rain, but it doesn’t help much. He peels off his now-soaked shirt and searches for a dry one. 

“Ah, that was my last t-shirt.”

“I’m sorry. I tried—”

“I don’t care,” he stops you, holding his hand up.

Falling silent, you change the subject, “What took you so long anyway?”

“I was talking to someone at the ice machine for a while,” he says matter-of-factly, holding up his laptop. “Wanna watch a movie before bed?” 

“No.” You lay your head on the stupid camping pillow hoping for some rest. But your plan is disrupted by the blaring trumpets of a movie intro. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Watching a movie.” 

“Turn it off.” 

“I didn’t ask for permission to watch it,” he points out. “I asked if you wanted to join me.”

“Isn’t it gonna bother the other campers?”

“Doubt they can hear it.”

Frustrated, you roll over and cover your ears. You thought you could sleep through anything, especially with the rain pouring outside, but you were wrong. Eventually, you give up, throwing your pillow down and slamming his laptop shut.

“What are you doing? You asshole—” he snaps, glaring at you. 

“Me? You’re the ass for not letting me sleep,” you fire back, narrowing your eyes. 

“I wasn’t supposed to have you in here anyway,” he mutters. 

“I’m not an asshole,” you say defensively.

“Yes, you are,” he spits. “You always have to have it your way.”

“I’m not having this argument with you,” you say, turning away and trying to block out his escalating anger. You pull the thin camping blanket over your head, desperate for some peace.

He huffs, clearly frustrated, but you ignore it. The sound of rain tapping against the tent becomes your only solace. Minutes pass in silence, each second stretching longer than the last. You can feel his restless energy beside you, the tension almost palpable.

“I can't believe you. You're so annoying,” he says. 

You simply lay there, trying to block out the muttering under his breath. The stickiness of the damp sleeping bags and the cold camping pillow are ridiculously uncomfortable.

Remembering the clean, dry blankets you have stored in the trunk of your car for emergencies and you get up to grab them silently, ignoring his insults. Returning with them, his eyes light up and he asks, “Where did you get those?”

“My car,” you answer nonchalantly, setting up your new bed. You try to salvage what you can of the sleeping bag to have some kind of barrier between the damp tent floor and your blanket, but it’s not perfect. Eventually settling on the makeshift bed, you can feel Kai staring at you through your closed eyelids. “Can I help you?” You ask without opening them.

“Aren’t you gonna share those with me?”

“Why would I?”

“You’re the one that got our other blankets and the tent all wet.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t bring back-up.”

He exasperates, clearly done with you and all your…what does he call it? Selfish nonsense? “I can’t believe I have to share a tent with you. And you get it all wet in here and won’t even share the dry blankets with me?” 

“You think I'm happy about this either?" Your arms flail before you go on one of your famous rants. “I don’t even like camping but I come along with Sage because they’re my best friend and I was looking forward to spending time alone with them to talk but because they decided to start fucking Yeonjun again I have to sleep in a tent with you, which you make me put together even though I don’t know how to put it together so its disgusting in here and you expect me to share my blankets with you? You’re never nice to me why the fuck would I share them with you? You’re always making me look like a bitch in front of everyone when I know you’re just—”

Kai suddenly yanks you by your elbow and says, “Would you please just shut up?” 

Seeing him this mad…you don’t know if he’s ever looked like this. Red in the face, eyebrows furrowed, not to mention he’s still shirtless since all his clothes are soaked. You look over his body—you’ve never seen him before—and you realize just how muscular he is. Broad-shouldered, defined pecs and ripples in his arms, particularly the one gripping you so harshly. 

You smirk at him before saying, “Make me." Looking over your face, he doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it's anger or frustration or the ambiance from the sound of rain against the tent and the small camping lamp, but he can’t help it. 

Crashing his lips into yours, you’re taken by surprise. You feel the power his plush lips give off, but only for a second before you push him off. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“I don’t–I don’t know, I, uh…” He stutters, trying to find something—anything—to say, but no luck. Looking at each other, something clicks like we need to have each other now. 

You pull him to you by cupping his cheeks and crashing your lips into his quickly, eagerly, desperately. Hands in his hair, his on your hips, he squeezes your chubby thighs, wanting more, but—

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s happening? You and I are making out?” He asks, shock etched across his face as his eyebrows furrow. 

“Well, not anymore.” You look at him confused. “Did you forget you’re the one that kissed me first?”

“That was just so you’d shut up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want me. I see you staring at my tits all the time.” You smirk at him and his eyes shift, admitting guilt. Realization hits you. “...Is that why you’re such an ass to me? Because you’re sexually frustrated whenever you’re around me? Do you…like me?”

“No,” he says defensively. “I hate you actually. You’re so annoying.” He rolls his eyes. “But the most annoying part about you is how much I wanna fuck you.” Your eyes widen, but a smile slowly spreads across his face before he asks, “Is that why you’re such an ass to me?” Leaning in closer, he examines your face, looking for any sign of weakness. “It is, isn’t it?” You shake your head. “Say it.” 

“Kai.”

“I wanna hear you say you want me.”

The quickest, most disingenuous, “I want you,” comes out of your mouth. Did you really just say that? It’s not like you haven’t noticed how handsome he’d gotten recently, but it’s also not like you’ve ever thought about doing anything. Before tonight, the thought of him even touching you made your skin crawl. But right now, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more. Reaching for him, you add, “Now shut up and fuck me.” 

Still shirtless from when he peeled off the wet fabric a few minutes ago, he tugs at the hem of your tank top. Slipping it off you, his eyebrows raise at your bare chest—full and needing to be squeezed, which he does immediately. Your nipples perky and hard from arousal and the cool air are simply begging to be sucked. His warm, welcoming and wet lips wrapped around one elicit a sound from you that you hope is covered by the rain outside. 

The others would never let you live it down if they heard you two fucking. 

Mouths all over—his on your nipples and your collarbone, yours on his mouth and his shoulders—it’s a whirlwind of kisses and pure lust. 

“I hate you,” you murmur, adding a nice hair tug for good measure. 

“I hate you too,” he responds. “So much.” The tent, damp from the rain and hot breath warms you up, skin slick with a sheen of sweat. Sleeping bags and blankets ruffle underneath your bodies as you rush to undress each other fully. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he says against your ear. “Don’t even know how to put up a tent. Need my help for everything?”

“You’ve never been any help to me,” you respond. “Plus, we wouldn’t have gotten rained on so much if you didn’t get lost leading everyone. Need your phone for everything? Can’t even handle one short hike? Good for nothing,” you spit. “Except…you’re kind of a good kisser.”

“Wish I could say the same about you.”

“Don’t lie,” you smirk. “I’m an incredible kisser.” He may roll his eyes but he heads straight back for more. “But you’re taking too long. Hurry up,” you say between kisses. Grazing his hand down your hip, he slides two fingers between your pussy lips and—

“You’re that wet for me and I’ve barely even touched you? Desperate slut.” You grab his cock, making him jerk forward, his mouth dropping open.

“You’re already that hard and I’ve barely even touched you? Horny loser.” Without warning, he lines himself up at your entrance and shoves his cock inside you, forcing a yelp from your throat.

Covering your mouth, he leans down, gracing his lips over your earlobe before whispering, “You never shut the fuck up, do you?” And he’s relentless. Fucking you fast and hard, whispering mean, dirty shit in your ear, shivers rolling down your spine at every syllable. “You don’t deserve to feel this good.”

“And you think you deserve this pussy?” You fire right back. Although, he does seem to be winning with the sheer amount of moaning coming from your mouth compared to his controlled sounds and expert movements. You try your best to compose yourself before saying, “A dumb fuck like you doesn’t deserve to even touch my skin.”

“Is that why you gasp when I pinch your nipples?” He asks. You narrow your eyes at him. But he definitely proves himself right. Rolling your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, basking in the chills it gives you, clearly sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. You reach to touch his broad chest but he stops you. “Nuh-uh. Hands to yourself,” he says, gripping your wrists harshly and pinning them to the ground. 

Suddenly, you’ve never wanted to touch someone more in your life. The way his skin glistens, muscles looking so strong, a bead of sweat drips between his pecs and you swear you clit twitches. Honestly, you’re in shock. What do you usually do with your hands? Since when has he been like this? An absolute slut? A mean slut at that. But you love it. 

Your hands stay at your side after he moves to squeeze your body again but you can’t help but reach up—you’re desperate to touch him. He halts, lifting his fingers off your tits. 

“Every time you try to touch me without permission, I’ll stop touching you,” he says. You surrender, putting your hands under your back. “Good girl.”

Fuck. That felt nice too. Being degraded is one thing, but getting rewarded for following directions? That’s delicious. Heat rushes to your ears. 

“Please—”

“Ah,” he places his pointer finger over your lips. “I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” You make a show of keeping your mouth closed. “You learn so fast, hm?” You smile—a genuine giddy smile. “So cute,” he whispers, placing a thumb on your clit, circling it gently. 

But when a weak little, “Fuck,” slips out of your mouth, he stops.

“Did I say you could speak?” You shake your head. Running a thumb across the apple of your cheek, he gives you a look somewhere between my pathetic little slut and you’re being such a good girl for me. 

Keeping your mouth shut, your body is in complete bliss, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure his cock and hands are giving you. You’re positively drunk on his cock, letting him do whatever he wants to you—touch you here, lick and bite you there, kiss on this, suck on that—not only to be his good little slut, but because it feels fucking incredible. He knows what he’s doing, you’ll give him that. 

Then you feel it, your orgasm is slowly approaching, every move he makes pushes you closer and closer to the edge. And he knows it. The little whimpers you make, trying to hold back. The twitches your clit makes. The pulses of your pussy. 

“Aw,” he starts condescendingly. “Is my good little slut gonna come for me?” You nod rapidly, being sure to keep your mouth shut and movements under control. The last thing you want right now is a punishment. Or maybe it’s the thing you want most? The lines are too blurred to tell. “Say it.”

You can barely mumble it, but you manage to croak out, “You’re gonna make me come, Kai.”

“Good girl.” He doesn’t change a single thing. It creeps closer and closer until you can feel your body start to tip over. And then he does something…expected? Surprising? Honestly, you’re not so sure anymore. He stops, your orgasm so close to crashing over you, ruined by this son of a bitch. 

Tears form in your eyes. Was he really doing this to you? This annoying, stupid fucking jerk you’ve hated for years making you cry over his cock? 

“That’s for being such a goddamn nuisance since the day I met you.” 

What do you do now? Be a jerk to him? Overpower him and pin him down? Sit there like a hole needing to be fucked? You decide to go for the last option, hoping he’ll make you come as fast as he can. Although, truthfully, you feel like one swipe across your clit would make you finish you at this point. 

“Tell me you don’t deserve me.” You keep your mouth shut. Gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, you stare at his eyes. He chuckles like he’s proud of you before he says, “You may speak.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” He squeezes harder, almost like he’s saying that’s not enough. “I don’t deserve to feel this good. I don’t deserve your cock. I don’t deserve…anything.” 

“Good girl.” He loosens his grip around your throat. He’s done with his fun now. The ache in both of your bodies is getting unbearable and he’s determined to make you come first. Which he supposes he already did, despite ruining it for you. But he’s gotta get you back to that place before he gets there first.

Returning to the hard and fast pace of fucking you like he was a few minutes ago, his cock slams in and out and out of your pussy, ripples running down your thighs, ass, tits, everywhere. He stares in awe of your perfect tits bouncing in rhythm with his thrusts. 

Your mouth opens and closes like you want to say something, but if you speak without permission, he may stop. You decide to take a chance anyway. 

“Kai…” you squeak out through the rough movements. He responds with a sweet yet sinister smile that says you may speak. “You are gonna let me come, right?”

His eyebrows furrow, face full of pity. He asks, “You think I should?”

“You better or I’ll…” You trail off.

“You’ll what?” He stops moving, therefore earning a pathetic whine from you, trying to protest without words. “What are you gonna do to me?”

Now what’s a good punishment for him? Clearly, he’s used to being the one punishing his sexual partners—you wonder how his other subs have dealt with him being a jerk. You don’t want to overpower him like you thought you did. There’s something about being pinned down like this, letting him do whatever he wants, not having to move an inch. You’re such a powerful woman everywhere else—the type A personality type, which you admit can get overwhelmingly exhausting. 

Letting someone take full control over you like this—it’s relaxing. You wonder how much he’s enjoying himself but you notice the way his eyes flutter when you simply tighten your pussy around his cock, how he hasn’t stopped touching you since you finally let him, hell, he kissed you first. Of course he’s enjoying this. And bingo—you’ve got just enough control to get what you want. 

“I’ll never let you fuck me like this again.” 

Narrowing his eyes at you, it's like he knows that you caught him in the act of something. Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “We can’t let that happen, now can we?”

Somehow, the energy shifts to be even more desperate. Taking out years and years of frustration from hating each other while simultaneously wanting to have sex. Fucking as fast as your bodies will let you, the tent fills with the absolutely obscene noises coming from your mouths. The only reason you aren’t holding back is because the rain beating against the plastic tent and the occasional thunder thankfully covers most of it. 

When one of his thumbs finds your clit, you feel like you’re floating. The air falls out of your lungs, pleasure taking over your body as you relax into your orgasm. You’re drunk, high on his cock and the only thing you’re seeing are stars and that stupid smirk plastered across his face. It rips through your body like lightning, shooting out your toes and fingertips. 

“Talk to me,” he says breathlessly in your ear. But you can’t. You can only manage strangled noises to let him know you’re having an incredible orgasm. 

Coming down from your high, though, you finally say, “Fuck, that felt so good.” 

“Tell me how good.”

“You made me feel so…so fucking good, Kai,” you say, shaking your head, unsure of what else to tell him. Call it post-nut clarity, but why the hell were you having sex with him again? Honestly, who cares? He’s actually pretty hot and he’s damn good at this too. What happens after this? Enemies with benefits? Never mention it again? You make a note to come back to this with him later. But right now, you need to get to the matter at hand. “Why don’t you tell me how good I feel?”

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” he says. “Your pussy might be the only thing I like about you.” He chuckles, his mouth dropping open, undeniably close to his own orgasm. “Well, maybe your pussy and your tits.” Burying his face between them, he bites down on the plush, groaning against your skin. 

“I need you to come inside me, Kai. Please.” 

“Keep talking to me like that.”

And you do. Giving him praise, touching him in all the right places, putting on a show for him. With a few final thrusts, he groans, whispering something you don’t catch, but you feel it. Him coming inside you with a sexy groan, covering your chest in the sloppiest of kisses and bites. 

Catching his breath, he whispers breathlessly, “Damn. That was good.” Sliding out of you, an awkwardness catches up with the two of you. You push yourself up on your elbows, attempting to gather your thoughts. His eyes are still dark with desire as he looks at you with a satisfied smirk. 

“Listen,” you say, covering your chest with your blanket. “This can’t happen again.” His smile drops.

“What?”

“The fact that we did that,” you gesture between the two of you, “never leaves this tent, you hear me?” Cocking his head to the side, he nods awkwardly. “No one can find out about this. God, I’d be so embarrassed. Let’s just…get some sleep.” 

Did you forget about what he said?

Or I’ll never let you fuck my like this again. Using that as a threat if he didn’t let you come meant you wanted to do it again, no? Slowly putting on his boxers again, he agrees, turning away from you to try and get some sleep but, all of a sudden, there’s too much on his mind.