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science-hoes · 18 days ago

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You Are In Love: Chapter One

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical medical descriptions, a dad joke, VERY FLUFFY

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two

Description: Jack needs the reader to help him with a VIP patient, but she soon learns about his chosen family.

——

Jack Abbot was the reason you wanted to go into emergency medicine. Watching him under pressure was like watching an Olympian in their medal-winning sport. He handled every case with control and diligence, and that lured you into the specialty even more. It only took one medical school rotation with him to know that you wanted to play the game.

So now, in your third month of your internship, you spent nearly every moment with Jack Abbot on the night shift. You rarely had a different attending. The scheduling gods seemed to be in your favor. Of course, you had gotten to know everyone else on staff. You had made friends with the other residents and attendings. Dana had become your favorite charge nurse. Even the social workers were happy to see you walk through the doors.

You arrived an hour early for your night shift, hoping to practice some more suturing in the skills lab before shift change. Just as you were about to escape the doctors lounge and head to the lab, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey, kid, I could use your help.”

You turned to see Jack pulling a pair of gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Oh, hi.” You replied as you walked toward him. “What are you doing here this early?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, that smug asshole smile on his face. “I could ask you the same.”

You shrugged. “I was gonna go to the skills lab and suture. But not if you need me.”

He nodded and pressed a hand on your back as he lead you to one of the Central rooms. “We have a VIP.” He explained.

He swung the curtain open to reveal a little girl with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. You’d seen those eyes before…

“Uncle Jack!” The five year old exclaimed at the sight of your attending.

It was like magic, the way Jack’s usual stoic demeanor turned into one that would rival a Disney hero. “Hey, princess!” He returned her enthusiasm, a wide grin on his face. He dropped to his knees in front of the child and grabbed her tiny hands in his. “What are you doing here, huh?” He took a quick glance at the mother, who was holding a small blue bundle in her arms.

“I’m hurt.” The child replied, albeit vaguely.

The young woman let out a strained sigh. “We were at the park, and Eliza jumped out of the swing when she saw some older kids do it. Landed on her arm.” She explained.

Jack nodded, giving a don’t-blame-yourself look to her. Then his eyes flicked back to Eliza. “Can I see your arm, please?” He asked, a voice so gentle that it had to have been someone else’s. A moment of hesitation from the child. Then a head-tilt from the silver-haired man. “Uncle Jack is gonna make it all better.” He promised.

That seemed to convince her because she slowly, feebly presented her swollen arm. Jack delicately held the arm in his hands and examined it.

“Bump her up to next in line on X-ray. We’ll get her some IV morphine to help her relax. Could need realignment and screws.” He said to you.

Just as you were about to walk out of the room, you bumped into someone rushing into the room. A mumbled apology was the only thing you heard before a shrill “Daddy!”

You turned to see Michael Robinavitch kneeling to the ground in front of the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart!” He greeted.

Oooh. VIP. This was Robby’s family. The patient was Robby’s daughter. You left while the family reunited to order the X-Ray. When you turned to enter the room again, Dana was leading Robby’s wife, who held a tiny baby, to the cafeteria.

“X-Ray order is in. Next in line.” You announced to the attendings.

Jack gave you a thumbs up. He was sorting out the materials needed for IV morphine. He pulled the butterfly needle out of the packaging, and like clockwork, Eliza began to cry. Robby knelt to meet his daughter’s eyes, the ones that were a perfect mirror of his. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me.” He whispered. “We have to get you the medicine so your arm will stop hurting, okay? Just a quick poke.”

Eliza shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “Daddy, please, don’t do it.” She begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

And if you’d never seen a man’s heart break in real time, the look on Robby’s face would be ingrained in your memory forever. His body seemed to go limp at his daughter’s words, unable to insert the needle if he tried. Jack quickly intervened, kneeling next to Robby. “Daddy isn’t gonna hurt you.” He assured the child. “He’s gonna hold you while Uncle Jack gives you the medicine. Does that sound okay?”

Eliza still continued to cry. You remember being her age and having a paralyzing fear of needles. So, you stepped forward to distract from the two pathetic men on the ground. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna show you how it works, okay?” You said.

You grabbed the blue elastic tie from the tray and wrapped it around your forearm. “First, Uncle Jack is gonna wrap this around your arm. It’s gonna give you a big hug for a few minutes!”

You picked up the alcohol swab package and opened it. “Then, he is just going to give your hand a little bath to get it all clean. Like this.” You said, swiping the wipe across the back of your hand. “See? All clean!”

You tossed the wipe and grabbed the J-tip, pressing it on the cleaned part of your hand. “Then, he’s going to give you a stamp that makes your hand tingle. What’s your favorite soda?” You continued.

Eliza followed your every move with an intense curiosity. “Sprite.” She sniffled.

You smiled. “When Uncle Jack gives you the stamp, it’s going to sound like you’re opening a Sprite can. It’s just air.” You explained.

Eliza nodded, rubbing chubby fingers across her wet eyes. You reached for the butterfly needle after placing the J-tip back on the tray. “Last, he’s going to let this little butterfly give you a kiss where the stamp was.” You finished, inserting the needle into one of your own veins. “See? It doesn’t hurt!” You lied through your teeth. It always hurt more to get an IV on the back of your hand, but that was Eliza’s best bet.

You yanked the blue tie off your arm, then removed the butterfly needle. “Think you can let Uncle Jack try now?” You asked.

Eliza didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest either. You smiled, motivated mostly by pride, and looked to your senior attendings. Both men stared back at you. Robby with a look of relief, mostly because you got his daughter to calm down. But Jack…you couldn’t read the look on his face. He broke your gaze to pat Robby on the back, standing up with him.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you that medicine.” He said, grabbing a fresh butterfly needle.

Robby sat on the bed, crossing his legs, and pulled Eliza carefully into his lap. He cradled the little girl in his arms, using his free hand to smooth her dark hair as she whimpered. “Shh…Daddy’s got you.” He soothed.

Eliza melted into her father’s embrace, blinking slowly when he brushed stray tears from her reddened cheeks. Jack tenderly grabbed her uninjured arm and wrapped the blue tie around her forearm still loose. “Alright, Eliza. You’re about to feel that big hug, okay?” He explained, then pulled the blue tie snug.

A small sound of discomfort escaped the child, but she remained docile in her father’s arms. Jack traced the tiny veins on the back of her hand and found his target. When he turned around to reach for an alcohol swab, you already had it ready for him with an outstretched hand. For a brief moment, Jack was caught off guard, but he took the swab from your palm, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin for a beat longer than normal.

“Now, let’s give your hand that cold bath.” He said.

Jack rubbed the wipe across his tiny workspace, and Eliza let out the smallest, softest giggle. Robby smiled, probably for the first time since he stepped foot into the room. “That tickle? Yeah?” He teased. Eliza nodded, just a little bit.

“You ready for that Sprite can sound?” Jack asked, once again reaching, and you already met him halfway with the J-tip.

“Yeah.” Eliza whispered, her face half nuzzled into Robby’s chest, but still enough to keep an eye on Jack’s movements.

Jack placed the J-tip over the vein he wanted, and just like you said, it sounded like a can of Sprite opening, minus the sugary fizz that followed. Eliza jerked her hand pack at the odd sensation of carbon dioxide shooting across her skin. Robby reached his finger under her palm for her to grasp, and she did, just like she always had since she was born.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He said softly.

Jack rubbed the spot on the back of her hand. “Once it starts working, we’re gonna let that butterfly land on it, okay?” He explained.

“And it will give me a kiss?” Eliza asked, looking to you, her source of information.

Jack and Robby both chuckled, and the latter pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yeah, just like that.” He replied.

Eliza giggled, but in her joy, she shifted and moved her broken arm. The laughs quickly turned to screams of pain again, and Jack winced.

“Oh, you gotta be still, princess. We’re almost ready for the medicine.” He said. Then, he leaned in, like he was trying to keep his voice from Robby’s earshot. “You know, if you keep being a brave girl, once you’re all healed up, you can come to my house and go swimming.” His voice was playfully sly.

The cries reduced, just a little. “I can?” She blubbered.

Jack nodded. “Sure. As long as your mommy and daddy say it’s okay.” He replied, glancing up at Robby, hoping he didn’t just make a promise outside of his power.

Robby smiled and nodded. “Of course. You need to show Uncle Jack how you can swim without floaties now.” He said.

Jack’s eyes blew comically wide. “Without floaties? Only big girls can swim without floaties.”

Eliza nodded, her bottom lip still quivering, but a glint of pride was in her eyes. The same one you’d seen in Robby’s eyes many times. “Can Abby come, too?” She asked.

Jack nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “Absolutely. We’ll have a pool party.” He reached back for the butterfly needle, and once again, the brush of your fingers against his. He kept it out of Eliza’s view, continuing to hold her hand. “Your daddy and I will grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. You can teach Abby how to swim. We’ll invite Nana, too.”

Eliza didn’t even flinch when Jack inserted the butterfly needle. You carefully concealed your morphine syringe and connected it to the line. But just as you could see her entire body relax in Robby’s arms from the push of meds, she looked to you with those big brown eyes. “Are you gonna come to the pool party?” She asked.

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Does an invitation from a five-year-old have enough warrant to show up at your boss’ house? Jack placed a hand on your back, lower than he probably meant to. “Yes, she’ll be there, too.” He confirmed for you.

You snapped your head to his direction. Those hazel eyes bore into you, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. In that silence, he winked at you, a smug smile on his face.

“Uncle Jack, she’s pretty.” The little voice broke your small moment.

Your eyes widened, heat crawling up your neck. Robby let out an involuntary sound, a mixture of a laugh and a choke. But Jack never looked away from you. In fact, he doubled down with, “I know.”

Before you could melt away in a puddle of embarrassment and giddiness, the curtain swung open, revealing Dana and Robby’s wife, still cradling a tiny bundle.

“Nana!” Eliza sluggishly squealed.

Dana leaned over and gently tickled Eliza’s shoulders. “There’s my girl!” She exclaimed.

You tilted your head, confused by the connection. “Nana?” You questioned.

Robby chuckled. “Eliza couldn’t say ‘Dana’ when she was little, so she kept calling her Nana.” He explained.

Dana gave you a stern but playful look. “Keep in mind that I am not old enough to be a real Nana.” She stated.

Jack raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I know plenty of people your age who are grandmothers.” He said.

Dana pointed a finger at him and jabbed his chest. “How would you like to lose another foot?” She threatened.

Your jaw dropped at the comment. That wasn’t allowed, right? Surely, that crossed some kind of line. But Jack just chuckled and swiped her hand away.

“I’d love to. I’ll be one step closer to becoming a robot.” He replied. “Literally.”

Robby’s wife groaned at the unfortunate pun. “Please, stop. I already have to listen to Robby and his dad jokes.” She begged.

Robby grinned proudly. “Yeah, leave it to the professionals.” He teased, but his eyes moved to the bundle his wife was holding. “How’s my little man doing?” He asked.

She smiled and moved to sit on the bed next to Robby and Eliza. “He’s been a sleepy boy all day. Better than testing out his lungs though.” She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder as she spoke. “How’s my big girl?”

Eliza grinned sheepishly when her mom reached to gently pinch her rosy cheeks. “Uncle Jack said we can have a pool party at his house.” She stated, beginning to slur her words in sleepiness. “He said Nana can come. And he said Abby can come.”

Dana chuckled. “Still calling him Abby, huh?” She asked.

Robby smiled, shifting so that Eliza could rest horizontally as she began to doze off. “We’re working on it.” He answered. “Somewhere she learned that nickname. Can’t imagine from who.” He joked.

Jack huffed and moved to where Robby’s wife sat, offering his pinky to the baby boy’s tiny hand, activating his palmar grasp reflex. “Have they been desecrating our name, buddy?” He asked, a lilt in his voice. “Us Abbots are fighters. We don’t take shit from anybody.”

Dana’s swat at Jack’s shoulder for cursing in front of Eliza and his following defense of “She’s asleep!” didn’t distract you from your new piece of information.

“He’s an Abbot?” You questioned, a feeling of warmth in your chest.

Robby’s wife smiled. “Michael Abbot Robinavitch. We stuck with Michael for about a week, but…” She trailed off, looking to her husband.

Robby’s shoulders hunched a bit. “She calls me Michael when I’m in trouble. I got a little scared every time she said his name.” He admitted, but his smile remained. “So we settled on Abbot.”

Jack carefully cradled Abbot as Robby’s wife passed him over. His tanned biceps that strained against the sleeves of his scrub top made the baby look incredibly small. He slowly walked over to you, his right foot stepping heavier as usual, his eyes focused on the baby. A deep smile graced his lips. And just on the edges framing the smile were huge dimples. You wanted to save that image forever. You brushed a finger against the baby’s tiny hand, smiling when he moved in response.

Meanwhile, Robby was elbowed by his wife, who exchanged an excited but knowing glance with Dana at the sight of you and Jack sharing that unintentionally tender moment. All he did was nod in response, eyebrows raised in a silent confirmation.

“Why Abbot? Is Jack that important?” You teased.

Dana threw her hands up in exasperation. “Thank you!” She said. “That’s what I said. I’m still waiting for a little Dana.”

“Working on it.” Robby said with a wink, quickly receiving an elbow in the ribs from his wife.

“Michael!” His wife hissed.

Robby cowered slightly at his birth name. Jack nodded his head towards them. “See? That’s why this is Abbot.” He said.

You giggled and gently ran a hand over the baby’s soft hair near his forehead, afraid to venture too far back towards the fontanelle. “Well, Abbot is very cute.” You complimented.

A simultaneous “Thank you” filled the room. One genuine, from Robby’s wife. The other facetious, from Jack. Laughter filled the room, and you felt oddly a part of a family. Their family.

Perlah entered the room with a pediatric wheelchair. “X-ray is ready for Eliza.” She said, smiling at the sight before her.

Robby stood carefully, holding his daughter snug against his chest. “I’ll go with her. We can walk.” He said and followed Perlah out of the room.

As if it were a snap back to reality, Jack walked back over to Robby’s wife and carefully transferred Abbot back to her arms. “I’m gonna go check on that DUI kid in Central Four.” He said before looking over to you. “Go ahead and get the cast materials ready. She’s gonna want pink.”

Jack left the room, holding onto the ends of his stethoscope as he walked. You found yourself frozen for a moment, processing everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes or so. Someone cleared their throat, and you snapped your head in that direction, embarrassment coursing through your veins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You said, moving to the drawers of the room quickly to grab the liner and plaster.

Robby’s wife looked to Dana with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Dana nodded, intercepting her question in the air.

“So, what do you think of Abbot?” She asked.

You smiled, bringing the supplies back to the tray near the bed. “He looks just like Robby.” You answered.

Dana rolled her eyes. “No, not Dana Jr.” She deadpanned, then nodded her head toward the Pitt. “The Lieutenant Colonel.”

Your hands froze where they were, sorting out the supplies. Slowly you looked up, and you were met with both women staring intently at you. “Oh, Doctor Abbot…” You corrected yourself. “He’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Robby’s wife immediately responded.

Dana gave her a look of way-to-blow-our-cover. You let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, yeah. But he’s way older than me. And we work together.” You answered, using your answers to ground yourself as to why your crush was a dead end.

Robby’s wife shrugged. “So? Robby is almost 20 years older than me. And we work together.” She countered.

You tilted your head. “Wait, you work here? In emergency?” You asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been on maternity leave.” She explained.

“Ohhhh.” You drew out, finally connecting the dots.

Dana smiled. “See? So what are your other excuses?” She pried.

You laughed slightly and shrugged. “I guess I don’t know if he’s interested.” You replied.

The two women shared another glance, debating on revealing any other information. “But you are?” Robby’s wife asked.

You smiled slightly, looking down at your hands. “Who wouldn’t be?”

The conversation ended there when Robby reentered the room with a slightly awake Eliza. “Distal radius fracture. No surgery.” He announced.

His wife let out a sigh of relief and smiled when her husband sat next to her again, still cradling the little girl. “That means we can all go home tonight.” She said, pressing her forehead to Robby’s shoulder.

—

After you followed Jack’s careful instruction while shaping the cast on Eliza’s arm, the little girl begged everyone to sign it. By the time she left with her family, there was a “Mommy”, “Daddy”, “Nana”, and your name with a smiley face on the hot pink wrapping. And as soon as you finished writing your name, Jack had snatched the sharpie from your hand, scrawling “Uncle Jack” right next to your signature.

As you watched the Robinavitches leave the Pitt, you found yourself smiling. You wanted that. The devoted parents, the precious children, the caring friends who became family.

You knew Jack was approaching by the uneven foot pattern, but you didn’t turn around. “You think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He stood by your side, brushing his thick shoulder against your frame, looking down at you with a trace of a smile. “I’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He answered honestly.

You looked up to meet his gaze. Those bourbon eyes were intoxicating, but you fought to maintain eye contact. “You’re really great with kids.” You complimented. “Eliza loves you.”

His smile deepened to a sincere one you weren’t used to seeing. “Thank you.”

The stare off continued. “Do you want kids?” You blurted out, and you nearly clamped your hand over your mouth at the word vomit.

Jack tilted his head, smile unfaltering. “If I find the right person to have them with.” He replied, leaning down closer to you just slightly. “Before I turn to dust.”

You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed with you and crossed his arms, the muscles rippling across his skin. You didn’t notice when he leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“What you did in there with Eliza. Walking her through the process. Got her to stop crying. Good job.” He whispered lowly.

The hair on your neck stood at attention at the praise, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. You tried to brush off the feeling. “Thanks, Doctor Abbot.” You replied.

His face twitched when you called him by his last name, like he forgot you were his intern and not his. “Jack.” He corrected you.

You looked up to him again, taking in another drink of his eyes. There was vulnerability this time. “Jack.” You repeated in a whisper. “I didn’t know you had dimples.”

It was Jack’s turn to get flustered. “What do you mean?” He asked, and you could see the red creeping up his freckled neck.

You gently poked at his cheeks where the divots had appeared earlier. “You have dimples when you smile. It’s really cute.” You teased.

You could see the muscles in his face actively working to hold back a smile. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smile.” He answered as seriously as he could.

You wrapped your hands around his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

And the smile Jack held back flooded onto his face. Dimples and all. He placed a hand over yours and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. Nobody said another word. You didn’t have to. You could hear it in the silence.

——

A/N: this is probably gonna get a Part 2 featuring the pool party because I can’t help myself. Also this can technically be a Robby x Reader fic because I intentionally didn’t give his wife a name so you can have the best of both worlds here 💙

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #doctor robby #dr robby #jack abbot #noah wyle #the pitt hbo #Shawn hatosy #Jack Abbott #Jack abbot x reader #Jack Abbott x reader

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dearhargrove · 4 months ago

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summary Seeing him that first time, you never could have imagined what life had in store for you.

(short fluffy one shot of their first meeting and then the night after he took her virginity while they're dating, based on a request)

word count 1309

You don't think you'll ever forget meeting him for the first time. How could you, with the impression he left?

—

You're at a fancy restaurant for a work celebration. The ambiance is dark and rich, the people sitting at the tables have that same vibe. Except one group of guys. The one you had noticed as soon as you stepped into this place.

They're sitting in the far back in one of the more private booths, however still in the middle and with a good overview of the whole area.

If you had to guess, the eldest of the three is the father and the twenty something year old guys are his sons. However your attention is drawn to the one sitting on the far right, looking almost on edge as he quietly listens to the other two talk. His muscles are visible through his suit, coffee brown curls tucked behind his ears and there's a necklace that shouldn't fit but just does.

There's something wilder, more strong to him than his two companions. His eyes are strikingly blue, eyebrows pulled into an annoyed frown as he sips his wine. Among that you also note that while the other two have ordered big steaks with barely any sides, he has a salad.

You distractedly continue picking at your dish, stabbing the fork into one of the ingredients for long enough that your colleague looks at you in concern, making you fluster and smile awkwardly.

She grins in amusement and turns to follow your line of sight, looking back to you with an expression that clearly translates into what you've been thinking too ever since first noticing the man; wow.

He's just so – manly. And yet there's still an elegance to him.

You let a strategic few minutes tick by before you look back at the mouthwatering man, only to look right into blue eyes.

You almost flinch, getting flustered immediately and smiling tightly – apologetically? – before hurriedly taking a bite of your dinner to pretend to be minding your own business.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed your mishap and with a few well timed deep breaths your heartbeat returns to normal and your palms stop sweating.

Nevertheless, you excuse yourself to the ladies room and grab your clutch, not even pretending to know where the hell the toilet even is. You worm your way through the tables to where you guess the restrooms should be, only to almost run into a server coming out of that door who shoots you a confused but kind smile.

“Restrooms are on the other side, dove.”

You tense up, slowly turn around and — oh. It's him. And, dammit, he's even more beautiful up close. He carries a nice scent to him, but not a typical perfume, more of a natural breeze. It's nice, you note. “I noticed... I've never been here before, so–”

He smiles gently and you relax, reciprocating a light but bashful smile. “Don't worry about it. Come on, I'll show you?” he offers. "Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you from your dinner…”

He shakes his head, gives you a calculating look and then softens up a tiny bit, “Trust me, I'm grateful for any excuse to step back from there.” That surprises you a bit but it's none of your business, so you ignore it. You step closer to him and he starts leading the way, obviously walking slower so you could keep up in your heels.

And there's another thing you notice; instead of having to squeeze by the people and servers they part before him like the red sea. The people scoot closer to their tables, the servers bow their heads the tiniest bit and the other customers just smile tightly.

Just who is he? you wonder.

You're more intrigued than before now, momentarily pushing the thoughts aside when you stop in front of two doors; the men's and the ladies room.

“I suppose you'll find your way back to your table?” he kindly but slightly playfully comments. You grin in a mix of embarrassment and amusement, “Sure I will. Thank you, though.”

He shrugs in dismissal, then after a short awkward moment shoots you another smile and leaves.

You take a moment in the – luxurious – bathroom to freshen up, reapply perfume and deodorant, check your phone and do your business. You feel better when you walk back out, already expecting the onslaught of questions from your colleague who had noticed your staring and the man just to then see him lead you through the restaurant.

After paying for your meal (which legitimately made you wince when seeing the actual price because the menu did not have the prices listed) and dodging the questions of your curious coworker, you leave with a small group from your office, engaging in small talk.

You don't even see him when you walk out the door, focused on the story your coworker was telling, but you definitely hear him.

“That's a nice perfume.” His voice is soft but steady, slightly raspy too. You wouldn't mind hearing it more often, you decide.

You halt in your steps and turn around, surprised when you see his cheeky grin. He stops holding the door open, his own jacket slung over his arm and steps the last step down to stand right next to you.

“Thank you–?”

“Sergei.” He introduces himself, nodding his head. “–Sergei.” You repeat with a small smile. He stills for a moment and then blinks, swallowing and nodding. “May I ask the name of this lovely lady?”

You chuckle, slowly continuing your ascend of the stairway, “You may.” And while he asks and you answer with your name he holds out his arm, letting you loop your hand to hold onto his arm for balance.

—

And that's how you ended up here. In his bed, naked except some panties and his way too big t-shirt with his arm snug around your waist and his nose in your hair as he sleeps.

The sun is just rising, the orange and pink hues lighting up the place, forming beautiful shadows and tricks of light.

You turn your head to look at him and take in his beautiful face, bathed in the sunlight. His eyes are still closed, his breathing even and for once his face is relaxed instead of scrunched up from another fight with his father or an upcoming hunt.

However, he also seems to have gotten an extra sense tuned in to you ever since you started dating, so at your stare his eyes open and the blue irises focus on you. It makes you snort a bit and flick the tip of his nose, then turn back to keep watching the sunrise.

His hand moves under the shirt you're wearing to spread out along your skin, calloused hands gentle. “Been awake for long, baby?” The question is soft with a hint of concern and his voice is still husky from sleep.

“Just woke up,” you yawn and stretch a little, he uses the chance and puts his palm in the middle of your torso, tugging you back into his chest. He doesn't say anything further as he tucks into the crook of your neck and grumbles appreciatively when he smells nothing but your natural scent.

Since he told you about his powers you had started to wear less perfume around him (at least when it's just the two of you), as his sensitive sense of smell easily got irritated by the artificial cologne.

It's not long before his nosing turns into nibbling and you can already feel the next few bite marks form, probably meticulously placed to not cover the hickeys he'd left last night.

“Sergei—” he interrupts your upcoming complaint with a grunt and swiftly rolls on top of you, leaned on his forearms as he looks at you like you're his prey. You feel dwarfed under him, his huge biceps and broad shoulders covering you entirely.

At your perplexed expression he chuckles and softly kisses your forehead, “Can't hold back when I remember you're all mine.”

#aaron taylor johnson #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff #kraven x reader #kraven the hunter #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj #atj x reader

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razrbladekiss · 5 months ago

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CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

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dmitriene · 1 month ago

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cw: confused relationship, reader is pining.

there's something going between you and your captain, john price, a man meant to be your superior, the one who commands and leads, supports and holds up when you seem to falter, not an object of your almost pathetic obsession, the need that sat in your stomach, tension that can't seem to be unraveled, something unacknowledged but unmistakable, to be praised by the gravelly, smoky timbre of his voice, be that one special soldier, but even with a brand hot press of his mouth against your cunt, it's not enough.

john picked you out of everyone like some poor, desperate puppy, because he's not a man stupid, he sees it, the way you look at him, with eyes wide and searching, the way you react to the simple of touches, a brush of his heavy, beary hand settling upon your shoulder in an encouraging clap, and this warmth licks up your spine like a live wire, heat bleeding through layers and making you shudder, burning, your breath coming shallow to match the hammering of your pulse.

the sound of his voice, the gruff chuckles that escapes his lips when someone of the soldiers pull out an amusing joke, the crinkle of his eyes, cold, baby blues accented by the deep crows feet stretching from the corners, squinted to match the gentle, almost too small curve of the corners of his mouth, hiding beneath the thick, brown graying mutton chops that hover at his upper lip, it's makes your chest squeeze, body buzzing, muscles drawn too tight, a wild, ravenous affection curling tight in your ribs, and he sees it all.

how subtle you try to shift your thighs, rough fabric of cargos rubbing together, rustling, the sound drown down in the discuss of something important, a point of the briefing, and yet, you don't hear a word, pulse too loud, frantic and buzzing in your ears, with seeping arousal staining and drenching your panties, your posture coiling, bending a little bit forward, anything to squeeze your legs as hard as possible, force the maddening pressure to elevate the ache of your poor, needy cunt, making your stomach flip, knot, churn, and you don't notice the way john's piercing, thorough gaze lingers on you.

john knows, because he made you that way, and it's his business to take care of, to whisper you in his quarters, should the meeting end, to bring you down to where you so eagerly wanted to be, kneeling, pressing against him, nuzzling in the width of his panted, muscular leg, smell the laundry detergent and fading note of his cigars, stuck there because he brushes his fingers off after smoking, and your mouth hangs open, as you breathe in greedy lungfulls, letting his calloused, wide fingers twine in between the mussing locks of your hair, tugging feebly at the sensitive roots.

you adore the odor of his sweat, the tang of his tart, woody cologne, the aftertaste of cigars he carries on his lips, steady and languid as they steal and swallow down each small whimper and ragged, eager moan that escapes through your spit soaked, kiss ravaged lips, the sensation of his scorching warm, calloused wide palms tracing over each slope and nook of your body, the expanding of your ribs, pressed against his hair dappled, ample chest, his treasure tail and pubes tingling against your overstimulated skin, but you arch into the feeling willingly.

breached on john's meaty, engorged cock, your pussy stretched out it's vivid, the way your tender, slick soddening folds and lips part around the girth of him, veins bulging and squelching when he rams in deeper to grind in your gummy spot, the wetness of your arousal melding with his, leaving a sheen, dribbling down to the swell of your ass, dampening the sheets beneath that you curl into, as his presence swallows you whole, fills you full, wrenches you open orgasm after orgasm, so the next morning you would be trailing behind him all around the base like a puppy again.

main masterlist. quidelines.

#𐔌 . 𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 .ᐟ #john price smut #john price x female reader #john price fluff #john price x f!reader #john price comfort #john price x reader #captain john price fluff #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut #captain john price x female reader #john price drabble #captain john price x you #captain price smut #john price x you #captain john price fanfic #john price cod

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pathologicalreid · 5 months ago

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and it feels like home | s.r.

in which Spencer confesses his love to you at the oddest of places - your sister's wedding

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: could be angst if you know what's coming next, jareau!reader, down bad!spencer, yearning, reader feels unlovable, spencer drinks champagne, reader does not drink, reader is shorter than spencer, reader wears a dress and heels word count: 1.93k a/n: and just like that, margovember is over (i have one more request for it technically but it's an episode rewrite so that'll take me longer to write). i was in need of some good yearning - this covers a request for their first kiss and for a fic with francesca by hozier levels of yearning.

You allowed yourself to be led away from the party. The past twenty-four hours had been amassed of you running around like a headless chicken, trying to put together your sister’s one-step-below shotgun wedding. Now that the party was in full swing, you willingly followed Spencer through the garden, a few remaining speeches going on in the background as the two of you rounded a corner, out of sight of party guests. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were leading me away from everyone to kill me,” you said offhandedly, adjusting the way your shawl fell over your shoulders.

Instead of looking up at Spencer, your eyes homed in on the way he was holding your hand as if he were about to lift it and press a kiss to your knuckles. Butterflies flurried in your stomach at the thought, but you quickly dewinged them, trying to focus on the issue at hand.

Something was wrong with Spencer; you could see it in the way he was shaking his hands. It looked like he was trying to get excess water off of them or if there was energy trying to exit via his fingertips. You were worried about him, sometimes he fidgeted when he was craving—though you’d only seen him in that state once before and you couldn’t ascertain what would have triggered him.

“I have to talk to you,” he repeated the same words that he’d told you when he first took your hand back at the gazebo. He had to be preparing to tell you something awful, you could tell from the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you finally glanced up at him. Deep brown irises flittered around, noticing each small detail that you and Dave had plotted out, but he never noticed you.

The blue dress that you had picked out to go well with the flowers and your hair was previously pinned to perfection but had since fallen out while you tried to sort out a last-minute issue with the caterers, but he didn’t seem to take mind of any of it. For better or for worse, you supposed. “What do you need, Spence?” You asked him, cocking your head and trying not to notice the twinkle in his eye when you called him ‘Spence.’ You promised yourself months ago that you’d stop waiting for someone who would never want you back.

You just couldn’t seem to get away from Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that you saw yourself as undesirable, but a small part of yourself was under the impression that if he hadn’t made a move yet, it was never going to happen. He knew too much about you; he’d been the one to pick you up off of the floor when your last relationship fell apart. You wondered if he felt the same way, recalling the night you spent on his bathroom floor because you were terrified of finding a needle in his vein.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Spencer finally spoke, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at you nervously. You eyed him curiously, the question faintly reminiscent of something a man would ask you if he were making small talk.

Foolishly, you had thought that you and Spencer had been well past small talk at this point, “No,” you answered, dragging out the vowel. “You already knew that, though,” You had talked to him about it last night when the subject of weddings came up, naturally.

He nodded in confirmation, “Right, yeah. Yes, I just needed to make sure before I started this conversation.” Spencer glanced over his shoulder as if he were being watched, or maybe he wanted to make sure no one saw the two of you in close vicinity.

You squinted at him, trying to get a feel for what he wanted to talk about without outwardly profiling him. “What conversation?” You asked, feeling like you were enveloped in a spiraling line of questioning—like you’d never get a straightforward answer.

“Do you remember this time last year? We’d just finished that sex trafficking case, and we were finishing paperwork late in the office, and you asked me if I’d ever been in love,” he said, panting like he was running a marathon. “I told you no, and at the time that was the truth. However, the circumstances have changed.”

Your stomach flipped, surging well past butterflies at this point as your face warmed—what was he trying to say?

He finally dropped your hand, resorting to placing each of his hands on your waist, stopping you from pulling away. Spencer felt impossibly close to you, even though the two of you had irrefutably been closer together, but not even an embrace would match up with the look he was giving you now. “I couldn’t let myself love you, not while you were in a relationship. It felt cruel to me, and it felt cruel to you because you had a boyfriend. It feels like we’ve already lived a lifetime together when we’ve never truly been together,” he told you, gently squeezing your waist as he spoke animatedly.

Instinctively, you took a step back from him, your breathing faltered slightly when you saw hurt flash in his eyes, “Why?” Your voice was no more than a breath, an appalled, exasperated breath. “Why here? Why now, Spence? We’re at my sister’s wedding,” you placed a hand on your chest “Please, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Spencer was shaking his head before you’d even finished speaking, “No, it has to be now. I need to do this now,” desperation crept into his tone as he stepped forward, practically caging you against the siding of Rossi’s mansion.

You didn’t feel trapped, though, even with Spencer’s arms on either side of you, he was still Spencer. “Why now, Spence?” You peered up at him through your mascara-covered lashes. Maybe this was a consequence of his environment, surrounded by an evening that was sure to involve declarations of love, so he elected to make one of his own with you as a victim.

“Because I thought you were in that building,” he said exasperatedly, wide brown eyes watching you as if the answer had been completely obvious the entire time.

Realization dawned over you as you recalled the events from a few days ago: the bank robbery turned explosion that somehow ended in a marriage proposal. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you eyed Spencer curiously, “You thought I’d gotten hurt.”

Spencer sighed, “I thought you were dead.” His eyes were trained on yours like there was nothing else in the world for him to look at, “For a moment, I lived my worst nightmare because I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and I was stuck in Quantico with no way to reach you.”

Everything about the explosion was hazy, everyone was shouting for someone else, and you thought you’d imagined someone calling your name. You’d convinced yourself you were hearing things, some sort of after effect of the blast, but Spencer had been looking for you. “Spence,” you whispered, unable to gather the words you were so desperately searching for.

He shrugged helplessly, “I can’t go another day without telling you I love you.”

You felt like you were being stabbed in the chest repeatedly, unsure if you were on the verge of laughter or tears. “You never showed… I didn’t think—”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who I have a hard time reading, and I thought… I thought that if I waited for you someday, you’d realize that you love me too. I sat and I waited, and I helped you get over your ex and I am so grateful for you and your friendship, but it’s not enough for me,” he told you, no longer panting. This was Spencer completely levelheaded, emphatically declaring his love for you. “I need more of you and I can’t wait any longer.”

Eventually, the jig would be up. Someone would jump out from the bushes, and they’d let you know that you were indeed being Punk’d, but right now you were just looking into the eyes of someone who loved you. It would seem that no one else had ever truly loved you before, because the look Spencer was giving you could only be defined as love, yet it was unfamiliar to you. “You love me?” You asked, your voice no more than a whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you, “I love you in ways that no one has ever loved anyone before, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay,” you breathed, eyes studying his expression for any hint of regret.

“Would you allow me that?” He stepped away, dropping his arms at his side, “I know I cornered you tonight, and it’s perfectly fine if you don’t have an answer for me tonight, but I’d wait years for you if that’s what it took.”

You were shaking your head as you took the opportunity to step toward him, propping yourself up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, the picture-perfect moment for the two of you. Perhaps you startled him at first because it took him a moment to wrap his arms around you, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he pulled your body flush with his.

His lips tasted like champagne, and the soft tinge of the alcohol on your mouth only served to intoxicate you further, even though you yourself didn’t drink from a flute.

The universe had a funny way of working in your favor, and this time, it had given you your first meeting with Spencer almost four years ago. You had nearly two years of friendship under your belt now, which is why it was so easy for you to pull away from him slightly, grinning against his lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Spencer kissed you again, moving one of his hands to gently cup your jaw, moving his velvet soft lips against yours with purpose and care. Your arms were thrown over his shoulders, elbows crossing at the nape of your neck to support you. You’d have to get used to the height difference, and you’re sure you will.

“Hey, Y/N,” Someone called out, and the two of you bolted away from each other like opposite charges, “I think it’s about time to cut the cake, your— Oh.”

It seems the two of you did not move fast enough, for you were now faced with Emily and her knowing gaze. Your eyes flickered over to Spencer just briefly before you looked back at Emily, “Okay,” you responded to her, your voice hoarse, “I’ll let the caterers know.” You started your trudge to the backyard, picking up your feet so your heels wouldn’t dig into the grass. “Are you coming?” You turned and faced Spencer; a watercolor pink brushed across his cheeks.

“I’ll be right there,” he answered, giving you a soft, patented Spencer smile.

You looked nervously over at Emily, dreading the fact that this thing between you and Spencer was barely fledgling and the team was already going to be aware. “You know,” she started, and you braced yourself for the teasing, “London’s a pretty good place to keep a secret.”

Mouthing a thank you to her, the two of you stepped forward, turning around only when Spencer called out your name one last time, “Save me a dance?”

You laughed slightly at the dopey grin he bore on his face before nodding, “For you? Always.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #written by margot #jareau!reader

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covenofagatha · 6 months ago

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I'm a good girl, Detective

You're a prostitute in the town of Westview and maybe Detective Agnes needs to teach you a lesson.

Word count: 1750

Warnings: Rough sex, spitting, spanking, Top Agatha, Bratty Bottom Reader, fingering, prostitution, sex with men mentioned

“What can I do for you, baby?” you say in a sultry voice. The man in the car in front of you gulps excitedly.

“Blowjob?” he asks, hands shaking on the steering wheel. It’s clear to you that he’s never done this before. You spot the wedding ring tucked in the cupholder in the middle console. “Is that how this works? It’s my first time doing this, sorry.”

You sweetly smile. “I can do that. It’ll be $100.”

If the price seems high to him, he doesn’t let on. He must be desperate. “Oh, sure, yeah. Do I pay now or…”

“Half up front, half after.”

“Right,” he says, reaching into his pocket to bring his wallet. “I’m guessing you only take cash?”

It’s a feeble attempt to hide how nervous he is. You don’t even dignify the question with an answer, only a quick nod.

He’s pulling out a $50 bill when all of a sudden, a siren goes off, lights flashing in your face.

“Fuck!” he says, hurriedly shoving the money back into his wallet and peeling out of the parking lot because the police car can pull up beside you.

You chuckle to yourself and lift your hand in a greeting, wagging your fingers playfully. The window rolls down.

“Detective Harkness,” you drawl. “Come to blow off a little steam?”

It’s a familiar game the two of you have been playing for a little over a month now. She always manages to find you right in the act of accepting money for sexual services – illegal in Westview – and puts you in her squad car to take you back to your apartment. Everytime she tells you that if she catches you again, she’s throwing you in jail for the night, but everytime, she pulls right up to your complex and throws you out.

Her glare is heated as she steps out of her car. Her blue flannel has two buttons open and it’s tucked into her navy pants. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail.

“What can I do for you, Agnes?” you flirt. You like to poke and prod at the tightly-wound older woman, secretly hoping that one day, she’ll take you up on your offer.

“I told you last time, if I caught you doing this again…” she mutters in her gruff voice, grabbing you by the elbow and leading you over to the other side of the car.

“He hadn’t even given me any money yet,” you pout. “We could’ve been old friends just catching up. No need to be jealous, Officer.”

“That’s Detective to you,” she shoots back. She yanks open the passenger door and shoves you inside.

For some reason, she never puts you in the back.

“Ya know, it seems like you’ve been frequenting this side of town lately. Hoping to run into me?” you say, enjoying the way her jaw tightens.

“More like hoping to save all your poor men from wasting money on a cheap lay,” she says bitingly.

You gasp mockingly. “I’m not cheap! And I wouldn’t say they’re wasting money. You should see the things I can do with my tongue.” You wiggle said tongue out at her and note the way her cheeks pink ever the slightest. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

She glances at you and then turns back to face the road.

“I could make you feel so good,” you whisper, daring to reach a hand over to put it on her thigh. She tenses and her grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Get your hand off me,” she growls. You run your fingers up her leg softly before obeying, not missing the way her breath catches.

And then you realize that instead of turning left, which is the way to your apartment, she goes straight.

“Wait, where are we going? Why, Detective, are we going back to your place?”

She laughs meanly. “I’m finally doing what I should’ve done the second time I caught you on the street. You’re spending the night in a cell, so maybe you’ll think twice about going back out there.”

Well, fuck. If that’s how it’s going to be, you might as well go big or go home. “But, Detective, I’m a good girl. Let me show you how good I can be.”

You lean over and press a kiss to her jawbone. Her hands on the wheel falter and she inhales sharply.

“What are you–”

You slide your hand back on her thigh and nibble on her earlobe. “Let me make you feel good. You deserve it.”

Agnes’s breathing has quickened and she swallows hard. “This isn’t appropriate,” she says, but it sounds weak, even to her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Your hand is trailing higher, unbuttoning her pants. You dip your fingertips inside them and the car comes to a stop with a screech.

“Get out now,” she demands, slamming the car into park. She steps out and stomps over to your side.

“Agnes, I’m sorry, I didn’t–” You’re afraid you’ve completely fucked up.

She yanks you out of the car, spins you around, and presses you against the car. The older woman presses her body against yours.

“Is this what you wanted?” she hisses in your ear. “You want me to fuck you like the slut that you are?”

You can’t help the moan that escapes from your mouth.

“You think acting like a brat will get you what you want?”

The next thing you know, she slaps your ass. You jump, feeling the pain give way to pleasure. In all of your time as a prostitute, you’ve never even been close to feeling this turned on, and all she did was spank you.

“I asked you a question and I want an answer,” Agnes says dangerously. Her hand hikes up your skirt and soothes the red skin. “Unless you want me to do that again.”

You do, so you don’t say anything. Slap. This time, without your skirt as a barrier, it hurts even more deliciously and you groan.

“I just wanted you,” you finally say.

“You keep saying you’re a good girl, but all I see is a spoiled fucking little brat,” she taunts, spanking you during each of the last four words.

You’re squirming against her, desperate to feel her hands on you again. “Yes, that’s me,” you gasp out.

“You’re so desperate for someone to take control of you,” she murmurs, tracing her hands over your asscheeks. “You’re so pathetic, needing a woman twice your age to teach you how to be good.”

“Show me, please,” you beg. “Aggie, please touch me.”

She flips you around and roughly grabs your throat, a raw moan clawing out from you. Her thigh slots between your legs.

She scoffs. “Of course you’d like that.” A finger forces your mouth open and she leans down and spits into your mouth. “Swallow.” Your brain short-circuits and she nods approvingly as you obey. “So you can follow directions. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

You whimper, grinding on her leg, trying to get all the stimulation you can. You dig your nails into her shoulders so you can get better leverage.

She laughs cruelly. “Look at you, humping my leg like a bitch in heat. I should just leave you here, dripping and unsatisfied. That’d teach you a lesson better than any night in jail would.”

Your movements stutter and you shake your head insistently. “No, please don’t.”

Agnes’s grip tightens on your throat and she grasps your hip with her other hand, helping you grind.

“Aggie, I need more,” you choke out. You’re already so close, but you don’t think you can cum from just this. You need to feel her.

“Aww, the poor slut wants more,” she taunts. In a flash, she moves your underwear to the side and buries two fingers inside you up to the hilt. You bite on your lip so hard you taste blood and you keen.

“Fuck!” you exclaim sharply as her fingers twist and thrust roughly. Her palm is harshly bumping against your clit with every push.

“Is that good enough for you?” she jeers. You moan your approval. “Do those men fuck you like this? Do they make you feel this way?”

Your hands scramble on the back of her flannel, trying to pull her even closer to your body.

“No, no one but you! I’m gonna cum, Aggie.”

Her fingers stop, still inside you. You whine and keep moving your hips around them, desperate not to lose the stimulation. “Do you think you deserve it?” she whispers hotly. A tear threatens to fall from your eye.

“I’ll do anything,” you promise. “Just, please, let me cum.”

A wicked glint lights up her eyes and she resumes fucking you hard. Her nails dig into your throat from where she’s still choking you. “Not so cocky now, are you, brat?”

“You’re the one who’s two fingers deep in the prostitute she keeps picking up off the street,” you manage to retort. “I’m feeling pretty good.”

She chuckles lowly and suddenly pulls out of you.

“No,” you gasp.

She steps back, corners of her mouth turned up. “And you’re the one who’s not going to get what she wants.”

You gape at her, shocked. She sways back to the other side of the car and gets in, looking at you, frozen, through the window.

“Are you coming?”

You open the passenger door and get in. “Not anymore,” you grumble. She pouts mockingly and swats your hand away when she sees you moving to touch yourself.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Your fingers twitch the entire drive, your stomach still burning, wondering if she’s actually taking you to the station. She’s definitely not driving in the direction of your apartment.

You sulk the entire drive until she parks in front of a house. You turn to look at her, eyebrows raising. She acts normal and exits the car, waiting for you.

“Where are we?” you ask. She doesn’t answer, just leads you inside.

She suddenly stops in front of you once you’ve gotten to the living room and you bump into her, muttering an apology. She turns around and tangles a hand into your hair, slowly pushing you down to your knees.

“Agnes?”

She smirks. “Why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use and show me the ‘things you can do with your tongue’. And then maybe, I’ll think about rewarding you.”

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

Part 2?

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha x you #covsfics

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karinasbaby · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 — SURPRISE 이희승

"surprise, slip my panties to the side."

PAIRING. lee heeseung x fem!reader (+17)

WARNINGS. mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, drunk hee (for a bit), cursing, bondage (ropes & handcuffs), hee is a bit angry n feral, his mood changes suddenly but it’s ok <3, bj + hj, oral (f & m), face sitting, lots of teasing, edging, overstimulation, fingering, pet names, praising !, multiple rounds (?), bath sex in a way, thigh riding, morning sex, pls tell me if i missed any !

WORD COUNT. 9.3k :0

SYNOPSIS. jaeyun pitched you one of his “genius” plans to celebrate heeseung’s birthday— but how will heeseung take it?

A, NOTE. happy new year my loves !! i would greatly appreciate it if we all ignored the fact that this was supposed to be published on hee’s birthday <3 it took me an unnecessarily long time to write, but i hope u enjoy ! + pls check a, note part 2 and the end <3 (this is also proofread at 4 am so 🙏🏼)

red and blue lights scattered messily across your vision, the smell of intoxicating alcohol, tobacco and sweat infiltrating your senses leaving you slightly light headed, your fingertips grasped at the hem of your dress, situated around your thighs to pull the mini dress lower, eyes roaming desperately for the towering figure of your boyfriend,

your boyfriend, lee heeseung— the birthday boy who god knows where he is right now.

you took cautious footsteps once you began to surround the approaching mass of people, sweaty bodies dancing restlessly in each and every corner of the house whilst your gaze roamed, hands clammy with sweat from the lack of air, your lungs constricting as it got harder to breathe the longer you stayed among the crowded room,

“there you are!” a familiar voiced boomed behind you, a feeling of relief washing down once you recognised the loud voice over the deafening music, jaeyun approached you with a large smile gracing his face, brown strands untidily cascading down his features as his arm wrapped around your exposed shoulder, the other hand bringing his drink closer to his mouth,

“enjoying the party?” you questioned next to his ear, taking in the sight of the slightly tipsy man who was busy winking at a random girl across the room, “of course!” he quickly replied, catching your amused gaze with his twinkling one.

“i’m here to tell you about a surprise for heeseung,” he spoke, hand lowering from your shoulder to wrap around your waist as he led you away, “a surprise? i already have a gift for him though.” jake’s flushed face turned towards yours after he signalled the random girl to a different room, “i have a better idea.” he giggled

and whilst you were being walked out of the room, your eyes caught the sight of heeseung’s wet form out of the window, standing besides the pool as his other friends encouraged him to drink more while other figures jumped into the pool, the view of him being covered by nothing more than his dripping white button up shirt that carved all his chiseled muscles out along with a black tie hanging loosely around his neck made your head reel, thoughts rushed to your head when your gaze dropped lower to his flexing thighs beneath his black pants,

his clothing material all soaked due to his previous jump into the water, as a result of a stupid dare. you could hear his drunken laughter over the music as his face kept getting warmer, a soft blush adorning his sharp features due to the alcohol, his black locks sticking to his forehead contrasting his reddened skin,

“trust me, heeseung’s going to love it.” jake chuckled besides you, ultimately stealing your attention away as he opened the door to the guest room, the image of a pair of handcuffs along with a large rope was the least expected one in your mind, and once your confusing gaze landed on jaeyun’s smiling face, you began to doubt whatever his idea was,

should you trust jake?

you shouldn’t have trusted jake.

as trusting jake lead you to this current predicament, wearing a purple coloured lingerie beneath your feathery robe, "his favourtie colour" jaeyun's voice rang in your ears, the pair of handcuffs situated in your hand while the rope was in the other as you stared at heeseung’s shirtless passed out form with his tie around his neck, in your shared bed,

the party had ended hours ago, leaving you with a drunk, sleeping heeseung that currently seemed to be in a deep dream, lips partially opened as quiet snores left his mouth, evidently exhausted from the events of tonight,

your footsteps light as you stepped deeper into the bedroom, the wood quietly creaking beneath you while your gaze was fixated on heeseung’s form between the satin sheets, chest heaving upwards softly to allow short pants of his breath to escape,

countless thoughts ran through your head as your eyes kept scanning his body in the dim lighting of the room, should you proceed? what if he wakes up in the middle of everything? what if he doesn’t enjoy it?

throughout the duration of your dilemma the only thought that circled your mind continuously was the possibility of heeseung enjoying this night, jaeyun— his best friend, would never set you up for failure would he? never.

and with the prominent thought of this night becoming a memorable one for heeseung, you decided to continue.

opting on inhaling in a deep breath, you inched closer towards the bed till you moved atop his body, legs carefully caging around his waist whilst your shaky hands wrapped around his wrists, thankfully heeseung had his arms behind his head, ultimately making the situation easier for you to mend,

with caution, you wrapped the iron material around his wrists, the soft click of the cuffs increasing the rapid beating pace of your heart, nervousness etched its way throughout your body as heeseung was always the one to guide you in any sort of intimate situation, but now here you were, taking that freedom away from him.

and as your hands grabbed the rope to wrap his cuffed hands against the headboard, the man beneath you slightly moved, your breath hitched as you were only one pull away from completing his knot yet you froze once his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes remained closed as you awaited his awake, breathing out a sigh of relief after taking notice of his continued slumber,

with the final knot in place, heeseung was successfully cuffed and tied up, landing him in a situation where he had absolutely no chances of touching you as he always does and loves to, your eyes remained on the rope decorating his veiny hands, the contrast between his soft, delicate skin and the harsh rope—

“baby?” heeseung raspily called, tone laced with sleep and exhaustion as his bleary eyes searched for yours, he could feel your figure atop his yet his gaze searched for yours in the dim lighting, heeseung attempted to move, confusion cascading his face once he realised the restriction around his hands,

“what’s all this?” he questioned, head looking upwards to the unexpected sight of the rope covered handcuffs surrounding his wrists, you stared at his face wide eyed, studying his every expression as your breathes quickened once his frown deepened,

“surprise?” you responded, heart thumping between your ribs, innumerable thoughts swirled in your mind dizzyingly, heeseung's second tug at the ropes rendering him futile made you become hyper aware of the situation that you had— of the power you had over him.

"surprise? baby.. what are you planning?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing down on you, gaze swiftly lowering to widen at the sight of his favourite colour wrapping around your body alluringly, his nervous gulp went unnoticed by you, yet you were able to feel his length twitching beneath all articles of clothing between both of you easily.

breathing in a sharp breath— "angel.. how about you untie me so we can both enjoy the night? hm?" he spoke out, desperately beginning his negotiation, and there was no way you were giving up your power.

to have lee heeseung tied up, helplessly beneath you was once in a lifetime occurrence, you might have adored all the nights of him taking full and complete control over you, sometimes deciding to be generous enough to allow you to have a small taste of what its like to take control by guiding you to please him,

"how does it feel?" you questioned ignoring his words, eyes avoiding his as it followed the path of your hand slowly brushing down from his shoulder towards his collarbone, the shaky rise of his chest beneath your fingertips heightened your senses as you felt a throbbing sensation from beneath you,

"angel.. what?" he puzzledly asked, attempting his best to control his breathes as your fingertips inched closer towards his nipple, attempting his best to distract himself from the warmth of your cunt seeping through the lingerie directly to his hardening dick, and yet again, all his attempts deemed inaffective.

"how does it feel to be under me?" you paid no mind to the sudden surge in confidence gushing through you, attention captured by the way heeseung's eyes immediately darkened, his mind was reeling from your teasing as he wasn't used to this at all, he was more accustomed to eat up the sight of your writhing, twitching body beneath him, not the sight of your hungry gaze staring down at him as he was tied up, he could see the numerous emotions spiraling in your vision.

a burning sensation expanded throughout his chest, his need and desire for you fueled by the remaining alcohol in his system, the absolute need to have you beneath him as he pleased you was almost blinding, and the constant throbbing around his wrists from the tight ropes was pushing his patience further,

"answer me hee, how does it feel? hm?" you copied his soft tone in persuading you once he remained silent, your hands gently caressing his smooth skin, heeseung began to shift beneath you, his body hot and bothered by your contiunous teasing and warmth surrounding him yet your lack of movement was driving him crazy, his breaths became shorter, eyelids became heavier as he stared at you,

he so desperately wanted to be angry with you, to somehow manage to stir the control to him— yet your twinkling, curious gaze made him almost play along with your silly game,

"infuriating." he seethed out from between gritted teeth, eyes closing entirely once he felt you press your hips against him, resulting in him tugging against the ropes feebly again, you cooed mockingly at his frown, going further to rile him up by bringing your hand to caress his cheek soothingly, and almost instantly he leaned towards your touch, heeseung's breath hitched as he felt you beginning to slowly roll your hips against his,

opening his eyes to the sight of you looking beneath you both after you quickly discarded your robe, taking notice of his abs flexing, his length's outline steadily becoming more prominent, "just what is going on inside that pretty little head of yours, angel?" he smiled in frustration at you, your needy gaze locked with his own before you shrugged tauntingly,

"i just want to make you feel good." you replied with honesty, slowly lowering yourself towards him, heeseung hissed as he felt your plump lips ghosting kisses against his burning hot skin, his breathes quickened the wetter your kisses got while you went lower, his own lips getting caught hostage between his teeth when he felt you sucking his skin needily,

"baby.. come on," he urged on, the hem of his pants felt like scorching iron rubbing against his skin, his resolve slipping further at the feeling of your hands caressing his abdomen, your tongue swiftly circling his belly button before finally reaching his pants once you were satisfied with his surprised gasp, he breathed out a sigh of relief as you quickly tugged the constricting fabric along with his boxers down,

he was unbelievably hard, heeseung’s head was thrown back at the feeling of you blowing air on him once his large length was freed from his boxers, teeth grinding against one another once your cold fingertips wrapped around his burning skin, “don’t tease me more, angel.” he rasped out, a clear warning in his words as he was close to losing his mind at this point, yet you only smiled at him.

“just enjoy what i’ll give you.” his nails scratched angrily at the ropes from your words, he could feel his frustration leading his body as he thrusted uncontrollably into your hands, in need for any kind of friction, he could taste his blinding climax on the tip of his tongue and yet at the same time it felt so far away, his body felt like it was on fire as for the first time— he couldn’t get what he wanted instantly.

heeseung was new to this situation, one where nothing was under his control and he was left with nothing but his desperate breathes for your mercy, a small portion of him was more accepting of the drastic change, yet that small voice was nothing in comparison to the warning alarms ringing in his head,

and he knew he was completely fucked the moment you decided to lick up a long stripe starting from his base then trailing upwards to circle his raging tip torturously, a shaky breath involuntarily escaped once you repeated the action once again, countless empty threats died in his throat at the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing him, hot tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock,

the salty taste of his continuous precum took over your senses, he was leaking a ridiculous amount just from simple teasing, using his precum as a lube substitute you began to jerk your hand up and down his length, the sudden change in pace resulting in his legs spasming around you, then a satisfied hum vibrating around his tip making him close his eyes shut,

his breathes got heavier the longer you moved, suckling on his tip sloppily with the incessant motion of your hand bringing him closer to his release, heeseung’s muffled groans got louder as he attempted his best to silence himself, not used to being the vocal one that much.

you looked up to the sight of his head thrown back, chest and face flushing a pretty pink along with a sheen, thin layer of sweat glistening along his rapidly rising chest, he looked breathtaking under the dim lighting, abs and legs flexing as he felt his abdomen tightening even more,

“d-don’t stop angel… i’m close,” he whimpered out, the sound of his voice breaking and stuttering out made your brain short circuit, a sound so sweet and addictive that you’ve been deprived of for months, you decided to tease him more,

the moment the tip of your tongue licked along his prominent vein beneath the head of his cock was enough to have his eyes roll back into his skull, plump lips agape to let out a quiet shocked gasp, you continued applying pressure, his thighs shaking next to you whilst his biceps flexed around his head, the rope slowly damaging his skin yet all his mind could focus on was your tongue and the unexpected quickened build up of his climax,

his head fell to the side, pleasure overtaking his body as the coil in his abdomen only tightened further, your hands lowered to fondle with his balls whilst your tongue remained teasing his vein, heeseung could swear he began to see stars the longer you continued, chest rising speedily to inhale deep breathes that felt nonexistent for him,

“right there baby.. so c-close i’m cu-“ yet he couldn’t finish his sentence, the intense build up of pure delight running in his veins abruptly ended, his eyes snapped open in shock when you just pulled away,

“baby what the fuck are you doing?” he spat out angrily, his head lifted swiftly, irritated gaze landing on the sight of your swollen lips and glistening eyes staring back at him, his breathes quickened in frustration as his cock twitched desperately at the view of you, “i can’t have you finish so quickly, where’s the fun in that?”

and with ease, your words affected him efficiently, his brown pools instantly darkening, pupils reducing in size the longer he felt his release slipping away from his body, “i’m gonna fuck that attitude out of you the moment i break these shits,” he tugged on the ropes again, heeseung has never felt so sexually frustrated before, his throbbing length was aching almost painfully when your hold slightly tightened around him,

“you talk too much,” was your only response, heeseung couldn’t bring himself to respond back in time before you lowered yourself yet again, he was suffering whiplash after whiplash from the ‘surprise’ and your frustrating teasing, his head fell back against the pillow once he felt your warm mouth engulfing his tip again,

“you’re going to r-regret this so much, pretty.” he choked out, face burning hot once he felt his impending release returning in an embarrassingly quick manner, you started with licking gently at his sensitive, leaking slit while your hands jerked off his cock below slowly, one hand moved to milk his length while the other stayed lower to cradle his balls,

the familiar stars returned to his vision when you only hummed around him at his words, his frustration mixed with the intense pleasure were feelings his body couldn’t keep up with, and he was under your control with his twitching body directly beneath your hands.

“please angel… don’t stop, i’m so close,” he begged you, voice scratchy and hoarse as he felt his lower half slightly go numb with the continuous build up, his creeping climax approaching in a way his mind couldn’t keep up with, one second he was holding back moans while the other he felt mere moments away from his orgasm,

his abdomen tightened, as he could yet again taste his release on the tip of his tongue, so close, so dizzyingly close he was, his mouth fell open at the feeling of his climax moments away from washing over him, hips jerking into your hold once you quickened only for all of it to come crashing down once you pulled back again,

“what the fuck-“ heeseung growled out, his body searing in anger and pain when all he could feel around his raging length was the cold air, not your wet mouth and warm hands, his mind was reeling with curses as he lifted his head up again, “did i ruin it?” you questioned as you smiled at him.

“did i ruin it, again?” and there you sat, dolled up in his favourite colour, lingerie barely covering any part of you while you looked at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as you smirked at him, and his painfully red length right infront of you, he didn’t respond,

“come on hee, is this not fun for you?” you spoke, hands reaching upwards to caress his twitching thighs, finger tips going as high as his hips, torturously close to his length before going down to his knee, heeseung didn’t respond, his eyes remained close whilst he breathed heavily from his nose,

you failed to notice the way his veins were bulging at this point all around his arms, specifically his hands, you failed to notice his fingers and wrists turning red around the cuffs as he tugged, busy pushing your teasing further with running your index finger from the base of his length to his tip,

all you could feel was authority and power, your first taste as you wished to prolong the view of a whimpering heeseung under you, “you could tell me-“ you completely failed to notice the small crack! around the headboard that the rope was fastened to,

you were too late, your heart dropped to your stomach at the sudden loud sound of wood breaking, followed by clank of metal, the large scattered piece of wood landed on the floor followed by the ripped ropes and the handcuffs, you sat frozen in your place in shock and attempting to process the fact that— heeseung just broke completely free?

he sat there, dark strands falling all over his eyes that were staring at you half lidded, you could see the pent up frustration and anger in them, most importantly the relief now that he was free, the feral glint intensified when he gently moved his hands around his wrists, his hand caressing the slightly damaged skin all while maintaining eye contact with your shocked face,

you really shouldn’t have trusted jake.

because jake never brought up the high possibility of the result of his plan to be a feral heeseung staring at you in a predatory gaze with a broken headboard behind him, “you had your fun didn’t you, baby?” he smiled at you, chest remaining to pant heavy breaths,

you only nodded your head, still stuck on attempts to process the fact that jake’s plan entirely backfired, what now?

“now it’s my time to have fun, it’s only fair that way isn’t it?” he finished your thought for you, he cooed at the sight of your confused gaze, yet you werent completely sure. judging by his sudden attitude change, there was no way he was going to be this nice with you, not after everything you did?

“come here” he pushed himself upwards on the bed before he patted on his lap, his length still standing proud and hard, yet the expectant look in heeseung’s eyes made you obey him completely,

you hastily crawled towards him, his needy hands instantly caressing and fondling every inch of skin he could reach, “look at you.. all dolled up for me, you look stunning, angel.” he trailed kisses down your shoulder once your back pressed against his chest, his length throbbed by your lower back whilst his hands gripped around the frail fabric around your body, his hands were rough,

god if you only knew what you were in for.

“just for you, hee.” you whispered to him, turning your head to face his lovesick eyes, the sudden changes in his gaze made your head spin as the heeseung that was glowering at you a mere minute ago, was currently drowning in your eyes with nothing but pure adoration and need for you,

“yeah? all for me, right?” he breathed out against your lips, large hands now finding comfort on your waist, stroking your soft skin gently as he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck, you felt his lips curving upwards into a smile when you nodded in confirmation to his words,

“open your legs for me, darling.” his hands lowered to grip your thighs apart, fingertips brushing soothingly against your supple skin before they inched towards your center, your soiled panties coming in contact with his fingertips made him chuckle, “already this excited, baby?” he questioned, his smile widening when you turned your blushing face away from him,

his fingers quickly pushed the soaked fabric away, immediately moving towards your sopping hole, your wetness gushed around his finger once he teased the tip of his finger in, his other arm came up to wrap around your waist once your breathes began to get heavier, face flushed whilst he carefully pressed you more against him as he leaned back against the remaining part of the headboard,

“look at you taking me in so well, angel.” he praised, eyes locked and fascinated on the way his fingers disappeared between your swollen folds only to come out glistening, you looked below you, the sight of your dripping cunt covered by his long fingers never failed to make your heart skip a beat, only increasing the warmth spreading around your body once he dipped back in,

his rough skin caressed along your gummy walls, easily reaching your weakest and sweetest spots to please you in the best ways possible, his priorities seemed to remain unchanged even in his state of pure rage, he still had to make you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before proceeding with anything else,

it was when he swiftly added his other ring finger to please you along with his middle one, then proceeding to use his other hand to rub slow circles on your puffy clit, steadily dragging your climax closer, you began to see stars,

colourful indecipherable shapes clouded your vision as heeseung fingered your first release out of you with ease, your glazed eyes rolled to the back of your head when he continued, aiding you in riding out your climax with his movements between your twitching legs whilst he whispered unintelligible praises to your ear, ending each word with a gentle kiss that echoed in your mind,

he was so gentle with you as you moaned quietly for him, your noises heard as melodies for him and only him, he studied your every expression while you were coming undone under his touch, though he’s seen you in this state countless times your short gasps, furrowed eyes and closed eyelids that were complimented by your flushed cheeks never failed to leave him mesmerised,

your hand quickly reached out to slow his movements, heeseung was close to beginning overstimulating you, his fingers resumed to thrust into your gushing cunt, knocking your breath out, yet before you could ask him to stop he beat you to it, “you took all this away from me tonight,” he whispered, tone undergoing an astonishing change as he spoke in anger,

the pleasure and sensitivity was beginning to numb your mind once you felt another impending orgasm building up, your abdomen twisting in tension at your imminent release, “hee please-“ you whimpered out before he cut you off, “take all of it, didn’t you want to make me feel good?” he asked, breathes getting harsher against your ear while your heart raced, your legs ached once heeseung moved his own beneath them to keep yours open,

“make me feel good, angel. cum for me,” he ordered, his hands increasing in pace as he quickly added a third finger making your eyes almost cross, your wetness by now was gliding down his hand and inevitably ruining the sheets beneath you, the force of his fingers pushed back against your convulsing hips, whilst he busied himself with trailing bites down your neck,

“i’m c-close, hee” you warned, voice cracking with each syllable as your oncoming climax felt more intense, the coil in your stomach twisting and turning once your release was moments away from overtaking your body, “come on, angel. i’ve got you,” his words were the last ones you registered before your ears began to ring as you squirted all over his hands, body trembling in his hold while heeseung continued to fuck you with his fingers, riding out the entirety of your orgasm whilst he basked in your moans and whimpers of his name,

“did so well for me angel,” he breathed out, his fingers pulled out from your dripping folds, reaching upwards to teasingly press on your puffy clit, eliciting a needy whimper from you, “doesn’t feel that nice when you tease, does it?” he asked with his voice heavy, eyes glued on your face twisted in pleasure and slight overstimulation, “no, i’m sorry, it doesn’t feel nice.” you quickly responded, wishing in your head for this to be over as the exhaustion from your mind blowing releases was slowly shutting down your brain,

yet heeseung noticed the prolonged period of your closed eyes, there was no way you thought that the night could possibly end any time soon, right? absolutely not. he hasn’t even started yet,

with a particularly unexpected slap to your dripping cunt your eyes shot wide open, a shocked gasp escaped your throat before all the noises in the room were replaced with your mewls that rung out once he began to toy with your overstimulated clit, “wanna go to sleep, baby?” he questioned while his fingers teased around your entrance again,

your body shivered beneath his arms as he pushed the tip of his two fingers in, “can we sleep, please?” you cried out, a thin veil beginning to form around your eyes once all the nerves in your body sparked, pleasure shooting all throughout your veins when heeseung pushed his fingers knuckles deep again, “our night hasn’t even started yet, pretty.” he replied with a chuckle,

your moans broke apart further the more his fingers began to fuck out orgasm after orgasm from you whilst he savoured every pretty noise you made, each sound making him fall deeper into the haze of the lust that was intoxicating the room, the longer you squirmed in his hold, the longer you made the prettiest sounds, the worse he ached beneath you, he relished in all the unintentional movements to his throbbing length behind you, swallowing back every moan of his in every few seconds that you moved just right,

“you can give me another one, can’t you?” his hot breath landed against your ear, by now both of your bodies felt sticky and hot, drenched in sweat atop the steadily soaking sheets, your breath mixed with his whilst his fingers never left your drenched pussy, heeseung’s mind was reeling with pain and pleasure at this point, his body had probably gotten more sensitive than yours yet he knew it was all going to be worth it in the end,

you shook your head in denial, however your body was contradicting all your thoughts once you gushed around his fingers again, heeseung smiled in satisfaction at your spent state, your sweaty chest rising up rapidly in despair for air, he had to fight the urge to bury his face between your legs once his fingers pulled away to reveal multiple, clear spider web like strings that connected his fingers to your cunt, their rightful place.

heeseung was absolutely hypnotised by your weak body above him, twitching legs behind his for when he attempted his best to keep yours open, captivated by the way your hands gripped around his for support as you tried to regulate your breathing,

he gently moved your body towards the bed, laying you down carefully whilst you opened your unfocused, watery eyes to gaze at his love and concern filled ones, “you alright, baby?” he whispered against your lips, lowering body as close to possible to yours, curious eyes searching your tired ones when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to lower him for a gentle peck, you nodded your head in reassurance to him, oh how you wish you didn’t.

as the moment that you did, his eyes flashed with the same anger they had minutes ago, “you still have energy, i know you do.” he replied, assuring himself more than you before he flipped your body over in the blink of an eye, the last expression on his face that you saw was of him smiling at you,

his hands brushed against your sides from the bottom to the top, like a predator checking their prey. his hold tightening the more he inched lower before he reached your hips, “so perfect for me,” he whispered his praise more to himself while his eyes took in every inch of your exhausted body,

you whimpered in his hold in surprise when he spread your cheeks apart, revealing your dripping gaping hole to his eyes, the sight alone made an incredibly painful throb to resonate from between his aching legs,

he wasted no time in propping himself on his knees, hips angled towards yours with his raging red tip positioned at your entrance, without a warning he pushed in,

the satisfying burn and tightening made you moan in unison, heeseung by now was completely acting on his own desires, body overtaken in pleasure and absolute need to have himself buried to the deepest point in you, your figure pressed against his while he fucked you till the sunrise, till both of your bodies were so sensitive and unable to handle a single touch,

his thrusts were merciless as he pounded into you, pushing your body further against the bed before pulling you back by your hips, you moaned into the pillow as heeseung took complete control of the situation, ridiculous how you thought tonight he would be under your control.

and as the thought was formed in your head, he pushed harsher against you before he rasped out, “you tried to…” cut off by his harsh breaths, his hips suddenly slowed down to become more powerful, “tried. to. control. me?” he asked through gritted teeth in an incredulous manner, accentuating and bringing more strength to every word by following it with a harsh thrust, his tip pressing against your cervix with each word making your eyes roll back whilst your jaw went slack,

his cock brushed against all your sweet spots, length perfectly stretching your walls with the tiniest tinge of burn due his large size, you could feel each and every vein bulging along your guts as he pounded into you,

“tried to guide me?” he followed with a laugh, and there he was. the heeseung you were expecting to appear since the moment you tied him up, the wild and vicious side of him that you’ve rarely gotten to see as he much preferred showing you his gentler side, however those were in situations that were under his control.

humiliation took over you at his words in the best form possible, his words of mock only resulted in you tightening around him making him groan, he leaned forward, hovering his chest above your back as he completely caged you beneath him, before he brought himself closer to your ear, “you looked so cute trying to tell me what to do, baby” he whispered, hips pressing flush against your ass with every syllable,

your throat had gone hoarse by now, as all you could hear were your mewls followed by heeseung’s words, the tears that aligned by your waterline had slid down a long time ago, staining your face in the prettiest way possible, heeseung’s favourite way.

“looked so cute acting all tough like you don’t need me to help you with anything, hm?” he continued, chuckling into your ear as more tears aligned by your jaw before dropping onto the pillow,

“looked so cute trying to suck me off like you don’t need me to push your head down my dick everytime,” his arm came upwards, you had buried your head in your pillow soaked tears as his cock continued moulding you into his size while he spoke to you, unbeknownst to you he expertly pulled off the tie hanging loosely by his neck,

and in a split second, heeseung had wrapped the narrow fabric around your neck, you gasped as heeseung lifted your head upwards, the tie applied perfect pressure to your jugular veins instantly resulting in you becoming lightheaded whilst heeseung’s animalistic eyes bored into yours,

“what made you think that’ll work?” he smiled at you, revealing his pearly whites as if he wasn’t pounding into you, whines escaped your mouth before you could process any of them, heeseung stared at your every expression with admiration and conceitedness,

“have i not made you take control enough when you wanted to?” he pressed on, smile widening as he had an unrecognisable expression on his face, you couldn’t tell if it was his reddened dark eyes, or his flushed face with his black locks that stuck on his forehead contrasting the light blush, but you could barely recognise him, the unfamiliar expression on his face sent pulses of warmth throughout your body,

“you could have asked me if you were that interested, instead of putting those pathetic shits around my wrists.” he finished off, tilting his head to the side once you closed your eyes, his thursts never faltered as he brought you closer to your release, abdomen twisting and churning in preparation for your oncoming climax, you felt your ears ringing again when heeseung slightly pulled on the fabric around your neck,

“eyes on me, pretty.” he groaned, his own voice laced with exhaustion and need, the desire to release his climax from hours ago now blinding his senses, you opened your unfocused eyes to land upon his, and while his hips were grinding against yours, every inch of his cock caressing every inch of your walls that swallowed him up entirely, he spoke out,

“open your mouth, baby.” his grip shakily tightening further around the tie, you breaths getting heavier and more difficult as you opened your mouth, heeseung spat onto your lolled out tongue, eyeing the way the string of saliva landed on your tongue before he pulled the tie more, “swallow.” and you did whilst he studied your every move,

once you showed him your clean tongue to satisfy him, he began to lower himself towards your neck, your head ultimately fell against the pillow again as heeseung began to trail soft bites along your shoulder while his hips moved against yours, both of you ridiculously sensitive from the prolonged edging and overstimulation, holding back desperately to lengthen the period of him inside of you, you moaned his name in need as his tip kept kissing your cervix,

“taking me in so well, milking my cock so good angel.” he praised, the pleasure finally overtaking his body as your walls only sucked him in further while more slick poured around your legs and onto the sheets, your moans mixed with his needy ones, sweaty bodies rubbing against one another messily as both of you chased your highs in desperation,

“s-seung, i’m so close.” you stuttered out, eyes closing when heeseung softly tugged at the tie, his own eyes shut once he felt his climax mere seconds away from washing down on him, the dizzying feeling of euphoria already running through his veins and intensifying with the build up, he could see stars clouding his vision similar to the ones clouding yours, “i’ve got you baby, cum for me.” he sweetly whispered,

and he followed his words with one, two and three delicious thrusts right against your cervix that had you coming undone for him, release washing over you mind numbingly, body weak as your legs shook beneath heeseung’s while his hand caressed your hips in attempts of comforting you, lips never stopping from kissing sweet words into your ear as you shook beneath him, the torturous tightening of your walls easily pushed heeseung over the edge as a few moments later you could feel his warm ropes of cum filling you up completely,

you struggled to return to your senses, body overtaken with exhaustion while heeseung kept peppering open mouthed kisses along your shoulder, his arms moved to wrap around your waist, gently fondling with your breasts as he was still cumming, he filled you up so well,

quiet and loving praises fell against your ear once heeseung was finished, still buried deep inside of you with his tie around your neck, your breathes were nearly shaky as he pressed his body closer to yours, “did amazing for me, baby.”

“how about i run both of us a bath then we can go to sleep?” he once again kissed your shoulder, smiling against your skin once you nodded,

you nodded in hopes of returning to clean satin sheets to drift off to slumber in the arms of your only love.

the smell of his favourite lavender bath bomb overwhelmed your nose when heeseung carried you into the warm bathroom after discarding you of your lingerie, gently lowering you into the warmth of the water before quickly taking his place behind you, your back laid against his chest, his hands ran up and down your arms in comfort, heeseung’s chest warmed as he noticed goosebumps aligning all over your skin at his touch the longer you leaned into him, his fingertips ghosted over your skin in a pleasant way.

your head was placed on his shoulder as your face was turned towards his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion from the restless night, heeseung cooed when he noticed all the narrow tear streaks on your cheeks, his hands massaged all your aching muscles whilst his lips kissed away your dried tears,

“you okay, pretty?” he softly called out, voice quiet and gentle next to your ear, his soft side returning quickly, your gentle and caring heeseung gazed at you with concern and love shimmering in his eyes that filled with relief once you nodded, “i’m sorry if i was a bit rough, angel.” he continued, lips now moving along your neck with each word while his hands lowered to your thighs,

“it’s okay, i liked it.” you replied honestly once your eyes opened to look into his own expectant ones, voice quiet and hoarse as your throat felt sore, “yeah i bet you did, you looked pretty pleased you know.” he smiled before attempting to mimick your expressions that resulted in a pinch to his hand from you,

“though i’m… not that satisfied yet.” heeseung voiced out quietly, his smile widened when your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not that satisfied?

“what do you mean?” you questioned in bewilderment, you could still feel how sore all your muscles were there was no way he still had the energy for another round,

“i mean… it is my birthday isn’t it?” he began, you nodded along his words which was his cue to continue, his eyes trailed all along your shoulders and neck that were littered with his bites, “and you do want to make me happy on my birthday, right?” of course he was going to use his birthday card to get what he wants, you should have seen it coming from heeseung. “and i can get whatever i want on my birthday.”

“yes you can— heeseung, what do you want?” you asked, by now you had half your body turned to face him as you were genuinely curious to what he wanted, especially now when heeseung had a soft blush dusting his gorgeous features,

“i want you to ride my thigh, pretty.” he spoke out almost shyly, your heeseung who always surrounded you with his teasing and flirty nature, now was looking at you with twinkling eyes and blushed cheeks as he asked you to ride his thigh.

he cleared his throat before his natural, intimidating expression returned, “you don’t have to, if you’re too tired.” he added, but how could you deny such a request when he was staring at you with his plump lips swollen and red, his lids heavy on his eyes that were begging you to comply to his request, his hands that were ghosting around your waist lovingly only pushed you further,

and instead of answering him, you quickly moved your sore body to face him making the water ripple around you, your leg lifting over his to position yourself where he requested you too, heeseung instantly began to guide you, flexing his muscles beneath you once your overstimulated, puffy clit came in contact with his skin, he relished in your quiet whimper as he rocked your hips against his thigh,

your hands gripped onto his shoulders for support, nails digging sharply into his skin as you felt pleasure shooting from every nerve in your body, heeseung settled his head into the crook of your neck, lips returning to their rightful place of kissing your skin and every inch of it they could reach while his hands never stopped from aiding you in riding him,

your soft moans landed directly on his ear easily sending him into a trance as he felt overstimulated by feeling you everywhere around him, all over him and this was undoubtedly his favourite place to be, you could feel your release steadily building up as heeseung kept altering between relaxing and tensing his thigh, each movement sending jolts of pleasure throughout your whole body,

you could by now feel his length standing proud and poking at your other leg that was placed between his, his own breaths getting heavier against your neck while his nails dug into your hips, “i’m so close, hee.” you mewled out next to his ear, eyes closing once you felt the coil in your abdomen mere seconds from snapping, the water splashed around the tub, some droplets landing against the floor while you continued,

he nodded along to your words, “i know, baby.” he whispered against your skin, your movements quickened the more you felt your release approaching, your climax right around the corner while heeseung’s lips never left your skin, praises falling into your ear as his body practically moulded with yours, he held you closer once he felt your legs twitching besides his, “i’m cumming, hee— oh my god!” you cried out as your release washed over you headily, your wetness spurting all over his skin once intense waves of pleasure filled your body,

whispers of i got yous were the only thing keeping you grounded when you saw dots littering all across your vision, body spasming in pleasure as heeseung helped you in riding out your orgasm with his praises remaining continuous, if you thought you weren’t spent then, you totally are now.

“did so fucking well for me, baby.” he spoke quietly to you as you nuzzled further into his chest, “but you didn’t finish—“ you started off, hand lowering to his abdomen to help him before he gripped your hand, bringing it upwards to place a soft kiss to your knuckles, he held your it close to his lips as he cut you off, “no baby, you already did so well for me, this is something i’ll take care, okay?” he replied tenderly, pressing a soft kiss into your cheek after you nodded to his words,

“now let’s get you out and go to sleep, how does that sound, love?” he asked, smiling adoringly at your tired state, “amazing.”

soft groans reached your ears as the sunlight steadily peeked through into your shared bedroom, the arms that wrapped around you as you fell asleep a few hours prior suddenly had a tighter grip on you, heeseung’s hands moved on your body, caressing and fondling every inch of skin beneath his fingers while his hot breaths landed on your shoulder as your back was turned towards him,

“hee?” you called, voice laced with sleep while your eyes remained closed, heeseung’s movements paused for a second, you could tell he was trying to regulate his breathing behind you before his hands resumed, “i need you angel, i want to please you so bad.” his needy and whiny voice shocked you, knocking away any remaining thought of sleeping out of your head the moment you heard him, inevitably causing a familiar wetness to pool in your panties, did he see a dream or something?

“seung what-“ “please, just let me eat you out.” he cut you off, and if you weren’t shocked before you for sure were now, he quickly turned you around to face him to see just how desperate he was at this sudden moment, “i couldn’t stop thinking about it yesterday, you were too tired but now that you slept i have to do this,” he rambled out, his body felt ten times hotter than yours as his arms pulled you towards his chest, “sit on my face.”

and you really didn’t have to be told twice,

so here you were now, gripping on the headboard— well what remained of the headboard with your legs placed around heeseung’s shoulders, back arching as he fucked his tongue in and out of your sopping hole,

your body shook with intense pleasure, still weak and aching from a few hours earlier yet still so responsive to every move made by heeseung, the same arms that broke free of the iron cuffs and ripped the ropes from yesterday now had a vice grip on your thighs and hips to keep you in your place, guaranteeing that you have no choice but to take what he’s been dying to give you since the moment your tongue ran along his dick yesterday,

quiet moans left your mouth when heeseung began to switch between fucking his tongue into your cunt only to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves a second later, and he made sure that when he thrusted his tongue in your gummy walls, his nose pressed against your clit perfectly, his hips were yearningly thrusting into the blanket in hopes of slightest bit of friction, yet his main focus still remained on pleasuring you.

your groans and whimpers increased in volume as you felt the tightening of the coil in your abdomen increase, the pleasure already running through your veins intensely from the mere build up, heeseung mirrored every noise you were making on your cunt, each hum sending a dizzying vibration that pushed you further to the edge,

“hee, baby— i’m so close.” you moaned out, heeseung could already tell you were moments away from your climax from the way you were gushing on his mouth and he was glad to lick every drop, the pace of his movements surged in speed at your words, “cum for me, angel.” he hummed against your clit and that was enough to have the familiar stars dazzle your sight,

your legs shook uncontrollably around his head whilst heeseung licked and sucked everywhere, he continued eating you out sloppily as your wetness decorated all over the lower half of his face and he couldn’t be happier.

heeseung was humming along to your moans of pleasure, feeling just as high on ecstasy as you were, jaw slack while he licked up all what you had to offer before opting to just place soft kisses,

your body was holding on for dear life— the only form of stability was the headboard that you could no longer depend on as your grip got weaker the longer heeseung kept kissing you in a mind numbing manner, your body melted in his hold while your brain felt like it turned into mush, the grip he had on your legs tightening when your convulsing legs attempted to move away once he slowly began to overstimulate you,

your whimpers turned shaky when he pressed one long kiss before he finally allowed you to pull away, his hands instantly moved to hold your body close to his, proudly displaying his smiling face that was glistening with your wetness to you,

“heeseung you’re rock hard,” you stated as your eyes unintentionally lowered to the obvious tent in the middle of the blanket, “baby, the way you moaned my name was so hot. i would literally cum if you touch me once right now.” he replied, nuzzling his face closer to you while being mindful of keeping you clean,

“then let me help you,” and before heeseung could protest again, your hand briskly went under the blanket, dipping below his boxers to finally give attention to his throbbing cock,

in an instant, a low moan was drawn out from his chest whilst his eyes immediately closed in pleasure, your fingers ran along his length, his leaking precum aiding in the smooth movement of your hand, jerking your wrist to move up and down before pausing to press your thumb atop his gushing slit,

heeseung hissed in sensitivity, the hold he had on your waist tightening when he inched his mouth closer to your ear, “don’t tease me if you don’t want me to repeat yesterday.” he warned quietly, and you had no intentions to do so whatsoever,

“i really just want to please you,” you replied honestly making heeseung smile, “you’re already doing so well.” he moaned out once your hand picked up the pace, his red tip was covered with his precum as his cock throbbed in your hand, you quickly went closer towards his legs once his thighs began to twitch, leaving heeseung to throw his head back on the pillow while his hands gripped the sheets beneath him,

“so close.. i’m so close,” he babbled out, eyes shut in pleasure with his hips jerking forward uncontrollably, you studied his every twitch and shake as you continued the movement of your hands, studied the flexing of his abs as the coil in his stomach tightened unbearably, studied the way his jaw went slack while moans reverberated from his chest, studied the way his veins were popping from the tight grip he had on the sheets,

you could tell he was moments away from his climax, and with the sudden thought of heightening his pleasure you quickly acted upon it— the motion of your hands continued with heeseung’s eyes shut and head thrown back and the moment you lowered your head so lick at his tip had him shaking beneath you,

you swiftly began to suck on his pulsing tip, tongue licking along his slit as you hollowed your cheeks before pushing your head lower to his length, the sudden change made heeseung’s head bolt upwards, wide eyes that lined with a thin veil of tears gazed at you, his breaths getting shakier the longer you kept moving your head up and down his cock,

“fuck— right there baby, just like that. just like that, angel,” he rambled on, head falling back against the pillow as he could feel sweat rolling down his temples, the pleasure in his body flared when you once again began to tease that one pronounced vein that had his eyes rolling back to his skull

“baby— oh my god” he moaned loudly, not having the chance to warn you before his climax flushed over his body, hot spurts of his cum ran down your throat while you continued to suckle on his tip, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock as your hand continued to jerk off his length, heeseung felt light headed, absolutely delirious when he started to feel himself being pushed into overstimulation, his deep moans echoed through the walls of your room as you kept pleasuring him,

he could feel the continuous sensation of ecstasy and euphoria running through his veins and numbing his head, sparks of pleasure shooting along his spine once you forced yourself lower and deepthroated him, and god he was cumming so fucking much.

you were struggling to keep up with him, tears aligning in your waterline while some escaped from the intense burning in your throat as you struggled to accommodate his length so deep in you, yet you remained with your nose pressed against his pelvis while his body shook, you finally gave him what he’s been waiting for since yesterday and god heeseung has never felt this good.

once his body calmed down to slight twitches you pulled away, the sight of your swollen and glistening lips covered in his cum made heeseung’s sensitive cock twitch, his eyes remained glued on you as you lolled your clean tongue out to show him, and he had to fight the urge to pound into you like yesterday.

he smiled at you in exhaustion before easily pulling your body upwards, he kissed along your face and jaw, relishing in all of your giggles as he held you close to him, tight in between his arms, right where you belong.

“satisfied now?” you questioned out as you nuzzled closer into his chest, “so satisfied i could marry you tomorrow.”

“he WHAT?!” jake’s voice pierced throughout your room, it was currently the evening, the day after heeseung’s birthday where his closest friends came to visit your apartment, and while heeseung was busy gaming with sunghoon in the living room, jaeyun pulled you into your bedroom to question you about how his “genius” plan went.

“he broke the handcuffs, jake.” you sighed in exasperation, you’ve already explained the story three times yet jake’s mind refused to process the fact that his plan completely backfired,

his widened eyes stared at yours in shock and bewilderment, having difficulty understanding just how heeseung broke free— “what about the ropes? how did they not-“ “he ripped them in a second, jake.” you cut him off before he started another endless rant,

now jake knew that heeseung and sunghoon (along with jongseong sometimes) went to the gym, building up a consistent routine that took place mainly in the mornings, and yes he was aware that the routine was established a few months ago— yet he was sure that heeseung would stand no chance against iron handcuffs, and to ease his doubts he added the ropes,

“you underestimated him terribly, jae.” you spoke out, exhaustion evident in your tone as you hadn’t been able to have the best sleep of the night, your mind attempting to process all the events that took place yesterday yet the one that disturbed you the most was how unaffected heeseung was now, as he was helping jongseong in the kitchen a few minutes ago before agreeing on playing a few rounds with sunghoon,

“well.. i’ll have to invest in better handcuffs next time, how are you by the way?” he replied, curious eyes studying your movements, “hm?” you questioned in confusion, uncertain of what he was implying, “are you like… sore or anything?” he replied, his gaze now avoidant as he used his hands to aid him in expressing himself, oh.

“what do you think?” you looked at him, eyes very clearly indicating that you’ve reached your limit, “well.. he does have a pretty bad temper, i hope it wasn’t anything too harsh.” he smiled innocently, nodding his head along to his own words to convince himself

“who has bad temper?” oh gosh, speak of the devil.

heeseung stood at the doorway of the room, his gaze switching between your figure on the bed and jake’s standing one, “clearly you.. what even made you break the headboard last night?” jake asked cluelessly attempting his best to switch the topic of conversation,

“why are you interested about last night?” heeseung questioned, eyebrows knitting together before his gaze found the bag next to jake’s leg, it was jake’s bag, and it had the broken handcuffs and ropes from yesterday, and suddenly a light bulb went off atop heeseung’s head as his eyes widened

“so it was you?!” heeseung practically yelled at jake, an accusatory finger pointing at him when all the dots connected, “me?!” jaeyun pushed his innocent act further, mirroring heeseung’s shocked expression and pointing in confusion at himself while you just stared in anticipation at the two grown men,

“it was your idea, sim jaeyun!” and with that final yell from heeseung, jake ran out of the room.

A, NOTE. pt2: the first part of the whole tying up & handcuff breaking was inspired by a jungkook fic i read on wattpad years ago so credit goes to that author for the inspiration ! i unfortunately can’t remember the fic nor the title :(

i’m so sorry for the delay that happened with this fic, it’s crazy to think about how this was supposed to be posted 2.5 months ago yet i just finished it, i’ve come to the realisation that i prefer longer fics that have more scenes in them which obviously require a lot of writing so i’ve decided to not set release dates for my future fics,

the foreshadow soulmate!jake is one that i’m still working on ! and it’s 100% going to be longer than this one considering that now this “surprise” fic is my longest one :0 a bit shocking for me honestly, anywho next up i’ll try my hardest to put out my jake fic but if not & i put out smth different just know that im still working on it bcs i really like soulmate tropes :] anywho happy new year ! wishing everyone happiness & health for this year <3

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #my works ♡

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perlelune · 1 year ago

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Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way.

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields.

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence.

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other.

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air.

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch.

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features.

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks.

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood.

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.”

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips.

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly.

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey.

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…”

He cups your cheeks.

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes.

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words.

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind.

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it.

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent.

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes.

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles.

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace.

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber.

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure.

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare.

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts.

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor.

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw.

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat.

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs.

Paul’s cock is in your mouth.

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones.

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength.

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin.

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you.

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying.

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs.

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes.

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do.

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth.

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips.

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch.

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock.

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says.

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects.

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you.

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it?

You are no one’s concubine.

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes.

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet.

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions.

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room?

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror.

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity.

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds.

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh.

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs.

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls.

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once.

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong.

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

#paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #dune fanfiction #dune #dark!paul atreides #dark!paul atreides x reader #dune part two #paul atreides x you #paul atreides imagine #dune part 2

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theorist-fox · 3 months ago

Text

Humvee

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Crossposted on AO3.

Previous << || >> Next

Word count: 6.8k (damn)

Summary: You do your best to heal, while Simon follows his own path—until life, in its strange way, brings you back together, with Simon stepping right back in.

18+

CW: fluff, banter, smut (fingering, p in v, car sex). you go on a bad date and simon saves you from it. he's a bit of a cunt but like in a good way.

I said I'd update on Sunday but you're getting it on Saturday!!! Though it's Sunday on this part of the globe, so...

Masterlist �� | In The Walls Masterlist 🦊

"If they ever give ya any grief, you know who to call."

Simon's words have never echoed so fiercely in your head as they do now.

The dress is uncomfortable. The shoes are uncomfortable. The air… is uncomfortable.

The dinner isn’t even that great. Or—well, it is. The restaurant has its perks: the wine is a deep red Shiraz, dry and with that slight bitter aftertaste that just enough balances the salt of your fillet mignon. Rare. Side baked potatoes with a crisp crust that still sizzles with warm olive oil.

It looks great.

Would taste great too, you reckon. Thing is, you’ve been playing with your food ever since the waiter brought it to the table.

You don’t think you’ve spoken a single word, if not your name, ever since you sat down. Mouth latched onto that crystal wine glass that could never be too full.

Fuck dating.

He looked oh, so nice leaning against the bar counter last week.

Leather jacket and a tight-fitting black t-shirt underneath, a softer tummy of a man who likes to train and eat. Big arms, broad shoulders. Thighs looked awfully soft in those blue jeans.

Mediterranean features. A strong nose, high cheekbones. Perhaps Italian origins, you thought, or maybe Spain? Greece?

Olive skin and thick brown curls, messy in that calculated way that only pretends to be tousled. You call it the sex hair. But it’s fake, so it would be like—the fake sex hair.

You love the fake sex hair. Or maybe you don’t. But on him, it looks unbelievably nice.

His eyes have this hazelnut hue, mottled with gold and green speckles. Long, thick lashes, dark like his hair.

Fuck, he looks like a Greek god.

And when he winked at you from the other side of the pub, lifting his glass of whatever he was drinking your way, you thought yourself so very fortunate.

Small blessings.

If only you’d known where those plump lips and feline brown eyes would lead you.

The entrée was accompanied by his favourite way to clean the leather of his sofa. Then he switched the topic to hair gel, because somehow the same company that makes the polish for his stupid couch also makes his stupid hair gel.

And now he’s telling you how much he benches. You should’ve known, to be honest, that somehow the chat would’ve swerved to his herculean strength and raw masculinity.

He oozes testosterone from every pore, reeks of pheromones, and—judging by his character—you wouldn’t rule out the possibility that he’s splurged on one of those dodgy "scientific" perfumes supposedly designed to make women swoon at his feet.

He’s saying how you’d never have to fear a thing if he was in the house, since you’d have him by your side. The urge to roll your eyes is incommensurable: you hide behind your wine glass, taking a generous gulp of Shiraz that’s drying out your tongue.

He’s eating with his mouth open. Chewing loudly. Loud enough to give you PTSD. Fucking hell, why do the handsome ones always have to act like they never set foot outside the house?

He has a pittie, he says.

Your ears perk.

Okay, pitties are nice. Lovely dogs with their big, smiling mouths always drooling for cuddles. You find their awkward stance tenderly charming—wide front legs and wagging tail. Plus, him having a dog means he can take care of fragile things, that he can be sweet and nice and reliable.

It’s a boy.

You smile.

He says he’s trained him to fight. Defend the household and whatnot.

It falters.

Says you could take him for a run if you fancy it. That he would give you (and he makes those awful hand quotations with his fingers) “scary dog privileges.”

You drink.

Scary dog privileges. You’re fighting a scoff so loud the sous chef would hear it from the kitchens.

You have SAS training privileges.

You have gun privileges.

You have scary dog privileges. You are the scary dog.

One glance at his neck, another at the table, and you've already calculated ten different ways to end his life in under a minute—one of which involves a thumbtack pinning the fake flowers to the polyester cube in the centrepiece vase.

You imperceptibly shiver. Shake your thoughts away.

He’s still rambling about his dog and his gym sessions and how he goes for runs every morning, every night, every moment of the bleeding day. Does he work? Have hobbies that don’t include a pissing contest with other men at the gym? Fuck’s sake, that thumbtack is starting to look incredibly inviting—

“So what do you do?” You blurt out.

It comes out so awkwardly that you can only fix it with a nervous laugh. One of those that make you look cute and shy, not weird and spacey.

He seems startled by it. Follows up with an awkward laugh of his own. Ugh. Okay, it’s okay. Maybe he’s nervous too. That can be cute.

“I’m military.”

You blink.

Oh.

Unexpected.

You hadn’t considered that. Granted, he has the stance, the body. He keeps his neck taut and straight, which is something you recognise you do yourself: hard to shake off habits from early training in Pirbright.

Truthfully, you had excluded partners from your same field of work. Didn’t go particularly smoothly last time you tried.

You’d like to come home to normalcy and averageness and homecooked meals and that dog he’s going on and on about, not to more military-related drama and paperwork scattered on the kitchen table.

But this can be nice, you muse.

Maybe straying from the plan you’ve laid out for your date could lead to some unexpected surprises. Maybe you could find a common ground, some shared experiences to discuss.

Anything to divert the topic from how he removes stains from his carpeted floors.

You straighten your spine, smoothing down the creases of your dress even if they’re hidden under the tablecloth.

With your elbow resting on the table, you subtly press your arms together, accentuating your neckline. You tilt your head slightly, chin nestled in your palm and lashes fluttering away.

He sports a smug smile, perhaps recognising the reaction his job must have sparked in many more women before you.

You let it slide.

“What branch?” You ask, trying to sound as naïve as you can.

Men in the military often have great success when it comes to dating. Women in the military, not so much—something about them being stronger than their male counterparts in a relationship seems to unsettle their egos, unchub their cocks.

Which is why you’re pretending you know shite about the topic—you’re just there to look pretty, for now.

“Oh, well,” his voice drops down an octave, and he leans a little closer to the table. The front of his crisp white shirt dips into the sauce covering his pasta.

You try not to stare at the oil stain too much.

He reaches out with his hand, toying with a ring on your finger. Looks around like he’s making sure no one else is listening, and then he smiles at you knowingly.

“It’s classified.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Alright, this date is botched. Tits up. Fuck him and his beautiful eyes and perfect bone structure. He could have been the love of your life. You would’ve made perfectly beautiful babies with beautiful Mediterranean genes.

You feign surprise. You feign interest.

The least you can do is have fun.

“Oh really?” You open your mouth in a shocked oval. “And—and what is it that you do?”

He leans back in his chair, self-assured. Charming smile. Know-it-all attitude.

“You know,” he shrugs, like it’s something so common and nonchalant. “Missions, deployments. All secret, though. Can’t share, unfortunately.”

He gives you a wink.

“Not even with a pretty girl like you.”

Yuck. Ew. Ugh.

You giggle, crystalline and shy, fingers to your mouth and all.

“Are you like—” You bite your lip, “—like James Bond?”

His chuckle is low, like he wants to show how much of that testosterone is actually brewing in his balls.

“Of sorts.”

“Wow.” You say breathily. “It must be dangerous.”

“It is,” he replies, cocking a confident brow. “Not a thing for girls like you.”

Dickhead.

You smile. Taut. Someone else would’ve noticed how strained it is. Not him though, no. Too self-absorbed to catch onto it. Wouldn’t see how obvious he’s being if it slapped him in the face.

“Hear me out,” he says after a while. “One minute bathroom break, and then I’ll tell you what you want to know, yeah?”

Which is nothing, but you nod anyway.

“Or, well—” he adds, standing up and setting the napkin on the table. “—What I can tell you.”

With a wink, he leaves for the loo.

You deflate. Rub your fingers on your forehead because that man just gave you a migraine.

You pluck your phone from your handbag and thumb through the screen to contact backup.

You think of Johnny, but you two bicker too much, and the possibility of him shooting back with one of your misfortunes is impossibly high. You’d like to keep your failing dates as quiet as possible.

Kyle would be the perfect choice, but he’s not nearby—a trip to somewhere warmer with his partner now that he’s on leave.

Price is not even an option. Who would call their boss to give them a lift out of a bad date?

Which leaves Simon. You know you have to call Simon, as much as you don’t want him to witness the absolute devastation that is your current love life. Granted, you know he would help without a peep—but still, there’s that bit of pride left untouched by the ruin that’s been your "relationship" that you’d like to keep intact.

But grief’s been given. Plenty of it. And, as he said, you know who to call.

With a surrendering sigh, you stuff your pride in a pocket and zip it shut.

As soon as your text goes through, you can’t even blink that three dots are already dancing at his corner of the screen.

Your eyes roll so far back you take a peek at your brain.

The sarcasm is so tangible you almost taste it on your tongue.

Hopefully your reply will manage to convey the urgency of your tone. The absolute sizzling hatred in your eyes.

And then you wait for Mr. Classified to come back from the loo while eating a baked potato or two, even if now they’re awfully cold. Still crunchy and wonderful, though. The restaurant is stellar; it's a shame to have wasted the opportunity with such a painfully obnoxious sod.

When he comes back, he sits all grand at the table. He fixed his hair, you notice. Tried to clean the oil stain on his shirt and only managed to enlarge it—you can tell even if he’s buttoned up his dress jacket.

He tells you he’s a captain.

Yeah. Sure. Go big or go home, mh?

Recounts very generic war stories, one of which really does sound like the plot of a videogame you played with Kyle.

Your back’s to the door, so when he stumbles on his words and his eyes go wide out of the blue, you have no clue what’s got him so rattled.

That is, until you turn and look over your shoulder.

The biggest bloke’s standing at the entrance, seemingly instructing one of the waiters, who looks like he’s lost a few years off his life from how pale he’s gone.

Man dressed in black, helmet with night goggles on.

Show off.

The full shebang: tac vest layered above the bulletproof one, M4 hanging low on his front with clasps, a gun holstered on his hip. The radio pokes from one of the front pockets on his chest.

He has the goddamn skull mask on, for fuck’s sake.

Your eyes widen briefly, and then you fight tooth and nail to stifle a laugh. You wonder what Mr. “I’m military but it’s classified” thinks about “people actually in the classified part of the military”.

You turn to him. Man is shell-shocked.

You snort.

Simon points at you, and the waiter nods vigorously before scurrying over to your table.

He leans down to your level, cheeks so red they look purple, sweat on his forehead, huffing and puffing like he’s run a marathon.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to interrupt, but—” A heaving breath through his stutter. “Your presence seems to be required at-at-at the Hereford SAS headquarters.”

He lowers his voice, then. “Something about the p-passing of an officer, uhm—your husband.”

You choke. Slam a hand on your chest. Mr. Classified seems concerned and has his hands hovering your way but never touching you in the slightest.

Helpful.

“The what?” You hiss, looking behind you at Simon with straight-up murder in your eyes.

The mask hides it, but you know he’s got the biggest smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re married?” Mr. Classified asks. Fuck him too.

“No.” You bark but then realise that it’s not his fault if your lieutenant is a bastard. Gingerly, you clear your throat and add more softly. “Not… anymore.”

Gotta fake it if you want to get out of here.

You sigh.

The waiter stands there awkwardly as you apologise to your date for not telling him about your non-existent dead husband. You stand up from the table, pretending heartache, while the waiter hovers around you and right in your business.

When you feel him too much into your space, you blink at him, plastering on a polite smile.

“Yes?”

He’s sweating profusely. The Ghost effect.

“The-the soldier, there—" he gives a subtle nod to where Simon stands. “—said I have to escort you b-because you’re a suspect.”

The appalled look on your face must be a sight to swear by.

You glare at Simon.

He shifts his weight on his other foot, arms crossed in front of his chest. Smug, like he’s having the time of his life.

“Yes.” You reply with a sigh, “Please, escort me.”

You don’t bother turning around to face Mr. Classified. He must be wearing the same shock the waiter is sporting. After all, in his eyes, hasn’t he just shared a dinner with a murder suspect?

What a tale to share.

“Thank you, sir.” Simon tells the waiter when you both reach him, deep baritone heavy yet gentle.

He grabs you by the crook of your elbow.

“Gonna bring this one to justice.” He adds theatrically.

The waiter nods like his head might crack in half if he doesn’t.

“Thank you, sir.” He parrots, “Thank you for your service.”

At the statement, used and abused without any regard for its meaning, you scoff in his face.

Simon tugs you by your arm, and your heels scrape against the floor.

Finally, you find your footing and follow him out.

Simon came to pick you up in a fucking Humvee.

He said it was in case the restaurant had those big windows that look out on the streets, so he could make an even bigger scene. All because you interrupted him while he watched the man u match even if they were painfully losing, he said.

When you asked him where the fuck did he get it since he should’ve been home on R&R and not at base, he told you that he had an IOU to cash in with one of the higher-ranking officers.

Baffling, to say the least, that he’s used it to embarrass you.

Yet not something you would put past him.

Still, though, as soon as you enter the car and he starts shedding layers of tac gear, mask included, the first thing he asks isif you’re alright.

You nod with a soft smile.

“McDonald’s?” He asks, then.

You cock a brow.

“I just had dinner.”

The engine rumbles as he turns the key in the ignition.

“No ya haven’t.”

He drags the shift stick back and puts the car in reverse. His hand comes to grasp the back of your seat as he looks to the rear window.

It takes a whole lot of resolve to not gawk at the way the tendons in his forearm tighten and bulge. You manage.

Thank fuck he can’t check if you’re salivating, because you are.

Because this car smells of him. It shouldn’t, because it isn’t his car. It’s a military vehicle, a big fat Hummer with enough space to host a task force, and from what you know someone else might have been using it all day before he got the keys.

And still, his scent invades it, dominates it, and you realize how much you’ve missed it. Missed waking up to it, missed having it stain your clothes, sometimes your uniform too. Memories flood, and something in your chest clenches.

Control yourself, for fuck's sake.

You turn your eyes away from him.

“How d’you know?”

He shifts into first as he finally leaves the car park. He shoots you a brief side glance, before returning his eyes on the road.

“Clocked your plate full even from afar,” he says plainly. “Bloke talked that much, uh?”

“You got no idea.” You sigh, exhausted. “Told me he’s military and then pulled the classified card.”

His lips twitch, and then his chest rumbles in a low, low chuckle you haven’t heard in a while.

You laugh with him.

Simon takes you to a drive-through. He orders what he knows you like, because this definitely isn’t the first time you two sneak out in the middle of the night only to eat something that isn’t the slob from the mess hall.

He drives a little further to find that nice parking spot next to the motorway. Once again, not the first time you’ve been here.

Sometimes with Johnny in the back and Kyle smoking a ciggie by the car window—couldn’t have the Humvee smell of nicotine and stale cigarettes when you’d return it (not so) surreptitiously later on.

Sometimes just the two of you, when new soldiers moved in the neighbouring barracks and Simon wanted you to scream without the pressure of being found out.

You punch the straw in your Coke and bring it to your lips. The carton box of chips is precariously balanced on your bare thighs.

Simon’s already munching on his burger.

“Thank you, by the way,” you break the comfortable silence first.

He shrugs.

“He was a right pain,” you go on. “Kept going on about—”

“—His dog, how much he benches, his hair care routine.”

You choke on your coke and then your head swivels to him.

“Okay—were you spying on me?”

He levels you with a deadpan look.

“Bloke like that’s only got one type o’ chat,” he explains, “And it’s all ‘bout him. You should’ve known, eh?”

He flicks your temple. You splutter.

“What?” He nods in your direction, swallowing a mouthful. “Went on leave an’ lost all those brains?”

You swat his hand away.

“Shut up.” You grumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.

He mercifully lets it go and returns his attention to his meal.

Even a burger that big looks awfully small in Simon’s hands. You used to look small in Simon’s hands, somehow—skin pliant and soft. Dimpling under his fingertips, folding easily with just the press of his big palm in his desired direction.

Same hands that used to hold you still by the waist, hands that handled you until you’d turn into putty on the mattress. Fingers long and skilled when they curled around your neck, cutting your airways just enough to make your head spin. Fingers that you’ve had all over: in your hair, on your stomach, down your throat, in your cunt.

Fuck.

Some ketchup spills out of his burger and onto his thumb. He brings it to his lips and purses them on his pad to suck it off.

Fuckfuckfuck.

You turn away and stuff your mouth with chips.

“How’d you find him anyway?” He asks after a while. “Apps?”

You balance your cup on the large center console as you shake your head in negative. Your response comes muffled by a mouthful of food.

“Pub down the road,” you tell him, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “The one close to HQ.”

“The Bell?”

You swallow. Nod your head. “Mhmh.”

“Should’ve known.” He muses, and you hear him scrunching up the paper that once held his burger. “Proper dive, that. Full o’ fucked up blokes.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re an avid frequenter,” you say, mouth full and eyes averted to your cardboard of chips.

He doesn’t snort, nor does he laugh it off. Instead, you can only hear the rapid tap of fingernails on the leather of the wheel filling the suddenly heavy silence that settled.

“No’ anymore.” He replies after a beat.

The tone doesn’t match the flippant vibe heard in the Humvee until now. He’s serious and levelled, like he’s stating some important matter he needs to unhook from his chest.

You swallow your chips like they’re cement.

“And why’s that?” You venture.

Simon shifts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. The leather squeaks, his jeans rustle where his thighs rub together.

“Don’t fit with the crowd is all.” He says quietly.

“What crowd?”

“The fucked up one.”

When you turn his way, you still.

Simon’s eyes are already on you.

His gaze is tangible. Sticks to you like damp fabric. You can almost feel his fingers draw mindless circles there, where your skin is heating up under the heaviness of his eyes.

Whatever reply you had ready for him dies choked in your throat.

Your shoulders are stiff, your body’s too warm. Tongue like sandpaper stuck to your palate.

It’s been so long since Simon looked at you like he truly wanted you—like nothing else in the world mattered more.

For months, his eyes have wandered everywhere but to you, and until now, you thought that was a blessing. Because if he didn’t look at you this way, maybe letting him go would’ve been easier.

But now, as his eyes hold yours, you can’t fathom how you’ve managed to go so long without it.

You match his intensity, as the air in the Humvee grows heavy and thick. Cement is poured into your chest until you’re not sure how to breathe right anymore.

“Not fucked anymore, you think?” Your voice is raspy and feeble, like there’s something tying your vocal cords in a perfect knot.

You know he can’t affirm anything in that regard. Lord knows he’s fucked, and you can’t even add your two cents about it because you’d act like the pot calling the kettle black.

And yet, he replies softly. “Not as fucked, I reckon, no.”

Your brows pinch. Eyes big and languid, searching his—rich, hooded, sincere.

“And you?” He rumbles, hesitant for the first time.

You blink.

“Me?” You mouth with your lips, voice stuck somewhere in your chest.

He nods your way. “Still an avid frequenter o’ the fucked-up crowd?”

You blink. A laugh breathes out of you without you even considering it first.

Almost naturally, you reply with a whispered, “No. Not as avid, I think.”

Simon’s lips twitch upward, and then his hand lifts your way, though never reaches out enough to touch you. He lets it hover in the space in between, fingers soft and curled inwards.

It trembles. Terrible characteristic for a sniper. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it happen to him. Always steady, always sure.

Your eyes fall on it. On the scars crisscrossing his knuckles, on the callouses of his pads and the raw spot on his thumb.

When you look up again, Simon’s eyes are a pool, open wide and waiting for you to just dive in it.

He says your name. Not your rank, callsign, bullshit loves, and pets, and the pretty ensemble. He says it low, heavy, like his tongue is a cinderblock and it’s so, so hard for him to speak it.

It’s almost a warning, you think. Your brain ponders it: the tone, the lilt, the volume. All of it, and you conclude that you are, in fact, wrong.

It’s no warning, no threat. It’s a plea.

Your eyes fall instinctively down the curve of his nose, to his lips. Lips you’ve kissed, lips that travelled every inch of your skin. Drank every sound you’ve ever spilled. Worshipped it, made it his. Coveted it carefully, in secret, until you noticed how those same breaths, those same noises, never left your mouth again, not after him.

Lost in his features, you don’t see how his eyes are focused on your lips as well.

And when you look up, he does too.

Something’s exchanged between you. Something written in the line between his brows as he frowns in concentration, in the tremble of your lips as they struggle to form words, requests, the barrage of questions you want to ask.

The mutual, soft, and barely veiled Please, please kiss me again.

His jaw shifts.

"Just say the word."

You gulp—fruitless. Your throat is dry, your lips unresponsive. Cursing yourself for not being ready now that you need it. Struggling to express the absolute beast that's scratching something violent in your chest.

You barely manage to break through it.

"Kiss me."

You blink and Simon’s lips are on yours.

Your stomach drops. You don’t think you can breathe.

He takes the lead when you go motionless, cupping the back of your head with both hands to pull you in. Your fingers grasp his forearms, flexing around them to make sure he’s real.

Only when your mouth opens and the kiss deepens do you unravel.

You melt in his hold, closing your eyes all the way and breathing heavily from your nose, because you’re not parting from him ever again.

Simon might think the same, because the passion with which you kiss him is thoroughly matched. His arms wrap around your waist, and you don’t spare a moment to turn on the passenger seat until you’re on your knees.

Chips spill everywhere on the floor. None of you care.

He helps you across the centre console until you’re straddling his thighs. Your knee knocks over the cup and coke spills everywhere.

And fuck, none of you care.

Humvees are big but never big enough for this. Granted, it’s not the purpose for which they were created. You hunch down when your head hits the padded roof, holding him by the sides of his face until he tips it back.

You taste his breath as it puffs on your mouth while he kisses you fiercely.

Simon pulls back. Cradles your face in his hands and his fingers dig into your scalp at the back.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls. Low, and breathy, and with that hint of disbelief that matches the one in your eyes. He brushes your cheeks with his thumbs, and you do the same.

He lunges forward, then. Captures your mouth briefly before travelling downwards, where open kisses make goosebumps rise on your arms. Big hands envelop your hips as he pulls you down, grinding you against the hard tent of his jeans.

And you comply, humping your sex—impossibly wet—to the seam covering the zipper.

He grunts in your neck each time your cunt drags across his. The sound makes you vibrate, a strange sort of power in the knowledge that he’s making it because of you, and you only.

The world moves slowly around you, like it wants the night to last hours and hours more. A small favour in exchange for what you do for it, keeping it clean and all the rubbish you’re told so you can live peacefully with your actions.

Perhaps tonight you believe them all.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this vocal with him, and it’s not even theatrics.

You just love it.

It’s overwhelming to have him hold you again, touch you, eat at your skin with the same intense desperation you’re gripping his hair with. Pressing his face into your neck as he sucks at the spot where it meets your shoulder, thundering heartbeat under his tongue. Darker spots blossom shameless in his wake, drawing a perfect mosaic of colours you’ll trace with your fingers come morning.

When Simon feels your hips do the work by themselves, he busies his hands with your dress. Rides it up your thighs until it bunches at your waist. Kneads the fat of your ass, landing a slap that makes you jolt.

Makes you moan.

And Simon drinks it just in time, swallowing it with a kiss that takes your breath away. Then, he rapidly travels down your throat, following the line of love bites all the way to your chest.

His teeth sink into the softer flesh there. Long fingers pull down the neckline of your dress until your tits spill out. He mouths a path to your nipple, sucking until it pebbles on his tongue. His teeth graze around it and you hiss at the perfect balance of pain and pleasure it creates.

And when his free hand comes to pinch at your other nipple, he pulls a little too hard.

You clench a fist in his hair and look down at him, hips falling still.

“Oi.” You frown.

His chest heaves. Yours matches the pants that leave your lips.

He wrinkles his nose, in that how dare you stop me way. But this time there’s something impish in there, like he knows what he’s doing and just likes to pull your chain. Lighthearted in a way you never dared to associate with Simon Riley.

How beautiful he looks with this new light bathing his eyes.

“What.”

You scoff. Your heart goes through several different stages of frustration, exasperation, anger, tenderness and love. Familiarity. Settling on the latter, until you recognize the glint in his eyes, the same one he had all those months back, when he was on his knees.

Lust, care, love, regret.

“Gentle.” You tell him as your chest softens, your voice still mockingly altered. “You’re not tuning the bloody radio.”

“Ha!” His lips twitch upward. “Coulda fooled me.”

Simon pinches your nipple in retaliation, but it makes you chuckle this time. When he’s sure you’re okay, he pulls your lips down in a kiss that’s starting to taste of you, and you like how the salt of your skin seems to belong so naturally on his tongue.

You kiss him through your smile as the air turns hot again. The windows slowly grow misty and opaque, creating a space around you that’s soft and insulated and safe.

Simon splays his palm on your stomach. Turns it so his fingers face downward. He inches closer to your sex, grazing the lace of your underwear, until the pad of his middle finger presses to the wet spot formed on the gusset.

There, he stops. Waits for you.

No need for words. You don’t want his lips to leave yours and you don’t fancy taking the risk of pulling away.

In fact, there’s little hesitation when your hand journeys down his shoulder to his forearm, tracing the hair growing over it and the odd bump of a scar here and there. You travel until your palm cups his knuckles, your middle finger over his, pressing it down to the swollen knot of your clit.

Simon draws a few experimental rolls, ones you encourage with the movement of your hips, with the puffs of breath all but pushed out of you and into the kiss.

A kiss he reciprocates, open and hot.

Moving your panties aside, Simon only brushes your entrance at first, finding it sodden already. And when you more than enthusiastically respond to his touch, he plunges his finger inside.

Your breath itches, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open against his own.

Simon drags his finger slowly, in and out, not teasingly but to let you adjust, to allow you to mould around his shape. And he does so until he feels you positively drip on his palm, softer around him yet clenching at the welcomed intrusion.

He adds a second finger. The stretch is delicious, fulfilling. Scratches an itch you couldn’t quite reach on your own, nor could the scattered toys you’ve bought and abandoned.

It’s a touch you’re comfortable with, one you know and can predict but not in a way that makes it boring. You just know he’ll feed the starvation, satisfy the drought.

He buries his fingers to the knuckle, until his palm is flat to your sex, heel pressing to your clit. Simon rolls it a few times and then lets you take the lead, keeping his hand still.

You ride his fingers by canting your hips in the way you like, stimulating both your g-spot and your clit. Simon keeps your mouth on his with a hand of steel glued to the back of your neck—unnecessary, because you have no intention of pulling away.

The first orgasm makes your head spin—you haven’t had a good one like this in quite some time. It coils around your stomach until it's knotted so tight you have no other option but to groan in his mouth to release the tension it built.

Simon’s fingers flex both at your nape and inside of you, pulling you impossibly closer, noses slotting next to each other. He breathes just as heavily as you do, as if your orgasm has somehow rattled him as well.

There are no formalities in the way he moves, in the way he leaves your still clenching cunt empty—wet fingers reaching for his belt, unbuckling in haste.

The sound of clinking metal manages to pass through the cotton barrier in your ears. It wakes you, prickles your skin that’s already burning hot.

You help him. Yours and his fingers try to work together but somehow make it harder to achieve the same goal. You chuckle when you both reach for the zipper and he playfully swats your hand away, taking the lead instead.

You feel him twitch a smile against your kiss.

He untucks himself from his briefs. The urge to look down is impossible to resist and so you do, catching the glint on the head of his cock as it leaks with precum, wetter than you’ve ever seen him be.

Your stomach tightens. Now that's a mouthwatering sight that never ceases to amaze you.

Simon pats your ass as an invite to scoot forward. He languidly drags the tip along your slit to collect some of your wetness. You jolt each time he catches your swollen clit.

When he lines himself with your entrance, you start sinking on him—nails digging into the cotton of his sweatshirt on his shoulders.

Simon stretches you wonderfully. He would slide in easily considering the way you’re dripping—it’s you who wants to take it slow in order to catch each muted reaction with ears and eyes, lips brushing his own.

And then you envelop him fully, taking his cock to the hilt.

“Fuck.” He croaks, and falls still.

The hand on your hip grips it painfully tight. The one on your nape locks your forehead to his. His breath comes out in heavy puffs, eyes wrenched closed.

Simon looks very vulnerable now. Much at your mercy. He doesn’t want you to move, clearly, and has full trust you won’t. For him. Maybe for you too, otherwise this will end much sooner than you both want it to.

But still, you brush the tip of your nose with his. He opens his eyes, iris swallowed whole.

“Alright?” You ask quietly.

He brushes his nose back with yours.

“Alrigh’,” he rumbles. “Been a while is all.”

You purse your lips in a wry smile.

“Has it now.”

He hums, narrowing his eyes. “Didn’t fancy goin’ ‘round breakin’ any more hearts.”

“How considerate, lieutenant.”

“Aye, that’s me.”

“Not quite.”

He pinches the fat on your hip.

“Cheeky,” he says, watching your eyes smile.

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head from side to side.

“Eh, you love it.”

And he takes you off guard.

“I do," he says firmly, like that's some fundamental truth.

His hand moves to your cheek, thumb right under your eye brushing softly where the skin is thinner.

You like having him like this, with his face to yours, his lips within reach. It’s a strange thing, not having to turn your head around to reach for a sliver of skin to press a kiss to. Not having to find cotton instead of warm flesh, instead of soft lips.

You feel like you can, now—take the chance without finding a door being shut in your face.

In fact, your lips find his naturally, and he responds like it’s easy, like it’s something you do every time.

He kisses you slowly as his hand descends down your back to grab your hip. Then, he guides you, initiating the movements, and you follow through.

It begins gently, with your breaths in sync, lips just close enough for either of you to share a kiss if the moment feels right. Your hands cradle the slopes of his neck, his own fit in the crease between your hips and thighs.

It’s very quiet, you think, unlike the grunts and groans of the previous times. Now there's only Simon’s pants, your own efforts to keep your voice low, breathy moans occasionally interrupted by the smacking of lips.

And then he fits his palms under the round fat of your rear, lifting you up and then guiding you down at once. Your voice cracks, shattered into broken moans that Simon matches with his own.

Suddenly, you both want more. You feel it in the grip he has on your ass, in the hungry shadows of his eyes. You feel it in yourself, the heat pooling lower and lower, starving hands clutching the hair at his nape.

You prop yourself on your knees, as comfortably as you can, and start riding Simon even if your hamstrings are aching, thighs clenched and hard to the touch.

You go on and on, one hand perched on the padded roof and the other flat on the car window, mist disappearing in the shape of dragged fingers and scratching nails.

Warm pleasure collects in your belly. So hot it drips all the way to your toes, curling in your black heels clasped around your ankles. Your pace starts getting frantic, almost clumsy in the desperation to reach that high again, expecting it to be much better than the previous one since now Simon is fully sheathed inside of you.

You hold his eyes as the air catches in your chest and you fall silent. Breaths clipped and choked, like moans that you can’t articulate. Throat tight, tight, and tighter.

Simon seems to notice the signs, attentive as ever, and he dips three fingers in his mouth before bringing them to your clit. He swipes side to side with the same urgency of your hips, clit pebbled and raw soothed by the warm smoothness of his spit.

You cum hard. It’s a wave that almost crushes you against him, so hot you feel like suffocating. Your body collapses on him, as you pant loud and shrill into the curve of his neck. Simon’s cock is buried all the way in, while your tired hips twitch helplessly to both prolong your high and escape it.

And so, Simon takes it upon himself. Lifts you up and drops you down until you’re whimpering in his shoulder, teeth sinking in the taut muscles of his traps and nails digging into his back.

By then, Simon’s hanging on by thread and you know it even in your fucked-out state.

When the overstimulation hits and a rough string of curses leaves your lips right into his ear, Simon snaps.

With a grunt that rattles your chest, he pulls you down until he’s flush with you, and you swear you can feel him in your throat. His hips hump upwards as if that might somehow drive him deeper, and then he fills you with warmth, hot and liquid. Inevitably, it spills out, dripping thick down his thighs and onto the car seats.

Simon holds you like that, catching his breath as you catch yours.

He peppers your shoulder with kisses. Big hands clutch the back of your dress as it dampens with your sweat until his arms finally wrap you whole—so tight your breath leaves you in a gasp.

“Missed you,” he says, breathing your name reverently.

And why on earth should you not believe him, this time—with his face in your neck, his heart on his sleeve.

You lift your head to kiss his cheek. The cracks in your lips sting as they unexpectedly meet fine tracks of salt water.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Missed you too, Si."

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #ghost x reader #smut #cod smut #x reader #foxy #Simon Riley is bad at feelings #my favorite tag #but he's getting so much better at that!!! big up for Simon Riley!!!

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ariestrxsh · 7 months ago

Text

sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, suggestive, innocence corruption, purity kink, sexualization of religious imagery, teasing, masturbation, voyeurism, mentions of sex toys

��𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: a good little christian boy named matt moves in next door, and once you find out he's a virgin, you test his morals, determined to tease him until he caves

don't read if you're religious. it's going to offend you a lot if you do, and i really don't want to offend anyone.

this fic is a bit of a slow burn with a lot of lead up and sexual tension before they actually do anything. :) i anticipate this storyline to have several parts.

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 |

It was a Saturday afternoon in your suburban neighborhood, the summer sun beating down on your face directly overhead. You stood in your front yard in a solid white t-shirt and jean shorts with a hand to your forehead, shading your eyes from the brightness, and your other hand on your hip as you watched a giant uhaul pull into the house next door that had been up for sale for as long as you'd lived there. An old, orange truck followed right behind it.

Were you finally getting new neighbors?

You watched as a handsome brunette with tattoos who looked to be about your age got out of the rust-colored vehicle. He was in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, and he was really cute. An older man, who you presumed was probably his dad, emerged from the driver's side of the uhaul.

The younger boy's blue eyes caught yours as he opened up the back of the truck to get out some boxes, and he shot you a shy smile and a small wave. You had to have him.

Several hours later, as the late afternoon sun was beginning to set in the sky, and after the boy and his father had a chance to unpack some of their belongings, you headed to your kitchen to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so you'd have a reason to go over and talk to him. Maybe find out his name, maybe find out if he was single or not.

You got out milk, eggs, flour, and chocolate chips, and after mixing them all together, you portioned out perfect little dough blobs and stuck the pan into your oven, nearly burning yourself, and set a timer.

Once they were done baking, you beelined it for your new neighbor's house with a plate of fresh, homemade chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

When you stepped onto the lawn, the blue-eyed boy was walking down the steps of his new porch, and he glanced up at you. "Hey. I'm your new neighbor. I saw you guys unpacking your stuff. I figured you could stand to take a break from unloading boxes and have some cookies," you said, offering him the plate.

"Hey, thanks," he said smiling, accepting the plate and the glass from you. He thought you were really pretty, and talking to you really brought out his shy side.

"What's your name?" You asked, studying all his attractive features up close in the golden hour lighting, his perfectly-shaped nose, his pretty teeth, and his luscious, pink lips. You loved the way the sun was hitting his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Matt," he responded timidly. You introduced yourself to himself as well. "You gonna invite me in?" You peeked over his shoulder and in through his doorway, walking past him and letting yourself in. "Uh, sure. There's not much in there yet," Matt replied, following you into his brand new house.

"Uh, sorry about the mess," Matt nervously apologized, gesturing towards the general disarray. "I get it. I've moved before," you responded understandingly. The walls were empty, and so was the rest of the room besides a kitchen table, some kitchen chairs, and several half-unpacked boxes, overflowing with dishes and kitchen appliances.

You admired the dark brown, hardwood flooring, the matching cabinets, and the gorgeous granite countertops. He placed the plate of cookies on the island in the center of the room and took a bite out of one. "Mmm. Still warm," he grinned at you, washing the sugary treat down with the milk you gave him.

"How old are you?" You asked him, your eyes drawn to his strong, veiny hands and his rings on his long, slender fingers. "Twenty-one," he told you. "Same," you responded while you watched him devour another one of your cookies. "These are really good," he complimented your baking, blushing and wiping a few crumbs from his mouth.

"Was that guy who was unloading stuff with you, your dad?" You asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he left to go get us some food for tonight," he mumbled in between bites.

"Naughty boy. Spoiling your dinner," you lowered your voice and smirked at him. You noticed his eyes subtly widen, and he stopped chewing for a second.

"You should show me your room," you seductively said, biting your lip. "Uh, sure. Again, there's not much in it," Matt shrugged, completely oblivious to your overt flirting.

You started up his stairs, admiring the sturdy banister, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you over it, and once you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around, noticing Matt behind you, his eyes glued to your ass.

You gave him a look that silently asked, like what you see? He pulled his gaze from your bottom to your eyes with a guilty look on his face like a puppy dog that had gone to the bathroom somewhere he shouldn't have.

"Which one's your room?" You asked him. "Third door on the left," he said, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he wasn't just checking you out. You led the way, even though you knew the layout even less than he did.

You turned the knob and pushed open his door. His bed was already set up with flannel sheets and throw pillows, and on the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and a few books on it. As you peered out the window, you realized you had a direct view of his room from your room.

He had a connected bathroom, and as you wandered into there, you admired the sage green back splash of the shower through the transparent shower door. You imagined how steamy the two of you could make the glass.

Other than that, more scattered boxes decorated the area, some opened, some not.

"What are you gonna do with the place?" You wondered, pacing around his room. "I want to paint it," he said, scanning the room with his eyes. "What color?" You inquired, wandering back over towards the entrance to his room and subtly shutting and locking his door while he was distracted by deliberating your question.

"Still not sure. Wanted to go for something cooler, darker. Maybe a forest green or a stone blue. Something earthy," he mumbled, wondering if he had taken too long to answer your question. You could tell he was nervous and shy, and you found it extremely endearing.

"That sounds awesome. I'm gonna help you paint it," you stated, taking a step closer to him. "Sure, that'd be nice of you," he said agreeably. "What are you doing tomorrow? You should come see the badass treehouse I have in my backyard. It's really private up there. We can do anything you want," you chewed on your lip, looking him up and down.

"We can smoke some weed and just talk. Or smoke some weed and not talk," you said, standing on your tippy toes and whispering into his ear while you took your pointer finger and seductively caressed his chest. You noticed a small tent forming in his pants.

He liked how dominant and direct your demeanor was, but he was worried you may have misread his character. He had never smoked weed and had never had sex. Still, the way you spoke to him and touched him turned him on.

He grabbed a pillow off his bed and held it in front of his erection as if it were less obvious. "You'd better take care of that," you teased him, glancing down at his bulge. "Uh, I don't do that. My dad and I are going to church tomorrow morning," he swallowed anxiously, blushing at your observation.

"You don't what? You don't smoke, or you don't jerk off?" You asked, smirking at him. "Uh, I don't smoke," he nervously smiled. "Isn't it a sin to jerk off? You really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" You maliciously grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to look at you in desperation, but he caught himself, immediately shifting his gaze around uncomfortably.

"You could come if you want," he offered, his eyes still darting around the room as if he were afraid to look at you. "I can cum if I want?" You teased him. "To church. You could come with us to church," he clarified, looking down and reaching behind his head with his tattooed arm to nervously rub the back of his neck. You loved making him nervous.

"Why? So you can watch me burst into flames?" You jumped at him, putting your fingers up behind your head, making devil horns while you playfully smiled at him, but he still jumped back, startled by your joke, and he nervously giggled at it once he realized you were probably kidding. A good little Christian boy.

"You know, you're cute enough that I'd consider going to church with you. But it's really hard to beat getting high in my treehouse and touching myself, so I think I'm gonna pass," you told him.

His jaw dropped and a needy expression overcame his face while he imagined you sitting on the floor of a treehouse, one hand holding a joint between your lips, and the other down the front of your unbuttoned denim shorts.

"Maybe I'll still be up there when church lets out," you tempted him. He couldn't believe how comfortable you were saying all that out loud. "You think I'm cute?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, still processing everything you'd just casually admitted in the last few seconds.

"Yeah, and you think I'm cute," you confidently stated, staring at the throw pillow in front of his pants. His cheeks turned a deep shape of red, and he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Suddenly, you heard the low rumbling of an old truck and a car door shut. "Uh, I think my dad's home. I don't think we should be up here alone with my door shut and locked when he walks in," Matt said, wide-eyed.

He reached into his jeans to tuck his erection into his waistband. You watched in awe, hoping to get a peak, but he was too quick about it. He headed out of his room, and you trailed behind.

When his dad materialized through the front door, you and Matt were descending the stairs into the kitchen again. "Oh. Hi. You already made a friend, Matt?" His dad smiled at you, put the Cane's bag on the counter, and stuck out his hand for you to shake. His hands were rough and calloused. You daintily shook his hand, shot him an innocent smile, and introduced yourself.

"Yeah, she's our neighbor. She brought us over some cookies," Matt motioned towards the nearly empty plate. "I kinda ate most of them," he giggled. "How kind of you," the older man commented. "I'd offer you some food, but I only planned on feeding the two of us," he motioned towards his son.

"Oh, please. Don't worry. You guys moved in like six hours ago. I don't expect you to feed me," you responded. "I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. Bring you something sweet," you innocently tilted your head at Matt's father.

"I'll give Matt my number in case you guys need any help unpacking or painting or anything," you grinned over at Matt. "Y-Yeah, sure," Matt stumbled over his words, fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and handing it to you nervously.

You saved your contact in his phone with a peach emoji, a wet water emoji, and a heart beside your name, and when you handed it back to him, his eyes subtly widened, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "I'll catch you around," you smiled and subtly winked at Matt, and then you saw yourself out to let the men enjoy their food and get a good night's rest after a long day of heavy lifting.

When you stepped out into the night, you got a closer look at their truck. It was a rust-colored Dodge Dakota from the 70's with a cross hanging in the rearview mirror, and there was a bible on the dashboard. You wondered just how strong Matt's morals were, and what you'd have to do to get them to bend - or even break - for you.

After Matt and his dad sat down at their table and ate together, Matt excused himself to go take a shower. It was the first time he'd had a bathroom connected to his room, and he appreciated the convenience. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the temperature and pressure dials worked, and once he did, he stood underneath the hot water, letting it hit his sore back and soothe the aching muscles in his neck.

He washed his hair, and ran his soapy hands all over the rest of his body. He tried to focus on cleaning himself, but he couldn't help that he was having dirty thoughts. He tried to push his impure fantasies about you to the back of his mind, but the more he tried to run away from them, the more they persisted.

He was pretty sure by now that you were flirting with him. He'd felt the sexual tension between the two of you while you guys stood in his locked bedroom together. He wished his dad hadn't come home when he did, because he wanted to know just how bold you were and how far you would have taken it.

He started getting hard again, and no matter how hard he fought the urge, his hand had a mind of its own. It was the one sin Matt was weakest to - lust. His fingers slithered down below his waist, and he started massaging his cock while his mind was flooded with you.

He imagined what it would have been like to see under your clothes, how your lips would have felt against his neck, and how your fingers would have felt wrapped around his dick like he had his now.

He pumped his hand back and forth over his length, caressing every vein and coaxing a few whimpers from his pretty mouth. Matt was saving himself for marriage, but he could still fantasize about you, right?

He pictured you on top of him with your breasts bouncing in his face. He imagined you straddling him, how wet and tight you'd feel enveloping his rod, and how pornographic your moans would sound. He fisted his cock urgently, his eyes rolling back and his jaw hanging open. The neediest sounds poured from Matt's lips as he replayed the way you sounded when you called him a naughty boy.

It didn't take much before ropes of cum were painting the shower floor, and Matt watched breathlessly as his hot, thick fluid mixed with the water and circled the drain. He immediately felt ashamed after, knowing God didn't make your body as beautiful as it was for Matt to fulfill his carnal desires with.

He figured you'd be disgusted with him if you ever knew. Little did he know, if you had any idea what he was doing behind his steamy shower door, you would have found it flattering.

He finished rinsing himself of his sin, and he grabbed a towel, one of the few things he had unpacked in his bathroom, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower.

It was right at this time that you were laying in your bed in the dark, trying to fall asleep when you rolled over and noticed Matt's bedroom light come on across the way. You caught a glimpse of Matt through your window in his room in just a towel, having just finished up in the shower.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He looked so good with his hair all wet, and you admired his shirtless figure and the 'v' shaped lines that pointed down to his cock that you were dying to see.

You held your breath as he turned and dropped his towel. You couldn't see much, but you caught a glimpse of his bare ass for a few seconds before he slipped his pajama pants on, and you couldn't deny how cute it was.

Blissfully unaware that you could see him, he knelt down at his bedside and started to pray. You wondered if this was an every night occurrence, and for the most part it was, but Matt would spend an extra long time praying whenever he'd committed a lustful sin, which was more often than not. You peered at him from the comfort of your bedroom, wondering how good he'd look on his knees for you.

After about ten minutes of praying, Matt climbed to his feet, shut off his bedroom light, and crawled between his sheets to drift off to dreamland.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You were pulled from your deep sleep the next morning at about 8 a.m. by the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. At first, you ignored it, thinking you were getting a text, but when the buzzing against your night stand continued, you realized you had an incoming call.

You didn't recognize the number, but you still answered. "Hello?" You sleepily mumbled into the phone. "Uh, hi," you immediately recognized the shy voice that responded to you. "Last chance for you to come to church with me. I'm leaving in half an hour," Matt told you.

"You wake up at 8 a.m. every Sunday to go to church?" You asked in a groggy tone. "Actually, I've been up for about an hour," he told you. "Do you have any coffee at your place?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes. "I don't even have a coffee maker at my place," he laughed. "I mean, I do somewhere, but it's still packed up."

"I'll come with you to church if we can stop for coffee on the way," you smiled into the phone. "Uh, yeah. We can do that," Matt said, attempting to conceal his excitement about you agreeing to go to church with him.

"Do I have to wear a dress?" You wondered. "You don't have to, but I'd like to see you in one," Matt replied, biting his lip. "I'll be over in like fifteen minutes. In my sunday best," you answered before you hung up.

You put on an off-white, vintage smock dress that synched at your waist and had long, puffy sleeves. You brushed your teeth, combed through your hair, and ran downstairs.

You were greeted by a confused look from your mother. "Where are you going so early looking so nice?" She asked, peering up from the book she was reading. "To church," you casually said, resting your hand on the doorknob. "Church?" Your mom said confused. "Yeah, I made a new friend. I'll be home later!" You called out before shutting the door behind you.

You made your way over to the boy next door's house, and you knocked while you waited patiently on his porch. A few seconds later, Matt opened the door and his eyes danced across your outfit. "Wow," Matt whispered, taking in the sight of you in a dress. He thought you looked like a fairy.

You looked him up and down as well, admiring his black slacks and black button-down long sleeve. You admired his emerald green tie, wondering how it would feel to grab him by it.

He had a notebook in his hand, and you glanced at his long, slender fingers again that were wrapped around the cover of the book, dreaming about how they'd feel curled inside of you. "What's the notebook for?" You asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just my journal."

"Your diary?" You raised your eyebrows at him. "You write about me in it last night?" You bit your lip at him. "No," he looked away and blushed. "Well, what do I have to do to get you to write about me in there, hmm?" You cooed, reaching for Matt's tie and fiddling with it while you flirted with him.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, ignoring your question and looking a bit annoyed at you. "Yeah, are we just waiting for your dad?" You asked, gaze still fixed on his black-painted nails, and your mind still fixed in the gutter.

"My dad's not feeling so good. I think the elevation change kind of got to him, so he's staying home today," Matt responded, nervous to be alone with you, but you stared at him hungrily. "Just me and you?" You lustfully asked. You couldn't wait to be alone with him. He sheepishly nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you're ready," you chewed on your lip.

The two of you left to get coffee. You got a frozen caramel coffee drink, and Matt just got a black coffee.

Since Matt was new to the area, he had you navigate the two of you to the first place of worship that came up when he searched for Christian churches, and the two of you showed up just in time for the 9 o'clock service to start.

Matt backed his truck in to a spot on the side of the building, and the two of you slipped into the church, relieved that no one greeted you or asked if it was your first time there. You guys wanted to avoid the spotlight and just take your seats somewhere near the back.

An energetic man walked out onto the stage and immediately drew in the attention of the crowd. It didn't take long before you realized it was one of those weird, eccentric churches where the pastor claimed to be not like the other pastors, but he really just seemed like he was trying to use God as a way to get into people's wallets.

The sermon given revolved around the first book of the Bible, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and the way Adam and Eve gave into temptation. The whole time, you just listened quietly, your eyes shifting back and forth between the man giving the sermon and Matt, who seemed to be in a trance.

The service lasted about an hour and a half, and after the closing prayer, you and Matt shuffled out of the church along with the rest of the crowd, and you made your way back to the truck. On the way back home, you sat next to Matt in the truck that he and his dad shared, facing the shy brunette boy while you mulled over the service given today.

"Do you think Adam and Eve fucked in the garden?" You asked him, breaking the silence and looking at him seductively. Matt pulled his eyes off the road and glanced over at you for a second. "What!?" He asked in an appalled voice.

"Like the apple and the snake. You think those are just code words for something else?" You wondered, chewing on your lip. "I don't think you should be talking about stories in the Bible like that," he widened his eyes at you as if you were about to be struck by lightning.

"I mean, that's what they're alluding to, though, right?" You suggested. "I-I don't know. I never thought that far into it," Matt responded, dumbfounded. "You think Adam and Eve liked getting punished by God?" You smirked at Matt.

His cheeks grew red, he swallowed hard, and he started wiping his sweaty palms off on his button-down. He looked so cute when he was all flustered. "You think Adam was a naughty boy and liked getting caught eating Eve's fruit?" You said, slowly parting your legs and flashing Matt a sneak peak of what was under the skirt of your dress.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the little damp spot on the front of your white panties. "You're all wet.." Matt whispered, wide-eyed, unable to pull his eyes from between your thighs. "I know. I can't help it when you're around," you muttered, parting your legs a little further and gently petting yourself over your underwear.

"Please don't make me sin," Matt peered up at you with his needy, blue eyes. "I can't make you do anything," you teased him, brushing your finger over the soaked spot on the cotton fabric. "If you sin, it's because you want to."

"You're making this so hard for me," he whined, his eyes dancing between the road and the juicy treasure between your thighs. "You're right, I'll stop. I don't want us to crash," you smirked at him, pulling your hand away from your special place and slamming your legs shut.

The desperation on his face turned to disappointment. He didn't want you to stop, but he was riddled with guilt and shame about the way he was thinking about you.

"Can we stop at a store on the way home? I need to pick something up," you asked him. "Sure. Just tell me where to go," Matt responded quietly, still trying to clean his mind of the image of you spreading open your legs and gently rubbing the wet spot on your panties.

You led Matt to a parking lot with a sex shop in the plaza, and it was then that he realized you were up to no good. "Why are we stopping here?" Matt inquired, his wide eyes shifting back and forth between you and the shop you told him to park in front of.

"Don't worry about it. I just need to go in for a minute. It won't take long," you said, unfastening your seatbelt. "Well, you shouldn't go in alone," Matt killed the engine and started eagerly unbuckling his seat belt as well. "Yeah? You gonna protect me from all the dildos?" You chuckled, knowing he couldn't protect you from anything if he tried.

Secretly, he just had never been inside an adult entertainment shop, and considering sex was almost all he thought about besides God, he was curious. But he'd never admit it out loud.

The two of you walked in through the front door, clearly both in church clothes, and the girl at the front counter greeted you by name. "Who's this handsome devil?" The cashier asked, motioning towards Matt, and he blushed.

"This is my new neighbor. His name is Matt. We just got back from church," you told her. "Hot. It's always the religious ones that are a little freaky," the girl said, eyeing Matt and biting her lip. "I-I'm not," Matt quickly said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he's a virgin," you whispered loudly. "A-am not!" Matt defensively said, turning bright red. "We're not here for him. I was actually looking into getting a new vibrator. I like the ones I have already, but I just want something with a little extra kick, you know?" You told her.

"I have the perfect thing for you," she winked at you, and she started to lead you towards the back. As the three of you walked past the magazines and DVDs, Matt's eye caught the cover of a few, and he started growing hard in his black slacks. He prayed neither of you would notice, trying to adjust himself as subtly as possible.

"This is the womanizer. We just got a shipment of them in this morning," the woman held up a toy. "And this part right here uses airflow and pressure while it vibrates to simulate oral sex," she informed you, turning on the toy and holding it out for you to feel.

"Wow," you said, your eyes twinkling as you felt the sensation against the tip of you finger while you imagined how it would feel elsewhere. "You sold me. Which color should I get, Matt?" You asked, looking over at your cute neighbor who was still trying to fix the erection forming in his pants.

Your eyes flicked down at the way the fabric strained around it, you smiled, and then you looked back up at Matt's embarrassed expression. "Um. Pink, I guess," Matt quietly responded. "Yeah? Like the color of your lips?" You smirked at him, knowing your comment was going to fluster him.

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whew. Is it kinda warm in here?" Matt asked, loosening his tie and turning an ever deeper shade of red. "I want a pink one," you said, turning back to the sex shop worker. She smirked at Matt and the tent growing in his pants before she wandered off to the back to go grab you a packaged one.

"You come here so often, they know you by name?" Matt quietly asked you. "What can I say? I like sex. Sex with myself, sex with another person, sex with more than one other person," you chuckled. "You've had sex? How many guys?" Matt asked, sounding a little jealous. "A lady doesn't fuck and tell," you whispered, winking at Matt before the woman reappeared with the vibrator you and Matt had just picked out.

"Are you sure you don't want a sex toy recommendation, pretty boy?" The cashier turned towards Matt. He glanced between the two of you like a deer in headlights. "Uh. N-no, thank you," Matt studdered, wiping sweat from his brow.

The three of you made it back to the front of the store, walking past BDSM gear and lingerie. "Okay, with your employee discount, it's gonna be $40 even," the girl smiled at you.

"Thanks, Carly. By the way, since I'm here, can I get my paycheck?" You asked, handing her the cash in your wallet. "Yeah, girl. Of course. I'll be right back," she told you after shoving your crinkled twenty dollar bills into the register.

"You work here?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed. "Just part-time," you responded. "And your co-workers know," Matt gulped. "That you masturbate?" He whispered. "Yeah, I mean, if they're the ones thinking about it in their free time, that's their prerogative," you chuckled at Matt.

Carly reappeared from getting your paycheck and handed it off to you. "See you on Tuesday!" You waved goodbye and left the store with Matt trailing behind you.

"Why would you embarrass me like that and tell her I'm a virgin?" Matt asked you, starting up his truck. "Sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I was just being honest. Plus, some girls find it hot," you smiled at him while you buckled your seatbelt.

"Really? Do you?" Matt inquired, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking space. "What do you think?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "I-I don't know. Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, still bright red from the interaction with the sex shop lady while he shifted into drive. "C'mon, Matthew. Let's go home," you turned your gaze back to the road in front of you guys.

"Okay, if you tell my dad we went into a sex shop, he's going to kill me," Matt looked over at you with a serious expression as he pulled into his driveway. "Why would I tell him that? Plus, you're not going home just yet. We're gonna go hang out in my treehouse. Remember?" You reminded Matt, slugging him in the arm.

"I-I don't wanna smoke weed," Matt admitted to you. "That's fine. You don't have to. I'm not gonna make you. But I am going to smoke weed, and you can hang out with me up there while I do, and we can just talk. Get to know each other better," you suggested, staring at Matt's lips and licking your own. "Okay," Matt hesitantly agreed.

He followed you through the wooden gate on the side of your house into your backyard where the two of you climbed the rope ladder up to your treehouse. Matt noted how much bigger the structure looked on the inside once you and he were in it.

You made your way over to a bag you had stuffed in a crevice in the wooden-pannel flooring, and Matt's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell filled the air when you opened it. Matt noted that it contained a lighter, rolling papers, and several nugs of a green substance.

"You keep your weed up here?" Matt asked you, his eyes widening. He'd never seen it in person, just in movies and in pictures where teachers in school were showing him what to stay away from. "The devil's lettuce," he remembered church leaders referring to it at sermons.

"Yeah, my mom's one of those people who's in denial about everything, so if I keep it out of her sight, she can more easily pretend I don't," you snickered. You sat down on the floor with your back up against the wall, and Matt was directly across from you, leaning up against the opposite wall.

You started to roll a joint, grinding the flower up with your fingers while you watched Matt's nervous expression. "So, why don't you smoke? Does it make you paranoid or something?" You asked him as you rolled. "I don't know. I've never tried it," Matt shrugged.

"Why not?" You questioned him, licking the joint sealed as you stared into his innocent, blue eyes. "It goes against God's word," he confidently told you. "Where does it say you can't smoke weed in the Bible?" You asked, lighting the end of the paper.

"The Bible says you shouldn't alter your state of mind," Matt replied, watching the smoke from your marijuana cigarette slowly drift out the window of your treehouse. "But you had coffee this morning? Caffeine is a drug and a consciousness-altering substance," you smirked at Matt, using his own logic against him.

"That's different," he said, rolling his eyes. "How? Is it because you're one of those cherry-pick Christians?" You taunted him, blowing out another plume of smoke. "You're gonna get me second-hand high," Matt snarked at you, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and covering his nose and mouth with it.

"You didn't answer my question. Listen, I don't care if you pick and choose what things to listen to or not, but I was just curious as to how you know what you're gonna follow or not. And you're not gonna get high. I'd have to hold you down and blow it in your mouth," you sneered at him.

The idea of you pinning him down had Matt's palms sweating and his heart racing.

"You get turned on really easily, don't you?" You seductively spoke, taking another drag. The end of the joint crackled while you inhaled. Matt licked his lips and subtly nodded.

"Naughty boy," your lips curled into a malicious grin, knowing this would drive him crazy. Matt hugged his knees up towards his chest to hide the fact that he was getting another hard on.

"So, tell me, Matt," you took a final drag off the joint and put it out. "Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?" You inquired. "Well, yeah," Matt shifted around uncomfortably. "But you still do it," you smirked at him. He silently looked at you, neither confirming nor denying your accusation.

"What's the difference if someone else did it for you?" You stared at him lustfully, testing him. "I guess I'm not sure," Matt softly responded. "Well, you should think about that," you told him as you started opening the package that contained your new vibrator.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked nervously. "I'm just testing it out," you assured him. "In front of me?" Matt inquired, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. I'm not gonna get off with it in front of you. Unless you want me to," you smirked at him, turning on the vibrator and running it across your palm and your wrist.

"Here, feel it," you said, crawling over beside Matt and placing it on his fingertips. "Wow. That probably feels really good," Matt quietly responded, imagining how you'd sound and look with it between your legs. "I can't wait to use it tonight," you whispered in his ear, gently grazing his earlobe with your lip. Matt's stare flicked up to meet yours while you ran the toy across his palm.

"Are you gonna think about me?" You were shocked at the words that left Matt's mouth. It was the most forward he'd been with you, and it kind of turned you on. "Of course, I am. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you," you quietly whispered, your gaze dancing between his perfectly blue eyes and his full, pink lips.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt a magnetic-like pull as the two of you leaned in to close the distance that lingered between the two of you. And just as your lips were about to touch, you heard your mom calling your name from inside the house.

You pulled back, shut off your buzzing toy, and sighed. Matt was looking at you with a desperate and needy expression. You leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I've gotta go. Text me. And when you write about me in your diary tonight, make sure you call me mommy."

part two posted here 💖

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juleswritesstuff · 11 months ago

Text

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face.

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? Have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable.

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting.

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an understatement.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship.

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation.

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ?

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table.

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, bambolina” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (babydoll)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face.

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good)

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got hit by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you asked in mocking shock, but you couldn't help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging, and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking devour you” he said with a shrug, wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and metaphorically.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked.

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit.

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in my brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

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mihii-i · 2 months ago

Text

a demon couldn’t love, only deceive.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, mildly angsty because yes, misogynistic society, mizu initially referred to as a male, blood, mild violence, fingering, praise, crying, a sprinkle of cunnilingus but not really, sentle gex yay, tit sucking, kind of vanilla tbh but lowkey poetic so, girls kissing oh no, mmm bottom mizu rubs hands tg like an evil fly, mizu being her own biggest hater, i <3 mizu guys I love my gf i feel like my husband went to war while i wait for 2026, not proofread.

A/N: now playing — under the influence by chris brown. omg I’ve been waiting to write more bottom mizu because holy shit also she’s canonically a bottom?? Like I get my girl gives off bde but pleaseeee Someone needs to make my sweetheart feel good don’t hog all the pleasure for yourselves. @fairexy78 🕯️

Screeching of Mizu’s katana abruptly skipping along the large rock in deep scrapes shot through your eardrums as a piercing wail, humming in tune with the whistles of cool winter air bristling across the horizon blanketed in thick sheets of snow. The sudden drag of steel pressed against the sharp stone snapped you out of the mindless daze that occupied your head in the midst of going along with the motions of trailing behind the samurai, your eyes gravitating to align with his own through the hood of his kasa shrouding his face.

“(Name). Get comfortable, we’re going to rest here for the day.” Mizu asserted, glancing over at you without questioning the meek nod you had delivered him.

—

All you could recall as you trailed behind him for endless hours was the repeat of his first meeting with you over and over, broken on repeat like the faulty string of a shamisen bellowing in an endless ring. Every detail remained crystal clear among the events playing out within your thoughts to sear into your irises, pupils dilating with each flash of a detail as minute as the crunch of a singular footstep planted behind Mizu’s from when you had first begun to tail him in the midst of her quest.

The shivers thundering along your frame, stiff from the harsh cold of winter as you stumbled over the unmovable skip in your swift steps with your body tumbling forward to sink into the snow, was something that would never stray away from you as long as you lived. Lingering on the fear stirred in your chest as you could only stare up at the crooks circled around you, clicks of the foreign guns squeezed in their hand over the trigger with their sadistic smiles burning into your skull like the last thing you’d ever see.

It was in the blink of an eye when you caught the splatter of blood tainting the pale white in trickling drops, seeping down to lap at your ankles as you instinctively shrank away. You noticed a man through the blur of your vision, practically strangling the crooks that circled around you, the dry ocean blue of his cloak spreading slightly to give way to his elbows curled against a crook’s chest to squeeze at the fabric draped over their chest. Merely to impale them clean across without answer as scarlet drops specked along the beautiful waves patterned along his blade.

Your eyes raked along his tall stature carefully, from the baggy ends of his harem pants trailing to the dark blue kimono tight against his chest—too short and tight to be considered one even. It simply looked like he took a child’s kimono as a makeshift article of clothing that wouldn’t get in his way. However, you were barely able to retain the sudden gasp that was about to peep out of you as your gaze landed onto the beastly azure of his irises. A half blooded child. You were sure that’s what he was.

Repeated strings of “stop following me.” Or “you will not find what you seek at my side.” Kept smoothing out like a path to heaven leading you on, his dismissal of your presence being met with your fascination with the devil man enticing you further into tracing his path. His disgusted expression staring daggers into you over his shoulder hadn’t pushed you away in the slightest, instead drawing you deeper into the thrashing sea of his plight he so desperately pleaded to mask.

Eventually, the swordsmen couldn’t help but soften in the presence of the beautiful woman following his every move, her enthusiasm and bright energy burning as a lantern of hope that rendered his ice cold heart into a tender mush with every action of yours barely quirking up a smile along his frown. A rare gleam of joy that sparked up within Mizu at your bounding smile drawn over his shoulder in curiosity, head turning away from the warmth of your touch to avoid himself from falling too deep in the comfort you enveloped him in.

His nights were now filled with the newfound content sense bestowed upon him in the wake of you caring for him, finding solace in the fact alone that you didn’t care for his little actions being ruthless or cruel. Simply an aspect of what was needed to survive in the grueling inequality elevated into the confines of society within an isolated Japan. Your little gestures of compassion were enough to make the stern swordsman shift tender in the gentle grasp of your palm tracing along his.

You didn’t see him as a monster. Something he had never heard, even the most intimate, who had even remotely come close to loving him through his half blooded taboo.

Could it be he was falling for you?

He shouldn’t bother. Your kindness was likely out of fear. It was clear someone as filthy as him couldn’t be loved.

Yet, the premise of his earlier beliefs warped into a puddle of worthless irrelevance, previous judgements crumpled into a purely nonexistent state as he felt your lips collide with his suddenly, hand resting on his shoulder as your kiss froze over time itself in that moment. Mizu of course, couldn’t help but kiss you back—albeit a bit hesitantly, lips hugging against your own tenderly in a heated embrace locking the plush muscle together as his hand craned over to thread through your scalp almost desperately in a gesture to pull you in deeper.

Despite your bond carving a deep mark into every bone in his body, Mizu was of course hesitant, if not more guilty as to have been shrouding you in the lies piling up atop your unwary bliss. The curse of his inhibitions gnawing away at him—or rather, her. Regarding the lie of leading you into believing you had fell for a man when in reality, she had been born as a woman in the unfortunate circumstances this world had in fact cursed upon her. Navigating under the guise of a man for the sake of her safety.

Not only had you seen past her demonizing appearance, the shame of her birth and origin evident in her eyes meaning nothing to you, despite being an outcast all over the country. But you had treated her as she had always wanted to be treated, cradling her in a sort of cushion of love that reached for her hand in the depths of hatred she had drowned in all her life.

And how had she repaid you? By allowing someone as benevolent as yourself fall into the deceit of her wretched lies, just as an onryō would cast destruction upon anything in its path.

—

The sound of Mizu clearing his throat caught your attention momentarily, chin tilting up to size him up as he stood upright from the rock. He gently nudged his sword off to the side to lay flat against the small slivers of snow still scattered around the thawed clearing to which you two had set a fire, making sure it was aligned well before stepping away to a tunneling pit of shadows gated between the lines of bleak trees.

You cocked your head to the side in confusion, seeking for the samurai to elaborate on his sudden relocation elsewhere. Mizu sighed, clarifying as to not worry you too much.

“I..need to bathe. There’s a nearby lake past the trees, and it’s not too far off. Call my name if you’re in danger.”

“Ah, alright Mizu. Just be careful alright?”

He swiftly nodded, sliding out the orange glasses from the inner lapel of his kimono as he neatly folded the two pieces over the other in a high click, before gently positioning it on top of the rock so it wouldn’t fall. Noticing your eyes fixed on him, Mizu huffed out as he fought back the urge to roll his eyes, since he knew full well you only looked at him like that when he was forgetting something.

“Ugh, what is it?”

“You’re forgetting something, my sweet samurai.”

Mizu fought back the groan threatening to push past his lips, yet suppressing the smile that clashed against it as well in his overriding internal conflict between annoyance and adoration. How could he possibly deny the woman he loved a gesture of affection? He leaned down, pecking his lips against your temple in a quick, chaste kiss as he stood back up, pursing his lips at your satisfied expression.

“Happy?”

“Very much so, enjoy your bath. But don’t be out for too long. Heard that you’ll wrinkle up if you do.”

As Mizu headed off, you were left alone with your thoughts once more in the gentle pit of silence, nothing but nature’s whistles humming along the sunset brightening the distant snow leaving you at peace with your own mind as a sanctuary in Mizu’s absence. Of course, the first question that had came to your mind was one that would be widely questioned had anyone known of your relationship with him. Why hadn’t he made a move in you or engaged in any intimate acts upon you professing your love to the samurai?

You knew that a man was only so strong, that he couldn’t fight back his urges for so long especially in the presence of a woman whom he loved. So Mizu’s abstinence came as quite the surprise. Was he embarrassed? Inexperienced? Or perhaps he simply had no interest in sex. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. By now, many would have made love when mentioning the prospect of a kiss alone, so his behavior was fairly strange to you.

Yet you couldn’t judge him for it, you did love him after all. But part of you did desire that level of intimacy with him, even if it wasn’t sex, seeing him bare or holding him with no clothing separating your bodies interrwining would be nice at the very least.

You adored every part of the seemingly ruthless man you had grown attached to, his low voice softening every time he spoke to you, his thin, yet well built frame wrapped around yours when you slept. And of course you wouldn’t dare leave out the part anyone else would’ve deemed impure, even Mizu himself.

The violent maelstrom of crashing tides that eased to a calm shore upon softening, a beautiful storm of bright blue that stabbed into the cruel world with hatred, yet protected you in their touch as their own personal home.

His eyes were the most beautiful part of him, despite the hatred that arose at the hands of his impurity evident on sight.

What you presumed to be several minutes passed in slow accordance with the breeze batting your cheek, worry bubbling up within you, thoughts cluttered in an unending rush of potential scenarios that could’ve unfortunately doomed your lover during his time alone, as he had been gone for quite some time. Well over how long it would usually take to bathe.

Taking a deep breath to push back your initial fear of what you might see, you rose up to your feet in moments, slowly treading through the pathway between the array of thick branches of wood as every crunch of your footsteps rang out in a noise that seemed to slow down with each step forward. You peeked into the area, hearing the swishing streams of the waterfall spilling into the lake in a hushed white noise that calmed you.

Unable to see Mizu anywhere in your swift search, the overwrought panic took over your instincts in the heat of a moment in which you thought you would slam into the face of danger, darting in as you skidded to a halt as the sharp point of a long branch barely poked inches away from your jugular.

Quickly, that panic made way for a series of perplexed emotions overtaking you in seconds, questioning if you were hallucinating at the sight of a nude woman before you, glistening in drops of water dribbling down her body as her chest heaved up and down, likely equally as panicked as you. Not only that, her face resembled that of Mizu’s in an eerily similar fashion, everything down to the thick eyebrows crowning her blue irises matching the man you were with.

It didn’t take you long to notice. At all. Your lover was a woman under the impression of a man, tucking away her identity from the world in fear of ending up dead or worse. Especially with her goals being made easier, even with the factor of her mixed heritage under a more masculine demeanor. Oddly enough, you could empathize with her on a level of what she had been put through. Of course, you were a woman yourself, so you knew what it was like in this patriarchal society.

Mizu only froze up in shame, her breaths shallow in anxious fear as she backed away from you. She had never wanted you to see her like this, she didn’t want you to see even more of her shame, what she had hidden from you for so long. Her lies that could have done away with your relationship by now, as you had been wallowing in the falsehood that was your relationship. A demon couldn’t love, only deceive. That’s what she had been taught about herself, that’s all she knew.

“I’m..sorry..” was all she could muster the courage to choke out, her bottom lip dragging between her teeth to hide away her cracking voice to keep up the emotionless front.

However you didn’t find yourself straying away from the attraction toward Mizu…the strange sensations built up only growing stronger in a desire to hem her in yout grasp. Was it because you understood the struggles of being a woman? Or rather you truly were able to line your eyes along the beauty of her sharp features in a more feminine sense instead.

Whatever it was, you truly didn’t mind. In fact, you felt yourself far more infatuated with your lover than before, chest locking up at the sight of her enchanting form alone, as she was ethereal—out of the question for someone as beautiful as her to be in this world.

You were unable to tear your eyes away from Mizu in the fostered tension of her heavy breaths, quivering with the ache of unshed tears. Her body slowly shrinking back from you if you had done so much as lift a finger closer to her, the life practically draining from her face right before your eyes.

Shallow exhales racked the palpable silence hanging in the darkening sky, the gentle pale glow of the moon caressing her face making Mizu seem all the more unreal to you, like the spirit of a woman described in legends in a trance of captivating beauty. The way gleams of moonlight accentuated her features in a light shine brightening slivers of her thin, muscular body, capturing her as an almost ethereal being who didn’t belong on land, but rather in a sort of heaven that encompassed her beauty.

To put it simply, you were more enthralled by the fact that she was a woman instead of a man, drawn in further by not only her appearance, but the acknowledgment of her struggles as a searing wound in the vile society the two of you resided in. Perhaps everyone saw such a woman as a demon, for they couldn’t fathom her gorgeous features, that clearly proved too much for mortal eyes to behold.

Before Mizu could even open her mouth to justify her actions, scrambling together to apologize for her lies in the presence of her demonic nature that she had the misfortune of existing in—you quickly shoved your index finger against her darkened lips, soaked from the wash of the waterfall continuing to cascade down into the lake in quick rushes. Your eyelids lowered to take in her complexion as you leaned in nose to nose with her, the droplets of water brushing over you like a gift from her body to yours, while Mizu’s expression remained stunned with the way you held yourself up to her willingly. Not disgusted, nor disappointed by her lie, yet rather further reeled into the temptation of love itself.

“Mizu..”

“(Name)..?”

Your breath against her remained as cool as the harsh winds of winter, yet tranquil enough to ease her into relaxing herself under your touch. Carefully trailing your fingers up her arms in little skips along her wet skin, you somehow eased the swordsman into your touch as her body loosened into your arms like the sap of a tree. Melting into your touch in a deep lean with your skin to her nearing that of a sedative, which she could fall asleep safely to.

Every moment you spent drawing the patterns of your hands over her arms like a painting she never wanted to wash off, you silently flickered your gaze over to her lips, eyes flitting to meet hers in the warmth of cerulean softened in the comfort of your touch on her body. Lips drawing closer and closer each time, a surge of elation sparked through you once Mizu leaned in, in time with your own lips. Signaling to you in silence that you are in fact what she wanted, internally grateful in an overwhelming spill of emotions filled within her at the fact that you could accept her for who she is.

The sensation of her your lips hugged to hers ignited the heat of trust linking her heart with another, the desire to remain close to you flaring up once more, as that feeling had been left untouched for so long in the frozen over ridges of her affection and trusted, gated away for so long in a thick barrier of ice. Which now, your love had thawed away, allowing you—no, giving a piece of herself to you to which she could finally be vulnerable.

The waterfall spread to the land skirted around it was frozen over entirely, everything down to the earth covered in snow on the side icy to the touch. Yet despite the often avoided conditions the two of you had found yourself in, the warmth of your bodies fit together was strangely enough to keep you not only hot, yet alive. Flaring with the flames of passion roaring within you as it wasn’t long before you hovered above your lover flat against a slanted, smooth rock buried within the snow, Mizu’s back flush to the cold stone.

“Fuck..”

Her blue eyes buried themselves into your brain from the way she looked up at you, heavy lidded and lips parted in short breaths as you withdrew yourself from the kiss. The look in her eyes alone, that same deep storm in her eyes would for sure be a sight you would commit to memory, grasp dug into your nape as her stoic demeanor was long gone from your touch roaming along her skin, squeezing at her bare hips to which she hummed through her sealed lips.

For certain, this was the woman whom you loved. It would take an army of soldiers to pry you out of her arms and rip you to shreds if it meant being away from her. The sight of her sprawled out bare for you—exposed to your touch, practically waiting for your hands caress her all over affectionately in a plea to the gods that there truly was someone that loved her in this world. Your breath hitched at her foot nudging up against the back of your knee, her eyes still beholding that same glint that made her seem utterly intoxicated from the way you ran your hands over her.

“Can I? Please, Mizu?” You pleaded, hands resting on the inside of her thighs to gentle roll apart the minimal fat on her bones to expose her cunt glistening between her legs.

Her eyes fixed on you intently with each move you had made along her body, surprised at your touches carefully brushing every part of her body as if it was a sacred temple you served to worship. Handling even your kisses along her stomach with the utmost care, occasionally looking up at her for an affirmation of sorts. Catching her breath hitched in her throat from the unfamiliar sensation of this extent of adoration, Mizu quickly rested a hand on the back of your head, delivering you a nod of affirmation to your delight.

Sweet fans of air grazed along her heat as your eyes remained focused on the dampened folds of her cunt spread for you, tracing your middle finger up her slit as a trial as Mizu lulled her head back along the cool flat of the rock in compliance, surrendering over the most intimate parts of herself a promise while she bit back the noises crawling up her throat upon feeling your finger slip past her folds into the moistened velvet caging your fingers.

She was soaked, likely from the buildup of her arousal alongside the aftermath of her bath from earlier. As if her washing herself off was futile by now, the anticipation nervously pooling within her coated her body in a thin layer of sweat with each experimental touch of yours, sheathing your finger into her pussy with caution as you glanced up at Mizu’s face, twisted in pleasure for any signs of discomfort.

Although it wasn’t the first time she had done this, the way you continued to check on her through the overwhelming bliss of your digit curling into her spongy walls sure felt like it was. Mizu only struggled to contain the gasps that fell from her swollen lips as she felt the unexpected drag of your tongue pressed against the velvet of her clit as she writhed beneath you, close-mouthed low moans buzzing against her throat as you latched onto the bundle of nerves between her thighs with each curl of your fingers.

Her cunt left you drunk at her mercy as you lapped away hungrily at the taste seeping onto your tongue, accompanying the gradual increase in volume of her moans while her hips bucked up driving you further into the depths of a haze that caught even Mizu in the whirlwind of your touch. Your fingers continued to stutter their movements in the flurry of your onslaught against her pussy, the taste of her slick smeared across your lips growing far too intoxicating for you to multitask in the blur of you own arousal, Mizu’s gasps pitched to outright lewd moans as you eased your ring finger past her folds as well.

The samurai squirmed in the overwhelming sensations coursing through every vein in her body, her fibers tinged with the feel of your fingers lodged inside her as her walls clamped around your digits like a vice keeping you inside her. Her sharp breaths squeaked out of her alongside the endless stream of whimpers that fell from her lips, quivering against your thrusts as your lips pressed up her torso in a trail of fire. Nose tickling along her let down hair, you smiled as you took the time to brush any strands off her body, lips wrapping around any skin you could land your mouth on across her.

Mizu’s eyes rolled to the back of her head in the strangled chorus of her moans, squeezing them shut as her throat began to run dry from the pressure you exerted onto her chest, free hand palming her right breast while your lips wrapped around the other. Her heart rapidly thumped against her chest in heavy beats as both your fingers sheathing in an out of her, as well as your added stimulation to her chest drove her insane. She had never once been able to bask in the comfort of anyone loving her this much, willing to hang on for dear life even if it was the last thing they did.

Both of you were so deeply coiled up within one another, entwined to the point where seperating you both would be out of the question, the raw passion of the moment embedding a deep crest of each other, worn on both of your hearts with pride. Echos of what you invoked within each other, the enticing fervor of a love so deep it could span across the realm of the god, sever any blade that tried to cut through it whether it was a well trained samurai or the shogun himself.

“You’re so beautiful..do you know that?” You murmured against her tit, tenderly sinking your fingers back in to barely graze along the cavern of her g-spot.

Mizu’s nails dug deep crescents into your bare shoulders, her whines now knowing no end as they drawled out of her like an infinite melody, her hips rolling against your hips quicker to keep up with the pace you set when you pushed them into her while gradually speeding up. Her moans caught up in her throat as small slips of tears streamed down her cheeks, her words coming out as messy sobs that cracked with your thrusts stuffing her full.

“Fuck, I- ah-! (Name)..I love- haah-! Love you so much..” she sobbed, not bothering to speak any more besides those words as her moans did enough in expressing it all.

You smacked your lips away from her glistening breast as your feverish lips pressed to her cheek in assurance, knowing that she was vocal during sex as you could see now, yet not one to talk to convey her feelings. Your lips continued to work along her exposed throat, feeling her whimpers and whines vibrate against your lips with each kiss you planted to her neck.

“I love you too..”

Almost in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t long before her hips jerked in the burn of your fingers stretching her open, stuttering against you inside her. The steady pace of your fingers slowly subsided to a stop as her juices spilled to decorate your fingers, heavy drawn out breaths ringing in your ears as Mizu clung to you for dear life upon reaching her climax.

Wordlessly, she dragged you on top of her as she held you tight to her chest, the same guarded embrace which she always fell asleep to you with as her eyes grew heavy from the exhaustion of your intense experience.

You gently brushed her hair out of her face at the sight of the feared samurai laying below you, open and willing to welcome you into her arms as a rare sight. About to nearly fall asleep in your arms, you recalled how greatful you were to have her in your life, embracing her with all your heart. Whatever she wanted, whatever you wanted in your life amidst the darkness and ache stabbed into this world, the thick aftermath lingering in the air proved that all you needed was each other.

Truly, you believed that the gods were in your favor, as Mizu was a blessing you couldn’t forsake.

A/N: OKAY I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST YESTERDAY BUT IT GOT LATE AND I FELL ASLEEO BEFORE I COULD WRITE THE SECOND HALF HOLY SHIT anywayyyy I like how this one turned out yippee

@fairexy78 eat now dinner’s ready

Yippee I might post again later today or double post Saturday and Sunday if I’m up to it because I planned to post this yesterday and another fic today omg

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strwberrybils · 5 months ago

Note

can you please write a crazy fanfic where billie is like a fuckboy and she meets reader at a house party in LA and wants her so bad but reader plays hard to get and they end up having sex at hers and billies friend is in the room but billie doesnt gaf ? <3

FOR TONIGHT | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ this is probably the filthiest thing i’ve ever written. read at your own risk!

house parties were usually never your thing until you met charli.

you had bumped into the pop star in your coffee shop once while running late to work, and somehow the both of you sparked up a conversation when you muttered something (mostly derogatory) about your manager under your breath, earning a laugh from the girl, and ultimately leading to your undying friendship.

ever since the two of you became friends, charli had pulled your buried, most innermost extroverted parts out, dragging you along to house parties and clubs with various famous people— from actors to DJs, you had your fair share of once in a lifetime interactions.

tonight, you currently sat on the floor of your best friend’s room, finishing off the wing of eyeliner that boldly lifted your cat eyed look. you were clad in a lacy spaghetti string top and a pair of short brown leather shorts, a pair of boots that you borrowed from charli waiting for you by her vanity— which she was currently sitting at, finishing off her makeup.

“you ready for this party tonight?” she asked you, turning around in her rolley chair to offer you a wiggle of her eyebrows, excitement glossing over her eyes, “i’m so excited, we haven’t been out in ages.”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged honestly, standing up and lazily dragging yourself to a spot on her king-sized bed, careful not to get any of your makeup on her pure white sheets. “i feel like it’s just another party we’re going to, nothing too special.”

charli turned her attention back to the mirror and applied her blush in gentle but swift movements, a pinky tint beginning to blossom against her cheeks as she called out to her alexa to shuffle her getting ready playlist. when it turned on some of her notorious house music, she bopped from side to side, speaking loudly over the beat, “you’ll have fun tonight, though— it’ll probably be more chill than usual!”

you rolled your eyes, because charli’s chill and your chill were on opposite sides of a spectrum. but you couldn’t even protest because you swore up and down you’d stop being so damn antisocial, and actually try going out again for once, though it made you cringe at the thought of stepping out of your comfort zone.

it didn’t take long for your best friend to finish getting ready, and when the both of you had your bags in hand and empty shot glasses discarded in the sink from your pregame, you strutted out the door and made your way to the uber that waited outside her door. you yanked the car door open and greeted the driver, who was a young-looking man with fierce blue eyeshadow and curly blonde hair. he was sweet and genuine when he said hello back, pulling off into the road and typing the address into the GPS.

anxiety began to bubble in your chest, but not because you were scared— it was mainly because charli wouldn’t let you be a debbie downer and not drink or dance with her tonight. it wasn’t that you weren’t in the mood, but it had been so long that you just felt like you were out of your element.

“i’m fuckin’ pumped!” she hooted from the seat next to you, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small glass of pink liquid, and you furrowed your eyebrows at her when you realized that the liquid was actually pink whitney.

“charli,” you mumbled, mostly out of second hand embarrassment for the poor driver, “did we not just pregame?”

she shook her head as you arrived at the party, insinuating that the shot you both took together wasn’t enough for her. your eyes widened as the car came to a stop— this house was huge.

you didn’t even really know who was throwing the party, just that you were invited, but whoever it was clearly had enough money to spend it on this huge, all black penthouse. cars were lined up and down the driveway and road, ranging from bentleys to ferraris and porches, and your stomach twisted when you saw a couple familiar faces walking in and standing in the lawn with red solo cups in their hands.

charli picked up on your anxiety and rubbed your back as you both thanked the driver and exited the vehicle, “relax a bit, love, we’ve done this before.”

“that isn’t as comforting as you think.” honesty is laced in your voice as charli shrugs at you, hand on the small of your exposed back, leading you inside. the lights were completely off except for a few LEDs here and there. people were all over the place, from corners in the living room to people gambling in the living room, and the secular atmosphere made you tense up a little bit. it had been so long since you had been to one of these functions, and at first, you weren’t sure you were going to survive.

however, about an hour into the night, you had thanked charli a million times over for getting a little liquor in your system. you weren’t drunk, but you were tipsy enough to where every nervous atom in your body told you that being timid was just a suggestion, not a command. you were pretty much all over the place now— cutting up on the dance floor with charli, carrying on with some of your friends— it made every tense moment soften up.

you were dancing and singing loudly to whatever was playing on aux when the beat suddenly switched to more of a synthy sound, and you immediately recognized charli’s voice that was amplified from the speakers above.

“hey billie, you there?”

you thought it was slightly ironic that they were playing her own music at the party, but you just shrugged as you weaved yourself through the thick crowd, making your way over to the drink station.

you were waiting patiently for your drink when you heard a familiar voice behind you, and then someone’s warm skin connecting with your own on your exposed legs. you turned around and met eyes with none other than billie eilish, who was offering you a small grin as she held her red solo cup next to you, swishing the liquid in it around a few times, “didn’t expect to see you here, angel.”

you spun around on your heel, your face just inches away from her own as she took a sip of her drink, still holding eye contact with you over the rim of her cup. the way she looked at you— lowly and dark with her blue eyes sparkling in the sparse light, it made a unfamiliar heat crawl up your neck as you sucked in a breath, “eilish. nice to see you.”

“definitely nice to see you,” billie giggled, irises scanning you intensively as she leaned up against the marble counter next to her, “you look really fucking good.”

“for someone you’ve only met a couple times before this, you’re awfully bold.” you swallowed with a laugh, downing another shot as the alcohol burned your throat, making you let out a quiet cough. you smacked the shot glass against the counter and smirked at billie, “and for the record, i’m not really into the bold type.”

billie titled her head as you started to walk away, though you fully expected her to follow you— and you were right. her footsteps were close behind yours as you muttered apologized throughout the large crowd, finally settling on escaping through a pair of big glass doors, stepping out into the warm california air, perching against the balcony.

the teal eyed girl eventually leaned closer to you, her smirk widening as she took another sip out of her cup, “well, good thing i’m not all that bold, just persistent.”

you roll your eyes, “can’t you just go torture some other girl?”

“only if you admit that you like the attention first.”

although she was annoying, billie lived up to her word that she was extremely persistent with her wits. you ignored her attempt to flirt and reached into your leather handbag, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter. as you grab one and take a thick drag, billie pouts at you, but you shrug off her half-irritated expression. the faint orange glow from the end of your cigarette illuminates against your face, and you turn your head and exhale your smoke when you hear billie speak.

y’know that’s gonna kill you, right?”

a shrug is all you offer to her, letting it be known that her opinion was absolute last on your list of things to consider.

“hope it does,” you speak coolly, “so i can get away from you,” you seethe with obvious annoyance laced within your tone, but it doesn’t make billie stop her advances. she just watches as you smoke, admiring the waning sunset and the chatter of people’s voices muffled over the sound of music playing from inside the house. the silence is comforting until of course, billie breaks it, “okay damn, do you always have an attitude like this?”

“only when people think they can tell me what to do.” your reply backs up the action of you bringing your cig up to your lips to take another puff, almost to prove a clear point to billie, who’s watching you with intense eyes. she shoves her hands into her pockets nonchalantly, “m’kay, miss hard to get— what do i have to do to make you not hate me?”

“probably die.”

“ouch. but you’re not as scary as you think, angel.”

her words piss you off, but mainly because there isn’t much of a false statement within them. you weren’t scary at all, but you were mainly just annoyed and too almost-drunk and cigarette buzzed to give a damn about whatever she was saying. everytime you saw her at a party, it was this— her trying to hit on you, you refusing but in a flirtatious way, and then you went about your business. but there was something enigmatic about her advances now that made your skin tingle, especially when she looked at you with those fucking icy blue eyes.

you finished off your cigarette and threw it on the wooden floor below you, smushing the butt of it with your booted heels, a sigh passing through your swollen lips. billie spoke again, a little more softer this time, but her voice still intense as always.

“why do you play so damn hard to get, y/n?”

the question makes words of honesty roll of your tongue, the feeling of intoxication rolling over you like a small wave as you spoke lowly, “honestly, it’s just fun watching you try this hard.”

billie laughed at that, the sound smooth and sultry, and stepped closer, her body nearly brushing against your own, making your breath hitch slightly in your throat.

“be careful, baby,” she warned, her voice soft, but still weaved with her usual tone of challenge and determination, “i’m not sure you really understand what you’re getting into.”

your eyes locked with hers as she spoke, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how serious she was, yet how stupid she sounded. “wow, billie, i’ll hand it to you— you talk a lot of shit for someone who hasn’t made a single move yet.”

billie’s smile faltered a bit, swooping all her hair to one side of her shoulders as she moved so close to you that you could hear her breathing. she gave you a quick scan with an unclear motive behind her eyes, whispering, “don’t worry, babygirl. i’ll do plenty.”

you scoff, though the lack of distance between you and billie made you anxious now. her skin was touching yours now, and the contact sent ribbons of electricity up and down your spine as you looked up at her. you didn’t even realize that you weren’t breathing until she told you to do so, and embarrassment crawled onto your face when you caught your lost breath.

she had grabbed your waist without a word, her face already so close to yours that it was like you were asking for her to kiss you— so that’s exactly what she did.

she hungrily pressed her lips onto yours, fingers digging so hard into your sides that you were sure she left marks. the kiss was hungry and lustful, your body succumbing to her touch as your hips rocked against her own involuntarily, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

she pulled away with a laugh, “somebody’s a little worked up now, hm?”

before you could respond to her teasing, a loud crash echoed from deeper inside the house, the sound sharp enough to cut through the thick tension in the air. instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder, but billie didn’t loosen her grip on you, her hands still firm on your waist.

“don’t even think about it,” she murmured, her voice low, a warning laced with something a little darker.

“what if someone needs help?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the heat swirling between you. you were trying to play off the fact that the effect she had on you was now to her knowledge, but your attempts were failed.

billie leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered next to you, her breath tickling your skin. “oh don’t worry— they’ll be fine. but you? you’re mine for the night.”

you sucked in a breath, her words pulling a spark of something unexpected in your chest as you spoke, “you’re awfully possessive for someone who just met me,” you shot back, though you couldn’t quite ignore the way your heart raced at the thought of going home with her tonight. it didn’t seem like such a bad idea now— it was nothing serious, just a loose hookup with some hot girl from a friend’s party, what ever could go wrong?

billie grinned at your statement, her thumb now tracing small circles on your side, sending shivers down your spine. “maybe, but i’m sure you like it,” she said, her lips brushing against yours lightly, teasingly, as though she was waiting for you to make the next move.

you whined at that. your little ‘hard’ act was over now, and all you wanted was for the little issue that had soaked your underwear to be fixed, and fixed immediately. but you couldn’t let billie know that just yet, so you tilted your head and leaned in, speaking seductively, “and what if i don’t, hm?”

“then i guess I’ll just have to convince you,” billie replied, the smirk on her lips growing nothing but wicked as her hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

the words made a sharp feeling of arousal poke inside of you, and before you could process them fully, she kissed you again—fiercer this time, like this was her only shot at you. you didn’t want it to end, really— but she cut it off to whisper in your ear, her nails digging into your soft flesh.

“let’s go, now.”

there was nothing more that you could do to protest. you were hopeless at this point, so you latched your hand onto billie’s as she guided you back inside and through the crowd, pushing past people just to make it known that you were coming with her.

cocky bitch.

you eventually pushed past so many different people that a strong mix of cologne, liquor, and perfume filled your nose. you had made eye contact with charli, who did nothing but give you a wiggle of her eyebrows and a wink when she saw who you were leaving with, which made you even more scared.

as you made your way outside, a fresh wind of air flew against your face, and you felt like anxiety was the only thing pumping through your veins as billie led you to her black porsche, opening the door for you.

“my lady,” she joked as you climbed inside, though really, in this moment, it felt like her saying “my whore,” was more appropriate. here you were— playing hard to get at first, now cooped up in some girl’s car that you barely know after a party, and on the way to her place.

the car ride felt way longer than it actually was, because your mind couldn’t stop racing against your will about what was about to happen to you. you sat in the driveway now, and billie wasn’t speaking, which only made your nerves more amplified as she opened the door for you again, eventually leading you inside.

as soon as she closed the door behind you, she was on you like white on rice. her lips immediately smashed into yours— and it wasn’t sweet, either— it was hard and fast and so very impure. you were moaning into her mouth when she swept you right off of your feet, your legs wrapped around her hips as her back settled against the wall. one of billie’s ringed hands supported your ass as her tongue timidly crossed paths with your own, and soon enough, the only sounds that could be heard without her house were the sounds of heavy breathing and lips smacking.

billie pulled away and your legs detached from her hips because you felt like if you didn’t stand, you were gonna pass out. a whine left you as billie shot you a look of such passion that it almost scared you.

“look at you,” she talked louder now that you two were in private, her tattooed hand coming up to wrap itself around your neck, but lacking a squeeze, “just an hour ago you were so persistent that i leave you alone, but now the only thought in your head is of me fuckin’ you, huh?”

you can’t even respond because you know she’s speaking nothing but the truth. billie doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak, either, she just presses you further against the wall and swipes her lips against your own, backing up and leading you to her bedroom without breaking the kiss, your only guidance being her hand that was firmly pressed against your throat.

billie eventually had you laying back-down on her bed as she sat on top of you, hands roaming all around your exposed skin. you let out helpless moans— you were such a horny mess when you were drunk, but you didn’t care now— all you cared about was making sure billie understand how eager you were for her, how bad you needed her.

she broke the kiss and began to use her right hand to undo the zipper on your shorts, but when it jammed, she let out a thick sigh of annoyance.

“just fuckin’ get rid of it, it’s pissing me off.”

you adhere to her request with quick obedience, taking off your shorts quickly and discarding them by throwing them somewhere around the room. billie offers your neck light kisses before sucking at the bare skin, a moan passing through your lips as she left dark love bites on you.

“b-billie…” you moaned, “please, just…touch me already.”

“oh, i thought you couldn’t stand me.” she teased you, taking off your lacy top, revealing your bare boobs due to you not wearing a bra.

your nipples laid victim to billie’s touch as she sucked on your left one, her thumb and index finger rubbing against your right one, and it took everything in you not to cum right then and there.

the alcohol in your body made every single part of you so sensitive, and you didn’t know how much more you could take when billie left a huge hickey on the skin in between your breasts. she was relentless with her movements, her head now plastered right between your thighs, the tip of her nose meeting with the very tip top of your clit.

billie’s eyes drop to your pretty blue panties that you’re wearing, a noticeable wet spot forming in the crotch of them, making your cheeks feel hot to the touch.

“already so wet for me and i’ve barely even touched you. what a dirty little girl— you wanna be fucked all better by me, hm? someone who you hardly know?”

you don’t let anything out but noise, and billie yanks your underwear down with a swift movement, her head so deeply buried in between your thighs that you can feel her warmth against your sex. billie lets out a cocky gasp when her eyes lay on your pussy, “gosh, you’re dripping, baby.”

“eilish, just t-touch me already,” you stutter out pathetically, and billie can’t hold back anymore, so she listens to your request and fulfills it, fully. her tongue quickly maneuvers itself into your leaking cunt, collecting all your juices like trophies as her thumb comes up to rub your clit. the pleasure makes your skin feel hot and tingly as you arch your back, little moans passing through your lips.

just as things start to get more intense, you hear someone walking around in the living room and call out billie’s name. your eyes widen and you freeze up like a deer in headlights, but billie looks up at you and shrugs, “it’s just zoe.”

“just zoe?” you whisper-yell, “i don’t wanna be caught having sex with you when your friend is here!”

“then don’t get us caught.”

billie says it like it’s simple, and she returns to the task at hand, eating you out like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. your hands found themselves in her hair, grabbing a handful of it so hard that it was the only thing steadying your body weight.

“you taste s’good, my god.” billie mewls against your sex, “made me work so hard for this pussy, feels like such a reward.”

billie switches out her tongue for two of her fingers now, and she doesn’t care that they’ve still got her rings on them. you both watch as your cunt swallows her digits that pump into you harshly, her silver jewelry now coated with your arousal. she curls her fingertips upwards, hitting a sweet and spongy spot deep within you that makes your hips buck wildly.

you feel your eyes start to shut, but billie gives you a slap to the thigh, forcing you to accept her offer of eye contact that she gives you, “look at me, slut. you wanted this— so you’re gonna watch me fuck you, and if you even make a single noise, i’m not letting you cum. understand that, princess? nod if you do.”

you nod fervently, your lips flattening out as you made sure not to make a single noise. footsteps sounded from outside and a knock was harbored against billie’s bedroom door, “bils? you in there?”

“a little busy right now, zo.” billie called out, still fucking into your pussy harshly with her thick fingers. you felt your orgasm bubble deep within you and you wanted to make a sound so show for it so badly, but it seems like billie picked up on the memo by the way she used her other hand to toy at your swollen clit.

“oh, okay! just wanted to let you know that there’s leftovers in the fridge, and that i’m gonna go ahead and hit the hay. goodnight, love you!” zoe called as her footsteps faded out, and billie yelled back something about how she loved her too and how she’d probably eat the food later.

she then turned her attention back to you, watching as you fell apart because of her hard, quick movements.

“bil…bil…billie, please,” you whined and whimpered and begged for the blue eyed girl, your hips crushing down onto her fingers in a desperate effort to get yourself off, “i’m so close…i’m gonna…gonna cum—“

“hm, i don’t know, should i even let you cum?” billie spoke through a teasing, soft voice, making you whimper at the fact that you may or may not be able to cum, and whatever the answer was it was completely up to her to decide.

you couldn’t take the teasing anymore— you were so damn close, and would pretty much do anything to finish yourself off. you looked down at billie and when you made eye contact with her, you immediately screwed your eyes shut. it was just too much.

but you wanted to reach that sweet point of pleasure so bad, so you whispered in pleasure, “p-please billie, i’ll do anything just…i wanna cum, i wanna cum so bad…”

“only if you ask nicely.”

clearly billie was fucking with you. you had obviously asked pretty nicely the first time, but it wasn’t adequate enough for her, needless to say. she had slowed down her thrusts, making that tight feeling in your tummy subside, and you let out a long whine of complaint at that.

just ask nicely, you thought— and if maybe you did it the right way, even though it chipped at your pride, you’d finally get to cum, the feeling you’d been waiting for for what seemed like hours.

“please, please, please let me cum.”

billie tilted her head to the side cockily, and you already knew there was gonna be something else she was going to force you to do until you could be granted that feeling of release.

“please, who?”

usually you couldn’t be paid to call someone anything other than terms of endearment or their legal name, but in this moment, it felt so effortless as the nickname slipped between your teeth, a small moan pressed behind it.

“p-please, mommy— please just…l-let me…fuck…!”

billie cooed underneath you as she fucked into you relentlessly, that familiar feeling reappearing in your stomach as your cunt fluttered around the girl’s fingers, her other hand busy with rubbing your puffy clit in big, sloppy circles, fueling your orgasm.

“that’s right, make a mess on me, it’s okay.” billie praised, watching you as you came undone on her fingers, a bunch of ‘thank you’s and moans leaving your lips as she fucked you through your orgasm slowly.

you can’t even speak it was so good, and billie gives your clit a couple lazy kisses before gathering your juices up onto her fingertips, placing them in her mouth and looking up at you with hungry eyes.

“taste fucking marvelous, babygirl.” billie giggled, coming up to your level to plant a kiss on your own lips before she stood up off the bed, venturing over to her dresser where she pulled out a thick, purple strap. she slipped her own clothing off and started to slip the strap on, making you gulp nervously when the length was put into perspective.

“y’know,” billie starts as she makes her way back over to her bed, where you were a quivering mess, laying on her plain sheets that were now decorated by your small wet spot beneath you.

“didn’t think you’d be so submissive in bed.”

“i’m not!” you protest, but you start to regret your words when billie slammed into you, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix, making a feeling of pain mixed with pleasure wash over you. it was a mistake to say that in short, billie wasn’t the only one capable of being the boss— and you wish that the statement had never left your mouth.

billie ruts her hips into your own, and her demeanor is nothing but mean. one hand is tugging at your hair, and the other slapping your ass every once and a while— unless her thumb is too busy rolling against your clit that was so sensitive to touch, it borderline hurt.

“talk to me, slut,” billie spoke naughtily, “how’s this feel, hm? my dick slamming into you, your pretty little pussy clenching around me? that feel good?”

“s-s’good, yes, bils!” you yell, completely disregarding the fact that zoe was just a door or two down from billie’s, but you didn’t care anymore. you couldn’t. the way billie was fucking you made it nearly impossible not to scream.

it seemed like her whole demeanor changed because she slowed down a little and placed sloppy kiss all over your cheeks and forehead as she thrusted deeply into you, the imitative cock filling your tight pussy up to the brim. billie lovingly held you now, “i know you wanna cum, princess— it’s okay, cum for me, wanna see your pretty face while you do it, too.”

it’s like she knew before you did, because as soon as the words left her mouth, you felt your second orgasm incoming, making you gasp. it felt much more powerful than the first, and you bucked your hips irregularly as you chanted billie’s name like a broken record, “i’m cumming, bil— mmph! i…i’m…”

“shh, it’s okay, i know it baby…i know how good it feels. tell mommy how good it feels.” billie whispers at you, and you offer her nothing but little whimpers as you came down from your high, still riding her cock slowly to fully finish you off.

when you finally settle down, billie pulls out of you, putting the strap away and returning with a washcloth and water for you. she makes you lay down even though you assure her that you can take care of yourself, wiping away at your pussy and inner thighs. she gives you a kiss and then continues her task, and when she’s finished, she lays beside you and cuddles up to you, skin to skin.

“you did so good, pretty girl. don’t worry, you’re always gonna be my good little girl.”

#billie eilish angst #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #wlw #gxg #gxg imagine #gxg smut #gxg fluff #‧₊˚✩ — 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒!

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eupheme · 4 months ago

Text

— the season for second third fourth chances

[part v of sugar, sugar] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: holiday fluff, reader references/celebrates christmas, misunderstandings, light angst, references to canon-typical anxiety, violence, wade's cancer diagnosis, and death, references plot events in DP 1 & 2, sexual innuendos/implied smut, feelings

With the holidays on the horizon, your afternoons are filled with preparations for Wade’s annual holiday party. With baking and cookie decorating, finishing up wrapping presents - and maybe even a little Christmas miracle, when you find yourself running into a familiar face.

"What?"

It slips from you, as your eyebrows shoot up - glancing down at the piece of cardstock. Before you're adding -

"Why?"

Wade huffs, his finger tapping against the text that loops across the top.

"Don't give me that, Sugar. I spent ages picking out the right font, I know the contrast is enough for you to read it clearly."

And he's right. You can definitely read it, even without the coarse coat of glitter making the headline sparkle.

‘Spread Some Christmas Cheer’

The letters arching above a photo of Wade. His suit on, of course, as he lounges across the lap of what appears to be a mall Santa. Dread in the man’s once-twinkling blue eyes, as one of Wade’s legs drapes across the velvet red suit, the other kicked high against the back of the padded red chair.

‘With Wade Wilson's Winter Wonderland’ in script beneath - with dates and time for his party listed below.

"I can definitely read it," You acknowledge, "I was just asking what, as in what made you take this, and maybe even where, because-"

"Oh," He chuckles, "Yeah, I'm absolutely banned from JCPenney, but worth it, right? This is my best-looking card yet."

You can't help the smile, "It's definitely something."

He grins, "So, you'll come? I heard there might be a certain someone there."

"Is that right?" Your tongue pokes against your cheek.

"Mhmm. Pretty sure he sees you when you're sleeping. Definitely know if you've been naughty or nice, and I know for a fact I've seen you in his lap-"

There's a sound of disgust, as your nose wrinkles, "Okay, can you not talk about Logan that way? I don't need a Santa comparison in my head."

"Just thought I'd spice some things up for you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, we've all had a crush on the big man."

"On who?" There's a rough voice behind you - Logan hand fisted around the fleece jacket tugged from the back of the armchair.

"He knows what I'm talking about," Wade points, "I'm just saying, if Santa needs help handling that sack of his, I'm so fucking down."

"Jesus fucking Christ." An arm curls around you, as Logan glances at the invite, "Wait, this is this weekend?"

"Yes, this weekend," Wade sniffs, "We talked about it yesterday."

"Wasn't home yesterday." Logan's eyebrow cocks, "Or the day before."

"Well, I talked about it with somebody." Wade shrugs - another tapped finger at the bottom of the card, "Anyways, blah, blah, blah. It’s all here, proper name, place name, backstory stuff... just be there, because I know where you live-"

"We'll be there." You interrupt, biting back your smile, "Want me to bring anything?"

Wade's look turns pleased, and then thoughtful, "Well, I was going to get some cookies from Yeastie Boys Bakery..."

The words trailing off, as you groan - already so over the new bakery in town, their stupid jingle and 'viral' cupcakes that taste like shit.

"Don't even talk to me about them."

You can feel the way Logan's hands brace on your shoulder. The low, "he's kidding sweetheart-" rumbled in your ear.

"Guilty." Wade's hands spread wide, "Was just trying to rile you up into offering some of your own splendid wares. Al still talks about the ones you brought over last year. If it’s not too much work…"

The sentence trails off, as he bats his brown, pleading, puppy-dog eyes at you.

"Lead with that next time, asshole." Logan sighs.

"It's not." You answer automatically, though you're already mentally running through your schedule.

The presents you still have to wrap. The loose ends of Wade's gift that you still have to weave in. Another trip to the grocery store, for certain - you'll have to bake at home, since it's a favor.

There's a kiss pressed to your temple, as Logan moves around you.

"I know that look. Don't push too hard, honey." He finishes shrugging on his jacket, "I’ll see if Laura and I can help you out tomorrow."

Wade's voice chiming in, “And let it be known I am formally offering to help, but-”

You huff, “Thank you, but you’re still banned from my kitchen, Wade.”

Still not over the surprise of your gingerbread appearing with piped anatomically correct additions, after you had left him unsupervised last year.

The kiss goodbye you share with Logan lingers, a grateful press of your mouth against his. Wondering what you did to deserve such a man, still ready to pinch yourself every day.

A look in his eyes that matches yours, as he steps around Wade, who still lingers.

"Thanks, Sugar." He grins, "And remember - you better be good for goodness sake-"

You groan, as you shove him out the door. Logan's fingers curling around the collar of Wade’s jacket, the other tugging at the handle.

Unable to help adding your usual farewell, “Be careful out there, okay? Come back safe.”

Not that they need it, not with their powers. But it still feels like a charm, tucked carefully into their pockets as they head out together again - off on a new mission.

"I’ll take care of your Sugar Bear.” It's sung out, muffled behind the closed door. “Love you byeee!"

A sigh, as you shake your head.

Guess you have some work to do.

Your pen marks another item off your list, as you inch your cart through the too-busy grocery store.

It’s already half-filled with other last-minute items. Another couple gifts, now that official date of the party looms on the horizon - you can’t leave Peter, Ellie, and Yukio out, after all.

A new decorative Christmas plate for the cookies - you had lost yours in the impromptu disc golf match that Wade hosted at the apartment last year.

Last you heard, it was still on the roof next door.

Molasses, brown sugar, and spices for gingerbread. A fresh box of food coloring, for the sugar cookies - you were out of red, from last year as well.

A pack of powdered sugar drops down into your cart. Reaching for a second, just as another hand bumps against yours.

Twin apologies chime, as your eyes flick to the side.

Instantly recognizing the woman next to you - the sheepish look on your face cooling.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in recognition, “Hey.”

“Hi, Vanessa.” You offer a half-smile - the last dregs of your annoyance with Wade vanishing, as you rest the second bag on top of the other.

A beat, before you manage, “How are you?”

“Good. Office party,” She wiggles her own bag, before it slips into the basket at her elbow, “You?”

“Um, I’m good, too.” You shrug, “And no, uh… friend’s party.”

Wade seemed mostly over the disaster that happened close to two months ago. More prone to forgiving and forgetting - gracious, in a way that you could be, when you wanted. That you were, most of the time.

After all, it was easier, to let something slide off your back when it came to a personal grudge. You could be an adult and move on, then.

But it was still hard to forget how crushed Wade had been. How you knew that she knew he had been cooking for her the night she stood him up- a drunken confession that he had seen the notification that she had watched the stories he had snapped for his social media stories.

And even if he was over it, you weren’t sure you were.

“Wade’s party?” She guesses, and it makes you blink.

Wondering when and how she had been invited. As far as you knew, her name hadn’t passed his lips in weeks.

“Yeah.” Your eyes search hers - the tightness in them, how she bites the inside of her cheek, “Are… you?”

“Undecided,” Her lips lift. A breath, before she’s asking, “How’s he been lately? Is he…”

You can’t help the small frown, a mark deepening between your brows, “He’s good.”

A half-truth, before you tack a little more on, “Sure he’s appreciating the extra space. Fixed Al up with a Murphy bed, and Logan’s been staying with me a lot lately.”

“Oh. I thought-” Vanessa’s sentence trails off.

She looks lost for a moment. A glance downward, picking at the manicured edge of a nail.

You haven’t seen her like this before. Too used to her confidence, those sharp edges that you lack.

Pity flickers through you.

“I really have to go. If I don’t start these soon, I’ll be up all night.”

It comes out apologetic - and you realize, you actually mean it, “But why don’t you swing by my apartment in a bit? I’m gonna be baking all afternoon, but I make a mean boozy hot chocolate.”

The look she gives you is tinged with relief.

It’s enough to make you wonder what you’re missing.

“Wait, what?” You yelp - for the second time, in forty-eight hours.

There’s a smudge of flour on your sweater. Holiday music pouring through the speaker on your counter. Vanessa carefully inching the gingerbread cutouts an inch apart.

A shoulder lifting, as she repeats herself, “I said I thought he moved on. With you.”

Not knowing, with the way she had come late to the party where you had met Logan. Left early, with her new corporate schedule.

You almost over-pour the ground cinnamon into the second batch. Tipping it back into the jar, as you let the spoon clatter against the counter. Her head tilts, at your expression.

“You haven’t thought about it? I know you’re both close.”

In another world, perhaps.

Another life - one where you hadn’t met Logan when you did. Hadn’t spent months cheering Wade on, those once barely-there flickers of interest fading to something solidly platonic some time ago.

Your head shakes, the words coming slowly, “It’s always been you, Vanessa. Everyone knows that.”

The corner of her lips lift. Fingernails tapping against the aluminum pan.

“I thought so, too.”

You frown, “Is that why didn’t you show? When he asked you over for dinner?”

Vanessa laughs then, rueful.

“The dinner.” Her eyes flick away, going back to a memory - a beat, before the snap to yours, “Yeah. I wanted to go. I uh, just split with Dermot. From work.”

You nod, remembering - overhearing the conversation at Wade’s birthday.

“He wanted me to move in. Said he saw a future with me, but when it came down to taking that step…” Her lips press together, the lift of a shoulder, “I’ve never seen myself with anyone else. Only him.”

Only Wade.

“But… then I saw you with him. The stories he posted. The two of you cooking, dressed up like a date.” It comes in a rush, “I thought, incorrectly, apparently-”

“He was cooking for you.” There’s a furrow in your brow, trying to piece together the way she saw it.

The sundress you wore for Logan. The captions that tipped towards lewd that you had tried to get him to delete - jokes about “getting lucky”, or the chicken not the only thing “being stuffed tonight”.

She nods, “I’m getting that now.”

“I think you still should have gone.” It’s starting to make sense, but you can’t help the reproach in your tone, ”He was devastated.”

The look she shoots you is defensive. Vanessa had always carried an intensity you lacked, and you take the full brunt of it now. Your fingers curl into fists for strength, not letting your gaze drop first. A beat, before she nods.

“I guess it’s just become easier to run.” Vanessa admits, “Defense mechanism. Get out first. Ironic, I know.”

You frown, not knowing, “Has that… has that happened before?”

“Which time?” Her laugh is close to a scoff, as she sighs.

Your eyes drop now, as you go back to your work. Back to measuring, tipping the spices into your mixer. The words coming slowly.

”He hasn’t told me a lot. Just a bit about last time. About…” You search for the words, feeling guilty. “About him not doing enough. That you wanted him to do something meaningful, and then the stuff with the Avengers, and…”

The words die, when you see her face.

Sorrow and anger, with the sharp shake of her head, “I never gave a damn about the Avengers. That was all Wade.”

A sigh, as she collects herself.

“I just wanted him to find his passion again. He changed… a few years ago. Something happened, a really close call. He fixed it, but he wasn’t the same after.”

A breath, before she adding, “He took it hard. Guilt, I think. All I really wanted was for him to talk to me. To let me help him, but he never let me in because he didn’t want me getting hurt again. He shut down, and stopped talking to me.”

The mixer hums. A beep of your timer, as the minutes tick down.

“You know Wade. Always has a joke ready. Never wants to get serious if he can help it. It’s stupid, but we... drifted.” Vanessa’s throat bobs as she swallows, “I was dealing with my own shit, and when he pushed me away, it reminded me of last time.”

She catches your expression again, as the dough tips out of the bowl. The furrow of your brow, as you swap it for a chilled portion in your fridge.

“It’s been a recurring theme,” It comes out blunt.

Her look turning considering, then, when the frown doesn't waver.

“Do you love Logan?”

The rolling pin slips in your grip. Pressing too hard, denting dough.

“I-,” You breathe. The question unexpected, leaving you wholly unprepared, even as your heart beats out the answer.

Her expression softens, “You care about him.”

You nod mutely.

“What would you do, if Logan just - disappeared? No trace of him, just gone in the night?”

Her question hangs. A physical ache in your chest at the mere thought, one that leaves you unable to breathe. Pieces starting to click together - little bits of what you know, forming some sort of photo.

“Is that what Wade did?”

She nods, “It was right after his cancer diagnosis. He was going through a lot, and just - left. For years. I thought… I thought he had died. I mourned him. It crushed me.”

You can’t help but reach across the table - hesitant, in the way you squeeze her arm.

She lets you, a look shot your way. Defending him, unable to help it.

“I get it, though. I get that it was a lot. I’ve forgiven him. But…” Her teeth pinch at her cheek, that guilt coming back, “When he started pulling away, I thought it was happening again. I couldn’t live through that again.”

You finish for her, “So you left first.”

She nods.

Silence lingers. Nails tapping on the countertop, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers. The heat of the oven curling across your arms, as you swap one tray for another. Setting it aside to cool.

“You should go talk to him.” Your voice cracks through the quiet, when you turn - hands bracing against the counter.

Her eyebrows raise, “And say what?”

”Tell him what you told me. That you were just scared.” Your voice softens, “He invited you to his party because he still *wants* you in his life.”

She blinks, silent.

“I’ll help you,” You coax, “Logan’s already coming over tonight.”

Your eyes flick down to your phone, checking, ”Uh, really soon, actually. I’ll go next door with you, and bring Althea back with me. Give you two some time to catch up.”

Vanessa’s fingers cards through her hair - pushing back the long strands, the words coming slowly, “I don’t know…”

“Wade is crazy about you.” It comes out bluntly, and it’s this that pulls her attention.

You’re already swiping a container off the counter. Filling the bottom with sugar cookies baked this morning - cut into trees and mittens, decorated with buttercream and sprinkles.

The lid snaps on, as you hold it out to her.

“Trust me?”

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the swirl of emotions across her face.

You smile and finally - she nods.

She follows a step behind, as you leave the apartment. The hallway chilly, the entrance bringing in a dusting of snow across the carpet, with the revolving holiday traffic.

The closing front door downstairs echoes with your own, as you head the next apartment over. Knuckles rapping against the wood, fingers mentally crossed.

A voice ringing out, muffled, “If you’re part of Rudolph and the Red-Hot Reindeers, you’re a day early-”

Opening to reveal Wade, dressed down in a shirt and sweatpants with his Deadpool logo patterned across them.

“Oh, hey Sugar.” He smiles, “What’s up?”

“Well,” You stall for a second, trying to figure out what exactly to say, “Is Althea home? Was wondering if she could help me with something.”

Wade chuckles.

“Fat fucking chance, she’s two episodes into the Golden Bachelor right now and she’s sure as hell not moving-” The words die out as Vanessa moves into view, the container in hand.

He goes silent, for the first time you can remember.

“I have the same streaming apps as you, I’m sure I can convince her.” Your shift - a hand touching at her shoulder, urging her forward, “And maybe you could do me a favor, too. Taste test these for tomorrow?”

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear you. His eyes lingering on Vanessa, his face bleeding from surprise to confusion to hope, as he takes her in.

“Yeah.” He manages after a long moment - clearing his throat.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, not with the way Al enjoys a cup of piping hot tea as much as you do - along with the promise she can watch her beloved show in peace. Almost giddy in the way she makes for the door, cane in hand and Dogpool tucked in the crook of her other arm.

The door just shutting behind you before she’s hissing, “What in God’s name was that?”

You shush her, eyes flicking back towards the apartment. Almost jumping out of your skin when it’s followed by another voice, this one pitched low.

“Seconded. Busy afternoon?”

Logan leans against the wall, Laura expression clear with the pull of her brows. Thirded.

“Something like that.” You herd them inside your apartment, before they can be overheard - not that Wade was listening, you’re sure.

The door is barely shut, before they’re rounding on you. Your own hands on your hips - a nod directing them towards the kitchen table, laden with bare gingerbread cookies.

Al tucked in the armchair, spun around the face the bustle of the kitchen, her show long forgotten.

“You’re stalling.” Laura points out bluntly, as you hand her the bag of icing.

Your tongue tucked against your teeth, as you shoot Logan a look. His eyebrows raised in response, eyes sliding over to the brick wall that separates your apartment from Wade.

“I’m not,” The word strings out, “It’s just, like, it’s not a big deal, right?”

She scoffs.

Althea’s cane taps the ground, “Something happened, and you’d better spill.”

“Alright,” Your fingers spread in front of you, “I ran into Vanessa at the store today. And we got to talking, and I invited her back here. I think she regrets what happened between them.”

There’s a snort of derision, and you can feel yourself starting to bristle.

“We all have our opinions, myself included-” You allow, as another noise interrupts you - lower and more gruff this time. You spin, shooting Logan another look.

“But I think she was genuine. I’ve certainly had my fair share of… miscommunications,” His expressions softens at your words, the corner of his lips curling as you shift to face Al.

“And I got some really good advice once from someone. Something about ‘talking about it’, and that’s what I encouraged her to do.”

“Hope you’re right,” Al sighs- but there’s a smile there, hidden in the way her lips press together, “That boy is more sensitive than my left tit in a snowstorm.”

“Jesus.” It’s muttered, at your shoulder. Logan’s head shaking as he joins Laura, the hint of a smirk as she works on piping a set of angry eyebrows.

Your eyes roll, “I am.”

Spinning back to face the table, as you grab your own bag of frosting.

“After all, it’s Christmas,” You can’t help but throw her way, from over your shoulder.

“And isn’t that the best time for a miracle?”

Logan’s arms wrap around you later, as you snap the last lid in place. Finally done with your last-minute idea - decorating each of the gingerbread to look like your friends.

Laura slipping out a few minutes ago, intent on staying until the end. Just as determined as Logan to see things through, even though you tried to get her to leave a few times - worried about the weather, the long drive back to the mansion.

The slight smile as her eyes rolled - with your affection towards her, you forget how impervious she is.

Althea long asleep in the couch, the quilt Logan’s borrowed so many nights before tucked around her. Ambient holiday music still pouring through the speaker, your attempt to drown out the enthusiastic reunion taking place next door.

Can’t bring yourself to mind. More relieved than anything.

And you deserve it, you suppose.

“You did a good thing.” It’s murmured into your hair, as you finally relax into him.

Arms curling beneath his, wrapping around his broad back to embrace him. You hum with contentment as his lips brush your temple.

“Don’t know if I can manage a miracle,” His lips curve when you lean back, eyes flicking up to meet his, “But if there anything else you might want for Christmas?”

Your teeth sink into your lip, as you grin.

The answer is easy, as your face tips towards his.

“Just want more time with you.”

Logan huffs, as his hand dips down. Cupping soft flesh, kneading - as he tugs you the rest of the way. A grin, just before his mouth presses against yours.

“Mm. Hope you don’t mind celebrating a little early, then.”

Red and green have exploded in the apartment next door - the flamingo lights that spill from the kitchen replaced with blinking bulbs. A tree that you’re truly unsure how it fit through the door, much less the narrow hallway, tucked in the corner.

You and Logan had helped decorate it earlier in the month - Wade directing from the couch, as the two of you and Althea arranged the ornaments. A ninja star zip-tied to the top, but with the lights turned low, and the swirl of snow coming down outside - it’s cozy.

It’s familiar - faces you’ve come to know well, known to love, fill the space. The cookies are a hit, sweet exclamations as they find the ones that represent them. Woolen and knitted sweaters, bodies tucked together on a hodgepodge of surfaces.

And perhaps, you do end up on Logan’s lap. His thighs spread wide in an armchair Wade found on the curb, out of place against the brick walls and industrial windows with its floral pattern.

Your eyes meeting Wade’s from across the living room, anticipating the tease.

But he only smiles back.

Something soft - an arm slung around Vanessa’s shoulder. The ‘white elephant in the room’, as he had cheekily alluded to it, addressed with a carefully placed piece of mistletoe.

Side-eyes and stunned silence easing into smiles, when you all saw the way they looked at each other.

And when he corners you to tell you thank you, you know the bone-crushing hug is not just for the handmade red-and-black beanie and scarf that you had gotten up early to finish for him.

The rest of your gifts don’t quite reach the same level, but you’re pleased all the same. Laura’s smile shy as she tries on the Docs you caught her eyeing, ankle twisting as her eyes dip down.

Logan’s arm tightening around your waist when you hand him the wrapped package. His eyes lingering on yours until the paper is loosened, a pleased hum when he sees the lined leather jacket you picked out for him.

“Your first winter with us in New York,” You smile, “Can’t have you catching cold.”

Something to keep in warm, when he tinkers on the bike stashed in the basement. To protect him, when he’s not in his suit. Better than that the faded fleece he’s lifted from Wade’s closet.

And even though you’d been fairly certain he’d given you your gift last night - and again this morning - there’s still a pretty card tucked into your palm. A piece of paper folded inside, next to sentiments that made heat rise to your cheeks.

A photo printed out - a cozy little cabin, the roof lined with snow. Framed with a thick ring of woods and surrounded by wilderness. The reservation dates and details marked out in the text below.

“A vacation?” You can’t remember the last time you’ve been away. Excitement surging at the thought of spending a week tucked away with your boyfriend, “For us?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Logan husks, “Found a nice little place up north. Just you and me.”

His fingers flex against your waist, his face tipping up to yours, “Would you like that?”

“I’d love that.” You smile.

You love him.

You’re certain of that - a name for that warm weight in your chest that’s been there for weeks. Since the beginning really, coming to a full flourish with the conversation the day before.

Maybe with the turn of the new year, you’ll pluck up enough courage to tell him.

For now, you beam at him. Pressing yourself close - entwining fingers that squeeze. Hoping he can read the soft look you give him, the words murmured out, in the little bubble you’ve found yourselves in.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, before he tugs you down to meet him.

“Merry Christmas, Sugar.”

after part iii, i could not leave our bff wade with a sad ending!!! 💖 for a little bit early on i toyed with the idea of making this series a poly one (before come on and show me) hence a couple little references throughout (and the reason to keep the breakup in the first place) (which I still have beef with in the movie, BUT I did my best). thank you for checking out this series, it might be one of my favorite things I’ve had the pleasure to work on and seeing the love on it has been so amazing 💕

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader #deadpool & wolverine #wolverine imagine

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