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honeypiehotchner · 17 days ago

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The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part one

I'm backkk 👀 Reminder that y'all do NOT like each other (for now 🤭)

I did a lot of math to make sure I had my timeline in order but I won't bore y'all with all the numbers. Some basics, tho: we're somewhere in s5/6, Foyet doesn't exist here but Haley and Hotch are divorced and Jack lives with Haley, Reader is in her mid 30s and Hotch is in his mid 40s. That's all for now, happy reading! xxx

Chapter warnings: these two are at each other's throats! and a new case begins ofc

Your day started out perfectly.

You sorted more of your belongings into boxes for the movers. Everything will be shipped ahead so it arrives shortly after you do at your apartment in Virginia. You’re running ahead of schedule, so you even have time to stop for a good breakfast before heading into the office.

The day felt…too good to be true. And you quickly find out why.

“The BAU?”

Your superior, Agent Reynolds, sits across from you and raises an eyebrow, assuming incorrectly that you haven’t heard of the branch. “The Behavioral Analy—”

“Yes, I know what the BAU is,” you cut him off, something he’s used to, waving your hand sharply. “Why the BAU?”

“You were requested,” he replies simply with a slight shrug.

“By who?”

“Agent Hotchner, as I’m told.”

That is the last name you ever expected him to say.

“Hotch?” you echo incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

Reynolds sighs. “I’m really not.” You know deep down Reynolds will miss you, but he’ll also thank god every day that he doesn’t have to put up with your attitude anymore.

“Huh.” You could laugh. You almost do. “Interesting.”

Your now ex-boss gives you a look, and a sigh. “What now?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “Agent Hotchner and I have met before, that’s all.”

+++

Ten and a half years prior to the present day, you worked on a case with Aaron Hotchner.

Key word: case. One singular case.

You were joined by agents Gideon, Morgan, and, of course, Hotchner. You were the only woman with them at the time, and that already threatened to drive you up a wall. To make matters worse, you and Hotch could not get along to save anyone’s lives.

The two of you butted heads for two weeks straight, but even that is sugar coating it. He raised his voice at you and you raised your voice right back. Of course, only in private. In the field, you were as professional as can be. But in the tiny conference room that you had to set up for them coming in unannounced? All bets were off.

You’ve never been a particularly angry person, but something about Hotch brought all your anger to the surface.

He was the most arrogant man you had ever come across. He explained things to you that you already knew, and even when you told him you were aware of the topic, he’d continue explaining like he hadn’t heard you, just out of spite.

He underestimated you in ways that had your blood boiling. He wouldn’t send you to interview anyone, despite that being your area of expertise. He had you doing busy work, like a goddamn intern.

You were your office’s own little BAU. You had read Gideon’s papers, been to profiling lectures. You became a profiler because you knew your city needed one, and by your fifth year in the office, you were one. You knew what you were doing, and Hotch treated you like a newbie.

He always walked around in a damn suit and tie. Does he not own a t-shirt? Does he know what that is? Would it kill him to breathe once in a while?

Why does he have to look like he constantly has a stick up his ass?

Of course, you aren’t totally innocent. You found his buttons and pushed them since day one. He hated being talked over or shouted at, so those became your favorite things. Especially after he began doing them to you.

Don’t disobey direct orders, he said. You did. And you got the results needed, so he had no choice but to move on.

Don’t come into the interrogation room unless asked for, he said. You did anyway. The unsub needed to feel important, a high priority, and he wasn’t. So, you walked in and told Hotch that the Attorney General of the United States was on the phone. It worked. While Hotch “spoke with the Attorney General,” you got a confession. Hotch had to thank you through gritted teeth.

When the case was solved and the BAU left town, you popped a bottle of fucking champagne. Good riddance you screamed and drank straight from the foaming top.

+++

You mutter under your breath the entire drive to the BAU. Your boxes arrived this morning, but you haven’t had a chance to unpack them, so your apartment is currently a shitshow.

And now you’re driving to deal with another shitshow.

You haven’t received any emails or texts from Hotch, which is odd, but you’re sure as hell not questioning it. The less you have to deal with him, the better. He probably shares the same sentiment, which is why he hasn’t contacted you.

From far away, Quantico looks more like a prison than it does a headquarters. You hope it doesn’t feel the same way it looks.

The BAU office is just a short elevator ride up from the parking garage, and you dread every second of it. When the doors open on the BAU floor, you want to scream.

But you’re a professional, not a toddler, so you walk your ass through the glass doors and into the bullpen, your head held high like an adult.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Hi Morgan,” you mirror his grin, accepting his hug. “Miss me?”

He’s in the same black t-shirt and black jeans he always wears, his haircut just the same but shorter. And he finally got rid of the “shaving my face every morning” routine. Stubble looks much better on him.

“For ten years,” Morgan reminds you. “What brings you here?”

You shrug cheekily, feigning innocence. “I heard there was an opening.”

His grin, somehow, grows wider and brighter. “Come here!” He tackles you in another hug, this time lifting you up and spinning you. “God is on my side to-day. Where’s Reid?”

“Putting a disastrous amount of sugar in his coffee,” a blonde woman says as she passes, then stops. “Oh, hi. I’m JJ, you must be Agent L/N. I heard you were coming in today.”

You escape from Morgan’s grip to shake JJ’s hand. “That’s me. JJ, you said?”

She nods, shifting her feet to a more comfortable position in her heels. “I’m the BAU liaison, so you’ll see a lot of me. And very little of me. It’s complicated.”

“I hear that,” you chuckle, just glad to see another woman has joined the team.

And to your surprise, another joins the circle, this one with black hair parted down the middle. “Emily Prentiss,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Are we finally getting another woman around here?”

You nod, glad to hear she agrees with your unspoken comment. “Looks like it.”

“Did someone call my name?”

You turn and see the infamous Dr. Reid stirring a mug of sugar with a splash of coffee. He’s wearing a cardigan, per usual, and what looks like the same pair converse from when you first met him five years ago at a lecture the BAU put on. He was brand new back then. His eyebrows furrow when he sees you, and then they go wide.

“Y/N? Hi!” he says excitedly, nearly spilling his drink. “It’s been so long! Wha— What are you doing here?”

You give JJ and Emily a look that only you three truly understand. “Why do none of the men assume I’ll be joining the team?”

Emily laughs. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid blurts. “Are you really joining us?”

“Sure am,” you grin. “And once I get out of this meeting with Hotch, you’re telling me when the hell you joined a boyband.”

“Oh, ouch,” Morgan taps Reid’s arm lightly with a grin.

“Uh, you too, Derek,” you punch him, letting him know he isn’t off the hook either. “What’s up with the shirt? Do you not own another color?”

“Damn, momma,” Morgan groans. “You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” you pat his cheek.

“I like you already,” Emily grins.

“Agent L/N,” an unmistakable voice comes from the top of the stairs, effectively ruining the moment.

He definitely hasn’t changed, you think to yourself as you slowly turn around.

“Agent Hotchner,” you mimic his tone. “Nice to see you again.”

He grips the railing a little too tightly. And he’s still wearing a damn suit, with a damn tie knotted so tight you wonder if it’s choking him. If it’s not, you want it to be. Maybe he’ll shut up then.

“I believe our meeting was scheduled for 9am,” he says, earning a sideways glance from the other man standing on the balcony.

“It still is,” you reply, looking beside his head at the clock on the wall and shit. “I’m late. That’s my fault, sir. I apologize.”

“Yes, it is,” he says. “We need to make this short. Hurry up.”

He turns and disappears into his office like some imitation of Dracula. You give Derek a helpless look.

“Welcome back,” Reid says, grimacing.

“Thanks, bud,” you reply, knowing he means well. “If any of you hear any screaming, pay no mind, that’s just how we greet each oth—”

“Agent L/N!” Hotch shouts from his doorway.

“Coming!” you shout back, just as loud and just as annoyed. “For fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself.

You hop up the stairs two at a time, reaching Hotch’s office in seconds.

The man that was beside Hotch offers you a smile. “I’m Agent Rossi,” he extends his hand.

“Agent L/N,” you return the friendly expression, shaking his hand, just glad that he at least seems happy to meet you. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

Rossi nods slowly, mouthing, “Good luck.”

You like him already. You smirk.

Hotch is standing behind his desk when you walk into his office, anger written all over his face. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers picking at his nails ever so slightly.

“Close the door.”

“Promise not to shoot me?” you joke, but it doesn’t land. You shut the door and take a seat in front of his desk while he remains standing. “Well?”

Finally, he speaks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh. “Oh, great.” You sit up because this is just stupid. “Are you kidding me? This is the last division I wanted to work in, but I was transferred here. At your behest, might I add—”

“I can assure you, Agent L/N, I did not request that you join my team,” he says as he sits down, rolling toward his desk and placing his arms over the files littered before him.

“Well then Agent Reynolds is a fucking liar, I guess,” you deadpan. “He’s the one who told me I was assigned to the BAU — because of you.”

“Well it wasn’t me.”

“Glad we got that settled,” you shoot back, wanting instead to add, like I fucking care if it was you or not. “Listen, whether either of us likes it or not, I was assigned here, so I’m here. If you want me to leave, take it up with Agent Reynolds or whoever the fuck really requested me. But I can’t do shit about this, and this is now my job, so I’m not leaving just because you want to have some pissing contest.”

He looks like he’s chewing on fire. “Your job security is not my problem—”

“For God’s sake, call your fucking boss, it won’t make you any less of a man to ask a goddamn question about why you have a new agent in your office.”

Hotch glares at you, but does as you say, picking up his desk phone and pressing a few buttons.

You sit back in your chair, waiting in silence. You turn your head to look through the blinds because Hotch didn’t close them all the way, and you nearly start to laugh. Huddled around one desk, Morgan, JJ, Emily, Reid, and another blonde woman dressed in bright colors and shapes are listening intently to Reid who is no doubt lip reading and translating this entire conversation.

Finally, the line connects and Hotch starts speaking. Almost as quick as the phone call begins, it ends.

“Well?” you ask.

“There was some miscommunication,” Hotch admits, though he does not look happy about it. “Welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

You smile sarcastically. “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “We’ll meet in the conference room in five minutes to discuss the rest of today. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir,” you mutter as you escape his office, just glad he didn’t torture you with a handshake.

Emerging from Hotch’s office, you stand against the railing and ask the team where the conference room is.

Morgan points to your left. “Why?”

“He told me we’re meeting there to discuss—”

“That’s on hold now,” JJ says, whirling around the BAU with an armful of files. “We’ve got a case. Missing girl, thirteen years old.” She passes out files in the bullpen, handing one to you as she ascends the stairs.

“Shit,” you mutter. “How long has she been missing?”

“Starting without me?” Hotch asks as he walks out of his office. He takes a file from JJ and says a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Yep, we are,” you say right back, scanning your file. You think you hear Rossi let out a chuckle at your response. “Gone since this morning. Are they certain it wasn’t overnight?”

“The mother dropped Lila off at school this morning at seven, and by nine, she was absent,” JJ explains as everyone fills into the conference room. “They paged her at school over the intercom, but she’s not in any of the classrooms.”

“How are we hearing about this so quickly?” Morgan asks. “I mean, I’m glad, but it’s been…just over an hour. We don’t normally have this much time.”

“Because,” JJ pauses, pointing the remote toward the TV. “This is Lila’s father.”

On the screen, the FBI’s Most Wanted are staring back at you. JJ clicks again, and one face comes forward.

“Who?” Emily says.

“Richard Monroe,” Reid says aloud. “He’s been on the run for almost two years. He’s said to have killed a dozen people, all females, but they suspect there might be more. Every time we’ve come close to catching him, he gets away.”

“And now his daughter is missing,” Rossi adds. “I’m guessing this guy is our unsub.”

“I don’t know,” you stare into Richard’s eyes on the screen. “When was he last seen?”

“You can investigate that when we get there,” Hotch says curtly. “They’re waiting for us and we’ll lose time by flying. Wheels up in ten.”

Everyone files out of the room and Hotch stays back, waiting for you to be the last one in the room.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch gets your attention. “Since you’ve never tackled a case like this before, try your best to follow orders, and watch what the team does. Don’t make any rash decisions and don’t go off on your own.”

None of his comments anger you as much as the first one. “You don’t know that I’ve never encountered something like this.”

“Don’t argue with me when we have a missing girl,” Hotch snaps. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply, pushing past him.

“I hope you have a go bag,” he calls after you. “There will be no time for shopping when we’re on the ground.”

“Then I’ll just wear your clothes!” you yell back, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him. You hear Morgan snicker down in the bullpen.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch says, and when you turn around, you see he’s giving you his famous stare.

You sigh. “My bag is in my car. It’ll take me two minutes to grab it. That’s clearly less than ten. Unless you have anything else to say that might delay me further?”

“Go,” he says, waving you away as he heads into his office to grab his bag. “Now.”

+++

While you’re on the jet, you do some research on Richard Monroe. He’s a grade A piece of shit if you’ve ever seen one.

But he’s not the type to go after his daughter.

“Garcia, can you check and see if Richard tried at all to contact Lila on her cell?” you ask.

“I would, sweets, but I can’t find Lila’s phone. Their house phone, however, has no calls.”

“He wouldn’t call the house phone, not with Lila’s mom watching over her like a hawk,” you murmur.

Hotch lifts his head. “How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That her mother would be overbearing.”

“Her father’s a serial killer on the run, Hotch,” you reply. “Any mother would keep tabs on her daughter’s every breath if she had a father like that. It’s logic.”

“She makes a fair point,” Rossi says.

“It’s unfounded,” Hotch ignores him, still dead set on irritating you. “Until you talk to her mother, don’t jump to any conclusions about her behavior.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Until I do?”

“Yes, you will be talking to her mother when we get on the ground. Morgan will go with you.” He nods to Derek. “Reid, you and JJ get set up at the precinct. Prentiss, Rossi, and I will go to the middle school. We’ll meet back at the precinct to discuss our next steps.”

You share a look with Morgan before sinking back in your chair, glaring at the file instead of Hotch.

It's going to be a long fucking day.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x you #enemies to lovers #criminal minds fanfiction #angst angst angst #The Gambit

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hungermakesmonsters · 20 days ago

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The Red Ribbon

Chapter One

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6k

A/N : This is a little something I've been toying with for a while. It's only going to be a short thing (3 parts) over the next few weeks. There's no upload schedule but it'll probably be posting on Fridays anyway 😅 Also I've been ill all week so that's my excuse for typos

Master List

Chapter One

“Remind me why I hired you?”

His voice was a cold snap that caused your cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Even on his birthday, your boss was an asshole.

Your hands trembled as you tried to restack the files that you’d clumsily manage to drop all over his office floor. The contents of the files had spilled out and you already knew that it was going to take you hours to make sure the correct paperwork ended up back where it was supposed to be.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he added a moment later. “Why did I hire you?”

“Because your other assistants keep quitting,” you muttered under your breath.

It was humiliating, scrabbling around on his office floor, the carpet scrapping your bare knees as you tried to pick everything up as quickly as possible.

“What was that?” He asked.

It was reasonable to guess that he hadn’t heard you - you were certain he would have been a lot angrier if he’d heard you. Still, you hated yourself for letting it slip out. As much as you hated the way your boss treated you, the pay was good. Too good to quit.

“I said I’m sorry Mr Russo,” you answered softly, managing to grab the last of the files and get back to your feet. “I’ll get these sorted and have them on your desk first thing in the morning.”

“I hope you’re planning on staying late.”

“What?” The word spilled from your lips before you had the chance to stop it.

“Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than fixing your fuck up and doing the job I pay you to do?” Mr Russo asked.

As a matter of fact, you did have somewhere else to be and something that was more important than fixing the potential Anvil candidate files that you’d managed to dump all over his office floor, but you couldn’t tell him that.

There was only one person who knew how you spent your nights, and it certainly wasn’t your boss. No, if Billy Russo knew where you went after your days at Anvil, he’d see to it that he had your resignation in his hand by the end of the day. And you were sure the same could be said of your night job.

“No, Mr Russo,” you answered, dropping your gaze to the floor, “I don’t have anywhere more important to be.”

“Good answer,” he said as he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. He moved towards his office door, stepping past you as if you were just another piece of furniture, a spare chair in the way. “And don’t even think about leaving that unfinished. I’ll be in at 5am so you’re not going to have the opportunity to sneak in early tomorrow to finish up.”

He didn’t even wait for a half-hearted ‘yes, Mr Russo’ before leaving for the day.

You glanced at your watch, doing the maths in your head; you should have been finishing in ten minutes time, at five o’clock, which would have given you three hours to get home, eat, and then get across town to work your night job.

The Red Ribbon was New York's most exclusive gentlemen's club - though to call it a gentlemen’s club was somewhat outdated as, these days, it catered to the needs and desires of wealthy clientele regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation. But, it had been considered a gentlemen’s club since the 1950s, and the verbiage was surprisingly hard to shake.

The club offered something that few similar establishments did; total anonymity for both guests and workers. There were no cameras in The Red Ribbon, no phones or recording devices were allowed. And everyone wore masks. The only way to tell the staff from the clientele were the red ribbons worn about their necks.

You’d been working at The Red Ribbon for the last six months. At the start you’d tended bar, not wanting to get too hands-on with the customers - not because you had any strong feelings or moral objections about those that did, but mostly because you didn’t think you’d be any good at it. You’d never been the sort to consider yourself graceful, much less sexy, but you could make a mean espresso martini and you were great with pointless smalltalk.

The money was good, but it wasn’t good enough, not when you had debts and financial obligations.

At The Red Ribbon, the hosts made the most money, each getting assigned to one of the private rooms and being tasked with taking care of the customers' needs for the whole night. It was ultimately up to the host what taking care of the customer entailed though boundaries were firmly established before the host set foot in the private room. Every host had their own limits, some were happy to touch and be touched, some took it further still, and others preferred a hands-off approach.

If there was one thing The Red Ribbon was known for beyond the total anonymity it offered, it was the level of security. Everyone who set foot through the doors knew better than to cause trouble or push the boundaries of any member of staff.

You’d made the switch from bartender to host slowly, filling in whenever someone was out sick or when you needed a little extra money. You were slow to warm to it but, to your surprise, you found that you actually enjoyed it. Though you stayed firmly in the no touching or being touched camp, the tips you made in one night were still more than you made over a whole week tending bar.

But, when that money still wasn’t enough to cover your debts, you took a day job.

And that was how you’d ended up spending an evening hunched over a desk at Anvil, trying desperately to match paperwork with the correct file for a boss who’d made it pretty clear that he didn't like you and thought you were too inept for your job.

By the time you were done, you barely had the chance to make it home and shower and, instead of eating a proper meal, you ate a Snickers bar on the subway.

The Red Ribbon had a special entrance for staff that used old prohibition tunnels and a hidden elevator to get you into the building and up to the top floor.

New York was stunning from fifty floors up and, some nights, you’d find yourself in the locker room just staring out at the skyline as you changed into your uniform. But tonight you didn’t have the luxury of time.

You stood in front of the schedule, checking which room you were in and which mask you’d be wearing. While bar staff and servers all wore the same elegant black and red masks to obscure their faces, hosts wore individual masks that corresponded with the room they’d be working. Tonight you were in the rabbit room, so you plucked the ornate rabbit mask from its hook on the wall.

Of all the masks, the rabbit had always been your favourite because of the detailing on the ears and the way it just sat right on your face.

You always got such a rush from pulling a mask on and heading out into the club. Under any other circumstance the thought of walking around in a revealing black bodysuit would have been embarrassing, but once you had your mask on, you felt almost powerful, like a superhero with a secret identity. With the mask, you weren’t you, you were whatever part you were playing and tonight you were Bunny, and Bunny could be whoever you wanted her to be.

The last part of your uniform was the red ribbon that you tied around your neck, the very thing that distinguished staff from customers, and gave the club its name.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor to ceiling mirror, making sure that you looked ready to handle whatever the night had to throw at you, before finally stepping out into the main area of the club.

Once you passed the threshold, everything about you changed; you held your head high and walked through the club like you owned the place. Here you weren’t the quiet little PA who had to keep her mouth shut in case her boss decided to fire her. Here you called the shots.

The spring in your step became even more noticeable as you climbed the stairs and headed onto the walkway that led to the private rooms, each situated above the dancefloor with views of the whole club.

“Hey, lil Bunny,” an all too familiar face said.

You grinned from ear to ear at the sight of Rocky, one of the club's security guards, a man, who in any other circumstances would terrify you. He was a huge behemoth of a man, truly deserving of the title Built Like a Brick Shit-House. To the patrons, he was the one they didn’t want to get on the bad side of, but to you and the rest of the staff, he was safety incarnate.

“Hey, Rocky,” you said, bumping fists with him as you came to a stop in front of him.

He’d taken something of a shine to you on your first night at The Red Ribbon - he later told you it was because you reminded him of his sister who’d died only a few years before. Since then he’d always kept a close eye on you.

After bumping fists, you kept your arm outstretched so he could fit your security bracelet for the night; a very ornate looking panic button that you could use discreetly if you needed Rocky to deal with a problem customer.

“You let me know if you need anything,” he said softly but seriously.

And, with that, you were on your way again, slipping into the rabbit room with a few minutes to spare before your guest arrived. You did a quick sweep of the room, making sure everything was tidy before turning on the music and checking the bar and, finally, you lowered the lights.

Less than five minutes later, a group of men were shown into the room, each wearing plain black masks that covered the top half of their faces, and each dressed to the club's high standards. Though, just from looking at them you could tell that some were more comfortable in suits than others.

“Welcome to The Red Ribbon, I’m Bunny and I’ll be your host for the evening and I’ll be running the bar for you, so make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get you your first round,” you announced and, with a flourish of your hand, you waved them towards the sofas.

You took drink orders and made a point of saying a little personal hello to each of them, knowing that it’d help win you tips by the end of the night.

As far as groups went, they seemed decent enough, not exactly what you’d call reserved by any stretch, but they seemed to be happy to talk amongst themselves while you tended bar, not expecting anything more of you.

After about half an hour, one of them broke away from the group and headed towards the bar. You couldn’t help but watch him, taking in the perfect way that his suit fit his tall, slender frame.

He took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and flashed you the sort of smile that you were sure had panties dropping all across the five boroughs on a regular basis.

“What can I get you?” You asked.

“Another scotch would be great.”

“Sure thing.”

You were acutely aware of the way his eyes followed your every movement as you grabbed a bottle and fresh glass with ice. Your skin felt like it was tingling under his gaze - he wasn’t leering, it felt more like he was appreciating.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

For a second you wondered if it was a line - it certainly sounded like a line - but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you think he was actually being serious.

“What makes you say that?” You asked in your playful voice, deciding to indulge him.

“I’d remember seeing you.”

He wasn’t shy about drinking in the sight of you. At any other time you might have felt disgusted, but it was part of the job and you probably would have been more offended if he wasn’t checking you out.

“Hmm, and what exactly is it you think you’d remember?” You retorted playfully.

He grinned at that, a laugh rumbling in his chest. And his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes almost seemed to twinkle.

“I’m not sure it’d be considered polite if I was to get... anatomical,” he joked.

“It’s my ass, isn’t it?” You offered offhandedly, breaking any tension or sense of shame.

His grin grew wider, though there was a hint of surprise on his face too, like he hadn’t quite expected you to be so forward.

“Now that you mention it, you do have a very nice ass,” he agreed, “in fact that whole thigh-ass area is perfection.”

You could feel warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your neck, and you were glad of the low lights and the mask on your face. While you were used to comments on your body and what men wanted to do with you while working, there was something different about this. This felt like flirting. Honest to god flirting. And it had been a long time since anyone had tried to flirt with you.

Out in the real world, his comment would have turned you into a shy mess, but behind the bunny mask... well, let’s just say that Bunny wanted to play.

“Oh, a thigh man as well?”

“I’m a man of refined tastes,” he shrugged.

His grin had you wishing you could see the rest of his face. You were already trying to picture what he might look like behind the mask but you were certain that your imagination was not doing it justice.

“And what else does that taste extend to?” You asked, leaning across the bar a little more as you slid his drink towards him.

His fingers briefly covered yours - rougher than you’d expected - before you slowly pulled your hand away. For a split second, you felt your breath catch, and there was a flicker of something on his face that made you think he’d felt it too, that moment of electricity when you’d touched.

“Are we still talking anatomically? Because I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about your tits for the last five minutes.”

Again, it wasn’t the sort of comment you’d put up with in any other situation but, then and there, in a place where you held all the power, you liked hearing it. The fact that he’d been allowed into The Red Ribbon meant that he was someone, that he was rich and powerful, so for poor, boring you to be the object of his desires gave a thrill like no other.

You let slip another laugh, propping yourself against the bar with a hand beneath your chin, eyes fixed on Mr Tall, Dark and Playful.

“Only the last five minutes?” You said, almost sounding distraught.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Bunny,” he remarked, leaning towards you as he lifted his drink and took a slow sip.

“I get the feeling that you like trouble.”

“You have no idea...”

It would have been a lie to say that the temptation to carry on the flirtatious conversation wasn’t increasing with every passing second; it was fun, you were actually enjoying it rather than just being subjected to it. But he wasn’t the only person in the room who wanted your attention and you had a job to do.

“Looks like your friends want some attention too,” you said, nodding your head towards the group of men still sitting at the table. One of them was waving you over, obviously in desperate need of another drink.

“Animals, the lot of them,” he said, almost fondly. “I should have known they had selfish reasons for bringing me here on my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” You asked and received a nod in response, before shaking your head and muttering; “another Sagittarius...”

“Another?”

You looked at him, almost embarrassed that you’d let it slip out and that you’d blurred the line between your real life and Bunny.

“Just a guy I know,” you shrugged.

“He break your heart or something? Need me and the guys to pay him a visit?” He offered playfully.

Another laugh escaped you and you couldn’t help but think about how strange it felt to be able to genuinely laugh with one of the customers. After months of perfecting your customer service laugh, you’d never expected to find yourself actually laughing at some off-handed comment. Especially when the comment was about a stranger going to beat the shit out of your boss for being mean to you.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle myself.”

“I’ll bet you can, Bunny.”

“Well,” you said, definitively, changing the subject and taking your thoughts away from your terrible day-boss, “happy birthday. I think you deserve something fancy to drink.”

He grinned as you turned away to fish a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge and grab enough glasses for him and his friends.

“This place is really somethin’ else,” a second voice said. “I know you said the girls were pretty but... holy shit.”

Tall, Dark and Playful gave a laugh.

“Prettiest girls in New York are all right here,” he said, clapping his friend on the back.

“Careful boys, my ears are burning,” you joked as you turned back to them.

“It's a beautiful woman's fate to be the subject of conversation wherever she goes,” he said.

“Didn't expect to hear anyone quoting Dorian Gray tonight,” you answered back, amused.

He looked almost surprised by the comment, his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve read Dorian Gray?” He asked. “You like to read?”

“Does that surprise you?” You asked, your mask hiding the way your eyebrow rose. “Do you not think girls like me can read the classics?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s -” he glanced at his friend beside him, then to the group sitting at the table. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but from some of the hand gestures being made, you could guess that it was something filthy, “- it’s just that I'm not used to being around people who can actually read.”

He got a rough punch in the arm from the guy beside him for that, and you started to laugh again.

They continued to talk while you popped the champagne and started to fill glasses for the whole party. You placed one in front of the birthday boy, and one in front of his friend, before loading up a tray and taking the rest to the party at the table.

“Champagne to toast the birthday boy,” you said with a cheeky smile, earning a round of cheers from the men.

When you returned to the bar, Tall and Dark’s friend passed you, heading back to the group, leaving the birthday boy all alone.

“Not gonna drink with your friends?” You asked.

It was hard not to feel curious - it was part of the job, the masks, the hidden identities, there were always so many unanswered questions.

“I’ve never been one for birthdays,” he answered with a shrug, but still shot you a smile before lifting his champagne flute to his lips.

“Hmm so the mysterious, handsome stranger has a tragic backstory,” you said playfully.

“I don’t know if I’d call it tragic,” he said, his shoulder ticking upwards uncomfortably.

“Should I ask?”

Probably not, you thought. But some part of you wanted to know, wanted to prod and poke until you had him all figured out.

“My mother abandoned me a few hours after I was born,” he stated flatly.

Oh.

Shit.

You didn’t expect him to laugh when he looked at you again, his head shaking. “Don’t look so shocked, it was a long time ago and I’ve come a long way since then.”

“I just -” the confidence of Bunny slipped for a moment, leaving only you; the clumsy girl with a heart that often felt far too big, “- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve joked...”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve had plenty of time to get over it. Besides, the way I figure it, she did me a favour. You want soft kids, coddle them and treat them well.”

“Wouldn't know anything about that,” you said with a wry smile. “My parents definitely didn't coddle us.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“That all I'm getting?” He asked, smiling that playful smile again.

“Getting personal defeats the point of the masks, don't you think?” You retorted, leaning to top up his drink.

“I suppose,” he answered, pausing for a beat before continuing, “I guess you could tell me anything and I'd have to take your word for it.”

“You don't strike me as the sort of man who's trusting enough to do something like that.”

It was something you could see in his eyes, the way they took you in and watched every little flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

“Then why don't we play a game?” He offered. “We each get to ask a question, and you get to call the other out if you think they’re lying. And if I catch you in a lie, you have to tell me something true.”

Your eyes narrowed a little, trying to get a measure of him. Normally you were reasonably good at reading people - though maybe a lot of that came from working various PA and secretarial positions, needing to be able to anticipate your boss’ shitty moods.

“Okay, you’re on,” you agreed, “but a few ground rules; you’re not allowed to ask about who I am or anything that might identify me.”

“Sounds fair.” He lifted his champagne and took a slow drink but his eyes never left you. “What are you most afraid of?”

That caught you off guard. It was more serious than you’d anticipated.

“You could ask me almost anything, but that’s what you want to know?”

“You can tell a lot about a person by what they’re scared of,” he said, shrugging.

You took a second to consider your answer.

“Jellyfish.”

“Really, Bunny, you’re gonna lie right outta the gate?”

“Okay, fine,” you said with a huff, hating that he’d caught you out already. “I guess I’m most scared of dying alone, but jellyfish are a close second.”

“You think you’re gonna die alone?” He asked.

There was something in his voice that seemed to suggest he didn’t get it, or maybe it was that he thought it would never happen. Little did he know that you - the real you - didn’t exactly have the best luck with men.

“That’s two questions. Don’t I get a turn?” You asked, deciding to dodge his question.

Tall and Dark relented and gave a wave of his hand.

“What do you hate most about New York?”

“Hate?” He repeated.

“Everyone always loves the same things about the city, but most people hate something different,” you explained.

You watched him closely as he considered his answer, looking for anything that might tell you if he was about to lie to you.

“The subway. It stinks of piss and there’s always too many people.”

You had to give him that one for obvious reasons, though he didn’t strike you as the kind of guy who used the subway all that often.

“When was the last time you used the subway?”

“That’s two questions, Bunny,” he chided playfully.

“Fine. Your turn.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“What? You think that this wasn’t my career goal?” You said, barely holding back a laugh as you shook your head. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of phases; I wanted to be a vet until I lost my first hamster, wanted to be a doctor until my brother broke his arm, and I wanted to be a lawyer but I have a conscience...”

The birthday boy laughed with you, smiling at you, obviously happy enough with your answer because he didn’t call you out, making it your turn again.

“What’s your favourite place in New York?” You asked.

“Right here,” he said. “Right now. With you.”

“Yikes, what a line,” you said, smirking at him despite the heat in your cheeks. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Normally I don’t need lines.”

“No?”

“People - women - usually make their minds up about me pretty quickly, and it’s rarely because of anything I have to say,” he explained.

You watched as he lifted his glass and drained his drink. Without needing to be asked, you refilled his glass. There was a pang of sadness in you, for him, for what he obviously had to go through.

“You must be pretty rich then,” you said, managing to keep the playful tone.

“Oh filthy rich,” he confirmed.

“Emphasis on the filthy part.”

He smirked at that.

The longer the conversation went on, the stranger it felt; it didn’t feel like work anymore, and you almost wished that it wasn’t. But moments like this didn’t happen to you out in the real world. He probably wouldn’t even look at you twice if he saw you in the light of day.

“Anyway, I call bullshit. There must be somewhere you like better than here, even if you are enjoying my company,” you said.

“Alright,” he conceded with an almost rueful smile, “there’s a baseball field in Brooklyn. I used to go there when I was a kid to watch other kids play...”

There was more to it, even you could tell that much, but it seemed personal - far more personal than you were prepared to get with him.

“You like baseball?”

“Liked,” he said, correcting you and adding another layer of uncertainty. “And that’s two questions.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to playing games when I’m tending bar,” you said, topping up his glass again before glancing towards his friends. “And, on that note...”

Again, you felt his eyes on you as you moved around the bar and headed to his friends, checking that everyone was having a good time and taking orders for fresh drinks.

“Think you’ve made the birthday boy’s night,” one of them said.

“Yeah, normally he slips out of his birthday parties after the first hour,” another commented, and they all laughed.

And, as you made your way back towards the bar (towards him), you couldn’t help but wonder what his birthdays were usually like.

“Hope they weren’t giving you any trouble,” he said as you slipped behind the bar and put the empty glasses you’d gathered to the side so you could start getting fresh drinks.

“No, you’ve all been perfect gentlemen,” you said, smiling at him, your face obviously showing some degree of relief because he quickly commented on it.

“Are there times when guys aren’t gentlemen?” He asked.

There was something in his tone, a hint of - what? - protectiveness, or anger maybe.

“Sometimes, but that’s what Rocky is for,” you said, nodding your head towards the door.

“The big guy?” He asked and you nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t fancy my chances with him.”

Filling a tray with the fresh drinks, you went back to the table and passed them around before heading back to him again, taking up the spot on the opposite side of the bar from him, leaning your elbow on the bartop.

“So,” you said, almost decidedly, “want to tell me why you’re spending your birthday night out talking to me and not with your friends?”

He seemed to hesitate, but only for a split second.

“I thought it was my turn.”

“It is,” you conceded, “if you want to keep playing, but I think you might enjoy your birthday more if you spent it with friends.”

“We could be friends.”

“Friends don’t check out each other's asses, handsome.”

“Oh, so you’ve been checking out my ass?” He said as a grin tugged at his lips.

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “Something about men in well tailored pants drives me wild.”

The birthday boy let out another laugh, and it was such a happy sound that he drew glances from his friends, all of them wondering just what it was you’d said to manage to get a response like that from him.

He grabbed his glass and got to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Bunny,” he said before heading towards his friends.

Over the rest of the night, you found yourself watching him, always coming up with a teasing or playful remark whenever you went across to get them fresh drinks (oh, you wanted a drink, I just thought you wanted to stare at my ass again and I know how much you enjoy watching me walk away).

And he watched you, too.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps under his attention and you quickly came to love the sensation. Never in all your time working at The Red Ribbon had you felt such a connection with a guest, and you probably never would again.

So, when they all finally stood to leave, you felt a pang of regret - you shouldn’t have sent him back to his friends, you should have kept him with you so you could talk more.

Each of the guys said their thanks, each dropping bills into the tip jar by the door on their way out.

One of them stopped and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Thanks. I dunno what you said to him but I ain’t seen him like this in a long time.”

Your heart stuttered, not sure what it was you could have done to inspire such a change in a man you didn’t even know.

You noticed him linger as the door swung shut behind the last of his friends and, at any other time, that would be cause for concern but something told you that you weren’t in danger. Not from him.

“Something else I can help you with?” You asked, as playful as ever.

“Plenty,” he said, his smile dropping a little. “But everything I want would break the rules, and the last thing I want is to get banned when there’s a chance I might see you again.”

It was sweet how oddly accepting he was of how things were, how they had to be. It made it harder to watch him walk away knowing that you might not see him again. You’d never felt such an instant connection with a stranger before, especially not a stranger who’d seen this side of you, a stranger who knew what you did for a living and didn’t judge you for it.

Against your better judgement, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, before pulling back slightly. You lingered close, watching the way the corner of his lip ticked upwards and heard the slightest catch of his breath.

“Well, here’s hoping you can tell who I am the next time you see me,” you offered in little more than a whisper.

Slowly, cautiously, his hand lifted to your face and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was the barest of touches, so light that he might not have even touched you at all, but you felt a warmth spread across your skin nonetheless.

“I’ll know, Bunny,” he said with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna find you again.”

“Promises, promises,” you joked, wanting to keep the mood light, knowing that the odds of seeing him again were small. And, with that thought, you found yourself leaning forward again, this time pressing your lips to his for the briefest of seconds. “Something to remember me by.”

Then you stepped back, creating space between your body and his, a silent signifier that the night was over.

“I will find you,” he said again. “I always get what I want, Bunny, one way or another.”

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you said, avoiding answering his comment.

He gave you one last look, drinking in the sight of you from head to toe, and you felt your whole body warm in response. Then he left, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the promise that you’d see him again.

It should have worried you; the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d been looking, and the fact that he wanted to find you again. But it didn’t. Instead of worry, all you felt was want, even if you knew that the man behind the mask might be someone completely different. Even if you knew the man behind the mask probably wouldn’t be interested in who you were when you weren’t playing Bunny.

Later that night as you laid in bed, your vibrator between your thighs and his dark eyes in your mind, you wondered what he was doing. Your eyes closed tight, picturing him standing over you, watching as you fucked yourself. He’d smile that playful smile down at you and slowly grip his cock - and, fuck, his cock was probably as perfect as the rest of him.

You longed to know what he looked like beneath the mask and beneath the expensive clothes.

You wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by him, for him to kiss you and hold you. For him to fuck you.

No matter what you imagined as you slid the vibrator in and out your body, your thoughts continued to return to one thing; his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them, wanted to make him laugh and see them sparkle. You wanted to see them darken with need as he fucked you and took what he wanted from you.

I always get what I want, he’d told you. And he wanted you.

A loud moan tore from your lips as you came, your whole body shivering with pleasure at the thought of this strange and alluring man getting what he wanted from you.

Then, with a heavy sigh, you sank back on your bed and curled up, the usual feelings of insecurity quickly filling you again.

He’d probably forget all about you; everything he’d said had probably just been to try and get something more than you’d been prepared to give. He’d probably already forgotten you...

Little did you know that, across town, Billy Russo was fisting his cock to thoughts of you without knowing it was you he was thinking of, his hand stroking up and down his length as he stood in the shower. He jerked off to thoughts of your body, your laugh, your smile. He pictured all the ways that he wanted you, his Bunny, all the things he wanted to do.

Your plump and pretty lips would look good wrapped around his cock, and your plush thighs would no doubt feel amazing wrapped around his head as he feasted on your cunt.

He licked his lips for what must have been the hundredth time since you kissed him and was, yet again, disappointed that there was no lingering taste of you.

As he came, he knew that he had to have you. He would find you again, and he would make you his if it was the last thing he did.

A/N : I feel weird when I don't post on a Friday, so here's a new thing 😅 like I said at the start, this will just be a short, sweet thing (3 parts and done), but hopefully it'll be a lot of fun and a little bit more playful/light-hearted compared to Love, Sick Love. (And I promise no cliffhanger ending to this one 😅) If you've played TellTale's The Wolf Among Us, that's where I got the ribbon idea from (well that and that old ghost story... but no ones head is going to fall off in this, I promise).

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged. I'm not going to full commit to posting every Friday for this because I work in retail and, as you can imagine, it's hectic at the moment, but I want to try and post at least once a week since this is only going to be a short story.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Also I can't remember if anyone else asked to be tagged in all future Billy stories, if I've missed you please shout at me.

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #trr ff

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elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

no nut november - seo changbin (2nd to lose)

-> pairing : changbin x fem!reader

-> words count : 3,4k

-> genre : smut, gym crush

-> warnings : changbin is whipped for you, semi-public sex, teasing, dirty talk, praising, protected sex, oral (m. receiving), fingering, a little bit of degradation + the way i'm depicting changbin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

Hyunjin loss made Changbin very confident in his chances to win this bet. He didn’t have a girlfriend, and he knew he was able to contain himself. When he was in a situationship with someone, he was insatiable. But it wasn’t the case right now, problem solved.

Or at least, problem solved until you enter the equation. You’re the only thing that could lead him to lose and the only reason why he has been going to another gym since November started. Because he knew that if he saw you, he was screwed. You were always teasing him. You were always wearing shorts that rode up your ass with every move you made. You were always ending up letting go of your shirt and exposing your breast in a sports bra. You were always asking him to help you in a way that he had to touch you. And all of that will, without any doubt, bring him to his breaking point.

So he avoided the gym he usually got to in order not to give in. He missed your body, the way you looked at him as if you wanted to devour him, your habit to bite your bottom lip just after teasing him. He missed you. But he couldn’t take the risk. And moreover, you never mentioned it. You never clearly told him that you wanted him like he wanted you. Maybe he was being delusional from the start and that was only him. But he was not ready to have this conversation now, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. He had always been respectful and he planned on standing by that.

Tonight, though, he really needed a good session at the gym. It was late, very late. He just got out of the studio, and he wanted to clear his mind. He needed it, in fact. And since it was not your usual schedule, Changbin thought you wouldn’t be there. But you were. And now, he couldn’t really turn back and run away. You saw him.

He closed his eyes, wondering if he would be able to survive this. Because as soon as your eyes landed on him, you smiled brightly before approaching him. Now that he was seeing you after only a week, Changbin was starting to understand how important you were for him. Yes, he had the biggest crush on you, but not just because of your body. You were kind, careful, and he felt safe with you. Somehow, you were always able to make him talk and comfort him about anything and everything. He wanted to take you out. But he also wanted to bend you over one of the bench and fuck you dumb.

“- Hey Changbin ! It’s been a long time ! How you doing ?”

He gulped, trying to compose himself. Your voice was doing things to him he didn’t want to think about right now.

“- Yeah, I know, sorry for not warning you. Been busy these days…

- Don’t apologize, it's fine ! Well, I’m gonna let you work out but… I’m happy to see you again, kinda boring without you.”

You laughed at your own words, sending him one of these looks that made him feel like he was a chocolate cake you wanted to eat until the last crumbs. You came back to working out, and so did Changbin. But honestly, he spent most of his time staring at you. He almost forgot what you looked like, all sweaty in your gym clothes. And he wanted nothing more than to tattoo this sight in his memories forever.

Changbin hoped you’ll let him work out in peace for once, it was already taking him all of his self-control not to get hard just staring at you. But you didn’t listen to his silent prayers. You came to him, like every other time before that, asking him to help you out with your stretching. He just knew it was more teasing. He knew that you would find a way to get him hard, like every time. But he gave up, like every time.

He followed you to the place where you left your bottle of water and your towel, watching you sit down and spread your legs before leaning in between them, waiting for him to push your back. Changbin took a deep breath before placing his hands on your skin, feeling it warm under his palms. He held back the urge to let them wander to your breast, and just applied pressure to help you go further. And of course, you left out the dirtiest moans while doing so, playing it as if it was only a sign of your struggle. But Changbin knew. He knew that was just another way of teasing him. Suddenly, he standed back up on his feet, his hands leaving you.

“- I- Um… I have no more water left, I’m just going to fill it up in the bathroom.”

And with that, he escaped as quickly as he could, not noticing the proud grin on your lips. But he clearly noticed that he was getting really hard just because of you making some suggestive sounds. Gosh. Why didn’t he just skip the gym tonight ? Changbin took some minutes to calm down, or at least, trying to do so. But all he could think about was your fucking voice, moaning his name and begging him. So, yeah, it was pretty difficult to cool down under these circumstances.

When he finally found the courage to come back to you, you were doing some other stretches. A one that exposed your ass to him. And he immediately got hard again. Changbin sighed. He would never hear the end of it, but he had wanted you for too long and the frustration started to really annoy him. So he said your name, asking you to come with him to the changing room because he “had a problem”.

“- So what’s the matter ? What do you ne-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt your back hit a cold surface and soon enough, his hands were next to your head, preventing you from leaving. Your eyes dived into Changbin’s ones. They were darker than you've ever seen them, and it turned you on.

“- Changbin ?”

Your hesitant tone made him unsure of what he did for a second. Maybe he misunderstood your behavior ? But you stared at his lips a little bit too long, and he knew he was totally right.

“- Don’t play dumb baby. We both know that’s what you wanted for the longest time, isn’t it ?”

You shivered at his low voice. It did something to you. His voice, the look in his eyes, the way his jaw was clenching as if he was holding himself from saying or doing something.

“- And what will you do about that, hm ? Shut me up ? I would love to see yo-”

Once again, he didn’t give you the chance to say another word. But this time, he interrupted you with his lips. They crashed on yours, and he kissed you hungrily, as if he wanted to do that for years. You moaned in the kiss, letting go of all the tension that builded up in your body. He added his tongue to the mix, leaving you breathless. You could have come only from the feeling of his hot mouth against yours, of his big hands on your waist pushing you onto his hard cock, still covered by his shorts.

“- Stop teasing now, or I won’t be kind.

- Don’t want you to be kind Binnie… Want you to be rough.”

He groaned at your words, gripping on your waist and spinning you around, pushing you while kissing your neck until your knees hit the bench behind you, sitting down on it. You raised your eyes to see him setting himself between your legs, spreading them wider with his knee. He was so fucking hot. And all you knew at this moment was that you wanted him. So bad.

“- Then suck me off. Now.”

You watched him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help glaring all over the room to be sure no one was there or hearing your conversation. It was late, and you were probably the last ones here, but still, it was not 100% sure.

“- You… You sure you want to do that here ?”

Seeing the panicked look on your face, Changbin prepared himself to be the pervert of the year in your book.

“- Y-Yeah… I mean, only if you want it too. We can just forget what happened if you want. I’m fine with th-

- I’m more than fine with that, just wanted to be sure you were.”

This time, you cut him off, but he’s not going to complain. Not when you were smiling at him while undoing the knot of his shorts. Not when you were sliding his clothes down his thigh and looking at his cock with adoration. Not when you took it in your hands and licked your lips as if you wanted to eat it.

“- So big… Knew you'll be…”

Changbin groans once again and lets his finger play with your bottom lips, the one you always bite when you tease him. This time, it’s his thumb that you bit playfully, making him want to bury himself deep inside you right now. You let go of his finger and put your mouth to a much more useful activity.

You started by just licking the tip of his cock, tasting him for the first time and almost moaning at the feeling. You wanted to do that for so long, and you were far from being disappointed. So you licked him all over, wetting his dick until it was practically dripping with your saliva. And just when Changbin was about to tell you to finally take him in your mouth, you did it. He growled and threw his head back, putting a hand in your hair, grabbing it firmly and making you moan around his cock.

“- Keep going baby… You’re so good at this…”

As an answer, you started to bob your head on his dick, taking more and more of him in your mouth with every thrust. Soon enough, Changbin was only able to groan and moan under your lips, tongue and mouth, having just enough self control not to bury himself deep in your throat and cum right there. That’s why he forced you to let out of his cock, grabbing you by your hair and he could have come just seeing the fucked out look on your face, saliva smeared all over your chin and eyes shining with lust.

“- Take off your clothes.”

You didn’t think twice before obeying, standing up in front of him and throwing away your sports bra, your shorts and your panties. In another situation, you would have felt exposed and ashamed. But with the way Changbin was looking at you - like he wanted to devour every part of your body - you could only feel confident.

You slid your hands under the hem of his shirt, grazing his firm abs with your nails. You saw him shiver distinctly under your touch as you helped him throw away his last piece of clothing as well with a smile. You could drool over his body for hours, but you would have time for that later. For now, you just wanted to feel him in you. And even if you were really turned on by the situation, it was risky and you had to be quick. So you kissed him again, bringing him with you to the cashier until your back was pressed against it.

“- Turn around for me baby, hm ?”

It wasn’t a real question, and you were far too gone to register the fact you were going to fuck with Changbin in the changing room of the gym. No, this was thinking material for tomorrow morning. For now, you just did what he asked you to, whining when you felt his strong hands gripping your waist and his hard cock sliding against your wet folds.

“- Can I- Is it okay if I-”

Changbin had to take a deep breath before going on with his words. It was already unbelievable for him to have you bend over for him like this, maybe he was pushing his luck.

“- Shit- Can I fuck you ?”

You giggled at his words, as if your wetness and all the noises you were making since the start weren’t enough to indicate him you were more than okay with fucking him, that you wanted it for a long time now.

“- You’re sweet… Yes, you can fuck me Binnie, you don’t know how much I’ve dreamt about it…”

Changbin was glad you couldn’t see him right now, because he knew from the heat that was eating them up that his cheeks were red. His cock twitched at the thought of you, dreaming about him fucking you. Was all of that even real ? You opening the cashier next to you and searching in your bag until you handed him a condom made him come back to reality. It was more than real, and Changbin didn’t want to miss a single second of it.

“- How long have you been keeping that with you ?

- You wished you knew.”

He chuckled and proceeded to put the condom on his dick, making you shiver in anticipation. You were waiting for this since the first time your eyes landed on him, and it was finally happening right now. Changbin didn’t let you much time to think about it before pushing one finger in you. He didn’t expect you to be this wet though, nor did he expect you to moan and rock your hips against his hand.

“- Please… Don’t tease Binnie…

- I- Don’t you need prep ?”

This time, you chuckled and glared at him upon your shoulder, just to appreciate the way his face was expressing his feelings ; surprise, yes, but mostly lust. And that turned you on even more, if that was even possible.

“- No, just want your big dick inside me…”

Changbin growled before removing his finger and quickly replacing it with his cock, making you moan and closing your eyes shut. The feeling was so good, too good. It was overwhelming, in a way that made you want to fuck yourself on his dick until you both came. And you did exactly that, not noticing how tense the man behind you was, how deep his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips. All you were feeling now was him.

“- Changbin… Fuck- You’re so good…”

However, you felt Changbin hands gripping so hard you just had to stop moving, even if it was a literal torture to feel it inside you and being unable to move. You whined, almost sobbing because you needed him, you needed to feel him deeper and deeper with each thrust. But he didn’t seem to be eager to do that.

“- Move an inch and you won’t be coming tonight baby.”

You gasped at his firm voice, and you couldn’t help your walls clenching around him. His voice did things to you, it was a physical reaction, but it was enough to make him groan again. You stayed still even if it took all you had in you not to rut against him to try and get some friction. What you didn’t know was that Changbin was overwhelmed by the feeling of you. He needed a moment to calm down or else he would cum right now. And he wanted your first time together to be as good as possible for the both of you.

“- Bet you’ve been keeping this fucking condom with you since the first day. Wanted me to notice you and your dirty mouth, hm ?”

You wanted to answer, but all that let out your mouth was moans as he started thrusting in you so hard you thought you would crash in the locker in front of you. Changbin was buried deep inside you, that was the only thing on your mind.

“- Already going dumb for my dick… That was all you wanted all along, being all nice and kind just to get me there…”

You wanted to tell him something, to tease him too, but you couldn’t. You were only able to whine and moan his name as he kept moving in you at a steady path, rubbing this particular spot that got you to cry out quickly.

“- Changbin ! Fuck- So good…

- I know baby, you feel so good too… Wet and tight just for me, taking me so well.”

Your moans were enough for him to tell you were enjoying this as much as he was. Changbin was trying to sound composed, but he was on the verge of losing his mind just because of you. You were making him dizzy ; your warm cunt, your ass jiggling with every thrust, your moans of his name like in his wet dreams. All of that was driving him crazy, and adding the fact that he hadn't cum since eight days now, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

But Changbin was determined to make you come before him, wanted to hear your fucked out noises first. So he sneaked his hand to your clit, rubbing it as roughly as he was thrusting in you. And then, you were losing your mind over him.

“- Gonna- Shit ! Changbin… G-Gonna cum… Please…

- No need to beg baby, you’re gonna get it.”

However, it stroked his ego so much, knowing you were this intoxicated by him, maybe as much as he was by you. Changbin sped up his moves, both of his dick in you and his hand on your clit, making you come in a matter of seconds. He didn’t last long either, immediately losing it when he felt your cunt clenching so hard around him, moaning your name as he continued to thrust into you through both of your orgasms.

The moment he pulled out of you after you both calmed down a bit, you started to put on your clothes back. Changbin felt his heart dropping to the floor. Maybe he was just fooling himself all along ? Maybe you just wanted a quick fuck ? Maybe you were regretting it ? Maybe you didn’t want to talk to him ever again after this ? He felt bad. Really bad. But he was also feeling like it was his only chance to finally ask you out. If you rejected him, he’d go bury himself six feet underground and would never come back here. But what if you said yes ? If he was standing a chance, even a little one, he wanted to take it.

So he called your name as you were putting your shoes back on, as if you were really ready to get out and never think about this again, which made Changbin even more nervous if it was possible. But he had to do this. It was now or never.

“- Do you- Do you want to grab coffee with me ? We… We could like talk and hum… It could be fun, I think.”

He knew he sounded terrible and awful, and he could already hear Seungmin making fun of him for it. But for now, he was waiting for you to answer, the knot of anguish in his stomach tighter than ever.

“- Is it… Will it be like a date or something ?”

Changbin's eyes widened at your question. You were thinking he just wanted to do this with you once and go with his life like nothing happened ? He could never. He was already too into you to go back.

“- Y-Yeah ! I mean, if you want it to be a date, then, yes.”

Your warm smile made the knot disappear, and the second he felt you pecking his lips innocently, his heart starting to beat faster when you looked him in the eyes.

“- Then I’ll wait for you outside.”

You turned around and got out of the changing rooms, your bag on your shoulder and a bright smile on your lips as you closed the door to let him put his clothes back on. At this precise moment, he knew he didn’t give a fuck about the bet. No, he didn’t care when Minho teased him about it, saying back to him his latter statement, when he told everyone he would win just yesterday. No, he couldn’t care when he had you. And he would happily spend the rest of the month fucking you and loving you.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

taglist : @bangchans-angel @its-hannjisung @3rachasninja @boi-bi-ahaha @supergoodjudgepsychic @jaiuneamesolitaiire @starsandrqindrops @anonymousreader55 @iwannabangchan69 @b3t0xic @fawnpeaks @lxrii @channiesgoodgirl @imsotiredandalsonineteen @bbchangbinnie24 @abbystaysstuff @chrishak @cscsi @minskzy @hyunlixs-wife0309 @stayconnecteed @miserya99 @puppy-minnie @kaitchan @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @linosssss @channiesbedbug (if your pseudo is crossed out, it's because i can't tag you and you'll have to change your settings).

#skz x reader #skz x yn #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #changbin smut #changbin x reader #skz smut #nnn #nnn skz #no nut november

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traveler-at-heart · 1 month ago

Text

Doctor's In - Holiday Special

Summary: You get ready for your first Christmas with the Maximoffs.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

A/N: So we'll have a mini special consisting of three small chapters for the holidays. This is mainly because the tone for each one will be kind of different and I didn't know how to put it all in one long chapter. If I'm on schedule, part 2 will be posted next week and part 3 the week of Christmas.

Enjoy!

It looks like a group of Santa’s helpers vandalized the place.

You return from Thanksgiving break to find that the hospital halls are adorned with candy canes, wreaths and other typical Christmas ornaments.

“Good morning” you greet Darcy and Kamala as you join them in the break room.

“What’s good about swimming in Santa’s vomit?” Darcy mutters.

“For an elf, you’re very grumpy about this time of year”

“I’m not an elf!”

“That’s exactly what an elf that works for Santa would say” you tsk, showing her the cookies Wanda sent her. “She said you had to share with me”

You sit in silence, eating and looking at your phone until she speaks again.

“I have to go back home for the holidays, they think this year Nana will kick the bucket for real”

“RIP Nana” you whistle, knowing Darcy isn’t particularly fond of her conservative, holier than thou grandmother.

“Remember when she called you a demonic lesbian?”

“You know what? Not my worst Christmas”

Kamala, who up until this point was sitting in silence, chokes on her drink, looking horrified.

“What’s up with her?” Darcy asks.

“Kamala has a very nice, loving family” you say with a grave voice, as if it was a dark secret.

Darcy and you get paged at the same time, continuing the conversation down the hall.

“Though I’m not happy about going back home, I’m glad you have an actual place to spend the holidays this year” your friend says, and you smile.

From previous years, you remembered Wanda’s house going all out with Christmas decorations. She’d also knock on your door to leave an apple pie and wish you happy holidays.

“Yeah, I think the Maximoffs have a ton of traditions I need to catch up with”

“Does she know?” Darcy says, and you shake your head no.

“You know it’s the same for me. I don’t think it’s important at all” you shrug your shoulders.

“I think Wanda would like to know. Make it extra special for you” Darcy says and you know she’s right.

“I’ll think about it”

—

Turns out, Wanda was ready to decorate everything, but decided to wait until the weekend so you could help her and the kids.

And by help her, she meant have you carry the heaviest boxes.

“Is that all of it?” you say, going down the stairs with a box with lights.

“Yes, I think so” Wanda goes over everything you have unpacked already. Decorations for the porch, wreath, lights, the Santa Claus that goes in the chimney and the reindeer for the front lawn.

“I never realised how much stuff you put up each year” you comment, scratching the back of your neck. It’s a little overwhelming.

“Sweetheart, I used to do it by myself every year, I promise with your help it will be twice as fast”

“And can I get a reward for helping?” you say, pulling her against you. She smiles, holding on to your forearms as you kiss her cheek and down her neck.

“We have our letters ready!” the kids say, going down the steps.

“Well, let’s set up the tree so Santa has a place to put all your presents then” Wanda says.

There’s the usual Christmas music, and you hum along to all of the songs that you know by heart.

“Someone’s finally getting into the holiday spirit” Wanda comments with a smile.

“The music is catchy, that’s all”

But still, you enjoy decorating the tree, noticing how Wanda quietly goes over the section that Billy and Tommy are doing, fixing everything so it looks better.

“I say we did a good job” Wanda approves when it’s all done, hands on her hips. “We’re only missing the star”

“Y/N can do it this year!” Billy says and you grimace.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’m sure I’ll mess it up”

“I’ll help you” Tommy insists, and Wanda nudges you. Well, you can’t say no to that.

With a sigh, you step forward, letting Tommy guide you.

“Does that look ok?” you say, not knowing if that is how it’s supposed to look.

“Perfect” Wanda assures you, her hand on your back as you climb down the small ladder.

“Can we have hot cocoa now?”

“Yes, and then we’ll decorate the porch”

The kids talk excitedly over each other, discussing the gifts they asked Santa. You follow the conversation, knowing there’s a huge pile of presents hidden inside your closet as you started shopping for the twins a few weeks ago.

“What’s on your list, Y/N?”

“Oh, nothing really. I have everything I need” you smile at Tommy, and it’s true.

“But we need to get you a present! There’s gotta be something you want”

“I’ll think about it, I promise. Should I address my request to you or Mr. Claus?”

“Aren’t you too old to ask Santa for stuff?” Billy intervenes, making Wanda laugh.

“You know what, I kinda am” you say, smiling.

The conversation keeps going for a bit, until Wanda decides it’s time to get back to work.

This time, it’s you who climbs up and places all the lights and ornaments she wants. You’re going back and forth, Wanda constantly asking you to go “a little bit to the right… no, to the left. You know what, it was better the other way” until you’re covered in sweat, muscles aching from all the effort.

Still, once you’re done with everything it looks pretty damn impressive.

“So what movie are we watching tonight?”

“Let’s take a look at the list” Wanda says, hoping you actually wrote down some suggestions. “Nightmare before Christmas is not a holiday movie” she challenges you as soon as she reads it.

“It has Christmas in the title”

“And the word nightmare!”

“What’s it about?” Billy says and you gasp.

“You’ve never seen it?”

“No! Mama! We wanna watch it!” Tommy insists.

“Boys, I think it’s a bit scary… why don’t we watch… Ghostbusters?”

Wanda slaps your arm.

“What?”

“You are not taking Christmas movie night seriously!”

“I watch it every year, I swear!” you say, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

“We’re watching Nightmare before Christmas, but if the kids get scared, you are sleeping in their bedroom floor to keep the monsters away”

“Fine”

You take it as a small win when the boys actually enjoy the movie, and as they get ready for bed, they keep signing “this is halloween” over and over again.

“See? If it was a Christmas movie they would not be singing that” Wanda glares and you have to hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I promise I won’t suggest any more movies for the next month” you kiss her temple, and she relaxes against you.

After taking a shower, you ease into bed and feel Wanda’s breathing even out, exhausted by the day you both had.

Still, you can’t fall asleep.

This has always been a complicated time of year for you. When you were a kid, it was your favorite holiday, mainly because your dad made sure it was extra special. And then he passed away and it just became another event in life that lost its magic. Your mother never really made an effort, at least with you.

It was only until you moved out that you found solace in the small things that reminded you of your dad. The lights, the snowy nights, the shorter days. It was all soft and gentle and it made you feel special again. The quiet life you found for yourself was all you needed to remember the better times.

Unable to sleep, you sneak out of bed and go down the stairs, turning on the tv and watching Ghostbusters, like you used to do with your father.

It’s halfway through the film that Wanda notices you’re gone, and she joins you, placing her head on your lap.

“What do you like to do for the holidays?” she asks, only realising now that she had been making you follow her family traditions.

“Watch Ghostbusters and eat junk food from a vending machine” you say, laughing when Wanda frowns.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what my parents did when I was born” you admit reluctantly.

“Your birthday is on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeap” you say with a smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wanda sits up, hugging her knees.

“It’s no big deal”

“It is to me” she says, taking your hand, her thumb rubbing circles on your skin. “So, what did you do to celebrate before?”

“Same as Thanksgiving, really. Stayed at the hospital, though it is a bit more quiet than other holidays. Darcy would be there some years as well, and we’d just watch the movie and get any junk food we could find”

“And before that?”

“Well, my dad used to take me to pick out a tree and then we’d decorate it together. We’d also go sledding, drink hot cocoa… he told me he was going to teach me how to ice skate, but we never got around to do it”

“Was your mom not a part of it or…?”

Oh, your mother. You had almost forgotten about her and that ominous call. This is as good a time as any to share with Wanda more details about your life.

“So, when I spoke about them before I left out some stuff. My parents didn’t actually live together. My dad raised me on his own until he died and then I had to live with my mother… she was already married and pregnant with my half sister when I moved there”

“I see” Wanda nods, knowing it’s too hard to talk about all of it, even if you put up a brave face. “We’ll do anything you want. And you get to pick dinner and have two presents” she promises with a gentle voice, climbing into your lap.

“That’s not necessary” you laugh, hugging her tight. “You’re all I need, really. Plus, that apple pie you gave me each year was better than any birthday cake. You’ve been making my day special since we’ve known each other, Wanda”

“Still, I want you to have a perfect Christmas and birthday” she says with a determined look, and you know nothing will change her mind.

“Ok, my love”

—

Second part of the Christmas plan was to get everything on the twins’ Christmas list.

“It’s three weeks for Christmas, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?”

“When it comes to twins, the sooner you do the shopping the better. Learned that the hard way when they had to share a Buzz Lightyear”

“I’m just saying, what if they change their minds about something on the list?”

“Excuse me, don’t you have a closet full of presents already?” Wanda mocks and you straighten up.

“How do you know that?”

“My house is right in front of yours, do you think I don’t see the delivery guy leaving stuff on your front door?”

“It’s not like I can sign up for them at the hospital. Plus, those are extra things, not from their list” you defend yourself, looking at the shelves full of toys.

“You are spoiling them”

“Wait until you see your present” you turn to wink at her.

“Is it in one of those boxes?”

“Oh, hell no. It’s more valuable than that” you say, examining the Nerf gun in front of you. “This was on the list, right?”

“Yes, two of everything, remember” Wanda says, looking for the Funko Pops they wanted. You add lightsabers, some remote control cars, and Pokemon figures.

Apparently, Pietro was taking care of the bikes and had promised to teach the kids how to ride during the winter break.

Once it was all settled, you struggled to pay before Wanda could reach for her purse.

“It’s not fair” she protests when you leave the store, taking your hand. “And you still won’t tell me what you want for Christmas and your birthday!”

“How about you, wearing nothing except for a little bow that I get to untie with my teeth?” you pull her against you, kissing the spot behind her ear. “Because that’s all I really want”

“I’d still like a list of other stuff” Wanda says, blushing at the image you just painted.

“Just bake an apple pie that I don’t have to share with anyone” you joke, putting away the bags in the trunk of Wanda’s car. “We should store these in my place, yes? Reduces the risk of the kids finding them”

“Sounds good. We have an hour or so before we have to pick up the kids. Want some hot cocoa?”

“Sure, lead the way” you agree, knowing one of her favorite cafeterias is close by. As you walk across the street, you find an ice rink in the middle of the square that is right in front of City Hall.

“You know… we could try” Wanda says as you walk past it, and you frown.

“Skating? Pass, babe”

“Why? It’s gonna be so much fun”

“I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of freak accidents that happen when you’re wearing a pair of blades in an icy surface”

“Ok, but can we focus on the fun for a second? I’ll be there with you, I’m great. You can hold my hand” she nudges your side, kissing your cheek softly. “Please, my love”

Wanda pouts and you have to roll your eyes. She always wins.

“Fine”

“Yay!”

You mumble incoherently the entire time you put on the skates, sighing when Wanda kneels and ties them up properly.

“What about protective gear?” you say, the girl in charge and Wanda sharing glances.

“What about it?” Wanda asks, trying to hold back a smile.

“What? No helmet? Knee caps? This is a safety hazard!”

“I can give you my elf hat” the girl says, not knowing how to proceed with a hysterical adult that refuses to go inside the rink.

“She’ll be fine” Wanda reaches for your hand. “Come on, sweetheart”

It feels like you’re learning how to walk, balancing on the skates and hoping you won’t fall on your ass.

“Relax” Wanda stands in front of you, smiling. You sigh, clearly unable to do that as people around you glide effortlessly. “Stand straight, knees slightly bent. Ok, feet in a V position, toes out and heels in” she nods, examining your stance. You feel like an idiot. “Ok, now just push to glide, alternating your feet”

“How do I decide which foot to move first?”

“What do you mean?”

“Left or right?”

“Whichever”

“That doesn’t make any sense” you insist, almost losing your balance. Wanda frowns, walking away from you and showing you how to do it. “Well, you make it look easy”

“Hold my hand” she says, skating backwards to pull you forward.

“Oh, God, I should have never agreed to do this” you complain, feeling stupid.

“Baby, relax. Close your eyes. Please” Wanda insists when you huff. With an eye roll, you relent, feeling her hands in yours. “Don’t think, just feel”

Wanda squeezes your hands, pulling you lightly and you take a tentative step forward. It’s not so bad, but you keep your eyes closed, brow furrowed as you focus on keeping your balance.

“I’m here” she reassures you, leaning forward and kissing you. It’s sweet, but definitely not so innocent as she opens her mouth and runs her tongue across your bottom lip. Without noticing, Wanda is dragging you along the ice rink, and you’re so focused on chasing after her lips that you fail to notice you’re finally skating.

“There we go” Wanda says, pulling away and skating backwards. The minute you stop feeling her hands in yours you open your eyes, terrified.

“Why did you let me go?” you shriek, stumbling around.

“You’re doing great”

Truthfully, you are not. Yes, you’re finally gliding along the surface, but your movements are uncoordinated and at one point, you push yourself too hard, going faster.

“How do you stop?” you say, crashing against Wanda. The speed takes her by surprise, and you’re on your way to hitting the edge of the rink. You turn her around in your arms so your back collides against the railing, the blow leaving you out of breath for a moment.

“You ok?” Wanda asks, arms around your waist.

“Fine” in spite of yourself, you laugh.

“Wanna try again?” Wanda says, her hands going up to your cheeks. You kiss her palm, nodding.

“Just don’t let go of me, please?”

“Never” she promises, pulling you back to the rink.

—

The kids are restless as you drive back home, almost as if they can tell you’ve been out shopping for gifts.

“Alright, settle down, you two” Wanda asks as soon as you walk inside.

“I’m walking Sparky now, just in case there’s an actual storm later today” you say, doubting the forecast can be accurate. It’s way too soon for snow.

Still, you put on a jacket and make sure Sparky is wearing the Christmas sweater Wanda got him this morning. For someone who didn’t want a dog, she sure as hell spoils him.

When you’re a few blocks away from home, you look back and dial a number.

“Hello?”

“Jenny. Hi. It’s Y/N”

There’s an awkward pause, and you’re not even sure if your half sister remembers you at all. Last time you saw her she was eight or nine.

“Yeah, hey. How are you? Give me just a second…” you hear a door closing, the outside noise muffled. “What’s up? Are you coming over for the holidays?”

You’re surprised to hear excitement in her voice. No one really cared if you did before.

“Uh, no. I got work” you lie. “I was actually calling you because your mom left me a voicemail the other day. Said you’re considering going to college close to where I live. So, just wanted to check if you know when you’ll be visiting”

It was the only way you could think of to get more information without having to call your mother.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry she bothered you with this”

“It’s no bother” you lie again. Half lie. If it was only Jenny coming you could handle it. The issue was always your mother.

“I think it’s gonna be after New Years but before school starts. Definitely not before Christmas” she says and you sigh with relief. You can at least enjoy the holidays without having to look over your shoulder. “I’ll text you when I know more. I-If it’s not too much trouble, I know you’re super busy”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. Text me if you need anything. Take care and happy holidays, kid”

You hang up, feeling strange. It’s a relief, to know you didn’t have to worry about this in the immediate future.

But you also think about your siblings. About the family you could have had if things were different. What would have been like if you had pushed against your mother’s bitterness? Been yourself and an older sister for them instead of hiding and leaving as soon as you could.

Was she a better mother to them than she was to you? Or did they have their share of issues with her?

You come back home, deep in thought so you miss the kids and Wanda hanging stockings in the stairs.

“You’re just in time, come over” your girlfriend says, surprising you with one that has your name.

“This is for me?” you say with a smile, amazed. You hadn’t had one since your last Christmas with your father.

“Well, of course” Wanda says, pointing at the spot next to hers. “Put it there”

Before you do as she says, you pick her up and kiss her.

“I love you” you say, trying really hard not to cry.

“I love you too”

“Can we watch a movie now or are you two gonna take forever?” Tommy says, making you both gasp.

“Where is all this sass coming from?” you say.

“We want popcorn!” Billy asks and you roll your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll get the popcorn, you get the movie” you put Wanda down, kissing her cheek.

As it turns out, the film for today is a personal attack on you.

“You frown like the Grinch!” Tommy says, laughing.

“And look, Sparky is sitting next to you, just like Max”

At Billy’s words, Sparky and you turn to look at each other, the dog looking embarrassed at the comparison.

“You know what, little brats? I’m hiding all your presents” you say with a Grinch voice, chasing after the kids as they shout, the movie forgotten.

“Run, boys!” Wanda says, pretending to be scared. You turn to look at her, a smirk on your face.

“Or better yet, I’m taking your mom and keeping her to myself!” you go back, carrying her over your shoulder and going upstairs while Wanda laughs.

—

Turns out a storm did hit during the night. You wake up before anyone else, amazed at the thick snow that is covering the street. You catch sight of Mrs. Davis trying to clean her driveway and you sigh, changing clothes to go out and help her.

“You’re such a dear” the woman says from her doorway as you shovel the snow out of the way.

“It’s not a problem, really” you reassure her. Once you’re done you take the cup of coffee she offers, making small talk until her phone rings.

You walk back to your place, feeling your face numb from the cold air. Even if you don’t have to work today, you clear the snow and the car, knowing it would be a pain to do it later.

Wanda’s driveway is next and by the time you’re done, you can’t feel your fingers or face.

“Sweetheart, why are you up so early?” Wanda says as soon as you step foot inside, taking off your shoes and coat to keep the rest of the house clean.

“Mrs. Davis needed help” you explain, your nose a little runny from the cold.

“Come here” Wanda almost flinches as she feels your low temperature, but her hands find their way to your face, and then through your hair, getting rid of the snowflakes that landed there. “You’re freezing”

“Warm me up, then” you say, smiling as she kisses you, her lips warm and inviting. Wanda gasps when your cold hands travel south, sinking in her curves. “So hot”

“Snowball fight!” you hear the kids upstairs, who finally woke up and looked out the window.

You smile, greeting them as they walk downstairs to get breakfast. Wanda makes pancakes and you stand next to her, appreciating the warmth of the stove as she finishes cooking.

“Can we build a snowman?” Tommy says, eager to go outside and play.

“Sure. We’ll go after breakfast, ok?” Wanda promises, sitting next to you. There’s a comfortable silence, the boys gulfing down their food and looking at both of you, eagerly.

Though you were looking forward to a slow morning, it’s clear that’s not gonna happen so you wash the dishes while the Maximoffs get their coats and gloves.

Sparky is the first one to run down the stairs, and you’re shocked to find him wearing his own winter jacket and boots.

“I’m feeling a little jealous of all the love he gets” you tease Wanda as you open the door.

The sky is clear now, and the sunlight reflects softly in the white surface. Wanda and the kids use the snow you plowed to build the first part of the snowman, talking while they work. You would be more than happy to help, but you’re too busy admiring the way Wanda’s profile is illuminated, an ethereal glow around her as she laughs with Billy and Tommy.

Once the first part is done, you help them with the middle and the head, making sure the sizes are proportional. Sparky keeps jumping around, the snow covering most of his small body.

“Carrot” Wanda requests, acting as a surgeon requesting a scalpel. She makes sure the eyes and smile are straight, while you pick rocks that will work as buttons.

“Are these ok?” Tommy shows her mom two branches for the arms.

“Perfect. Nice job” she says, nodding approvingly. “And now, the scarf”

She pulls out a red scarf, wrapping it around the snowman. It looks pretty darn cute to be honest.

“What are we naming him?”

“Y/N should name him this year!” Tommy says and you tap your forehead, considering your options.

“I propose… Slushy”

“Nice” Wanda nods, and you’re about to show your agreement when a snowball hits your back.

“Who did this?” you say, crouching like the Grinch again. Tommy and Billy giggle, both pointing at each other. “The Maximoffs have declared war!”

Chaos unleashes after that statement, everyone making snowballs and throwing them at each other while Sparky barks and runs around. Wanda finds cover behind her car, and you lift your fist in the air.

“Truce! We have a runaway! Go get her, boys!”

“No, boys! I’m your mothe-“ she never gets to finish that statement, as a snowball hits her square in the face. She spits out snow, looking shocked. You can’t hold your laughter, especially when she tilts her head and goes after the twins. “You are gonna be grounded until you turn eighteen! Come here, little brats!”

The Maximoffs engage in a battle for a few minutes while you record them, amused. It isn’t until Wanda beckons them to join her that you realise they are now planning an attack on you.

“Wait!” you plead, but you’re too slow, and by the time you run, they are already throwing snowball after snowball at you. You end up falling face first in a small snowbank, and they begin to use their hands to shovel more snow until you’re completely covered.

“Maximoffs win” Wanda says, while Billy and Tommy cheer. “Now go back inside, before you get sick”

You stay on the ground, too tired to move.

“Everything ok?” Wanda says, laughing. You manage to lift your hand and do a thumbs up.

“Spectacular”

—

The rest of the day is thankfully slower. The kids insist on going back out to walk around in the snow, because they think it’s funny how Sparky gets so excited, jumping right into it even if it goes all the way to his ears.

After dinner, everyone is too tired to watch a movie, so Tommy and Billy go up to their room, and fall asleep before Wanda can even close the door to their bedroom.

“I’m so happy we could all be home today” she says, smiling. You nod, closing the door and biting your lip, eager for some alone time with your girlfriend.

As she changes into her pajamas, you step closer, helping her out of her clothes.

“You know, I wanted to talk to you about something… uh…” she stutters when your lips leave a trail of kisses down her neck. “It’s i-important”

“Ok. I’m listening” you nod, pushing her against the bed.

“I can’t focus when you do that”

“Do what?” you feign innocence, settling between her legs, hands going up and down her thighs. “I can multitask, baby. Just tell me what’s on your mind”

Wanda tries really hard to remember what she had to say, but then you’re lifting her legs over your shoulders, pulling her shorts down and biting gently on the flesh of her inner thighs.

You lean forward, about to swipe your tongue across her slit, but stop, looking up at her.

“I’m listening, Wanda”

“Huh? No, please, just…”

“Just what?”

“Just fuck me” she whines, digging her nails in your scalp. You tsk, laughing as her back arches off the bed.

“You forgot what you were gonna say? My baby just likes to be a pillow princess that much, huh?” you taunt, not waiting for a reply. Your tongue finally dips into her pussy, Wanda’s reply to your mockery forgotten as she whines and moans, eager to feel more of your mouth on her cunt.

Finally, you have mercy, and let your tongue circle her clit.

“Fuck” Wanda moans, trying to keep quiet. That upsets you, so you nuzzle your nose against her clit, dipping your tongue deeper to fuck her. Now she can’t keep quiet and you want to smirk, pleased with the way she’s canting her hips up to meet your movements.

“If you don’t stop I’m going to…”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, as you increase the speed of your movements, not stopping even when she comes, and tries to move away from you.

You only stop when her legs give out, and you climb up, kissing her stomach, breasts, neck and cheek.

“You were saying?” Wanda tastes herself on your lips, sighing against your mouth.

“I think you fucked it out of me” she mewls against your neck and you smile.

“Let’s see if it comes back after I fuck you again”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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dorabellingham · 19 days ago

Text

Long distance

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when your long-distance relationship is going through a turbulent time, but you do everything to understand each other

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The months passed quickly, and despite the distance, you and Jude tried to stay connected. He was in Madrid, living the peak of his career, with intense training, games and constant travel, while you, in another country, focused on your college year. The distance was testing your limits, but so far, you seemed to be able to keep the flame alive. However, there were times, like this one, when you felt that something wasn't right.

It was a cold Thursday night, and you were at home, after another long week of studies and commitments. You looked at your phone, checking if you had any messages from Jude. You saw that he had sent you a good night message, as he always did when you weren't talking in person, but when you opened the screen, you saw that he was busy with something and couldn't answer at those times. It was something common, but that night, a feeling of emptiness hit you even harder. You tried to be understanding. You knew that Jude was at a decisive moment in his career and that football demanded a lot of his time. However, you couldn’t help but feel alone. The long-distance relationship was getting hard to sustain. You always tried your best to be patient, but you also had your own emotional needs, and as much as you loved your boyfriend, you couldn’t hide the fact that you were feeling neglected. That night, instead of just texting him that you were fine, you sat on your bed and decided to write something more sincere. You knew you had to be honest with him, no matter how hard it was.

"Jude, I know you’re super busy and I don’t want to be a burden, but… sometimes I feel like you’re so distant. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. I understand how much football takes out of you, but I also need you here, you know? And there are days when I really feel like I’m doing this all by myself. I don’t want to be demanding, but can you help me understand what’s going on? I just don’t want to feel invisible.”

You hesitated a little before hitting send, but you knew you had to say it. You didn’t want the frustration to build up to the point where it could harm their relationship. Instead, you preferred to get things sorted out while there was still time.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrated. It was a text from Jude.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry if I left you feeling this way. I really didn’t mean to. You know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us. I can’t deny that I’m completely focused on my work, but that will never be more important than you. I love you and I’m struggling to find balance. I want you to know that I need you here too, more than you know. Let’s talk about this when you can.”

You felt an immediate sense of relief. You knew he wasn’t trying to push you away, but the feeling of being neglected hurt you deeply. You took a deep breath and sent a reply.

“I love you, Jude. I know it’s hard for you too, and I don’t mean to be selfish. Just… please don’t make me feel like I’m an option when you already have so much going on. I just need to know that I’m still important to you, even with all this crazy schedule you have.”

Your phone vibrated again.

“You’ll always be my priority, Y/n. I’m just trying to organize myself so that we can be together as much as possible. I don’t want you to feel that way, no way. Let’s figure it out. Give me some time and we’ll plan something together, something just for us, so you can see how important you are to me. I promise I’ll try to make this easier for you. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You smiled, feeling a soft relief this time. You knew that, despite the distance and the challenges, the love between you were still strong. You were still learning to deal with the situation, and that was something natural, something that many long-distance relationships face.

A few hours later, you finally received a call from Jude. The sound of his voice calmed you down immediately, and you closed your eyes as you listened to him speak, knowing that, despite the pressure and the distance, you still belonged together.

—Babe, I just wanted to hear from you. I was thinking about how we can improve this. Maybe I should call you more often, or even text you more when I know you need me.

You interrupted him softly, with a light laugh.

—I’m not the type of person to complain, but sometimes I feel like I’m trying too hard to be strong on my own. And yes, a more frequent message would make me feel more present. I know you’re doing your best, Jude. It’s just that sometimes the best seems so far away, darling.

Jude sighed, as if he was relieved to finally hear your truth. He could feel the weight of your words, and it touched him deeply.

—I understand. And I’m going to do it. I’m going to be more present. Because you deserve it. You deserve to know that I’m completely yours, even if the distance tries to separate us. I’m going to make things work, because you’re the most important thing in my life.

You smiled at his words. The feeling of warmth was almost instantaneous. You had had a difficult conversation, but a necessary conversation, and that was the most important thing. You didn’t want to be neglected, but you didn’t want to be selfish either. You just wanted to be with him, by his side, even if that meant you had to adjust a little.

—I love you, Jude. I’m here for you too, always. And I know that in the end, everything will work out. We’ll get through this together.

He was silent for a moment before answering.

—I love you more, babe. And I’m going to show you that I can be better for both of us.

That night, even though you were miles apart, you and Jude felt closer than ever. Your conversation was a reminder that despite the hardships of distance and Jude’s career, what really mattered was your commitment to each other. You weren’t giving up. You were simply learning to be better in your relationship, day by day.

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neovillains · 8 days ago

Text

10,000 TIMES OVER | GOJO SATORU

syn. they would choose each other ten thousand times over.

── gojo satoru & fem-bodied!reader, black mirror!au, futuristic!au, strangers to lovers!au, soulmate!au in an unorthodox sense, alternate universes & different lifestyles, longing, infidelity, angst to fluff, suggestive, minor pairings: gojo satoru & utahime iori, geto suguru & fem-bodied!reader | word count : 7.0k words ( minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact )

special note. this fic is based on the black mirror episode, hang the dj. also, please note that every instance is a different universe, so it's a different lifetime for gojo and reader. [ a small playlist ]

FIRST INSTANCE

It took you two hours to get ready. With hair that is as stubborn as you are, it’s the main culprit as to why you’re running late. In the satin white dress that traverses down your body, what your wardrobe assistant had voiced to be the best attire for this event with a pair of royal blue heels to go along with it. You held up a questionable glance at the ensemble when it was all put together, but again, the artificial assistant persisted that this was the best look for tonight. The baby blue taxi sits in front of your house, the engine running lightly as you jog slowly down the pavement, rushing as the motion sensors of the vehicle lights up and the door automatically opens.

Hopping in, the robotic hum of the driver comes to life, its stiff neck twisting as it places its arm against the seat of the front passenger side. “Welcome,” the taxi android thrums, speaking your name. “You are ten minutes late. Due to your tardiness, we will be arrive at La Grande past your schedule. Are you fine with that?”

“Yes,” you breathe. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting in this car. With a curt nod, the android faces forward, arms moving to put the car into drive as his foot lightly taps on the gas pedal. The car ride is occupied with the sweet melodies of melodic rain patter as the taxi computer assistant can detect your distress.

Do not worry, it states, hooking up to your phone data, pulling up your dating app. Gojo Satoru will adore you. You scoff, shoulders dropping as you fall back into the seat. “How are you so sure? You don’t even know if we’re compatible yet.”

I am trying to offer you words of comfort, the female automated voice states. I apologize if I’m failing to meet your standards. Would you like to complete a survey to help better your experience?

You roll your eyes, propping an elbow up against the car door as you start staring out the window. “Maybe another time,” you whisper.

This got exhausting. Going out on dates in hopes to meet your match, only for all this effort to go to waste when the data collection to finally be complete and given a low score. Though, Gojo Satoru’s dating profile did pique your interest. A handsome man with strikingly white hair that it looked unreal and blue eyes to match his impossible, the algorithm seemed to be bettering itself everyday for such a handsome man to be paired with you.

With every dating profile came the standard information. Your date of birth, gender, star placements, and anything that the computer system deemed important. Little fun facts and quirky shows of personality prohibited as it only allowed for everything relevant. He’s a Sagittarius, which seems interesting enough. You didn’t know what to make of any of the information, but you just needed something to keep you busy during the drive. You tapped away on the screen, your recently done cutiles shining as your nails are adorned in simple French tips. A timer starts to flash in front of you, indicating that there are three minutes left until arrival.

Clicking the power button to your phone, you slip it into your purse as you look through the car window. You can see the restaurant a distant away, ash brown walls and tinted windows as a sign hangs over, a light gray reading its name. You’ve been to this restaurant countless of times before, where you’re sure that the moment you step foot inside, the employees will quickly recognize you. They probably deem you as that girl who has yet to meet her one hundred-percent match yet, finding it completely and utterly embarrassing.

The moment the taxi was safely parked and the door was opening, you jumped out. Heels clicking on the pavement as your hips swayed with your movement. You stopped getting nervous over these dates a long while ago, but there was something on your chest that made it feel so tight as every step you take sounded against the ground. When you approached the door, you were immediately greeted with a friendly nod as the man reached for the handle, holding it open for you.

You reached for your phone from your purse and pulling open the dating app, holding it up to the scanner. With a quick chime, the machine before you buzzed as green lit up and your name reading across the screen. Glad for you to finally arrive, it greeted you. Your date, Satoru Gojo, waits for you at booth ten. Good luck!

You started walking over the moment it told you the table number, memorizing the restaurant by heart as you took a right turn. You manuevered yourself past the tables, making sure to be cautious of rushing hosts and waiters before you see the number ten in one of the booth racks. Immediately, your phones buzz the moment you’re in close proximity of one another, calling for the gentleman’s attention before he realized your presence. He lets his phone drop back on the table, standing up tall.

Your eyes widen, realizing just how tall 6’7” is as he looks down at you. You ignore his greeting, it all coming out muffled as you take in his large statue. Instead, you guffaw. “Wow…”

He laughs, pearly-white blinding you as he nods. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He helps you by pulling out your chair, not sitting back down until you do. “I know we know each other’s names already from the dating app, but my name’s Gojo Satoru.”

“Gojo Satoru,” you say, trying his name on your tongue before introducing yourself. He reciprocates, tasting your name on his lips before smiling, “That’s a pretty name.”

You don’t get a chance to comment on his statement when the waitress comes over, a cheery smile on her face as she clasps her hands together. “Hello and welcome to La Grande. I’m Utahime and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Have you guys started your order yet?”

“No,” you shake your head, reaching for your phone. “Can we get a few more minutes, so we can, please?”

Utahime nods, glancing at the both of you before disappearing from your sight. Gojo scrunches up his eyebrows, eyes flickering from you and back to the waitress. You’re scrolling through your phone and something tells me that he should be doing the same. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been on one of these dates before. What are we supposed to be doing?”

Your thumb stops as you scrunch up your eyebrows together at his statement, bewildered at his admittance. “What?” you gasp. “You’ve never been matched before? That’s one of the first things you do the moment you turn eighteen. How old are you?”

Gojo chuckled. “Yeah, typically, but there’s a route that you can take if you don’t want to initially start. I decided to do that first before I wanted to take things serious.”

“Oh,” your eyebrows raise, sitting back in your seat as you cross your arms. “You’re a little player.”

Gojo meets your challenging eyes, pointing at you. “I didn’t say that. I meant that I focused on more pressing matters than finding my match.”

“Really?” you ask, finding him intriguing. As well as the fact that you could’ve delayed this all if you had known there was a way to. “What’d you do before—” you gesture around you “— all of this?”

“Prioritized college,” he shrugs. “Not that I had much of a choice. It was that or get disowned by my father.”

“So it was your father’s doing that you haven’t started matching yet?”

“No,” Gojo smirks. “You weren’t necessarily wrong when you said I was a player.” He throws you a wink that you’re ashamed to admit that it made your heart flutter.

For the rest of the night, the two of you were engrossed in each other’s conversations. You showed him the ropes of the dating app and how it functions when going on dates. Though, you were hoping by the rest of the night, neither of you no longer needed it. He told you stories of his childhood— the positive ones— and telling you what life was like without having to worry about your next date. Not only that, but the two of you seemed to mesh well.

When the time allotted for the two of you had ended, the waitress leading you through the door, a taxi waited for the both of you. “We’re supposed to spend the night together,” you tell him, motioning him to the car. “That’s how the app furthers its data.”

“Oh?” Gojo quirks an eyebrow. He has friends who had found their match early, but he was never interested in knowing the process. Right now, he felt like a toddler learning his alphabet all over again as he stopped in his tracks, watching how you walked so seamlessly over to the car, waiting for the door to fully open. You were a gorgeous thing, the way the white dress hugged onto you as your heels shone in the moonlight. He concluded there that he wouldn’t mind spending a night with you.

The moment the two of you stopped at your new destination, the designated place after all first dates, you punched in the code that you read off the phone before the door swung open and lights started flickering on. It was a cozy cabin that was accommodated to all current technology, but still gave the feels and comfort that it had as portrayed in old television shows from back in 2024. Climbing the short three steps, you turned to watch Gojo following you as he took in the small abode.

It was spacious, but in the same word, congested. It was all one room, fitting in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom. Only a secluded room for the bathroom. It differed a lot from what he was used to. “This is where we’re supposed to spend the night?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It took some time getting used to, but we don’t have to do anything. We can just… go to sleep, and wait for the next day.”

“Okay,” he breathes. He followed your words, letting you guide him and show him around. He didn’t have much knowledge on this. His parents only ever spoke good things about the process, but never the finer details of things. However, he remembered them mentioning the process is usually quick. It only took three dates for his parents to find out they were each other’s hundred-percent. However, the way you run around, memorizing everything lets him know that this isn’t even your third rodeo.

“How many dates have you been on?” That question has you stiffen up, turning your head as you reach for a glass from the cabinet. Your eyes flicker away as you set it down on the marble countertop.

“Oh, um…” You hum. “This would be my… twenty-ninth, I believe.”

What? “Oh…”

“Don’t worry,” you try to lighten up the mood. “I’m pretty sure you won’t have bad luck like me. Maybe you’ll find your hundred-percent on the next date.”

You sound so sure that this one will fail. It makes him feel sympathetic towards you, how you’ve grown so accustomed to the failed matches. He inches near you, leaning against the countertop as he grabs your glass. He slides it from one hand to the next as his eyebrows wiggle and a smirk plasters on his lips. “How are so you sure that you aren’t mine?”

You don’t like how he’s gotten you all so flustered. He has a point. Maybe you don’t have to do anymore chasing, spending your afternoons and nights getting ready for a date instead of lounging at home. There’s a possibility that it could be him. However, there’s been guys like him before. Guys that you thought were decent, but didn’t make the cut. You didn’t want to get your hopes up. You didn’t want him getting your hopes up only to feel like a fool.

You don’t answer him, simply going to the fridge and pulling out an unopened bottle of apple juice. You gesture towards the bedroom area, taking the glass from his hold. You ignore the feeling of electricity that runs through your fingertips when your skin touches his. “In the left dresser, there are men’s clothes. You can use the bathroom to get changed while I use the bedroom.”

His shoulders slump, but he nods, body moving involuntarily as his posture straightens and does as he’s told. When he leaves the bathroom, he’s caught you at the wrong time. Fortunately, your back turned to him as you pull on the oversized t-shirt over the night shorts before spinning around.

The bare skin of your back seemed to glisten under the lighting before it’s hidden away before you’re reaching for the bed sheets and feeling his presence. “Oh, hey!”

The air’s lighter as you pat the spot next to you, the tension from before dissipating as you get under the covers. Over your head, there’s a bonnet that you look adorable in as you find yourself getting comfortable. “Don’t get shy. I don’t bite.”

Gojo smirks. “I’m not too sure of that.”

Underneath the covers, the two of you spend majority of the night talking amongst yourself, speaking into the darkness as the moon wisks itself away and the stars seemingly saying goodbye. Nonetheless, the two of you enjoy each other’s company and laughter before eventually falling asleep. It’s six in the morning when both of your phones chime. To you, it’s the familiar notification of the app announcing that the data has been completed. Might as wel get this over and done with.

You didn’t realize that Gojo had reached for his phone before you, long having opened up the app as it’s loading. A slew of pearls going in a circle before the numbers pop up on screen. “Oh.”

Through the sound of devastation, you go to look at your phone as well. And while you weren’t trying to get your hopes up when you read that ten-percent. Yeah… Oh.

500TH INSTANCE

Gojo adjusts his cufflinks, pulling at the fabric of his shirt as the sleeves rise just below hiss elbows. The baby blue shirt becomes more crinkled as he glances at his phone— Utahime Iori is on her way. He’s fidgetting on anything he can find, his stomach starting to growl the longer he waits. He really shouldn’t have arrived early, but listening to the app, he wanted to make a good first impression.

Are you nervous? The male voice of the dating app assistant sounds in his earbud. Absentmindedly, he shakes his head, grumbling while he’s at it. In a low voice, he responds, “No, moreso annoyed. This is my fifth date.”

I’m sure this one will be just fine, the chirpy male voice responds. I have good faith in this one.

“How are you so sure?” Gojo sneers. “You’ve said this three times before already.”

I’m just giving you positive words to cheer you up, the bot voices. If you feel like my vocal services are inadequate, please feel free to turn it off in the settings.

Gojo does that, following the bot assistant’s instructions as he goes to the menu. Clicking on the blue slider, he chucks his phone to the corner of the table before a soft, feminine voice calls for his attention. “Gojo Satoru, right?”

Immediately, Gojo comes to stand, holding out his hand for her to shake. She takes it, appreciating the kind gesture. He takes in the woman— jet black hair and fair skin. She’s pretty, chestnut-colored eyes that seem sweet and friendly with her hair styled down, a white bow in the back, clipping some back. The most noteable thing, however, is the large gash that decorates her face. A few shades darker that her skin, Gojo watches as the light in her eyes falter as she grows self-conscious. Her soft voice alerting him, “Hey, it’s rude to stare.”

“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “It’s Utahime Iori, correct?”

“Yeah,” she nods, with the faint of roll of her eyes. “Just like it says on my profile.”

“Well,” Gojo sighs. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Utahime only hums in acknowledgement before clicking the button at the center of the table, signaling that the two of them are ready to be served. Without having to order, two plates are brought out for Gojo and Utahime. And just like the last date he was on, he’s been given the same dish. A shrimp alfredo with green beans on the side, Utahime a filet mignon. Her plate looking more appetizing than his as he picks up his fork. Usually, he’d start off each date with compliments, his flirtatious personality coming off so easily on his tongue, but he finds himself tongue-tied. So, instead, he tries starting up normal conversation. “So, what do you do for work?”

Utahime darts a look in Gojo’s direction, scrutinizing him. She grimaces at the app’s choice of date for tonight. He’s really not my type. “Did you not read my profile at all or something? I’m a teacher.”

Gojo’s shoulders droop as he comes to realize that it’s going to be a long night.

When the two of them are brought back to a condominium, one that Gojo’s starting to familiarize himself with, he watches as Utahime kicks off her shoes. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to shower.”

“Second door on your right,” he voices absentmindedly. Again, she says nothing, only humming in acknowledgement before trudging her way down the hall. Gojo pulls out his phone, opening the app as it still reads ‘Collecting Data…’ He lets out a sigh. Why couldn’t she be like my second date? He received the results within twenty minutes of dinner, glad that the results rung out a thirty-five percent. And he was immediately grateful for it, the woman obnoxious the entire time she was there. Why couldn’t I also get lucky with this one?

Gojo finds himself perched at the dining table as the shower runs. He doesn’t bother to get changed, slouching down in the chair as he settles in his misery and into his mind. He thinks back to his first date. The girl he saw hurrying on in only to trip and land in a muddy puddle. You ruined your dress, a black and backless dress that flowed nicely at the skirt. When the two of you were made aware that you were each other’s date, you had given him the go ahead to laugh at you. You followed not too long after, cracking each other up while you sat in the cold establishment dirtied by the rain water. You were each other’s first dates and unfortunately, not either of your last.

When Utahime hopped out of the shower, she came out to the dining area in only just her towel. With a smaller one wrapped around her head, she let that one fall down on the bench as she approached Gojo. Before he could fully register her planned turn of events, she dropped the towel that draped around her body and climbed on his lap. Excess water dripped onto the baby blue shirt as his entire body stiffened, eyes widening. “What’re you—”

“Don’t say anything,” she pressed a finger to his lips. “By the end of the night, we’ll get our results and we won’t have to see each other again after this.”

It’s her certainty that lures Gojo in. After this night, we won’t have to see each other again. And he liked the sounds of that.

Skin slapping against skin, the pungent smell of sex infiltrating the air ducts. The sweet sounds of each other echoing throughout the room as Utahime holds onto Gojo’s shoulders, his hands holding at her hips as he controls her movement. She’s the sweetest like this. When she’s not complaining or making a jab at him for “not” reading her dating profile. Just pure sex without any romantic ties to it, no feelings that bound each other down.

He feels his stomach tighten, the muscles coming together as his grip becomes stronger. “Shit, ‘m g’nna…”

“Hold on,” Utahime cries. “Hold on!”

When Gojo cums, Utahime makes sure that it’s not in, watching how his cock leaks his seed onto her stomach as she fingers herself to her release. Her moans are sweet and sultry, her cunt pulsating before creamy white follows in suit. And when both fall out of euphoria, she’s the one to speak first. “C’mon. Let’s strip the beds before going to bed.”

When the phone chimes at four in the morning, Gojo’s expecting to taste the sweet relief of heading on home, watching how the bubbles swirl in a circle as the app pulls up the database. He rubs out the sleep from his eyes, his sight a little blurry before the number loads up on screen. Digital confetti blinding him and bringing him into a slot of confusion. Huh? It’s never done this before.

His heart drops when he registers what the number says one the screen— One hundred percent.

1,000TH INSTANCE

Geto is a decent guy, you conclude. A very sweet man. However, there’s just something that he lacks. You couldn’t put your finger on just what he was missing though. Long brown hair combed back in a small bun, one lock of hair falling out of place and in front of his face. Chocolate brown eyes that look at you, seemingly assuring you that everything is and will be okay. His voice is smooth, like the sweet blue agave that you pour into your tea.

He carries and each conversation smoothly, listening to you intently as he has his hands propped up, leaning his head against it as hums. He nods his head at everything you say, giving you his undivided attention as he had barely touched his food while you half. You shouldn’t be wishing for this night to end because ideally, this is the partner you wanted. He was the man you so desired and wished for. But those sentences are all in the past tense, and you want to focus on the now.

You have a medium well steak that’s nearly finished. The sides, mashed potatoes and chopped vegetables. Your drink, a Diet Coke, as recommended by the app. Geto a Cesar salad with vidalia onion dressing drenching it. As you continue to talk, the more you get more hungry as you drone on and on about more stuff. It’s in the midst of your never-ending rambling that you become self-conscious, becoming flustered as you look over at Geto sheepishly. “Sorry, am I talking too much? I’ve been told I do.”

“No,” he completely dismisses your worries. “I like that you’re so open with me. I’d listen to you all the time if I could— If I possibly can.”

And that should be flattering. A man willing to listen to his partner at any time of the day if possible, but you still feel uneasy. “No, you know what. What about you? You told me that you grew up on a farm. Your accent doesn’t match your upbringing. Is there a story to that?”

He nods, accepting the change in discussion as he relaxes his shoulders. With a deep breath, he stares off into space for a moment. “There is, uh, a story to that actually.”

You’re sure that the story would have been fascinating if you were truly and genuinely missing. Instead, your eye flicker to outside of the window as you swear you see a familiar face. In a red button up and charcoal gray slacks, you watch as Gojo climbs the short steps up the pavement as the gentleman at the door bows in respect and holds the door open. Geto drones on and on about his childhood as your eyes follow the white-haired man. His head of hair styled back like he had done so with you. Dark circular frames that fit his face, he checks into Pimento’s with his phone before turning in your direction.

Eyes meeting yours, he stops in his tracks as he looks over at you. Neither of you say anything for a while, Gojo calling for attention as onlookers and passers-by become curious as to why the gentleman is so bewildered. Geto’s soothing voice pulls you out of your trance, looking behind him to see just who you’re having a staring contest with. “Do you know him?”

“Huh?” You lose. “What— I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said?”

“The guy,” he gestures to Gojo. “Do you know him?”

“Oh,” your face heats up in embarrassment. “We, uh—” There was no ‘we.’ You barely knew Gojo, the two of you only sharing one date together before the app revealed the dreadful news that the two of you weren’t each other’s hundred-percent. After such heightened conversations and slews of laughter, the two of you just… clicked. However, according to the app’s data base, that wasn’t enough. Thirty-percent, it algorithm had collected that that’s what both of you were, claiming that there were too many differences and that in the long run while the two of you got along now, the future would turn out nasty. The two of you were devastated, but neither of you voiced that. “— We went on a date. That’s all. I just… I just usually never see them again right after, you know?”

“Oh,” Geto nods in understanding. “No, I get that. I’ve yet to see any of my dates again, so that is a little weird.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you lean against the table in curiosity. “How many dates have you been on so far?”

“This would be my fifty-sixth,” Geto answers truthfully, holding no shame to it. Your eyes widen, mouth shaped into an ‘O’ in surprise. Geto chuckles, used to that reaction. “Don’t make fun of me too hard now.”

“I—I’m not!” you hold up your hands in defense. “I’m just—Does your app need some updating or something because how have you not found your hundred-percent yet?”

Geto shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve concluded it to bad luck, but I’m still hopeful.”

“Hopefully, you find the one soon,” you try to assure him.

“Hopefully, you are the one,” he smiles.

Gojo watches from afar, you with your date. You’re smiling. You seem happy. Good, he thinks. You deserve happiness. Though, he believes deep down that it should be with him. Gojo lets out a deep sigh when he reads a notification on his phone. Utahime Iori is one minute away.

You decided you needed a long shower the moment the two of you arrive at the hotel, scanning yourselves in before a keycard is uploaded to your screen. Geto takes the lead in bringing you up to your room, letting you in first as you reach for the light switch. It’s a beautiful room, you have to admit. Cream-colored walls with brown accents. Picture frames hang on the wall, making the area feel more homely. As expected, there’s only one bed.

“If you want to take a shower first,” Geto says. “Go ahead. I want to take a second to relax.”

“Okay,” you chirp. That’s no problem with me. You end up taking an hour long shower, so absorbed in your mind as dread fills it. You just want this night to be over with. You feel so guilty because Geto seems like a nice guy, but you don’t feel a spark to assure yourself that this will be an everlasting connection. By the time you’re twisting the pipe, your fingertips are pruned up and dehydrated. You reach for the towel that hangs on the rack, stepping out.

You curse to yourself in realization that you didn’t get a change of clothes when you’re drying off your face, taken aback when you see just what you need waiting on the bathroom sink. Wait, your eyebrows furrow. These weren’t here before—

Your phone chimes the familiar melody for the results. The loading screen pops up and disappears rather quickly than what you’re used to. One hundred percent.

5,000TH INSTANCE

Perfection can never be achieved. You remember these words from your husband when you first met. You mentioned your love for painting, pulling out your phone to show him your works. Innocent recreations of what’s already been done and a few original pieces of your own. It was an off-handed comment that you made that sparked him to say that. “Oh, it’s not perfect or anything. I just do this for fun.”

“Perfection can never be achieved,” he told you, pushing back the dark strand of hair behind his ear, brown eyes that resemble a fox as they reeled you in with such charm. “Only something that we can aspire for.”

He paused before adding, “But, I’d say you’re damn near close to perfection.”

His smooth-talking immediately locked you into him, accepting the score of one hundred-percent the moment your phone chimed that familiar ring, waiting a few seconds before it popped up on the screen. You believed what he told you after that, how he was happy that you were his and that he only sought to take care of you. His hands wrapped around as the sheets fell from around him, his strong hands pulling in your bare torso and kissing you alongside your neck.

The soft hum of your voice sounds the bedroom as you lean into his touch, naively falling for his lies. Eyes shutting as his hands raised to flick at your pert nipple, you melted into his touch as he whispered to you a broken promise. “I promise to love you with all my power.”

Maybe if he were truthful, your mind wouldn’t drift back to that one person who always lingered on your mind.

Around the dining room table, you feel like you’re running short of breath. Gasping for air, tears stream down your eyes as you’re slamming your hand down on the table, three loud bangs that echo through the night. Both of your phones lie far inside the bedroom, promising each other not to look at it until the very next morning. It’s three in the morning now, exhausting pooling inside of each other’s eyes, but still— something is holding the two of you back from going into that bed.

Your loud laughter fills the dining area, snorting every so often as you hold your stomach, paining starting to stab you. You keel over, holding your weight with one arm as Gojo watches. Circular frames set down on the table as his laughter slowly dies out, cheeks tinted in red as his chest heaves up and down. His eyes are solely on you, something you don’t realize until you’ve finally calmed down. A long-winded sigh leaving your mouth before your eyes meet his sapphire-like pupils. He’s giving you this… look. You don’t know what to call it. No one’s ever looked at you this way.

Instinctively, you examine yourself, giving yourself a quick skimming before you’re asking, “What? Is something on me?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Never was.”

Easily growing flustered, you avert your gaze away from his piercing one. From under the table, you kick at his shin gently. “Stop it.”

“What?” he feigns innocence. “You asked, I answered.”

Such short-lived happiness. Now you feel a hollowness in your heart as Geto’s broken his thousands of promises, making you dream for a universe that you’ll never have. Did you fall for it all because it reminded you of the man that you really wanted?

5,001ST INSTANCE

“Gojo,” Utahime grumbles out. “I’m going out. Don’t wait for me.”

When have I ever? He wanted to voice out, but instead, he responded with silence. And she doesn’t say anything about it, walking through the door with a loud shut that sends vibrations to the trinkets and decor to the neighboring dressers and picture frames. Picture frames that hold nothing of any true value, all pictures that Utahime has hung up of nature and wildlife. Something to spruce up this… empty and desolate home. He doesn’t know where she goes, such a frequent occurrence that he no longer questions it in his mind.

Perched up on the couch, his blue eyes pinned straight to the television as he clicks through the channels. His eyes are starting to burn and exhaustion is laced in his body, but he doesn’t care. No work tomorrow. Nothing to do. No Utahime in the house. All she does is fill up the empty space and even when she’s hear, it feels emptier than it already is. Maybe he’s being harsh, but it’s his truth.

His unhappiness ruminates inside of his mind, festering as he clicks from channel to channel, still not finding anything interesting to watch. It comes to a point where the screen is dark, clicking the power button, and finding more entertainment in the darkness before he’s scrolling through his phone. Going through socials as he sees the smiling faces of his loved ones with their hundred-percents. He hates how happy they seem, even if they’re just conjured falsities. Why hasn't he felt like he hasn’t had one good moment with Utahime?

Through the lifeless scrolling and rediscoverings of certain apps, he finds the dating app. Something he hadn’t used since learning about Utahime being his hundred-percent, but the app is still there and his account is still there. You can no longer match with anyone reads underneath his name, but he goes past it, clicking on his match history. It was a short list of names, three people at most. Utahime Iori, Shoko Ieiri, a few other women and… you.

Something batters against his chest at the remembrance of you. A student in her residency, so close to tasting victory. You spoke with so much passion, life still inside your eyes as you spoke to him. Cheeks that rose that they looked like they hurt at some point. “How many men have you made fall in love with you?”

He asked that simple question and you giggled, shaking your head. You had such a brightness that it was blinding. A vermillion dress that was so striking that you called all the attention to yourself, a beautiful flower that didn’t belong in between the rose bush, its thorns and thickets too deadly for something as precious as you.

“I should be asking you that question,” you redirect the question to him. “What’s a fine man like yourself doing without his hundred-percent yet? The algorithms are doing a shitty job if you still haven’t found the one yet.”

He was so confident when he said, “I think they were leading me straight to you.”

He feels like a fool now. Holding so much faith for a woman that wasn’t his by the end of the night. He got his hopes up, and in response, got his heart torn into shreds by the end of the night. He kissed you that night, his second to last date. He’s never done that with any other woman before that. However, you managed to make yourself the exception. How did you do that? Weasel your way into his heart so easily?

He wonders if you’re as miserable as him right now. And while some sadistic part of him hopes so, his dwindling love hopes not. He hopes that your hundred percent gives you someone that you deserve and love— even though it’s not him.

10,0001ST INSTANCE

When was the last time you enjoyed being at a nice house party like this? Sure, it’s not as wild as your college days, but it doesn’t need to be. The EDM that hums through the heavyweight speakers vibrates through your bones as you hold a red solo cup in your right hand. The lights are dim as neon streams of light flash across the ceiling. Chatter intermingles with the music, everyone’s eyes bright as they dance along. Pushing through the large crowd comes Shoko, she’s tugging her hundred-percent along with her, eyes bright when she spots you hidden away.

Calling out your name, she beams in excitement. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Well,” you chuckle. “You haven’t been looking hard enough.”

You stand tall, meeting Shoko in the middle before your eyes fall adrift to her partner. A pretty woman with fair skin and chestnut-colored eyes. Jet black hair that falls past her shoulders and bangs that hide her forehead. The most striking feature about her, however, is the large gash across her face. However, it doesn’t take away from her beauty, only seeming to enhance it as it calls for a story waiting to be told. She holds a shy smile on her face, averting eye contact before she voices out a “hello.”

“Hi,” you respond, holding out your hand and giving her your name.

“I’m Utahime—” She could barely introduce herself before Shoko’s smiling all giddily, “Isn’t she stunning?”

Utahime’s face heats up, a shy smile on her face before nudging Shoko, and whispering, “Stop it…”

You enjoy this part about matches. You enjoy watching people get their hundred-percents and finding themselves happy. Seeing how they’re ecstatic and overjoyed to find someone else they mesh well with. But, why couldn’t you have that? Why are you still searching for that through yours? Where was that immediate connection that you’re longing for? As much as you love seeing other people’s happiness, it becomes overbearing at some point. You manage to sneak yourself away from the lovey-dovey scene, squeezing past the myriad group of people and finding homage at the food table, picking up a paper plate and sharing yourself a small serving of fruits. You sneak a few pieces of cantaloupe into your mouth before sharing out more on the plate before a voice rings inside your ears. “Make sure to leave some for the rest of us.”

You nearly choke on a piece when you whirl around, a strangled ‘hm?’ leaving you before spitting it out on your plate. Your eyes widen at the piercing blue eyes and the inhumanly white-head of hair that you haven’t seen in months.

“Oh, my gosh!” you gasp. “Gojo!”

The two of you hug as if you’ve both been life-long friends. It feels that way, remembering the first and only date the two of you have been on. That long night of chatter as the two of you spent it in each other’s comfort. Both of you equally poured your hearts out to each other like no one else was watching. Those within that restaurant were so sure of it, the two of you would be hundred-percents. Only for the staff to share the same disappointment you had when you returned in a week’s time waiting on someone else.

There was a connection that you had with Gojo that even a blind man could see, even now with the two of you hugging each other. Each of your grips were strong, scared to let go of one another as if the moment you did, one of you would be gone once more. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent, an earthy fragrance of his cologne that made you want to nuzzle yourself further in his chest. He couldn’t help but to bury his face in your hair, smelling a scent of citrus from your hair products. Subconsciously, his grip tightened on you before both of you finally pulled away.

You looked up into his eyes, finding yourself easily lost in them as you’re held speechless. A snort leaves you, still baffled that he’s here. “You know Shoko and Utahime?”

“Utahime, yeah,” Gojo nods. “She was an old classmate of mine. Surprised she invited me, to be honest. She hated my guts.”

“Who could hate you?” you jest, but deep down, you’re asking yourself that question. How could anyone possibly hate him? He scratches the nape of his neck, chuckling as he leans down to your height, getting awfully close. “You’d be surprised.”

He sends a chill down your spine, your smile dropping as your eyes flicker from his eyes and down to his lips. He does the same, having the strong urge to kiss you then and there. “Want to take a step outside with me? It’s— It’s, uh, getting a bit claustrophobic in here.”

You nod without hesitation. “Yeah.”

You take his hands, bigger than yours, they lead the way out. The two of you find latibule on a rusty bench out front, a few blocks down from Shoko’s place. The sky is getting darker and the air is getting chillier. You start to shiver when Gojo’s pulling off his sweater. “Here.”

“No.” You start shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

However, Gojo’s already draping it over your shoulder, not taking your ‘no’ for an answer. Instead, he starts the conversation up with a question he’s been meaning to ask the moment he saw you at the food table. “Have you found your hundred-percent?”

“Nope,” you sigh, averting your gaze in shame. “You?”

“Nope,” he repeats. There’s a long silence the two of you share before his eyes lie on you. “Do you think it’s worth trying anymore?”

“No,” your eyes flicker around before braving it. A few inches away becomes a centimeter, lips ghosting each other’s. “Not when the only person I’ve been wanting is you.”

note. thank you so much for reading this fic. gojo is my king for angst. please let me know your thoughts in the comments below or in your reblog. it is very much appreciated. mwah!

#gojo satoru angst #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #ᯓ★ standalone.

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heechwe · 25 days ago

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love is the best medicine | 𝐜𝐬𝐛

୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.1k ୨୧ genre: smut, semi-angst, fluff ୨୧ tags: established relationship!au, semi-pwp, pet names, makeup sex, chest worship, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie ୨୧ synopsis: One fight and a few days of space leads to a particularly passionate reconciliation.

It’s so easy to acquiesce to someone begging for forgiveness when they come bearing your favorite snacks.

It doesn’t help that your boyfriend also looks so adorable rain-soaked and pouting, the bag of your most-loved, edible junk dangling on his wrist. He hasn’t said the words exactly, neither verbally nor through text, but you can see in his face that the white flag is raised for you to accept.

“Can I, y’know—” The question dies on Soobin’s lips, his eyes saying all that he needs to at this point. Please let me in.

I love you and I’m sorry. These past three days have been hell without you.

By the time the bag is discarded on the kitchen counter and your body is intertwined with Soobin on your bed, you can barely recall what the fight was about in the first place.

From your memory, it had something to do Soobin’s increasingly tight schedule and his inability to spend quality time with you past every other weekend. You went off the rails, as anyone would expect.

The rain outside bears down on your apartment windows. The weather distracted you from the simmering irritation you felt at the texts Soobin quickly answered in between random scenes of the movie still playing on your living room television. It had been infrequent enough that he could kiss away most of your ire, but after the third text from Beomgyu, you’d had enough.

“I can’t believe you,” you grumbled, wanting to rip his phone from his hands and chuck it at the wall.

“What did I do, bunny?” The words came out so nonchalantly, like he had no idea what you were referring to. They made a well of tears form in your eyes, your emotions unrelenting in their sudden assault.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes? Now can you stop talking in riddles, baby?” The chuckle was what did you in, immediately taking the hand he wrapped around your shoulder and yanking it from your body.

“Do you even care about this relationship anymore?” You asked, tears streaming down your face as you jumped off the couch and away from Soobin. You were exasperated that on all the nights he could’ve been splitting his attention between work and play, it had to be during the only night you got to be alone together.

“How can you even say that?” Soobin said the words with another chuckle, but it was clear in the furrow of his brow that he was growing as angry as you were. He didn’t want the night to be ruined by your accusations and bristly attitude, not when he didn’t know the next day he’d be able to spend another night at your place without interruptions. “Where’s this coming from?”

“If you don’t want to be here with me, then leave, Soob. Clearly, you have more important things to do. More important than me, anyway.” You knew when the words left your lips that you were being ridiculous. But all you were pining for was some reassurance.

Soobin, however, was fed up at that point, unwilling to cater to your ridiculous and covert demands. “Do you realize how crazy you sound right now? I always want to spend time with you, but you can’t expect me not to do what I’m supposed to. It’s my job.”

The second the word crazy pieced the air, you saw red. “So I’m crazy for wanting to spend some time with you without being bombarded by outside influences? God forbid I expect my boyfriend to pay attention once in a while.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then what did you mean, then? Because all I heard was you sounding like a dick.”

Anger passed over his eyes. He leapt up from the couch and stomped over to your spot in the kitchen to face you head on, his chest rising up and down with bated breaths. “Now I’m a dick for just expressing to you how I feel? That’s a bit hypocritical don’t you think? I didn’t call you a bitch for being unreasonable all day, even though I have every right to with how you’re behaving.”

You take in a shaky breath and cross your arms. “Just get out then, Soobin. If I’m such a bitch and you can’t handle me being honest.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” He left you with one last look of pain before slamming the door closed.

You felt intense guilt for handling the situation the way you did, your pride and anger creating a cold war you didn’t want to start in the first place. And you were certain Soobin felt his own level of regret for not giving you the attention you deserved as of late. Not only had those three days let you both to clear your heads, but also allowed you some time to reflect on how to come back together following such a heated encounter.

Clearly, it didn’t take much effort to mend fences the second you saw him on the other side of your door.

You relish in the feeling of Soobin’s lips on your neck and his hands pressed to your bare breasts underneath your hoodie. What’s the point of rehashing past issues, anyway? It doesn’t matter when he’s so loving when he holds you with both tenderness and impatience, needing to feel you close in every possible way.

He pinches and palms you with little decorum, pleased to hear the gasps and moans that leave your mouth. In spite of the irritation that still lingers from being away from you for so long, he only wants to please you. It’s all he’s ever wanted, even on days like the one a week ago that started all of this. When you both could've pulled each other’s hair out, he still loved you then, and loves you even more now, not willing to spend another second separated from you.

He discards the garment and his own sweatshirt to feel the heat of your skin on his lips. He takes one nipple into his mouth hungrily, still holding onto your free breast with one hand, loving your curves and the heftiness of his favorite parts of you.

“I should still be angry with you,” he grunts, releasing your nipple with a lewd pop and hovers over the other before staring up at you. “But I love you too much.”

“Prove it,” you whisper, moving his hands to the sides of your pajama shorts.

He doesn’t need any reminders to pleasure you, the thought always lingering in the back of his mind despite his desire to remain composed and gentlemanlike in your presence. But, it’s nice to be assured you want it as much as he does.

And you know by now how much he loves you, the days without you building too large of a cavern in his chest for him to stay away. From the fidgeting of your hips in his hold and the writhing of your center against his aching cock, it was evident you couldn’t put up much of a fight anymore either the second you dragged him into your room.

Soobin tastes the wetness between your thighs with eagerness. He loves the way you instantly squeeze your legs around his head, your body’s sensitivity on high. A mixture of pleasure and pain crosses your face at the feeling of his tongue flicking incessantly across your clit and folds. A little over seventy-two hours of separation should not make you so needy, so pathetic for any form of contact you can get.

You can’t feel too bad, though. Soobin shares the same level of desperation when he finally slides inside of you moments later, the taste of you satiating him just enough before he becomes mad with lust.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers as he slams his hips into yours, his pelvic bones meeting yours with every deliberately slow thrust of his body. “And all mine.”

You nod vigorously, the only reaction you can muster. “Yes, yes, yes,” you agree, quick compliance leaving your lips to go back to focusing on soaking in the sensations you’ve been without. More of him, all of him, but it’s not enough.

Soobin watches the way your chest bounces with every plunge of his cock inside of you, your nipples still erect and glistening from his previous attention to them. He suckles one back into his mouth, needing to feel the bud between his teeth as he continues driving a slow, cruel pace.

If this is how he can release what’s left of his pent-up frustration from the fight, so be it. You’ll just have to take it.

“Binnie, please go faster,” you beg, clawing your nails down his back to prove how torturous his slow lovemaking is for what’s left of your composure.

His devilish eyes stare at yours through his lashes, his lips still ravishing your chest while his hips remain in the clasp of the tempo he’s set. From the tenseness of his jaw and the grip he has on your body, you discern he has no intention of listening to your pleas.

You try to buck your hips into his to feel him deeper and harder, to make what you want happen on your own, but he doesn’t accept it. He presses both of your hips into the mattress with his hands, splaying his fingers out wide to keep you still.

“Just because I love you, bunny, doesn’t mean I’m still not upset,” he says through gritted teeth.

“As if I’m still not mad at you,” you tease, clinging onto his backside to urge him to give you what you need.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be mad when I’m about to make you come.” Soobin removed his hand from one of your hips to glide his fingers through your wetness, your clit so willing to be touched again.

“Then let’s call a truce,” you gasp, your body betraying you by falling prey to every touch and kiss Soobin provides. “Go faster and I’ll let it go.”

Soobin chuckles and presses a kiss to your cheek. “How about you apologize first and then I’ll do what you want.”

“Fine, fucking fine,” you huff. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have kicked you out, now please fuck me, pretty please.”

He kisses you hard, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip before he clamps down on the plush skin with his teeth. “As you wish, bunny.”

Not removing his hand from your clit, he drives into you harder, your bodies slapping together loudly as he increases his speed. He flicks his thumb and index finger against your clit fast, matching the new tempo of his hips beautifully.

Your eyes roll back into your head, practically feeling the tip of his cock in the back of your throat from how deep, hard, and quick he’s thrusting. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, Binnie,” you say, closer to seeing white than ever before.

“Come, sweetheart. Come all over me.”

You whimper as you fall off the precipice, your body trembling as it floods with endorphins from your orgasm.

Soobin falls apart in quick succession after you, his seed flooding the insides of your walls. Some of it seeps out with the shallow thrusts he gives following his release, but he makes sure to stuff it back in with both his cock and fingers.

He kisses one of your temples, the skin soaked with sweat. “I love you, you know?” He whispers the words into your skin, rubbing his arms over your sides and pecking at your neck with his lips.

“I love you too,” you say earnestly, blushing from his sweet nothings following such intense lovemaking.

But it’s never nothing, especially not after days of worrying he had had enough of you.

You take a hand and place it under his chin, forcing him to look up at you. You choke up when you say, “I really am sorry.”

He smiles and smothers your face in kisses, the final one pressed long and deeply onto your lips. “There’s nothing to be sorry for anymore, bunny. I forgave you the second you let me in.”

He nestles you close to his side, pressing your back to his chest. “I’m sorry, too. It’s you and me, always.”

You smile to yourself and affirm his words with your own. “Always.”

And with perfect ease, you fall asleep in the safety of his arms, knowing all is forgiven and nothing is as important as two hearts realigned as one.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @hursheys

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shellbells-things · 5 months ago

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I’ve seen a lot of discourse over the Jikook Car Convo. I think on the surface, it sent mixed signals. But if you think about what you know about Jikook and how important being together is to them…there might be a different way to look at it. Jungkook started off by saying something about how they were supposed to have a drink together (code for hang out), but didn’t …and it went on from there. And that’s where people got hung up at. I have a perspective on this based on a recent experience of my own.

Recently, my daughter and I decided to take a trip to Disney World because I had a business trip down there anyway. (Adult Disney is a blast btw. Great food, drinks, Epcot, Disney Springs, etc). On the car trip down we talked a mile a minute. During the trip we ate and drank and hung out. So fun! We literally said the words “it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just hang out. We haven’t gone anywhere fun together in a while. We’ve been so busy with work and just life in general. I’m glad we are taking time out to have some fun!” Interestingly….my daughter lives with me. I see her every day. But the trip was fun time spent together, not just the day-to-day stuff. We weren’t two ships passing in the night, two ultra busy people who work, eat, sleep and repeat. We were in the moment, having fun together, no distractions! (Yes, It’s a mom/daughter relationship instead of a couple relationship, but still. Spending quality FUN time together to nurture a relationship is important!)

I wonder if Jikook, who have since confirmed that they saw each other during that time (but clearly not enough)….meant that they hadn’t been taking much needed down time with each other, hadn’t been able to step out for some drinks or other fun for a while because they’ve both had opposing schedules and have just been so busy. I felt like Jungkook was sort of admonishing Jimin for being too busy to have fun…but then admitted that he had also been too busy…that if it wasn’t for deciding to MAKE TIME and take this trip, they might have just continued being too busy to prioritize quality time with each other. Then he said “You’re here. Finally”. Like that boy breathed a sigh of RELIEF!

That’s what I think this convo meant. Its NOT that they didn’t see each other, because I’m betting they saw each other all of the time, but that they didn’t make time to have fun with JUST each other like they usually do.

And here’s the deal. You don’t end up going on MORE trips, saying you want to do a travel show together until your fifty, and enlisting together where you will be together every single day for 18 months….with someone you were not close with and never saw prior to this convo. You don’t go from “no longer close” to this 👇 in a day.

Nope. So I think the car convo was them sort of lamenting that they had been so busy and had made the mistake of not taking the time for each other that they deserved. Listen, Jikook are normal humans who love each other, but let their crazy busy schedule get in the way. Very unusual for them I think. But they finally said ENOUGH, and decided to make time, steal time, whatever, just to prioritize themselves as a unit. I loved the show. I saw lots of domestic moments, lots of fun/giggly moments, some 👀 and 🫣 moments….but most of all, I saw happiness. I saw love. And THAT makes me happy. So anyone that says Jikook aren’t close or that they don’t love each other….pfft. 🙄

#Jikook #are you sure #jimin #Jungkook #I love Jikook a normal amount

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wildtooru · 7 months ago

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Behind the Mask

Kenji Sato x reader

Summary: Kenji Sato, the star baseball player and the new Ultraman, struggles with the burden of his dual identity. One evening, he decides to share his secret with you, hoping for understanding and support.

The warm lights of the city reflected off the windows of the cozy Tokyo apartment as you prepared dinner. The soft hum of the refrigerator and the clinking of utensils were the only sounds in the room. You glanced at the clock, noting that Kenji was running late again. It wasn’t unusual—between his baseball career and the mysterious "other job" he never spoke much about, his schedule was always unpredictable.

You sighed, stirring the pot of miso soup, when you heard the front door creak open. Kenji stepped in, looking exhausted but smiling warmly at you.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, kicking off his shoes and making his way to the kitchen.

"It's okay," you replied, offering him a reassuring smile. "Dinner’s almost ready. Tough day at practice?"

Kenji chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, something like that."

There was something in his tone that made you pause. It wasn’t just fatigue; it was deeper, a weariness you hadn’t heard before. You turned off the stove and faced him, concern etched on your features.

"Kenji, are you okay? You seem... different tonight."

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of uncertainty, but also determination. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you. Something important."

Your heart skipped a beat. You nodded, gesturing for him to sit at the table. "Of course, you can tell me anything."

Kenji sat down, his hands clasped together on the table. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, struggling to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability.

"Do you remember when we first met? You asked me why I never stayed in the spotlight, why I kept my distance from the media and even my teammates."

You nodded, recalling those early days of your relationship. Kenji had always been a bit of an enigma, a star player who shunned the limelight.

"The truth is," he continued, "it wasn't just because I preferred my privacy. It was because I have another responsibility, one that I haven't been able to share with anyone... until now."

You leaned forward, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Kenji opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. He took a deep breath, his fingers tapping nervously against the wood. "It's... complicated. And I don't want you to think differently of me."

You reached out, placing your hand over his. "Kenji, whatever it is, we'll face it together."

He looked up, a mixture of fear and resolve in his eyes. "I hope you mean that," he murmured, almost to himself. He took another deep breath, his shoulders tense. "I'm Ultraman."

For a moment, the words hung in the air, almost surreal. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. "Ultraman? Like, the Ultraman? The one who fights Kaiju?"

He nodded, watching your reaction carefully. "Yes. My father was Ultraman before me, and when he got injured, I had to take over. That's why I moved back to Japan and I’m always disappearing without much explanation."

You stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and awe washing over you. "But... how? When?"

Kenji sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's a long story. My father always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I resisted. I wanted to make a name for myself in baseball, away from all the danger and responsibility. But when he got hurt, I had no choice but to step up."

You pulled your hand back, struggling to wrap your mind around his revelation. "This is... a lot to take in, Kenji. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He looked down, his expression filled with regret. "I didn't want to burden you with it. I thought... maybe you'd be safer not knowing. But lately, it's been getting harder to keep it from you. I hate lying to you, and I need you to understand what I'm dealing with."

You stood up, pacing the small kitchen. "This is... I mean, I understand why you kept it a secret, but... Ultraman? That's huge, Kenji. It’s not just some little thing you can drop on someone."

Kenji stood as well, a look of desperation in his eyes. "I know. And I'm sorry. I just couldn't keep it from you any longer. I need you to know the real me."

You stopped pacing and turned to face him. "I need some time to process this. It’s not that I don’t support you, but... this changes everything."

He nodded, a pained expression on his face. "I understand. Take all the time you need. Just know that I’m here and I want us to face this together."

You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Okay. We’ll figure this out. But it’s going to take some time."

Kenji gave you a small, relieved smile. "Thank you. That’s all I can ask for."

As you both sat back down, the weight of his revelation settled between you. It would be a long journey, but together, you knew you could face the challenges ahead.

#ultraman #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #ultraman: rising #fanfic #oneshot #ken sato ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #☆wildtt

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shawnxstyles · 1 year ago

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panty stealer 2

DATE: JULY 12, 2023

summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.

requested: so many times yes!

words: 11.2k!! woah

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff

note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again

—

so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.

he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.

was that dramatic? maybe.

you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.

peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.

every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.

and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.

peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.

in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.

not much of a treat, huh?

outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.

flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.

—

knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.

you were becoming important to him, a priority.

he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.

ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.

the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.

after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.

like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.

for you.

peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.

you have got to be fucking joking.

your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.

god, he wanted to touch you so bad.

he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—

“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”

well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.

using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.

without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.

peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.

he came back.

“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”

“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.

“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.

“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”

“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.

“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.

“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”

peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.

“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.

“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.

“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”

close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.

his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.

who is peter parker?

fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.

“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.

“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.

your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.

“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.

your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.

without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.

although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.

peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.

“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.

“y/n.”

“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.

“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?

“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.

“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”

your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.

“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.

a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?

you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”

“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”

“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.

how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?

“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.

no time for beating around the bush.

“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.

“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.

“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.

“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.

“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”

“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.

he must live at the gym.

“you started talking about sex first!”

he’s not wrong.

“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”

your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”

just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.

“you have to go, don’t you?”

“i’m sorry—”

“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.

he is obsessed with kissing you.

however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.

“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”

you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.

a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.

“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.

ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.

you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.

not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.

“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.

you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…

“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.

you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.

—

those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.

you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.

you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.

at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.

you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.

without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.

violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.

“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”

“what? who said anything about a guy?”

“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”

“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.

“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.

not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.

“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.

“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”

“but the party is in–”

“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”

–

for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.

your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).

and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.

you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.

you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.

violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.

however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.

she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.

“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”

“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.

you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.

–

peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.

he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.

why would you?

peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?

you were moaning his name.

he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.

god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.

like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.

taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.

is that you? how did he miss you?

moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.

but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.

he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.

releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.

he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.

even though that’s all he really wants.

“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.

he nearly faints when he sees your costume.

short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.

maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…

“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.

“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”

there’s no dancing around it.

now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.

“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”

peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.

“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”

“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”

“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.

“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”

“superman is a great superhero—”

“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.

“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.

“nothing,” peter shrugs.

“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”

“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”

“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.

and just like that he’s in control.

“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.

“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.

“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.

“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.

“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.

but tonight everything is different.

unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.

looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.

peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.

he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.

“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.

“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.

“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”

“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”

“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”

“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.

“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”

“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.

why was it so much easier when he broke in?

he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.

“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.

“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.

“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.

“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.

“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.

when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.

your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.

you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.

when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.

“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”

just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?

after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.

“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.

“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.

so why are you nervous?

but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”

after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.

his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.

trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.

“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”

you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.

lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.

“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.

“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.

a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”

with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.

“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”

you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.

but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?

“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.

“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.

“do you care if i rip them?”

“what?”

“can i rip them?”

“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”

“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.

“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.

peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.

his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.

“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”

“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.

“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”

“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.

“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.

“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.

you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.

your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.

his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.

you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.

“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”

“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”

so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.

he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?

“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.

“yeah, just… thinking.”

“good or bad?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.

“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.

“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”

you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.

“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.

“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?

“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”

“don’t think you’re really capable.”

“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.

as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.

you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.

“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.

“i-i can’t,” you whine.

“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,

“it’s too hard.”

“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”

peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.

“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”

you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.

“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”

“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.

before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.

he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.

the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.

peter hoped the same thing.

“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.

“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”

“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.

“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”

peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.

“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…

for another time.

his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.

“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.

“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”

“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”

“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”

“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”

the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.

peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.

“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.

“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”

“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.

“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.

“i would–”

“oh, there’s a but coming.”

“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.

he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.

peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.

once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.

“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”

although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.

his girl.

“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”

“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”

he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.

–

“what are you doing? come on!”

“what if they see me?”

“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.

it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.

you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.

you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.

“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.

“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”

“definitely.”

“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”

“uh… yeah. sorry.”

“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.

you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.

even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.

“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”

“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.

“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?

peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.

“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”

“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.

“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”

your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”

and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?

within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.

“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.

“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.

when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.

as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.

your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!

is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.

when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.

wait… love?

–

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.

note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!

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