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1800-fight-me · 7 months ago

Text

Devout Worshiper

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex! This is literally pure smut.

Word count: About 3.3k

Synopsis: The Prince Regent expresses his carnal desire and devotion to you atop the Iron Throne.

Author’s note: We were robbed! I can't believe they never showed us Aemond sitting on the Iron Throne or wearing a crown! So anyway I tried to fix it with this fic- please accept my humble offering.

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

It was long after the moon rose and the knocking on your chamber door was loud and insistent. It made you nervous, and as you opened the door your confusion only grew.

A kingsguard stood in your doorway.

“My lady, the Prince Regent requests your presence in the throne room.” He said sternly, making it clear it was more of a demand than a request.

Prince Regent?

Trepidation filled you, but you only nodded demurely and followed his lead.

You flinched as thunder cracked loud enough to hurt your ears. Flashes of lightning lit your way through the halls of the Red Keep as rain poured.

The kingsguard opened the door to the throne room and gestured for you to enter. He did not follow you, only closed the door behind you, sealing you in.

Lightning flashed again and you saw the Prince Regent where he lounged on the iron throne. His long silver hair practically shimmered in the low light, his legs were spread, and his gaze was heart stoppingly intimidating.

Your heart skipped a beat, but for a completely different reason.

“Aemond,” you breathed out, walking forward again so eagerly you nearly tripped over your own feet.

You heard that he and Vhagar had returned to King’s Landing after the battle, but hadn't seen him yet. He looked good, completely himself, not a scratch on him and not a hair out of place. You were so relieved.

He murmured your name too, strong unidentified

emotion behind the syllables.

As you beheld your childhood best friend, he looked the same, but something about him was completely changed. Perhaps it had something to do with the conqueror’s crown that rested upon his brow.

You stopped walking as you reached the bottom of the stairs of the throne.

“What-“

”Aegon was grievously harmed in the battle, I have been named Prince Regent while he heals,” he explained.

You nodded, you had heard the King was hurt.

“And you, are you alright?”

He smiled crookedly and nodded.

You stared up at him, for the first time in your life uncertain about what to say to your childhood companion. The circumstances of this conversation were far different than any other time you spoke to him.

He beckoned you forward, and feeling jittery you

tentatively made your way up the steps of the iron throne.

As you reached him, relief overcame you and you laid your hand on his cheek.

“I’m so glad you’ve returned unharmed. I was so worried for you. I don’t know what I would do if-“

He shushed you gently as he placed a large hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leading you to stand between his spread legs.

You knew that none of this was proper.

“I am here,” he murmured and nuzzled his face into your hand.

Your heart thumped harder as you tried to pull your hand away, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and prevented you, instead running his nose gently across your skin, invoking goosebumps.

He took a deep breath as his nose reached your wrist and let out a soft groan.

Your knees threatened to buckle.

You should pull away. Walk away. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. You were betrothed to another man. He was betrothed to a woman who was not you.

“I thought of nothing but your scent throughout the battle, of returning home to you and smelling you once more,” he said, his voice low and deep, before he pressed his lips to your wrist.

“Aemond,” you protested weakly.

“Claiming you as mine,” he continued, trailing his lips further up your arm, pushing away the fabric in search of your skin.

“It is a sin,” you protested.

About a year ago Queen Alicent caught you and Aemond in a passionate kiss, it was not the first kiss between the two of you, and reprimanded you both sharply. Reminded you both that your maidenhood must remain intact and that developing feelings for one another was folly as it was highly likely you would both be betrothed to others.

Her words were sharp and you took them to heart. You did your best to squash your feelings for Aemond and treat him only as a friend.

But feelings that strong don’t merely disappear… and it seemed Aemond’s desire for you remained as fiery as ever.

“Nothing between you and I could ever be a sin. We were made for each other,” he said urgently, his lips now reaching the skin revealed by your collar as he pulled you even closer.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“We are betrothed to marry others,” you said even as you whined at the feel of his lips against your throat.

“Fuck that,” he said as he bit down on the most sensitive part of your neck.

Your grip on his shoulder tightened even as you plunged your other hand in his hair at the back of his head and held him closer, tighter, never wanting to be apart from him again.

He chuckled darkly and licked up your throat to your jaw.

“Aemond,” you panted and he pulled back enough to look you in the eye, one hand slipping to caress the side of your face.

“You are mine,” he growled.

You whimpered.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out.

You stared into his violet gaze, overwhelmed by the emotion you beheld.

“And I am yours,” he said.

“And you are mine,” you repeated.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but his lips crashed into yours, and it was like coming up for air. You couldn’t breathe without him, hadn’t been able to breathe properly in a year, and now in his arms with his lips covering yours, your breaths came properly.

He pulled back all too soon, and said, “We will say our vows again on the morrow in the sept. I am Prince Regent now, I sit upon the Iron Throne, no one can deny us. You will be mine for the rest of our lives.”

The crack in your heart that has festered over the last year healed over instantly and you scrambled upon his lap as you kissed him once more.

As your tongue tangled with his and you both gripped one another tighter, as he held you closer than you’d ever been held.

‘Finally, finally, finally’ your heart and soul sang. He let out a cocky chuckle and you realized you’d said the words out loud.

He pulled your legs apart, spreading them as you settled more comfortably on his lap, your dress no longer a barrier between the two of you as his tongue flicked against yours.

Heat ran up your spine as the taste of him filled your mouth, as your blood pounded through your veins, as he somehow managed to pull you even closer- practically crushing you against him.

His hand ran up from your waist, his palm enveloping and gently squeezing your breast, and an erotic moan escaped from your lips, spilling into his mouth.

He pulled your mouth closer, tangling his tongue with yours as he moaned back. His fingers began to tug at the laces of your bodice, and you pulled back with a small gasp.

“Aemond,” you whispered in concern, looking back to make sure you were well and truly alone.

“I ordered them to leave us be and guard the doors. No one will interrupt us,” he reassured as he tugged again at the tie covering your heaving bosom.

Your breasts spilled from your dress as you stared into his eye. You reached around his head and unbuckled the eyepatch, letting it fall to the side, rendering him bare too as the sapphire eye glittered- a reflection of the flashing lightning.

His gaze dropped to your chest, and with hands on your waist he led you to move your hips, grinding down on his hardened length.

Your whimper turned into a gasp as his lips left hot opened mouthed kisses that trailed from the hollow of your throat to your breasts.

As his mouth enveloped your nipple, his tongue swirled on the sensitive bud and you let out a breathy, “Oh!”. You continued to grind down on him, your breaths quickening as heat filled your core.

His thumb flicked your other nipple as he suckled and moaned. The crown on his head slid down on his forehead for the third time, getting in his way and irritating him. He yanked it off his brow and placed it on your head before returning his attention to your breasts.

Your head fell back and you moaned wantonly at the eroticism of the action. His hands yanked at your skirts, rucking them up enough that his long warm fingers met the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.

You shivered at his touch even as a bead of sweat dripped down your spine in the cold throne room.

Never, you’d never been touched in such a way, never been worshiped in such a way, never had the love of your life fully expressed his devotion to you. And when his fingers slipped into your slick and lust swollen cunt, you knew you’d be his until the day you died.

Those fingers teased and rubbed, finding their way to the pinpoint of your pleasure and you gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room.

He hummed in approval, his lips quirking into a smirk as he looked up at you and you yanked on his hair pulling him into another heated kiss.

His finger, that damned finger, swirled around your clit and you bit his lip.

He hissed your name and sunk a finger inside your desperate cunt. This, this was heaven. Fuck the gods and religion, you were his and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

He slipped another finger inside you, pumping them in and out gently and you moaned as you clenched around those perfect fingers.

“You’re perfect like this,” he groaned and you whined once more at the praise and with the flick of his thumb against your clit you gasped his name.

His breaths came heavier as he watched you near your peak, the pupil in his eye lust blown, and the type of adoration in his gaze you’d always yearned for from him.

Heat coiled in your core, your heartbeat pounded throughout your whole body, and with a moan of his name you came harder than your own fingers had ever brought you.

His lips were on yours, consuming and devouring you hungrily, swallowing the sounds of pleasure from your lips that only he could elicit.

Your desire for him did not diminish, no you needed him somehow even more now. You wiggled your hand between the two of you and ran your hand across his hardened cock.

He moaned into your mouth, and feeling emboldened, you began to attempt to free it from his tight pants. He chuckled, placed a kiss on your jaw and took mercy on you, and assisted you.

You wrapped your hand around his hardened length, trepidation filling you at the size of him, and you looked back up at his face with a shaky breath, suddenly feeling bashful at your lack of experience.

Doubt flickered in your mind, what if you couldn’t please him? What if-

His lips were on yours once again, he kissed you with a steadfastness that reminded you that this was in no way meaningless, this was Aemond - your best friend- expressing his love for you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear as he trailed his lips across your throat. His large hand wrapped around your much smaller one and guided you to wrap your hand around his cock.

You whimpered in desire as he continued to guide you to stroke his throbbing length. He led you to twist your wrist, showed you where to grip tighter, guided you to pump his cock up and down until he was groaning.

He let go of your hand, and you continued to pleasure him, feeling more powerful than ever before as you held the cock of the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, as he again dipped his head and encapsulated your nipple in his warm wet mouth.

You both whimpered in pleasure, and as you ran your other hand through his silver tresses, pulling his head closer into your chest, you felt that there was nothing better in this life than this.

Until he lifted his head once more, his eye wide and filled with love, and you crushed your lips into his.

His hand met yours once more, brushing yours away, and he guided his cock to the entrance of your sopping cunt as you settled your hips over his once more.

Your breaths came heavier as he said, “You are mine.”

“I’m yours,” you responded, nodding and following his guidance as you began to sink your hips down on his throbbing cock.

You winced slightly at the stretch, but he ran a hand up and down your back, pulled you closer to him- your chest crushing against his, and dripped honeyed reassurances in your ear.

”You can fit me, my love. You were made for me,” he said.

Your heart burned for him, and with his grip on your hip you managed to take him completely inside your soaked cunt.

The frantic feeling in both of you eased as you sat on his lap, stuffed full of him, and felt complete in a way you never had before.

Your hands ran across his chest, up his shoulders and down to his biceps, gripping the corded muscle you found everywhere. In tandem, he ran his hands up and down your curves, gripping the flesh he found, until his hands enveloped your ass.

He gripped your ass and led you to shift your hips, grinding down on him in a circular motion. You let out a breathy, “oh!” The feel of him inside of you as you shifted, moving in an erotic way you’d never moved before, threatened to overcome you.

“You are perfect,” he reassured and you clenched down on him, causing you both to moan.

When you were ready, he then guided you to lift your hips up until his cock was almost completely out of your cunt, then you sunk back all the way down, sucking him inside your desperate hole, becoming his in a way that was irreversible.

“Aemond,” you gasped as you repeated the action, continuing to let him guide you. You finally learned how good it felt to be full, to be so full of him you realized how empty and aching for him you’d felt for years.

His grip tight on you, stuffed full of his cock, as his teeth bit down on your neck, you’d never felt so alive- so free.

And so you found a rhythm, bounding up and down on his cock, bringing you both pleasure unlike any other.

With his hands on your hips, your pace quickened, and one of your hands slipped from his shoulder, looking for more leverage and you cut yourself on a blade of the throne.

You yanked your hand back with a gasp, ceasing your motions atop him, and he looked at you wide eyed.

“What is it?” He asked and you placed your hand in his. He surveyed the small cut on your finger, you both realized it was small, barely more than a papercut really, you were lucky, and then he brought your hand to his lips.

You blinked in surprise as he enveloped your finger in his mouth, lips parting and tongue licking the blood off it.

You stared at him in shock for one moment, two, then three…. long enough that his expression became bashful, before you crushed your lips into his, pillaging his mouth with your tongue, desperate to taste yourself inside his mouth.

He moaned as his hand on the back of your neck pulled you closer, and then you were both moving again.

You felt blissful, stretched out in such a wonderful way, and desperate for anything he threw at you.

“Made for me,” he breathed out once again against your lips.

“You’re mine,” you replied as you ground down on him.

He huffed out something between a chuckle and a moan, and with a tight grip of your hips, he said, “I am yours until the day I die.”

He punctuated every word with a sharp thrust inside you, and with that he took control from you. You gave it to him gladly, and held onto his shoulders, tangled your fingers in his hair as he thrust up inside you at a pace that kept you from breathing properly.

There was a spot inside you, that you’d explored before with your fingers, but never once had you felt like this as his cock hit that spot repeatedly. Your toes curled and you whined his name in a high pitched voice you didn’t even recognize as your own.

“For so long I dreamed of what noises I could pull from your lips. Mmmm… the real thing is so much better than anything I could have imagined,” he purred in your ear.

Your only possible response was a gasp and clenching on his thick length as your mind had separated from your body, there was only him and the pleasure his body provided yours.

His muttered words in high valyrian, sweet promises of devotion as he continued to fill you. He filled your body, your heart, your soul, and the only expression of devotion you could return was to come on his cock.

With a moan and a squelch you gushed around him and he gasped, holding you tighter, somehow increasing his pace- the intensity of his thrusts as he followed you over the edge.

With one final push inside your cunt, he climaxed inside you, filling you with his come, and it was all you could do to kiss him, sloppily and desperate, as he marked you as his.

You rested your head in his shoulder, breathing him in as you both came down and attempted to slow your heart rates.

He tattooed his name against your being as he pressed his lips to any bare skin he could reach.

“I love you,” you whispered, completely baring yourself to him, feeling more vulnerable than ever before, despite your state of undress, despite the fact that he was still inside you.

“I have loved you for as long as I have known what love is, and I will continue to do so until I am ashes in the wind,” he swore, pulling back to meet your gaze.

You could only wrap your arms tighter around him and hold him.

Eventually, he disentangled the two of you, but swatted your hands away as you attempted to retie your bodice.

“I never said I was done with you,” he growled.

A shiver ran down your sweat slicked spine.

You merely let him lead you to stand, watched as he tucked himself back into his pants, then he led you to sit on the iron throne.

“Aemond,” you protested, but he merely shook his head at you, took a step back, and stared at you.

There was desire, possessiveness, and feral satisfaction in his eye as he looked you up and down in your disheveled state that he caused.

You could only imagine how you looked, sprawled on a throne you had no right to sit on, your breasts spilling from your dress, your hair disheveled, and a Targaryen crown crooked utop your head.

But the Prince Regent only kneeled before you.

Any doubts of his allegiance, any doubts in him flew away like feathers in the wind as Aemond Targaryen knelt before you, bowed his silver head, then lifted your skirts and spread your legs.

His groan was drowned out by your loud gasp as he began to feast on you.

Aemond ruined you and made you anew in the throne room that night, and at dawn the next morning he brought you to the sept and made good on his promise to marry you.

Damn the consequences and opinions of others, before all the gods Aemond Targaryen declared his devotion to you above all.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader

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steveseddie · 3 months ago

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jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: jacket | rating: t | wc: 999 | tags: post-canon, steve wears eddie’s leather jacket, they kiss about it

read on ao3

Eddie can’t find his leather jacket.

Steve is picking him up soon and he can’t find it. He turned his bedroom upside down looking for it (pun absolutely intended) and even riffled through Wayne’s clothes in case the old man grabbed it by mistake (he didn’t).

He concludes he forgot it somewhere and racks his brain for the last time he remembers wearing it. He thinks it was last week when he yelled at Wheeler for almost spilling soda on him at Steve’s house. Did Eddie take it off and leave it there by accident? Or did he have it on when he drove home?

He’s still trying to figure that out when there’s a knock on his door.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters, jumping to his feet. “Coming!”

He doesn’t want to keep Steve waiting and risk missing their movie so with a sigh, Eddie grabs a denim jacket instead.

“That’ll do,” he says, checking himself in the mirror before opening the door to reveal–

Steve in his leather jacket.

“Hi, Eds,” he says, wiggling his fingers.

Eddie tries not to swallow his tongue but Steve is wearing his jacket and he looks hot. He’s pretty sure he’s had a few fantasies that start like this.

“Uh, hey,” he says once he finally gets his brain working again. “I was looking for that.”

Steve looks down at himself like he just remembered what he’s wearing. Like he forgot he put on Eddie’s leather jacket. He shrugs. “You left it at my house the other day.” And- well, mystery solved but that doesn’t explain why he showed up wearing it.

“So, it’s yours now?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes even if he doesn’t care. Steve can keep it if he wants, he looks better in it anyway. “First you steal my vest and now my jacket, Harrington?”

A smirk stretches over Steve’s lips. “Maybe I just like wearing your clothes, Munson,” he says in a teasing tone. A flirting tone- Eddie has heard him use it with girls at Family Video.

“Besides,” Steve continues because Eddie is too flustered to think of a comeback, “I didn’t steal your vest. You gave it to me. Threw it, actually.”

“And you never gave it back!” Eddie protests. “After I let you borrow it to protect your modesty!”

“Please, man,” Steve snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. His shoulders and arms are significantly bigger than Eddie’s so the movement pulls on the leather. Eddie would care more about Steve stretching his jacket if he wasn’t so busy ogling him. “You did it so you could stop staring at my chest.”

Eddie gasps, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. He knew he wasn’t subtle that night, but he thought Steve would be too busy surviving to pay attention to Eddie’s eyes drifting to his bare chest. And after that, when they became friends and Eddie started tragically crushing on Steve, he tried to be more careful.

And apparently failed.

“I– uh. It was like, right there, dude,” Eddie stammers out. “And you– you got a jungle there and I–”

“And you like it,” Steve finishes for him.

Eddie winces. It’s not what he was gonna say but it’s the truth. He could deny it, but he can already feel a blush creeping up his face, coloring his cheeks.

“Is– is that a problem?”

“Eds, my only problem is that you haven’t done anything about it,” Steve says with a low chuckle, reaching out to play with one of the pins on his denim jacket. “I actually considered showing up in just your jacket, but Robin convinced me it was too much.”

Eddie squeaks. That would’ve been too much for his heart to handle, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know if I should hate Buckley or thank her,” he says, shaking his head to wipe that visual from his brain. “I probably would’ve shut the door on your face.”

Steve laughs, shoulders scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners. Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is, and how much he wants to kiss him.

“You can, you know?” Steve says, snapping Eddie out of his thoughts and making him realize he said that out loud.

Then he realizes what Steve just said. “I– I can?”

Steve’s grin is amused but sweet. “Yeah, Eddie. I want you to.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie swallows thickly.

Then he grabs hold of the jacket and pulls Steve inside, the door swinging shut behind them. As soon as they’re out of view, Eddie pulls Steve in by the back of the neck, kissing him squarely on the lips.

With a content noise, Steve cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair, deepening the kiss, crowding him against the wall.

They kiss until they need air and even then it takes a lot to pull back from Steve’s mouth.

When he does, Steve smiles at him– his lips pink, his hair mused, his cheeks flushed.

“What?”

“You should keep it,” Eddie says, smoothing the jacket over. “It looks better on you.”

Steve purses his lips. “I happen to think you look really hot wearing it.”

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, tugging a lock of hair across his face, feeling his blush coming back at the compliment.

“But do you know where it would look better?”

“Where?”

Steve smirks at Eddie, his eyelashes fluttering coyly. “Your bedroom floor.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, something warm shooting through him. “What– what about the movie?” He asks. It’s a stupid question, but his brain might be melting out of his ears. Steve raises an eyebrow– Really? “Right, never fucking mind. Who cares? Come here, sweetheart,” he says, taking Steve’s hand and dragging him towards his room.

The leather jacket comes off first and it ends up on the floor. Eddie couldn’t care less about where. It could get sucked into the Upside Down along with all of his clothes and it wouldn’t matter to him.

Not as long as he gets to keep kissing Steve.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieholidaydrabbles #stranger things #stranger things fic #not enough fics about steve in eddie's clothes! enjoy x #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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covenofagatha · 4 months ago

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But you're my stepmom! (Part 7)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, mommy kink

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi @ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet @polaris-likethestar @ahintofchaos

A/N: hope this was worth the wait ;)

Sleep alright? is the text you get from Agatha the next morning while you’re getting ready for school. Heat runs through you at the very thought of her and you know she’s completely ruined you for anyone else. Memories of last night, of her kissing you, marking you, claiming you, flash through your head as wetness begins to pool in-between your legs.

You think Agatha might be the death of you.

Not really, thanks to you. You had spent the night tossing and turning, begging for the fire in your stomach to die down so you could get at least some rest. But it didn’t. You had been so sensitive that even the slightest brush of fabric against your clit when you moved while trying to sleep was enough to make you moan. And then when you had finally drifted off, she was there too, doing everything that you wanted and more. But you had been a good girl for her and somehow resisted the urge to touch yourself.

She sends back a winky face emoji and I’m always happy to keep you up all night. Damn her and her innuendos that make your face flush.

You pull the collar of your shirt over, admiring the dark red bruise she sucked into your neck last night in the mirror. A thrill spikes your heart rate and you get an idea.

You raise your phone and position it so you can snap a picture highlighting the hickey and the taunt veins in your neck. Before you can think too hard about it, you send it with the caption: Think anyone will notice this?

I hope they do, sweetheart. They should know who you belong to.

Fuck, that’s hot. Can I come over today? You need her more than air at this point. You are so consumed with the thought of her and you’re not sure anything can put that flame out.

You have school and no more skipping.

What about after?

You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you, baby girl? If you’re a good girl today, I’ll think about it.

You chew on your bottom lip, arousal coursing through your veins. It’s far too early to be this turned on. I’ll be so good for you mommy.

Agatha begins to type but then the three dots disappear. You curse and hope you didn’t step over the line.

Your mom calls your name from downstairs, startling you out of your thoughts. “You’re going to be late!” She calls up the stairs. You check the time, swear again, throw your computer into your bag, and run down the stairs. “What were you doing up there?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you lie hastily. You can’t imagine the truth of dirty texting with your step-mother going over well. “I’ll see you later.” You grab an apple from the bowl on the table and scurry out of the house.

It isn’t until you’re sliding into your seat in first period when you check your phone again and see a missed text. It’s a picture from Agatha and at first you can’t tell what it is. You click on it so it becomes full-screen and immediately slam your phone face-down on the desk so loud that everyone looks at you.

“Sorry!” You squeak, picking your phone up and holding it up close to you.

It’s a picture that Agatha took while laying in bed, the camera pointed away from her face toward her bent legs clad in sweatpants. And her arm is reaching down and under said sweatpants. You cannot get the picture of her touching herself out of your head now.

Wish you were here to make mommy feel good is the accompanying text. You cannot be doing this at school. But how can you resist?

You almost gave me a heart attack. I’m in class.

That’s not the only thing I can give you. You can practically hear her purring through the phone.

What are you thinking about? You watch the bubble indicating her typing with bated breath.

About how you should be paying attention in class.

You roll your eyes but see that there’s no point in trying to argue. You guess it’s nice that she actually cares about how you’re doing in school but you don’t hear a single thing any of your teachers say for the rest of the day because you’re too busy thinking about Agatha.

The second the last bell of the day rings, you call her. She picks up almost immediately.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, sweetheart?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down your spine.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully. “I just got out of the shower and I’m about to get dressed.”

“Well, don’t,” you say, your initiative shocking both of you. “Is my dad home?”

“Look at you, kitten, taking control.” She sounds amused. “He hasn’t been here all day and I’ve been so lonely. I had no one to help me out with a little problem I was having so I had to take matters into my own hand.”

Your breath catches. “Can I come over?” Your voice is low, gripped with desire. You’re fully ready to beg if she makes you.

“Only if you’re going to make it worth my while.”

“I will,” you promise and it comes out needy. The thought of tasting her and feeling her hands wound tight in your hair has kept you close to the edge all day and now you can’t physically wait any longer.

“I’ll see you soon then.” She hangs up and you all but sprint to your car. You can’t believe this is finally happening.

You speed the entire way, throwing your car into park and racing up to the front door. It swings open before you even knock, Agatha clearly just as impatient. She’s wearing a robe that comes down mid-thigh, the neckline low. You can see that she’s not wearing anything underneath.

The moment you step inside, she presses you against the door, her mouth capturing yours in a dominating kiss. Her lips move with raw hunger, tongue licking into your open mouth.

“Fuck,” you moan into her, hands grappling with the tie holding her robe together. She breaks the kiss only for a second to take your shirt off and then she’s right back on you. She unclasps your bra and her hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples with her fingers as you let out little gasps. You finally get her robe open and drag your hands over her smooth skin.

“Upstairs,” she mutters against your mouth and pulls you up the staircase, pausing halfway to shove you against the wall and kiss you senseless like the thought of waiting is too unbearable.

She leads you into her room – is it weird that you find it sexy that she’s going to fuck you in the bed she shares with your dad? – and pushes you down onto the bed. You watch in awe as Agatha shrugs off her robe, taking in her naked body. You saw hints of it in the darkness last night, but seeing it now, she is so much better than you ever could’ve dreamed.

“You’re so hot,” you breathe. Her cheeks redden and she helps you take off your pants until you’re just in your underwear.

“Did you behave last night?” She asks, stepping in-between your open legs and standing over you. Her hands rest on your thighs.

“Yes, I didn’t touch myself. I wanted to so badly though.”

“Good girl,” she says in a low voice and you clench around nothing. “Do you want to know what I was thinking about today?”

You nod so hard it hurts. Her fingers start to ghost up and down your legs. You’re literally aching.

“I was thinking about you spread out nicely for me, like you are right now. About how you would feel around my fingers, about the noises you would make as I tasted you. How pretty you’d sound while begging for mommy to fuck you.” There’s a glint in her eyes as she tells you this, enjoying the way you’re squirming below her.

You think you might be dripping onto the bed.

“Would you like that, baby girl?”

“Yes, mommy,” you whimper.

“Have you learned your lesson from last night?”

“I belong to you,” you repeat. She nods her approval, a hand moving to stroke you over your underwear. You mutter a curse under your breath. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what, baby girl?” Agatha asks innocently. “Use your words for mommy.”

“Anything,” you say, frustration leaking into your tone. “I just want to feel you.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” She leans down over you and licks a hot stripe up your stomach, your back arching off the bed in pleasure. She kneels on the floor in front of you and lifts your hips so she can peel your underwear off. You then watch with your mouth agape as she tugs them down your legs with only her teeth.

You think you could get off on that sight alone.

Agatha kisses her way back up your thighs, suckling on the inner flesh, leaving matching marks to the one she left on your neck yesterday. At this point, you’re shaking with need.

“Mommy,” you whine, hands fisting in the sheets.

And then her tongue is delving through your folds and you keen loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on right now. Her hands dig into your thighs, keeping them open as she circles her tongue around your clit. You’re practically in tears with how good it feels.

She brings you to the edge and then backs off and then repeats that a few times. Your hips are moving on their own, seeking out the pleasure you need from her mouth.

And then she stops entirely, pulling away. The bottom of her face is drenched.

“No!” You cry, still grinding up on nothing now.

“You poor baby. So needy,” she coos, standing up and moving so she’s straddling you. She reaches down in-between your bodies and slides a finger swiftly inside you. You moan loudly, your fingers scrambling to grab onto her.

But she smirks and pins both your hands above your head with her free hand. “Maybe next time I’ll tie you up,” she muses and the threat makes your stomach twist hotly and she sees the expression on your face that tells her you’d be more than willing to do that.

And then she starts to move the finger that’s inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” she grunts, picking up the pace of her thrusts. She squeezes another finger in you and curls them just right every time, hitting that special spot.

“I’m close,” you choke out and she laughs.

“I haven’t even been fucking you for five minutes,” Agatha mocks. “Is mommy making you feel good?”

“So good, I love your fingers inside me,” you babble, getting closer to your peak. Her thumb reaches up to rub your clit in tune with her thrusts and you think this is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven.

Your step-mom leans down and kisses you roughly, sliding her tongue in your mouth right as she gives you one hard thrust and that’s it for you.

You cum with a loud gasp, her name the only thing you can say. She keeps fucking you until you have to physically beg her to stop because it’s too much.

She sticks her wet fingers in your mouth and watches with rapt attention as you bob your head around them.

“You’d look so pretty with my strap-on in your mouth,” she says wistfully, her other hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. She smirks at the way you inhale, your cheeks tightening around her fingers. “Would you like that, sweetheart? Getting on your knees and sucking mommy’s cock?” You nod, eyes wide and looking up at her. “Of course you would.”

She pulls out her fingers with a pop and smears your saliva all over your cheeks.

“Can I taste you now?” You ask, enjoying the way Agatha’s eyes darken.

“Can I sit on your face, baby?”

You moan in approval and she’s climbing up your body when she suddenly freezes. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong but she shushes you. Your brow furrows and you listen carefully.

There’s the faint sound of the garage rumbling from downstairs and a look of panic has settled over Agatha’s face.

Your dad is home. And you’re in bed with his wife.

#agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha smut #agatha all along

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tortillamastersblog · 3 months ago

Text

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

#x reader #angst #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #scream

277 notes · View notes

court-jobi · 4 months ago

Text

Aquarium Date

Pairing: Hawks x reader (gn!reader)

Words: 3.1k

Rating: G~

Warnings: fluff hours, y'all. Mentions of PTSD but nothing deep, dark, mysterious. Just taking care of my sweet, sweet flyboy

Summary:

You've been introducing little spots around the city to Keigo, slowly reintroducing him to the public per his increasing interest. As much as he prided himself on coming up with the best date ideas, you flip the script and come up with a surprise for him today: high time the prince of the skies gets to experience an aquarium for the first time~

A/N: Here's the long-awaited poll result!! it's been a minute, but I've been polishing up some drafts and finally have a breather to begin posting them! (Also started seeing someone which oddly enough cuts into my writing time, oops) But thank you all so much for reading; I've loved reading all the comments and tags!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Quilted mornings greet Keigo's weekends now. Every Saturday, he sleeps to his heart's content- or at least until he rolls over with an indulgent stretch to find you already sitting up, nursing some coffee.

This morning, you return your mug back to the side table the moment you catch that telltale creak of his voice trying to wake itself up. It’s a careful move not to spill, but you're also bubbling in anticipation of what's coming next:

Without fail, Keigo will crack open his eyes, fuss against the light, moan how you've moved too far away, and *army-crawls* on his tummy until he can drape an arm across you again. To watch his shoulders work as he moves is still a handsome sight… even without his wings.

As he tries to sneak in a bit more shuteye, you stroke Keigo lightly, wherever you can reach. It's mostly his hair that calls out for your hand’s touch, though as you lay some light scritches down between his shoulder blades, Keigo rustles more. When you stop, he jolts his shoulder up in a nudge.

'More, please.'

"Good morning, GoldenEye~" you greet him.

Laying a groggy kiss to nowhere in particular (just an absent press of the lips on your midsection where he could reach), Keigo trills lazily but with a smile on his face. A wakeful state rests behind still-closed eyes; he talks before willing them open,

"Gmornin', bay’bird.."

Kei's morning voice should come with a warning– if you had no bills to pay or the human need to eat and drink, you'd never leave this bed with him in it like this.

He wrenches a little pout, a scrunch of his shut eyelids, "nnngh.. -wha’ times’it?"

To answer Keigo's drowsy twists and turns under the covers, you pull up the confirmation email on your phone with bidden excitement,

"Right about time for you to start getting yourself ready, babe," you greet softly, "we've got somewhere to be today."

An accented eye finally chances a peek up at you, "-where?"

"It's a surprise~ I'm taking you out. Up for a little adventure?"

"Adventure, huh?" Keigo cracks a smile with teasing interest, groaning into your side as he stretches yet again, "MMMMFH-hhhh.. now what's my baby got in mind f’me, huh?"

You've been introducing little spots around the city to him, slowly reintroducing him to the public per his increasing interest. You were nervous at first, but by Keigo's healthier mental balance between work and play now, you follow his lead and try to make outings fun for him.

Online, you'd come across a locals-only ticketing deal that was too good to pass up and thought to treat him to an excursion he'd likely never gotten to do in grade school... Since when would assassin training allow for field trips like most nine-year-olds get to go on?

Without giving anything away, you merely gave Keigo a small kiss on his forehead and left him confused while you urged him to get up once again. A frisky swat on his butt atop mountains of covers got him into action soon enough, chasing after you with roguish excitement.

“Guess it’s a bit late to ask if I should have changed into a wetsuit?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in the enclosures without permission, Kei. Hero or not!~”

“Cmon, you can’t swim with them?”

“Some folks do, but they get paid to do that! The rest of us get to watch how it’s done.”

“Sheesh, where’s the fun in that?”

Giggling at his ridiculous notion, you find your darling’s interest in the building's flashy backlit signage holds more depth, like he’s reading every word for the first time.

"Y'know, I always passed this place," Keigo emerges from the car, with a set gaze at the fish captured mid-breach, "but never went inside. Couldn't risk the wings getting too wet while on the job, y'know?"

"Thought as much," you rejoin him, pocketing your keys into your coat and all but biting your lip in excitement. "Wanna see?"

"Lead the way, pretty thing~"

So the two of you entered Kyushu's newly renovated aquarium center. It's renown as one of the loveliest in the world with a seven story high observation deck, prized for its integral underground facilities with access directly to the waterways through man-made tunnels and bayfront access. Quirk specialists who bear similar biology to nature's most wonderous aquatic life find their ‘home away from home’ here at the conjoining lab complex, and aid in conservation efforts alongside the scientists.

But out of all the inner workings listed on plaques and donor standees lining the walls of the lobby, Keigo fixates on one feature above all others the minute he steps in the door-

"They have PENGUINS?!"

You mute your giggles, cringing at his unintended echo through the ceramic walls and floors.

Merely nodding, your hush guides him to not make such an outburst again, taking ahold of his bicep and threading your arm through to keep him close.

"Surprise!" You whisper adoringly.

You feel the equivalent of a parent’s pride on Christmas morning, watching Keigo take in a sight like this as if he weren't twenty-plus years older than you were when you first came to visit one.

Unafraid and completely enraptured by the dark halls and den of water ahead, Keigo is stepping out strong with your hand in his, forgetting altogether that this is a paid attraction and he can't just spurt ahead of his own two feet.

A hard habit to break, going too fast for his own good… but your linking of fingers in his softens the sting of having to wait to show your tickets first.

Inside changes Keigo's demeanor entirely. From giddy interest comes a deep, profound quiet he was still very much capable of. You took the lead, enlightening him to all sorts of creatures which -you'd come to learn today- he'd never seen before:

Shrimp were little marvels Keigo had only ever seen sauced up and on a skewer, so to watch them mosey about in their natural state brought a funny tweak of regret to his lips. Jellyfish were the 'roadkill of the beach’, to him. Never before had he seen how big they could get or how beautifully they migrated out in the open ocean. Fish with spikes, eels that glow, creatures with tails longer than their entire bodies, whipping around their cratered homes all set under interchanging lights… it all rendered Keigo nearly speechless.

So speechless, he didn't pay a single mind to a few nearby kids who were whispering to their moms if the man over by your side ‘is who they think it is’...

You'd catch their eyes, mocking a little hush of the lips and sending a wink to their guardians- an unspoken word between you promised to let everyone just explore at their own peace and pace.

These are the beautiful times you are gifted to spend together; now more than ever. While you wish under every star in the sky that Keigo Takami’s newfound free time was not at the expense of his hero work, you are grateful for the perks his rehabilitation period offers you now. In this time of healing, your relationship has flourished; not unlike the sea life around you.

Much like the aquatic life you walk by from enclosure to enclosure, the far-off vision of these sights in the wild remind you that so many beautiful things can exist under the surface of turbulent waves. From the skies, ‘Hawks’ in his larger-than-life glory became drawn to you just over a year ago: rooted to the ground as you were. Now grounded himself, It’s here that -once again- you amaze him with a new perspective, this time sharing marvels with him that exist far under both your feet, under the sea. By his awestruck reactions, you’re proud that you can enlighten him to something he’s never experienced. So many times, you’re so sure that he’s seen it all… but you still manage to surprise him.

As he rightfully deserves. You’d give Keigo the world if you could.

Though for now, his complete joy seems to stem from checking out the baby penguins, half covered in the fuzz of their infant downy feathers. For a split second, your chest pangs when he makes an offhand comment about how they’re just like him, flightless. But Kei settles any subtle concern you hold, because his laughter is far to giddy for you to worry that he’s self conscious.

Had you not known what horrors and traumas he’s gone through with his quirk, you’d think this is the funniest sight to see a grown man revert to child-like excitement. But now, it means so much more to see him so happy and carefree.

It’s not that you’re desensitized to such creatures, mind you! While you’d been taking candid photos of Keigo for your own private collection, a couple birds suddenly squawked an internal debate, demanding the attention of you both. It’s clear a race had been cast, because the penguins then slid right onto their bellies to a quick, friendly speedrun to the bottom of the slicked, icy slide into the water. When one emerged from the pool ‘laughing’, Keigo wheezed and started a cheeky round of applause for all bystanders to join in on.

Birds of a feather, you assume, and they love a good race– whether in the air or not, I guess!

"Can we-- maybe go back again?” Keigo paused before you could veer off to one of the last passageways before the end of the museum, “Wanted to see something again ‘fore we get to far ahead."

So you backtrack through the exhibits, and return to ‘The Great Room’.

At his lead, you're back at the tank the resident whale shark calls home, but you're caught off guard by where he chooses to settle– watching Keigo walk right up by the glass- not quite a foot away. In the middle of the feature wall, sitting down criss-crossed, the man you’ve loved in and out of the spotlight makes himself the whale shark's newest neighbor, smack dab on the floor.

Five-year-old Keigo has arrived, and your heart could break at the sight.

Looking over his shoulder for you, he's got a boyish look on his face that's a little hard to read. By his posture, he's relaxed as ever, but a hidden story sits behind his eyes like a mist. His scar pales into the rest of his cheek under all these watery refractions of light, to the point where you forget for a moment it's there.

At his pat on the ground, you mirror his seating arrangement and join him. No one else is in the room at this moment, but even if it were jam packed with chiding eyes around you both, you'd never refuse him.

Keigo looks back up through the glass when you curl up next to him- staring off everywhere and nowhere at once. For once, a lost look across his face doesn't make him look haunted. He's just overcome.

"I feel... small."

"Small?" you ask.

"Mhm. But in a good way," he follows the third lap of a long, spotted fish, surrounded by the tiniest minnows in a cloud around it. "It's different when you're down low, when you've always seen things from up top."

The perspective he holds has been completely inverted. You worried this was a hurt he likely carried around unspoken: not being able to fly.

"They probably think waves are like the sky to them," Keigo looks up to where he sees the residual bubbles of all the wildlife rising to the surface. The light and the overlook banisters above casting their shadows highlights the tiny pockets of air, “n’to think like that card back there said, you can’t even see the surface when you’re on the bottom of the actual ocean floor. This is– just incredible.”

You’re glad to see him so happy, to have given him something new to discover.

Keigo is quiet for a while, until he grows softer still in his normally unwavering voice. Seems now he’s not just found his ‘inside voice’, but the one he keeps special just for you.

“Yknow that feeling where you gotta scratch your eye, but no matter how many times you try, the itch is still there?”

You follow, with a hum.

“That’s how it feels sometimes.” Keigo doesn’t look at you, but you can read his wistfulness through the first panes of glass in front of him. “I don’t necessarily think of it every minute of every day… but man. When it itches, it really itches. And nothing settles it.”

You rarely bring the war up on your own– reminding Keigo of such fresh events would be cruel, you thought. You only respond with your thoughts whenever he asks for them in a formal, work-related capacity, but you know it’s affected him in every way regardless of how quickly he appeared to bounce back. It’s also a sensation you’d never have an equivalent to share with him. In terms of support, you often weren’t always sure what to say to console him on the days he appeared the most down; it’s not that you could ever truly relate.

Robbed of his quirk– robbed of the air. To feel as weightless as the creatures in the water, unbound by gravity.

“But these guys–” Keigo looks up again with a smirk, “--they don’t even gotta worry about things like blinking. And anytime they get caught by some seaweed or something- look how the others take care of ‘em. Look how happy they are.”

You seek out the pod of fish he’s been tracking. Expert eyes, he’s still lightyears ahead on you with his eagle eyes. They are far away now, murky due to distance from the foreground…

…it’s not about the fish anymore.

It’s about his healing. Finding his place in the world. Keigo feels like a fish out of water, now– even in his new role as President of the Hero Public Safety Commission, but he’s confessing a key part of his journey now: the after, and how it’s maybe not so far away as you expected.

It took Keigo a while to sleep shirtless around you, after everything. It was physically hard to do so, first of all… but more than practically, the act of baring himself in any way was tender in more ways than that of newly supple skin. He’d grown used to his entire torso being wrapped up for so long… his true emotions concealed and lying deeper still.

Even longer, he spent a month wearing constant compression -like a tight fitting bodyglove or even a too-small hoodie- as it was more comfortable than strutting around bare-chested as he once did. Healing was more of a never-ending action plan, rather than a passive point of rest like most would picture. There were therapies and tinctures and salves and appointments that all guided a former hero like him back into a state of truly feeling better and treated as a normal member of society- civilian.

That title, still so strange to him. Alien. Another reason he’d wanted to keep layers on while he accepts his own skin. Over midafternoon tea one day, Keigo had grumbled on a grim day that he’d worried he’d never be considered ‘normal’, even if he completely healed; that some wounds were too deep and he’d never be seen as anything other than a hero- even a failed one.

However, the page turned one day- Keigo coming to you quickly after getting out of a shower to snuggle up to your figure washing the dishes. The telltale warmth of his chest hit the back of your shoulders, same as the arms which wrapped around you snug and close. Kisses along your neck served to try and distract you from your tasks, but the bigger surprise remained how vulnerable he stood behind you: he was shirtless once again.

The thought made you smile, your darling love finally embracing you in a fully relaxed state... Content, happy- or at the very least assured enough to turn you around, begging softly for some more kisses in that saucy way, and sheepishly requesting a backrub 'like you used to'.

Maybe it was healing for you as well, getting the chance to cover Keigo in restorative love. It's always been a source of pride for you, and served to give you connection in ways the rest of the world didn't see– a place to put your care and attention in new ways for the man who gives his all to everyone else.

He's still so beautiful, like this. He's got spark to his chatty tongue again, a lift to his cheeks, and lingers for your every touch, melting on the spot even without a single feather to hint at how he feels. He doesn't need them; his eyes do all the talking for him.

You'd always care for the hero inside him- those instincts will never die, truly. Hawks' brilliance lives through his natural leadership and street-savvy command as head of the HPSC… But to nurture the sleepy, tired boy who is still finding his feet on the ground, who works every day to make the world a better place than the one he was brought into, and who missed out on so much… he’s your top priority.

You sink onto his shoulder, met by his craning atop yours. Though the reflection of the glass, Keigo doesn’t look at you, but bears the most content smile while resting with you, sneaking your hand and twisting the pretty rings adorned on it. He’d gifted you most of these, anyhow.

"They're sure not in any rush,” Keigo coos after the floating, drifting life ahead of him.

The swarms of sea life, ebb and flow of plant life, and the simulated tides created all washes over you two in quiet beauty. The way each group of fish move in their own current is the most relaxing sight and -yes- drifts along at an unhurried pace.

You hum your agreement.

"Slowing down's not such a bad thing, huh."

"No, not at all."

Eventually distracted by your own lazy watching, you check on Keigo again as he’d turned his head to kiss your temple while still entranced by the aquarium. In a soft voice, he asks with a pining whisper,

“How long we got in here, sweet’eart?”

“I think it closes at four today~” you share, but make the mental note to upgrade your passes to the annual membership before you leave…

#keigo takami #hawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #hawks fluff #keigo fluff #post war arc #post war hawks

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mydearzero · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! I was wondering if maybe you could do something with sub!Spencer and dacryphilia?

I also just wanted to say that I really enjoy reading all of your work and I'm so impressed with what you write! You have become one of my favorite writers on this platform!

now this, this is too good to not write. thanks for reading and the request! it's an honorary title to be called one of your favourites so I thank you! ♡

Pretty When You Cry | sub!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You hear Spencer crying after he'd overheard you joke about him with Derek. You better check in on him, right? Except he's definitely not crying. You find him in a... compromising situation. But he's not crying. You better rectify that.

Contents: NO Y/N, sub!Spencer, dom!Reader, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, praise kink, overuse of 'good boy', If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2.7K words

"I bet he keeps his socks on," you joked, stealing a piece of candy from Derek and popping it in your mouth. He threw his head back in a hearty chuckle.

"Or he takes only one off. Whichever one fits the vibe stays, since he's always mismatching." Derek added. He was about to continue, but you cut him off with a panicked look, spotting Spencer with a frown on his face.

"If you guys wanted to know whether I keep my socks on, you could've just asked. There's no need to speculate and joke about my sex life behind my back. But I guess that's what pricks do." Spencer stomped to his desk, not making any eye contact.

"No need to get so worked up over it, Reid. You should really take that edge off, somehow. You can whine either way." You continued chewing on the tough candy, taking another one from Morgan and throwing it in Spencer's direction when he didn't reply.

"Yeah, Pretty Boy. When's the last time you got laid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. Spencer visibly tensed before pushing himself away from his desk and walking off.

Convinced you'd upset him, you told Derek you'd go after him. Derek shrugged, saying he was heading home.

You nearly collided with Hotch as he was leaving his office, clearly headed home.

"Don't stay too late, there's a lot of catching up to do that can wait until tomorrow morning," he mentioned before walking to the elevator.

You knocked on Rossi's door, entering when he answered. "Hey, did you see where Reid went? I think I might've upset him," you cringed.

"I'm pretty sure there's nothing you can do that could possibly upset the kid. But he walked down the hall to the left from what I saw." Rossi clasped his hands together.

"Thanks, Rossi. You're a lifesaver."

You bid him goodbye before following his directions down the hall. You heard soft noises from one of the empty offices near the end of the long, winding hallway. It sounded like... Spencer?

Was he crying? You hadn't thought he was that upset.

You creaked the door open as silently as humanly possible, ready to console him and apologize for your teasing.

You couldn't see him clearly, the light from the hallway polluting your vision into the dimly lit office. But you could hear him. God, could you hear him.

The soft whines emitting from his throat drowned out the barely audible noise of his slick hand sliding over his hard length.

Your heart rate skyrocketed. Spencer's touching himself. You felt a wicked smile creep upon your lips.

You listened in on him a little longer, determining whether you were daydreaming or if the universe was really throwing this situation in your lap.

His soft whines turned into pleas. It was obvious this wasn't the first time for his current fantasy. It seemed played out.

You knew it was your lucky day when a begging whisper of your name fell off his lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Your hand crept through the gap of the door, hand blindly seeking the light switch. You found it but didn't yet turn it on.

You heard him get closer to the edge, exactly where you wanted him. When the noises of his hand sped up, desperately so, you made your move.

You slammed the door open and turned on the bright, white light simultaneously. Spencer jumped to gather himself, wide eyes meeting your own.

"What are you doing, Spencer?" Your tone was mocking. You already knew the answer, and Spencer had never felt more caught. His breath was haggard, eyes glazed over, lips pouting. He looked like a little puppy.

"I'm- I was just- Uh-" Spencer stammered. You gave him a condescending smile.

"I- Uh- I- You what, Spencer?" You finally walked into the room, closing the door behind you. You took slow steps towards the leather couch.

Spencer was frozen. You never called him by his first name. He'd managed to haphazardly tuck himself back into his pants, but a small wet spot was already forming on the front. He'd been so close.

He refused to look at you, choosing to stare at his lap, where his hands were unsubtly crossed over his crotch. You examined him for a second before taking his chin in your hand, squeezing his cheeks slightly. You turned his face upwards, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"Answer my question, Spencer," you demanded. He looked up at you through damp lashes. He'd really worked up a sweat.

He made a couple desperate noises but couldn't utter a coherent sentence. You raised your eyebrows. A constricted sigh left him as he looked at you in desperation.

"What's the matter, baby? You usually have so much to say. Don't you have an answer for me, boy genius?" You pouted sarcastically. Your grip on his chin tightened.

"I-" Spencer's eyes glazed over.

"-was touching myself? Yeah, I gathered as much," you finished for him. You turned his face, examining it from every angle as you slowly brought your foot up to his crotch.

"Move your hands, Pretty Boy," you demanded, pressing your foot against them. Spencer's eyes squeezed shut, slowly moving his hands. You chuckled darkly as you felt up his length.

You tossed his head to the side and pushed on his shoulder, making him fall back against the couch. You slowly moved your legs to either side of his, straddling him. You moved your hips experimentally, purposely grinding against his clothed cock for good measure.

His hands reached for your waist, but you grabbed his wrists before he could. "No touching. Sit on them if you think you can't stop yourself."

Spencer moved quickly, tucking his hands under his thighs. You ran your fingers over the side of his face. He really was pretty. You stroked a finger between his eyebrows in an attempt to iron out the crease. His face and entire body were tense with anticipation.

You ground your hips agonizingly slow. Your sluggish movement was obviously not enough for the whimpering man under you, but he knew better than to do anything about it.

You would've continued your teasing longer, but you knew he'd been close to coming seconds before you barged in. You felt the wet spot on his slacks grow larger with the movement. He trashed, uncertainty written on his face. He had to touch you, had to move, had to do something, but he couldn't.

"Please," Spencer uttered the magic word you'd been waiting for. You smiled and got off his lap, getting on your knees in front of the couch.

You reached for his belt and undid it, all while your eyes never left his. You slowly tugged the slacks down, along with his boxers. His cock bounced free instantly, throbbing and red. Spencer clenched his eyes shut at the sensation.

"Nu-uh, Spence. Look at me. Don't you want to be a good boy?" Your fingers wrapped around his shaft menacingly.

"Yes! Yes, please. Want to be a good boy for you. Only you. Please," he begged.

You smiled in satisfaction as you gave him a squeeze. Spencer threw his head back at the sensation, only to push it back and meet your eyes like you'd enforced.

You moved forward and leaned over his lap, bringing the tip of his weeping dick to your mouth. You gave the slit a kittenish lick, collecting some pre-cum on your tongue.

You saw Spencer breathe heavily, trying to contain himself. He bit his lip, attempting to suppress any noise, but failing miserably.

You never took him into your mouth fully, only licking around the tip and squeezing his shaft every so often.

"So good for me, Spence. You're gonna have to be quiet, though. Rossi's still here, and you know what a gossip he is," You stroked him as you spoke. You sped up your pace, enjoying seeing him try to stay quiet.

His legs twitched, and you knew he was getting close. You quickly pulled your hand off him and got up off the floor. A loud groan left him at the loss of sensation, hips shooting up off the couch.

The sound of his frantic breaths was like music to your ears.

You moved to stand over him, tugging at the hem of his sweater vest.

"C'mon, baby. Hands up," you urged, pulling the fabric over his head. You reached for his tie, undoing it and setting it aside for later.

"Take your shirt off," you commanded, stepping back to watch the show. Spencer removed his hands from where he sat on them, watching you as he struggled to unbutton the shirt. You leaned against the desk nonchalantly, admiring your fingernails.

He nearly sobbed in despair, shaking hands unable to undo the buttons. You liked him like this; helpless and desperate. You laughed at him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he finally got the last button opened. He hastily rid himself of the shirt and searched your face for approval.

"Hmm, good job, baby. Now, put those hands back where they came from. Remember, no touching," you reminded him. He tucked them back under his legs, and you pet his hair in approval before reaching for where you'd placed his tie.

"Say 'Ah'," you motioned for him to copy you. He hesitantly opened his mouth. You raised an eyebrow, and he quickly opened it further. You placed the fabric of his tie in his mouth, tying it behind his head. He gurgled a little, struggling to give the makeshift gag a place.

You got back on his lap, putting a hand in his hair and tugging at the roots. Spencer yelped but clearly liked the pain, eyes dilating. You moved his head backwards, exposing his neck for you. You placed a few kisses on his jaw, before moving down to his neck. You sucked several spots before finding the sweet spot that had him whimpering once again. His hands shot up from under his thighs, reaching for your ass.

You removed your mouth from his neck, yanking at his hair. "Did I give you permission to touch me?"

Spencer shook his head aggressively.

"Words, baby."

"N-no, ma'am," he stuttered. You smirked. Ma'am, huh? You liked the sound of that.

"Good boy," you whispered in his ear. His hips ground upwards, desperate for attention. You decided you were done toying with him. You were glad you'd worn a somewhat loose skirt to work that day.

You reached between your thighs, pulling your underwear aside. You lined yourself up, steadying yourself with one hand on Spencer's shoulder, the other on his cock.

You sunk down, only slipping the tip inside before stopping. Your legs were going to kill you tomorrow, holding up your weight above his length, but it was worth it for the tears welling up in Spencer's eyes.

"You're gonna cry?" You mocked, hand returning to grip his chin and squish his cheeks. He tried to keep it in, but the second you sunk down, fully sheathing him inside, the tears spilt, rolling down his cheeks.

"You're so pretty when you cry, Spencer. My gorgeous little crybaby," You admitted. You lifted your hips, pushing them back down against his harshly. More tears ran down his face.

"Shh, baby. Filling me up so nicely. Such a good boy for me." You assured him, setting a slow pace and bouncing on his cock.

"Please, faster. Just a little, please," Spencer pleaded through the gag, almost unintelligibly. You pretended to think it over.

"No, I don't think I will," you decided. It was mean. He begged you so nicely. A sob wrecked his throat. There it is.

He convulsed in a mixture of pleasure and desperation, hips snapping up to meet yours.

"Please, oh my God, Please!" It was like the only words left in his vocabulary were ones to beg for you. He sounded angelic.

You barely increased your speed, but Spencer went berserk over it. You brought a hand to his face, wiping away the tears and looking into his eyes.

"Such a good boy, so pretty. You're so good for me, Spencer," you babbled, losing your grip on the situation. He was hitting the right spot inside you over and over again.

You closed your eyes in pleasure, frantically sliding on his dick. "Fuck, Spencer," a breathy moan escaped you.

A newfound, frenzied whine reached your ears. You opened your eyes to look at Spencer, who seemed to calm at the eye contact. He wanted to watch you, make sure he was being good.

"M-more, Fu-more, Pl-please," Spencer stuttered. He could barely get the words out over the gag and pleasure soaring through his veins.

You obeyed, bringing your hands back to his hair and tugging harshly. You leaned forward to whisper in his ear, taking the tie out of his mouth. "You can touch me, now. Touch me, Spencer. Make me come. Make me come like a good boy."

Spencer groaned loudly at the words, hands immediately moving to your waist. His hips started moving uncontrollably, desperately chasing his release.

You tugged at his hair in warning. "I said make me come, baby. I didn't say you could."

His eyes widened, and he quickly moved his hands between your bodies, seeking eye contact to ask for permission. You nodded wildly, growing more desperate for your own release.

His fingers made quick work of finding your clit, rubbing ferociously. The sensation sent you reeling, moaning loudly in his ear. A particularly sharp thrust nearly made you scream, tightening your grip on his gorgeous locks. "Shit, Spencer! Fuck, so good. So fucking good, baby. So big inside of me."

You could feel Spencer was nearing his release again. This time, you had no intention to stop him, but he didn't know that. He was still frantically trying to tip you over the edge and succeeding. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, losing your grip on his hair and falling forward against his naked chest. Your hands found leverage on the couch, digging your nails in the leather as Spencer continued fucking up into you.

"Please, can I come? Please, let me come with you. 've been a good boy, right?" Spencer begged. His desperate whines sounded so good, incoherent mumbles of "Oh my God" and "Please" repeatedly falling off his lips.

"Yes, you can come for me, Spencer. Come with me. Make me come on your cock," you encouraged.

Spencer snapped, no longer caring if anybody heard him. His whines and moans were getting higher in pitch and shorter in frequency, mirroring your own.

"F-feel so good around me. So tight. So good. Gonna come, g- gonna," Spencer's hips stuttered, thick length throbbing as he pushed it deep inside one last time.

"Fuck, Spencer!"

"Oh my God, oh my God, f-fuck," Spencer was unusually vulgar as he coated your walls. You sat down on his cock for a minute, gathering your breath and wiping the tears and other fluids from Spencer's face.

You pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes and smiled timidly at him. "Hi."

Spencer laughed a little and smiled back, breath still irregular. "Hi, yourself."

"You good? I didn't go too far? I'm sorry for springing that on you, Reid. I didn't mean to make you cry." You ran your hands over his chest.

"No! It was perfect. I loved it. T'was just really intense, you know?" He reassured you. "And please, we're past the last name basis now, don't you think?" You nodded and smiled, admiring his face for a second longer before carefully sliding yourself off him.

Spencer winced, incredibly sensitive. Your sadistic side bubbled to the surface, if only for a split second, and gave his overstimulated cock a couple of tugs. He trashed against your touch, loud, pained wails falling from his lips. You let him go, walking to the desk and grabbing a couple of tissues to clean yourself up.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," you smirked. Spencer's chest was heaving, but there was a satisfied smile on his face.

"I guess you do have your answer now. I still have my socks on."

2K notes · View notes

itsbeeble · 1 year ago

Text

SEEING STARS

SUMMARY: It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

GENRE: smut, fluff, mild angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Sunwoo x afab!reader (ft. Hoshi, Dino, Sangyeon, Kevin, Eric, Yuta, and Jay (Enhypen))

WC: 9.4k (you'd think i was doing this on purpose)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries (concussions, Sunwoo gets sucker punched), Eric slander, Sunwoo slander, Hoshi stirring up trouble, Sunwoo being stupid, car sex/public sex, p in v sex, fingering, mentions of face fucking, marking, hair pulling, attempts at dirty talk kinda? idk if you can even call it that but wtv, i think that's really it

A/N: Part 3 of the collab is out! If you haven't checked out Try Hard or Excitement (written by my beloved Fawn) please do! Otherwise, please enjoy this. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

In Sunwoo’s defense, everything that happened was Eric’s fault. It was definitely not Sunwoo’s fault that he believed his best friend when he told him that he should absolutely kick a ball at the girl of his dreams so she could bring it back to him and she would fall for him too and then they could live happily ever after. It also wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault that he forgot that he was their university’s star soccer player and that he had really strong legs.

At least, this is what he tells himself while sitting in the ambulance with you, who is currently passed out with a lump the size of a clementine on your forehead. He’s nervously gnawing at his fingernails, chewing them to nubs with his eyebrows furrowed. The EMTs said that you’re stable, that you just have a mild concussion but they want to take you in and get you checked out to be sure.

“Are you her…friend? Boyfriend?” One of the EMTs looks at Sunwoo with a curious look in his eye.

“Friend, just a friend,” he says, but there’s a dark cloud hovering above his head that anyone could see if they tried hard enough.

“Is there anyone that we can call? Anyone else that we should inform?” Sunwoo shrugs.

“Not that I know of. Her family is across the country so they wouldn’t be any help right now, right?”

“Right,” the EMT agrees. “I suppose you’ll be helping her out the next couple of weeks, making sure no one else is hitting her in the head with soccer balls?” Sunwoo grimaces and nods.

You’re never gonna like me at this rate, he thinks to himself. God, why did he ever listen to Eric in the first place? What made him think that Eric, the man who spends 90% of his time completely bitchless and watching hentai, would give him good advice about women?

Now he’s gonna have to deal with student loan debt, lawyer debt, and being single for the rest of his life.

The first thing you see when you wake up is white. Not, like, a white ceiling. No, your vision is pure white for a few moments, and then you swear that you’re seeing stars. You can faintly, over the pounding of your head, hear someone speaking. The voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place it over the ringing in your ears.

“…Eric, I swear to fucking god if I ever see you again, I will shove my foot so far up your ass— I don’t care if you thought it would be a good idea! I concussed the richest girl in school, the girl of my dreams mind you, because you thought it would be a fantastic idea to kick a ball at her!”

You blink a few times, clearing your vision, and you can see a boy to the right of you. He’s wearing a soccer uniform, the same uniform your university’s team wears. You blink again, and now he’s facing you with a nervous smile plastered onto his face.

“Hi,” he breathes out and you smile at him.

“Hi…Woo…sung?” You wince at the poor attempt. Of course, you know who he is. Anyone would recognize the star soccer player. Maybe you weren’t positive about what his name was, but you knew him.

He laughs, but it’s a humorless one that has both of you cringing after.

“Close,” he tells you with a smile. “Sunwoo.”

“Right,” you nod, but the action causes a painful throb to run through your skull. “Fuck, why does my head hurt so much?”

Sunwoo laughs again, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and avoiding your gaze.

“About that…” his hand combs through his hair, pushing it out of his face despite it not being there in the first place. “I…may or may not have kicked a ball in your general direction, which may or may not have proceeded to hit you in the head and give you a concussion.”

You kiss your teeth, eyebrows knitting together as you look at him. He begins to ramble, talking about how it’s his friend’s fault, and he really never meant for it to hit you. It’s cute, really, the way he practically falls to his knees and begs you to not sue him.

“Sunwoo,” you try to interrupt, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. He’s speaking too fast, too frantic, and you’re pretty sure he’ll faint if he doesn’t pause for air soon.

“I— I will do anything you want, I swear! I’ll— I’ll carry your stuff around campus for you. I’ll take all your notes so you don’t have to look at the screens. Fuck— I swear, I—”

“Sunwoo,” You reach your arm forward, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and his pacing jerks to a stop, his words caught on the tip of his tongue when you lock eyes. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

“You’re—” his voice cracks, “you’re not?”

“No,” you laugh and wince when your head begins to throb again. “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you helped me out with my schoolwork.”

“I…” he trails off, his heart sinking to his stomach. “Yeah, yeah of course I’ll help you. But— but you really aren’t going to sue me? Because— because I wouldn’t mind if you were that mad at me but I think I would really rather you just have me arrested at that point, you know?”

“I promise, Sunwoo.” You squeeze his forearm, and his cheeks begin to darken with a tinge of pink. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

As it turns out, having the star soccer player around to do anything and everything you want him to is rather convenient. Sunwoo picks you up every day for your first class in his old, beat-up Toyota Corolla. He opens the door for you, hands you a fresh go-cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe (which you aren’t sure how he knows, to be honest), and brings you to each and every one of your classes. It’s almost weird how you’ve gotten used to having him around.

“By the way,” you look up at Sunwoo as you’re getting into his car after your last class of the day. Sunwoo looks down at you, smiling brightly and you can feel yourself starting to melt at the puppy-like look in his eye. “Are you even taking classes this semester?”

Sunwoo tilts his head. “I mean…yeah? I kinda have to, you know, to play soccer.”

“But…you’re always with me these days. Are you not missing your own assignments? Your own exams?”

“I don’t have any exams during your classes,” he informs you and then shuts the passenger-side door, gently to not hurt your head. You let your body rest against the tattered fabric seat you’re in, waiting for Sunwoo to get to his side of the car. “Plus, I have friends in my classes that send me shit when I’m not there.”

“You skip your classes often?” Your lips curl into a sly smile, one that he returns quickly.

“You know it, babe.”

Your body tenses just slightly, not enough for him to notice. It was likely instinctive for him to say that, and you would never admit to anyone how the words had butterflies forming in your stomach, pushing against your flesh, and threatening to tumble out of you if he made one wrong move.

Sunwoo slams the door of the frat shut and presses his back against it as soon as he enters the building. His eyes are squeezed shut, so tightly that he can see stars and it starts to hurt.

“You alright?” Eric is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with a Nintendo controller in his hands. He isn’t looking at Sunwoo, his eyes trained on the fourth Five Nights At Freddy’s game being displayed on the TV in front of him.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” Sunwoo dismisses, dropping his bag on the floor and tossing his keys into the bowl to his right. “Especially not with you.”

“The fuck did I do?” Eric’s eyebrows knit together, and Sunwoo scoffs as he walks behind the couch to get to the kitchen.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you were part of the reason that Y/N L/N is now concussed and probably hates my guts so I’m trying to fix it by helping her out with all of her school work, which is hard as shit, by the way. Did you know that she’s a mechanical engineering major?”

“No shit?” Eric’s eyes flick away from the TV screen for just long enough for him to nearly miss an animatronic approaching him. “I wonder if she’s in any of my classes.”

“Probably not,” Sunwoo sighs, grabbing a glass from the shelf and pouring himself some water. “She’s in Sangyeon’s year so her classes are a bit more advanced than yours.”

“Ah,” Eric bobs his head, tongue wedged between his otherwise tightly sealed lips. Sunwoo watches him play for a moment, wincing at a few jumpscares while he downs his water. “What’s that gotta do with me, anyway? Isn’t this, like, bonding time for you two? Finally land your girl?”

“Well, would’ve been perfect if, a) she hadn’t hated me and b) I didn’t call her babe in the car today.”

Silence from Eric, and Sunwoo briefly wonders if his best friend had even heard him.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Eric pauses the game and tosses his controller onto the couch next to him as he turns around.

“It was an accident!” Sunwoo defends. “It just kinda…slipped out while I was talking to her. A reflex!”

“You called the girl you concussed babe on reflex?” Eric exclaims in disbelief. “Are you stupid?”

“Says the one who suggested kicking the ball at her!”

“Yeah, well at least I didn’t give the girl of my dreams a concussion!”

“It was your fault!” Sunwoo yells, and Eric scoffs.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“He called me babe, Soonyoung,” you’re laying face down on your friend’s bed, kicking your feet in the air behind you with his tiger plushie tucked under your arms.

“Mhm,” he’s not paying attention, instead focusing on the tiger Lego set that you had given him for his birthday. “Very nice.”

“Ugh, and he’s so sweet too.” You continue to ramble, grinning like a mad woman when you recall the notes he had diligently taken for you despite not knowing a damn thing about Applied Measurements. “Did I tell you about the notes he took for me the other day? The ones that he—”

“—Color-coded and annotated for you?” Soonyoung interrupts, finally slamming down the little pieces of plastic in his hand. You flinch at the noise. “Left little notes about things he found interesting or didn’t quite understand but tried to explain anyway? Yeah, you told me.”

You duck your head, trying to ignore the throbbing. It had mostly gone away, but occasionally loud noises would spike pain through your skull.

“Sorry…” you mumble, letting your legs fall flat on the mattress. Soonyoung turns to face you, pursing his lips.

“Y/N, if you like this kid so much then why not ask him out?”

“It’s not like that!” You protest, but a sharp look from your best friend makes you backtrack. “At least, not for him. He’s just doing this because he feels bad for me! And besides, I’m a few years older than him, so wouldn’t it be weird?”

“How is that weird?” Soonyoung inquires, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He’s of age, isn’t he?”

��Of age,” you scoff and make air quotes. “What is this, the 1600s?”

Soonyoung glares at you and sits back in his chair. “I don’t care if you’re concussed, I’ll make that lump in your skull bigger if you push me.”

At his warning, you huff.

“Okay, fine, yes, he is. But it’s weird for me! I’m a senior in college, about to enter the work force if I can get my senior project proposal done, and he’s just a sophomore! He’s the university’s star soccer player, he’s just starting to get ahead. I don’t want to, like, stunt that for him.”

“Y/N,” Soonyoung rolls his chair toward you with a sympathetic smile on his face. “I can almost guarantee that Sunwoo will not care if you’re a few years older than him. I don’t think he’ll care if he’s just starting college. If I’m being honest, he finds that all the more reason to be attracted to you. Young men love older women— but you aren’t old!” He quickly backtracks before you can cut him off. “You’re not old, and believe me when I tell you that not a single person in the world would be doing this for someone that they weren’t attracted to.”

“Are you sure?” You sit up, wrapping your whole body around the tiger plushie, and Soonyoung nods.

“I promise.”

“Then…how do I get him to know that I…that I’m also attracted to him?”

Soonyoung grins and you feel your heart drop.

“Boy, do I have some ideas for you.”

Sunwoo is getting worried. The last four days have been ridiculously quiet for him, his days empty and dragging on without you around him.

You were avoiding him, he could tell. Whenever he showed up to pick you up from your dorm, someone else was already there. A man, your age and clearly friends with you if the wide smile on your face said anything. You would lock eyes with him, your smile falling when you saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. You would turn your gaze away and the man would get your door for you, laughing about something you said.

Then there was the avoidance of his texts. He would ask if everything was okay, how your head was doing, random jokes or comments about things he saw on campus. Things that he would tell you had you been with him during the day. It wasn’t like it was unusual for the two of you to text now. In fact, it was weird when you weren’t messaging each other about something but now…

It’s like you’re trying to block out his existence.

“I’m telling you,” Kevin hands Sunwoo a case of beer, cutting into the younger man’s frantic rambling. “She’s probably just busy, dude.”

“Then why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sunwoo pouts, carrying the case into the house. Kevin follows with a case of his own.

“Hell if I now,” he scoffs. “You think I have time to psychoanalyze everything rich girls do?”

“I mean…isn’t that your whole thing?” Sangyeon chimes in. “Psychoanalyzing everything about everyone?”

“That’s not the point,” Kevin waves his hand in the air and huffs. “I’m busy enough with my own classes and practices, I can only do so many things at once.”

“Sunwoo,” Sangyeon turns to the soccer player with a stern look in his eye. “This is gonna be one of our biggest parties yet, I need you on top of your game to make sure people are enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Kim Sunwoo,” Sangyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulders with an exasperated look on his face. “If I hear you ranting about the girl you concussed one more time I might just lose it. I’m putting you on door duty for the night.”

“What the fuck do you mean door duty?”

Sangyeon scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on a metal detector stick that Hyunjae had bought as a part of his last Halloween costume.

“Here,” He tosses it to Sunwoo and smiles sarcastically. “Use this, make sure people aren’t bringing weapons in or whatever.”

Sunwoo looks down at the metal detector in his hands, eyebrows knitting together.

“You’re serious?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Are you sure that your plan worked?” You’re peering up at Soonyoung with a nervous look in your eye when you roll up to the TBZ party. “You’re sure he’s—”

“I’m positive, my dear.” Your best friend pats the top of your head, squinting at the frat house down the road. “I didn’t think this many people were gonna be here tonight.”

“Sunwoo mentioned that it was gonna be a big one,” you murmur. Soonyoung turns his gaze to you and sighs at the pout on your lips. You look pitiful, to be honest. At least in attitude, that is.

“Y/N,” you look at him again, “if Sunwoo doesn’t fall head over heels at this party and fuck you until you literally cannot walk then I give you full permission to give me a concussion, just like he did to you. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning!”

You find yourself smiling at Soonyoung’s words. He’s not wrong, you do look stunning. A loose, short black dress that dips down at your chest to reveal just enough cleavage. The straps are jeweled, glittering under the lights and highlighting the jewelry around your neck. The dress itself stops just low enough that it covers everything but shows enough to tease, and you’re wearing sleek black pumps with an ankle strap so your feet don’t fly out of them (you’d made that mistake before. Never again…).

“Now,” He claps his hands together and grins. “Let’s go get you your man, and get me a drink.”

In hindsight, you probably should have known that the party would not have been good for your head. Loud noises had never particularly been something you enjoyed. A lot of people assumed you loved parties due to your financial status, but that wasn’t true. In fact, you were a bit of a recluse. You had only a few friends, though you were nice to nearly everyone you met. Sunwoo happened to be an exception.

He wiggled his way into your life with that soccer ball, and you truly don’t think you can see a future without him in it, even if he just stays a friend.

The second you walk up the driveway, your head begins to pound, your vision flashing with stars, and you squeeze Soonyoung’s arm tightly to keep yourself from wobbling on your feet.

Then you see Sunwoo at the door, a large bucket to his right, and a hand-held metal detector in his hand. You can see him scanning people, waving girls in, and then stopping men and pointing at the bucket. You feel a lump forming in his throat when you take in the sight of him. His hair is a mess of curls, the same curls you’d come to love since he gave you a concussion. He’s dressed in a tight-fitting black tee shirt and baggy jeans, nothing fancy but it brings the butterflies back to your stomach in full force.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man in front of you scoffs at something Sunwoo said, and you blink yourself back to reality.

“$5 at the door,” Sunwoo shrugs, “sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

“It’s your frat!” The man yells. Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah…do I look like the president or something?” The man stays silent and Sunwoo sighs. “Look, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Are you in or not? There’s a line of people behind you, and all of them wanna get in so you should probably pick fast.”

The student huffs, digging into his pocket for a dirty $5 bill, tossing it into the bucket, and shoving past Sunwoo. The soccer player just rolls his eyes and sighs again.

“Who’s up next—” he chokes on his words when he sees you, his eyes widening and his jaw-dropping. You smile nervously, raising your hand in a tiny wave while Soonyoung throws a few ones into the bucket.

“I’ll see you in there,” your friend says to you. “Text me if you need me.” Soonyoung squeezes your hand and nods at Sunwoo before walking into the house. You step to the side, letting people move past you but keeping a little bit of distance between you and the frat boy who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet.

“You’re here,” Sunwoo says, not even looking at the continuous line of people walking into the house without paying. “You’re— why are you here?”

A sheepish smile crawls onto your face. “Do you…not want me here?” Sunwoo panics, shaking his head rapidly and grabbing your hand in his.

“That’s not— that’s not what I meant.” He tells you, and you can’t help the warmth in your cheeks. “I just— your head. This can’t be good for your concussion, can it?”

You kiss your teeth, nodding slowly. “Yeah…Kinda got a little bit of a migraine right now.” You don’t tell him that the concussion has completely healed.

“Let’s— let’s get you someplace quieter, ba— Y/N.” He tugs at your hand, pushing you in front of him and covering your ears with your hand. He leans in close to you, his lips brushing the shell of one ear and you feel your breathing hitch in your throat.

“Cover your eyes a bit and look down, I can’t block your vision but I can shield your ears a bit, babe.” He lets it slip out this time, and you do as he says.

Sunwoo walks you forward, and you can see feet shuffling around the two of you. His hands do more than you expected, the sounds around you fairly muffled and dulling the throb in your skull. His body is so close to yours, his legs bumping into you with every step, but he keeps the two of you steady. Someone knocks into you, and Sunwoo says something to them, something harsh that you can’t make out over the noise of the party. He stops walking for a brief moment, now talking to someone else. You faintly hear a name, Chang-something, and then he’s fleeing the scene, knocking into you on his way out.

Sunwoo steps to your side when you reach a staircase, talking into your ear so you know exactly where each step is. Another person bumps into you, and Sunwoo takes a hand off your ear to wrap it around your waist.

“You can drop your hand,” he tells you. “The lights aren’t flashing over here.” You nod, and you feel his hand drop at the same time yours does. You’re still walking up the stairs and even though you don’t need help anymore, his hand stays on your waist, the touch sending electric shocks throughout your body.

Sunwoo feels like he’s going to throw up.

Scratch that. Sunwoo is going to throw up.

He really hadn’t expected to see you here. In fact, he hadn’t expected to see you at all for the rest of his college days. Had you finally decided to sue him? Are you serving him? He hadn’t seen any documents with you, but maybe—

“I’m not suing you, Sunwoo,” you sit on his bed with one leg crossed over the other. Your dress rides up your thighs, something Sunwoo tries desperately to ignore but he just can’t. “You can relax.”

You can relax, he repeats the words in his head over and over and over again, but he can’t. In fact, his body just grows more tense with the time that passes. Sunwoo tries to look at you, and then he tries not to look at you. There’s a heat in your gaze, and he can’t tell what the emotion behind it is. He hopes it’s not anger, he prays that you haven’t gotten angry with him.

“Are you—” he clears his throat. “Who was the guy you were with?” You tilt your head and he clarifies his question. “I just— I’ve seen him with you a lot these days so I was just— I just thought—”

“Who, Soonyoung? He’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him and laugh when he visibly deflates with relief.

“Good. I— I mean that’s— I just—” his face feels like it’s on fire, his stomach churning when you continue to laugh at him. When you wince and bring your hand up, he practically trips over himself to find an unopened bottle of water for you.

“How’s your head?” Sunwoo asks you, quietly now. You shrug and slide over so he can sit next to you on the edge of his bed.

“Concussion is better, just can’t do loud noises.” Sunwoo nods and you continue. “At the last check-up, my doctor said that I might get some headaches here and there though, at least for a little while.”

“Then why are you here? At a party?”

“I…guess I just wanted to see you?” You had this all planned out with Soonyoung. Why are you so nervous?

Sunwoo’s eyebrows knit together. “Why would you want to see me?”

“You’re joking, right?” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips, regretting letting it out when Sunwoo flinches and looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just…there’s no way that you don’t know by now.”

“Know what?” He presses, hoping that you’re saying what he’s been dreaming of you saying since he saw you on his first day at this university. You’re so close to him now, mere inches from him, and he fights every instinct inside of him that says to close that distance. He wants to hear everything you have to say.

You open your mouth to speak again, and there’s a knock on the door. Both of your heads whip around as it swings open, and Sunwoo’s heart sinks when he sees Soonyoung, the man you had entered the building with. He almost looked distraught that he’d entered the room.

“Hi, so sorry to interrupt. Um…” he looks at you with a grimace. “We gotta go.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Why? I was talking with Sunwoo—”

“Yeah, sorry again, but we gotta go.” Sunwoo watches you get up, albeit reluctantly, and you turn to him.

“I’ll…we’ll talk later, okay?” You smile at Sunwoo, but you turn away before he can say anything to you.

“Promise?” He calls out, but the door is already shutting behind you.

You really did intend on texting Sunwoo after, to continue your conversation, but ‘after’ turns into two days, and then four, and then it’s been a week, and suddenly it’s almost finals. You know that Sunwoo’s game is today. The last game of the season. He’d raved about it a few times while studying with you. You knew how excited for it he was, knew how hard he was practicing to make sure he was in his best shape.

“What do you mean he’s about to be taken off the field?” You snap into your phone, scanning the lot around you for somewhere to park. It’s dark out, the lights in the lot hardly working so it makes it difficult to see any free spots. “Fuck, why is it always so fucking busy at these games?”

“He’s missed every shot— DAMN YOU DECELIS. YUTA GET THAT DAMN BALL—” You pull the phone away from your ear when Soonyoung starts to yell, hearing the crowd in the stadium erupt into cheers. “Another point to Decelis Uni. Anyway, no he’s been like…really off in his games, the only reason he isn’t off already is because of Lee Chan.”

“Thank god for him,” you sigh as you put your car into park. “Listen, I just parked, so just give me five minutes to get in there. Maybe he needs a good luck charm or something. Fuck it’s cold out here. Why did I wear a skirt to this damn game?”

“Did you just call yourself his good luck charm?”

“No, I just—” you huff.

“No, you’re right. I think you are because when you guys were talking, he’d been playing better than ever. Things went to shit after my plan.”

“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.”

“Any time, best friend. Get here soon. Maybe there will be a time out and you can kiss him or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You shove your phone into your pocket, running toward the stadium as the crowd erupts into cheers again.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Lee Chan grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder when half-time is called. Both boys are dripping with sweat, exhausted from the game. There had been so much back and forth between the two teams, keeping them tied almost constantly for the past 45 minutes. “You’ve been playing like shit for three games in a row, Kim Sunwoo. This isn’t like you. I’m not afraid to get Coach to bench you if you don’t get your shit together.”

Sunwoo huffs, grabbing his water bottle from the bench and ignoring his teammate so he can hydrate.

“I’m fine, just not feeling great.” He dismisses. Chan’s lip curls into a sneer.

“If we lose this game because of you, I swear to fucking god I will get you kicked from the team.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Sunwoo rises to his feet and glares down at the team captain. He may be the star player, but it takes more than skill to hold a team together. Lee Chan has that ability. Morals, respect from his teammates, he has everything. That’s why Sunwoo backs down when Chan straightens his posture.

“You think I fucking won’t? Remember who got you on this team in the fucking first place.”

Sunwoo’s ears start to ring, and he can hear someone yelling his name. It sounds distant, and he swears he’s imagining it so he ignores it.

It happens again, louder this time and grabbing Chan’s attention as well. Both players whip their heads toward the crowd, and Sunwoo’s stomach drops.

There you are, shoving your way through the crowd to get to the barrier. People yell at you, and you say something that shuts them up. He’s in awe, staring at you and the distressed look on your face. You wave your hands to get his attention, and Chan shoves him again.

“If she’s why you aren’t on top of your game, you better fix shit right now. I’m not losing this one, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Yeah, got it.” It’s like he’s running on autopilot, walking toward you and then running. There are three minutes left in half-time, so he needs to make this fast.

“What are you doing here?” Sunwoo grabs onto the barricade and hauls himself up so he’s face-to-face with you, ignoring the people yelling around the two of you.

You grin at him, a mischievous look in your eye.

“You don’t want me here?” The panic in his eyes makes you laugh, and you lean toward him. He smells of sweat and grass and your nose wrinkles.

“I don’t— you know that isn’t what I meant.” He snaps, but you know he isn’t mad at you.

“Soonyoung said you were playing like shit, figured I’d find out why.” You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you so he can’t leave before you talk to him.

“I’m just distracted today.” You scoff and he narrows his eyes at you. “What?”

“You’ve been practicing for this game for weeks now, Kim Sunwoo. What could possibly have you so distracted today?”

He hesitates, and you already know his answer.

“I don’t have time to talk right now, Y/N.” He’s biting his lip, anxiously flicking his eyes to the clock behind him. You roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t answer you. You knew he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, knew he was too nervous between the game and having you right in front of him to fully focus.

“Then I’ll make this fast.”

“Make what—” your lips are on his, your hand on the back of his neck to hold him close while you kiss him. His body stiffens and then relaxes, and then his hand comes to your arm to keep himself stable. His face slides against yours, transferring his sweat to your body and you pull back.

“Win this game,” you look into his eyes, but it’s like he can’t focus on you. He looks like he’s in a daze, and you tug at the strands of his hair to get his attention.

“I— yeah, I’ll win.” He promises but he sounds far away. The buzzer goes off. “I— what was—”

“If you win this game, you can take me on a date.” You grin and let go of him. Chan yells Sunwoo’s name and the boy pulls back from you reluctantly.

“Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere.”

“Promise?” His eyes are shining when he looks at you. You smile, placing another gentle kiss on his plush lips.

“I promise.”

He’s running away from you now, a new lightness in his feet that had been missing the past two weeks. There’s fresh energy in his muscles, in his bones, and that overconfident attitude that his teammates and opponents despised returns in full force.

“I take it I’m not gonna have to pull you off the field?” The Coach eyes Sunwoo as he jogs by. Sunwoo slows and turns back with a wicked grin on his face.

“Not a chance in hell, Coach.”

“Can’t believe you kissed him.” Soonyoung nudges you with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No, it’s not that,” he shakes his head and lets out a sharp whistle when Sunwoo steals the ball from the opposing team. “He was covered in sweat and grass. Don’t you hate that shit?”

“Worth it,” Soonyoung snorts when you smile at him.

Since the start of the second half, Sunwoo had already brought their team into the lead by two points. You’d never seen him play before, but everything you’d heard was true. He was fast, agile, and strong. He was a beast on the field, keeping himself just out of reach of all the other players. You can tell the other team is starting to get agitated, starting the get rough with your school’s team.

You bite at your thumb as you watch the game proceed. Two minutes left in the game, and they’re tied again. You can see all the players getting tired, everyone slowing down. Sunwoo seems to be the only one with the energy to keep going, but even he seems to struggle.

30 seconds and Sunwoo has the ball again. The stadium has gone quiet and you could swear that you hear the ticking of the clock.

10 seconds and Sunwoo is almost to the goal, you stand from your seat, and people around you rise as well. Anticipation. Tension. The stadium is filled with it. People start cheering again, the other school starts yelling at their team to move their asses.

5 seconds and the crowd goes silent. Sunwoo is on the ground, a player from the other team on top of him. Players from all sides are running over, trying to see what happened. The announcers say that the opposing player, Park Jongseong, tackled Sunwoo, his hand unintentionally jamming the star player’s nose. A medic rushes over, but Sunwoo waves them away. You can’t see his face very well, but you can tell by his posture that he’s agitated.

Jongseong is penalized, and his coach takes him off the field for a moment. Sunwoo is set in front of the center of the goal, pacing while he waits for the ‘ok’ from the referee. He glances up at the crowd, and for a moment you swear that he looks at you. For a moment, you swear that you can see him smiling at you, through the throbbing in his face and the ache in his body. You could swear that he’s telling you I’m gonna win this. Trust me.

Jongseong is back on the field, the clock is set. The referee raises his hand, an indirect kick. Sunwoo rolls his neck, jogging backwards to get a headstart. Yuta and Chan are both ready to receive a pass.

The clock starts.

Sunwoo is running. You and the rest of the crowd are yelling at him to run faster. He does.

The ball is sailing through the air, Chan and Yuta and all the other players on the field are running for the ball. Yuta gets there first.

Yuta kicks the ball, but another player knocks it out of the air. Sunwoo is already waiting, stealing the ball and moving to an open space.

Sunwoo kicks the ball and watches it sail through the air. He doesn’t stop running, not when there’s still time on the clock

The crowd erupts into cheers, deafening you and you feel Soonyoung grab your shoulders, shaking you and yelling just as loud as everybody else. You feel a yell building in your chest.

They’ve won. Sunwoo is being hauled into the air by his teammates, The other team is sulking by their coach. You can’t go to him. Not yet. The crowd is beginning to clear, some people moving from the stands to leave the stadium and chat with their friends, to wait for the team to come out.

“You coming?” Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow at you but you know that he already knows the answer. A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he grins. “Go get your man. I won’t interrupt this time.” He makes his way down the stands to the parking lot, and you smile while walking down to the field. The teams have dispersed now, done with talking to their coaches and making their way to the locker room. Sunwoo hangs back, talking with Chan as you walk across the turf. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you fear it’ll burst from behind your ribcage.

Chan sees you first, jerking his head in your direction and clapping Sunwoo on the shoulder. Sunwoo turns as he walks away, and you can see the way his eyes light up when he recognizes you.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He grins at you when you get closer, but you don’t respond. You’re only a few steps from him now, and you take a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Your face is bruised…” you have to force yourself not to jump his bones right there, instead focusing on the blooming bruise on his right cheek. Your fingers brush over it and he doesn’t even flinch.

“It’s nothing,” he reassures you, resting his hands on your waist. “It’ll be gone in a week, I promise. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

You smile back at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“You think my head is pretty?”

“I think everything about you is pretty, babe.” Your cheeks heat up and he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s gentle, far less frantic than the one you gave him on the bleachers. Your hand trails from his cheek to the side of his neck, holding him close to you. Your lips part against his, your head tilting to give a better angle to kiss him at and he inhales sharply. Your body is on fire everywhere he’s touching you. Your waist, your lips, your neck. It feels electric and it pains you when he forces himself to separate from you, his nose brushing against yours.

“All that for winning a game?” he breathes out, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I should win more often if this is gonna be my reward from now on.”

Your lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll give you more than just a kiss if you want, Kim Sunwoo.”

It takes him a moment to process what you said. Sunwoo stares at you, eyes wide and jaw hanging open for so long that you almost consider taking back what you said.

“You’re— what happened to take me to dinner? What happened to hello, how are you?” His grip on your waist tightens and you shrug.

“I have more important things in mind.” Sunwoo’s whole body is tense, so tense that you feel like he’ll combust on the spot if you aren’t careful.

“I’m covered in dirt and sweat.” He tries as an excuse but you scoff. “I don’t think you wanna fuck me while I’m like this, right?”

“Do you really care about that?” He takes a deep breath.

“Me? No. I just…If I go with you right now I swear to god I’ll cum in my pants and I really don’t want that to happen during our first time together—”

“Sunwoo,” You grab his chin between two fingers and he snaps his mouth shut. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. I want you, whether or not you’re covered in sweat.” You reach one of your hands up, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his face and his features soften.

“You really…you like me, don’t you?”

“I figured it was obvious when I kissed you in front of the whole stadium, Sunwoo.” You kiss your teeth and step away from him. His grip loosens on you and eventually falls when you continue to back away from him, that sly grin still on your face.

“Where are you going?” He trails after you like a lost puppy but you just shrug.

“Come with me if you wanna find out.”

You silently thank god when you find the parking lot already half empty. Sunwoo’s car is a distance from most other cars, tucked under some trees that cast shadows over that old Toyota Corolla.

“You’re—” Sunwoo is cut off when you open the door to his back seat and shove him in. You hear some people behind you howling, briefly turning your head to see his teammates cheering him on.

“Get some, Kim Sunwoo!” Lee Chan screams and you laugh before crawling into the car behind Sunwoo.

You turn just enough to slam the car door shut, and then you’re on top of Sunwoo. He tugs you onto his lap, your skirt riding up enough to expose your thighs to him, but you give him no time to process anything, your lips already crushed against his. It’s sloppy, but the whine he emits just from the pressure behind it has heat curling in your stomach again. Your tongue dips into his open mouth, and he pushes against you with more force that you had anticipated. He curls his tongue around yours, sucking and licking at it, and your body begins to shudder against his.

Sunwoo drags your hips down against his own, groaning at the feeling of your heat against his growing member.

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he hisses when he pulls away, moving his lips down to attach to your throat and sucking harsh marks into your skin. You whine at his statement, grinding against him of your own will once he’d set the rhythm. He feels so good against you, pressing against your clit in just the right way to have you curling against him with broken whines spilling from your lips. Sunwoo moves one of your hands to your hair, jerking your head to the side to expose more of your skin to him, and you know he grows impatient when your shirt gets in the way.

“Can I take this off?” He asks you, his eyes glittering when he looks up at you.

“Really think I’d say no to you?” You smile, reaching your hands down and pulling your shirt off and tossing it somewhere in the front seat. Sunwoo looks like he’s in heaven when you unclip your bra and throw it back with your shirt, baring your breasts for him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, cupping one in his hand and brushing his thumb over your nipple. You force yourself to keep your breathing steady, to let him do what he wants. “You’re so pretty, baby. Wanna drown in your pretty tits.”

“Yeah?” You ask, your voice breathy. “Who’s stopping you, then?” He looks up at you like you’re his goddess, like he’d worship you every day and every night if you’d let him.

“Really?” He hardly waits for a response before he’s shoving his face into your tits, laving at the valley between them before ultimately choosing one to focus on with his mouth. He sucks at the nipple, tugging at it between his teeth and listening to the delicate whines you let out. The other breast doesn’t go unnoticed, one of his hands palming at it and tweaking the nipple for a few minutes before he switches sides to give each of your breasts the same treatment.

You haven’t stopped grinding on him in this time, your eyelids fluttering shut while your roll your hips over Sunwoo’s. You can feel his dick twitching in his soccer shorts, can feel him fighting the urge to jerk his hips into yours.

“Sunwoo,” you choke out, tugging at the strands of his hair. It doesn’t stop him, in fact you could swear that the action makes him suck harder on your tits and your voice breaks into a moan. “Sunwoo,”

This time when you speak, you yank his head back. He whines, his neck now at an awkward angle as he tries to sink back into your chest.

“Whyyyy,” he drawls with a pout. His lips are puffy and covered in spit, similar to your chest and you already know he’s sucked marks into your skin that’ll be visible for days after this.

“Wanna fuck you, baby.” You plead. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your tone, and he pushes you off of him just long enough to shove his clothing off. You do the same, noting the way your panties stick to your slick cunt. With a smirk, you discreetly tuck them into the center console while his back is still somewhat turned to you.

By the time he’s turned back around, you’ve stripped yourself of all your clothing and sunk your fingers into your core. Your eyes have fluttered shut with two fingers inside of you and your thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

“What are— what—” Sunwoo sounds like he’s going to cry, and you force your eyes open. He’s staring at your glistening folds with a look of pure hunger and you can only assume heartbreak as you finger yourself. “Why are you—”

“Gotta get myself ready for you,” you tell him with a pout. “Don’t—f-fuck— wanna make sure you fit i-inside of me.” Your back arches off the door and Sunwoo lunges for you, yanking your hand away from your pussy. The suddenness of the action makes you yelp, your eyes fly open again when Sunwoo sinks your fingers into his mouth. You can’t tell if the moan he lets out is genuine or if it’s for show, but it’s guttural and has your walls clenching around absolutely nothing. His tongue laves over your fingers, sucking them as far into his mouth as he can, getting as much of your taste off of your fingers as humanly possible before pulling them from his mouth and lowering your hand back to your side.

“That’s my job,” Sunwoo hisses, and then he’s lowering his body down so he can be level with your pussy. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, and your hips jerk toward him against your well. He clicks his tongue when he sinks them into you. “Loosened your little cunt up a little bit already, hm? Gotta stretch you out even more though if I wanna fit inside you.”

You can only whine when he sinks a third finger into you, scissoring them inside of them and curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. The stretch begins to sting, ever so slowly ebbing away and being replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“Oh god, Sunwoo.” You gasp out, your hand wrapping around his wrist but you can’t exactly figure out why. To slow him down? To force him to go faster? “Feels so fucking good, please.” You feel a coil beginning to tighten in your stomach as his fingers punch into that spot time and time again, his thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit similar to how you were. Fast learner.

Sunwoo grins at the way your face twists and contorts with pleasure, the way you try to control how your hips buck against his hand, the guttural moans you emit.

“Gonna cum, babe?” He knows the answer. He knows by the way you clench against him, the way your cunt tries to force his hand out.

“Yes,” you whine out, “yes, gonna c-cum. Sun-Sunwoo, please.”

“Please what, babe?” He coos. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just to tease you, he slows down. “Do you want me to stop?”

“NO,” you cry out, taking matters into your own hands and fucking down onto his hand. “Ple-please let me cum!”

“Ohhh, I see.” He hums and drives his fingers into you faster, harder. Your whines and whimpers have become broken little sobs. “Fuck, babe, it’s like no one’s ever made you feel like this.” He can’t help but laugh when you clench down on him again.

“G-Gonna cum, Sunwoo!” He just hums, watching as you clench down once, twice, and then your body is jerking against his hand. Your cunt tries to force him out one more time but he continues to drive into you and work you through your first orgasm of the night.

When your body has stopped shuddering, Sunwoo finally pulls his fingers out of you. He raises them up a bit, just enough for you to see the way the mix of your arousal and your cum.

“Look at all this, baby.” He holds his fingers out to you with a broad grin on his face. “Have you ever tasted yourself?” Your eyes come back to focus when he prods his fingers against your lips. You let him sink his fingers into your mouth, nearly gagging when they hit the back of your throat. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”

You swallow around his fingers, taking in the bittersweet taste on your tongue. Sunwoo watches you with hazy eyes when you take hold of his wrist again, holding his hand close to you while your tongue swirls around his fingers. You know exactly what he’s thinking, know exactly what’s going on behind those hazy eyes of his, and have to force yourself to pull off of his fingers when you know you’ve cleaned him off completely.

“Fucking minx,” he growls and grips your hips tightly in his hands, flipping you over so you’re on your hands and knees. “Did that on purpose, didn’t you? Knew I’d think of you sucking my cock, think of you gagging on it as I fuck your pretty little face?” You don’t have a response this time, only moaning when he shoves his cock into you with one harsh thrust.

He gives you no time to adjust, gives you no time to work through the sting it brings you but you don’t mind. Not when the stretch feels so good. Not when his cock is fucking into at a pace so harsh it has your body sliding across the seats. Your arm reaches out, hand desperately trying to find purchase on something, anything to hold you steady against the roughness of his hips slapping against yours.

His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair and yanking on it to pull you against him. Your moans become louder, harsher until they’ve turned into screams and cries of his name. You can feel the fabric of his car’s seats digging into your knees, feel the old Toyota Corolla rocking back and forth while the windows fog up with the heat of your sinful behavior.

One of Sunwoo’s legs slips down to the floor of the car, but he doesn’t slow as he adjusts his position. It gives him a new angle, new strength to fuck into you harder and faster, bruising your insides as he practically punches into your cervix from the force of his thrusts.

“How does this feel, hm?” He coos into your ear, his breathing heavy from overexhertion. “Does this feel good? Am I fucking you good, baby?”

“S-so good!” You cry out. “Fuckin’ me s’good, Sunwoo!”

“Yeah?” He bends you over again, this time hunching over your body and humping into you like a dog in heat. Your back arches into him, your body shaking with seemingly neverending pleasure. “Gonan cum f’me?” Sunwoo’s arms are all over you, pinching at your nipples, squeezing your waist, gripping your ass. His lips place firm kisses onto your spinal cord, sucking hickies into your skin that no one but him will see.

“YES!” Your voice breaks and you cum again, squeezing so tightly around his cock that he emits a moan so loud and sharp that you fear you’ve broken him.

Sunwoo pumps white hot cum into you in thick ropes that spill out while he continues to fuck you, overstimulating you both. The mixture of your cum drips down your legs and onto the fabric seats, and you pray that whoever sits back here after you doesn’t notice the white stain in the middle seat, doesn’t think to ask about this mystery stain and that Sunwoo refuses to give them an answer.

When his hips finally slow, when his dick finally softens inside of you and he slips out, you let your body sag against the seat. Sunwoo grimaces at the sight of you, dark marks littering your skin. He hopes that Soonyoung doesn’t ask questions about the way you limp into your classes the next few days. You hope he knows better by now than to question it.

“For a sophomore,” you wheeze out while you roll over. Sunwoo runs his hands up and down your thighs, smiling thoughtfully. “You sure seem to have lots of experience.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, babe.” He squeezes just above your knee, running his tongue across his lips when he sees more cum dripping out of you. You catch the fiery look in his eye and groan while you squeeze your legs shut. He groans when you use one foot to kick him back against the door opposite you.

“No,” you scold him. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“Whyyyy,” he reaches for your legs again and you push him back even more.

“I’m tired, Sunwoo.” You say but he just crawls on top of you with a mischievous grin.

“You won’t have to do anything,” he bargains. “Jus’ wanna taste you a little. That’s all!” You glare at him.

“One time.” His eyes light up and he pries your legs open again. “You get one more from me tonight, Kim Sunwoo. You hear me?”

“Mhm!” He dives straight into you, knowing that this was far from the last time he’d get you to cum in his car tonight.

“I still think that you should be thanking me,” Eric shuts the door of Sunwoo’s car with a sly grin.

“For what?” Sunwoo asks exasperatedly.

It had been less than 24 hours since Sunwoo had fucked you in his car and officially made you his after a long year and a half of pining. He was tired. His body was tired. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his best friend this early in the morning, or at all really.

“For getting you guys together! It was my idea, anyway.” Eric clicks his seatbelt into place and runs a hand through his dyed red hair. “Where are your car gummy worms?”

“Center console,” Sunwoo puts the car in drive and has barely begun to ease his foot off the brake when Eric lets a gasp so violent and loud that he slams his foot back down again. “What, what happened?” He slams the car back into park, his face going white when he sees what his best friend is dangling between two dainty fingers.

Black lace panties.

Your black lace panties.

“Sunwoo…you didn’t…” Eric chokes out with a mix of disgust and heartbreak on his face. Sunwoo rips the panties out of his best friend’s hands and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. His face feels like it’s on fire, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“Do not ever speak of this to anybody. Ever.”

“You fucking FREAK!”

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 7 months ago

Text

DON’T YOU EVER GROW UP

CHARACTERS: Joel Miller & Sarah Miller

RATING: none | WORD COUNT: 900

SUMMARY: Joel experiences many emotions as Sarah reaches the childhood milestone of getting her “big girl” bed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is me, projecting my own experience onto my favorite character because I’m a fic writer and that’s what I do. Divider by @/saradika-graphics and beta read by @murder-wife 💕

LINKS: support for palestine 🇵🇸

Joel wipes the sweat beading along his hairline with the back of his hand. He stares at the new bed frame, his mind not reconciling how much bigger than her convertible crib it is. It's just a twin, white wood that matches her dresser and her bookcase stuffed with children's books of all shapes and sizes, but it seeing it take up so much space feels jarring.

"Little help?" Tommy calls from the hallway. Joel shakes his head to clear his thoughts before joining his brother, who holds one end of a mattress teetering on the stairs. Together they bring it the rest of the way into Sarah's room, settling it on the frame.

"Thanks for the help," Joel says, patting Tommy's shoulder. "I owe ya one."

"Don't sweat it. I know the little miss was dyin' for her new big girl bed."

There it is, the phrase that makes Joel's heart clench in his chest. Sarah's barreling towards five years old, shedding some of the baby roundness in her cheeks and no longer saying certain words incorrectly, the way toddlers tend to do. She gets up every morning for preschool and eats her cereal all by herself and comes home in the afternoon to tell Joel about her day, legs kicking against the chair while she shows him her art because she's not quite tall enough to reach the floor. Joel looks around the room again, remembering the rocking chair in the corner that was the first piece of her childhood to retire, followed by the changing table with its pile of diapers. He thinks about how small she'd been, how light her tiny body was on his chest and for a moment he misses it so fiercely his eyes burn with the threat of tears.

"I need a beer," Tommy says, leaving the room. Joel takes the opportunity to press his fingers to his eyes, willing the wave of emotion to subside before joining his brother in the kitchen.

They share a couple beers before Tommy checks his watch, announcing that he should leave. On the way out the door, they pass the dismantled crib and Tommy taps it with his hand.

"You want me to drop that off for donation?" he asks. Joel looks at the chipped white wood, rubs a thumb over a dent in the veneer.

"No, that's alright. I'll take care of it," he replies. Tommy shrugs and Joel walks him out to his truck parked in the drive way, waving him off. When Tommy disappears from view, he heads next door to Connie's house.

He knocks on the front door and waits, the sound of tiny feet against wood growing louder, making his smile grow wider. The door opens, Sarah's sweet face peeking through the crack allowed by the chain lock.

"Password?" she asks, tone as serious as a four year old can muster. Joel crouches down to look her in the eye.

"Pizza for dinner," he says. She squeals in excitement and jumps away from the door just as Connie unlocks it. His daughter sits on the worn carpet runner to pull on her shoes while Joel asks how she behaved.

"She was an angel as always," Connie assures him. "Wait right here, we made cookies earlier and I want to send y'all home with some."

Connie disappears down the hall and Sarah darts after her. When they return, his daughter is balancing a foil wrapped plate in both hands, tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration.

"Thanks again, Con. I'll be 'round Sunday to help Dan with the yard," Joel promises. Connie waves a hand at him.

"Don't you worry about it, you know it ain't a big deal to watch her. You got a good egg on your hands."

Back at home, Joel calls in an order for pizza that he shares with Sarah. He lets her take sips of his Coke to wash it down, her brown eyes wide with excitement at getting to drink soda with dinner. After a bath, pajamas, and a minor argument over brushing her teeth, Sarah enters her room for the first time that evening and sees her new bed.

"Wow!" she exclaims, clambering onto the mattress. She stands, jumping excitedly and Joel wraps an arm around her middle, placing her back on the ground.

"Remember how that song goes? The monkey falls off and bumps his head?" Joel asks, knocking his knuckles against the top of her head as she giggles. "No jumpin'. Come on, let's get your sheets on."

Together, though the bulk of the effort falls on Joel, they get her bed ready. Purple sheets with a cream colored quilt decorated with purple butterflies, a set that she spotted in the store that Joel went back to purchase on his own. She crawls between the sheets and settles her head on the pillow, ready for her stories. Joel reads three books of her choosing and shuts down her argument for a fourth, seeing that she can barely keep her eyes open any longer. He plugs in her pink butterfly nightlight and kisses her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby girl," he whispers.

"'M not a baby, I'm a big girl now," Sarah replies in her sleepy voice. Her eyes have already drifted shut before he can respond and he stands there for a moment, watching her with a lump in his throat.

Sarah may be getting bigger, but she'll always be his baby. Of that, Joel is certain.

Thank you for reading! For more of my writing visit:

All masterlists

Joel Miller masterlist

#joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #sarah miller #joel and sarah #dad joel miller

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sofisweb · 2 months ago

Text

　₊　　　˙　　⠀⠀✦⠀　　　˙　　₊ In the Dark

summary: You and Rick get into a bit of a mess on a supply run and find a cabin to stay the night in.

Suggestive towards the end, implied sexual stuff (nothing tho cause i can't write), mention of Daryl (once), age gap implied, NOT PROOF READ 𓈒⠀　˙　　₊　

　₊　　　˙ reader x Rick Grimes 𓈒⠀　˙　　₊

　˙　　₊　setting: whenever (i wasn't thinking about it) ˙　　₊　

₊　　　˙　 Word count: 1476

“Fuck - it’s cold..” I stuttered out as me and Rick finally busted the lock open off the cabin door. My hands were shaking, not just from the cold but from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me after the herd we narrowly escaped. We had both gone on a supply run - the group was running out of supplies fast and there was a town nearby so we’d decided to go and check it out.

And a random herd had come up so we had to run - getting no supplies, ending up soaked from the sudden rain and awfully tired. Trip definitely went as planned.

Rick opened the door with his flashlight in hand and gun in the other , the light cutting through the darkness to scan for any threats. The last thing we both needed were more walkers. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with.” he muttered out, his voice steady but still equally exhausted. I walked in beside him, my grip on my weapon loosening as I let out a small sigh at the sight of the cabin being clear..except for the mice.

“Cosy.” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm as I looked around the small cabin. I kicked the door shut behind me to prevent even more rain coming in. “I seriously should’ve just let Daryl go on this run with you.” Which caused him to let out a small laugh in reply. I noticed Rick’s eyes landing on a fireplace with some firewood already in there and he looked back at me, “We’ll manage.” He responded with a firm tone. “You alright, kid?”

I just responded with a small hum and nod.

And one of my first thoughts was to check how gross the bed was- walkers, mice and bugs - my top 3 list of ‘things i hate’ and thankfully - it was clean .. clean enough for me not to have a heart attack. I placed my bag down on a nearby table, along with my gun.

Rick was probably saying something to me while i was checking out the clean rating of the room as all i heard him say was ‘get your clothes off’

“H - huh?” I called out as I looked back at him at the fireplace, “I said if you keep those on ya’ gonna freeze.” and I swallowed back a shaky breath and just responded with a nod, raising an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I have anything else to wear under this.” I muttered jokingly to myself as I unzipped my uncomfortable jacket and Rick huffed a small laugh, kneeling to inspect the fireplace. “You know that modesty ain’t much of a priority if ya’ a popsicle.”

I rolled my eyes in response - one of my priorities was my jacket and jumper , I'd probably just die if they were ruined and the cold had already made my fingers too stiff to argue. I tossed my jacket onto my bag before I peeled my jumper off, a small sigh of relief escaping my lips as I escaped that uncomfortable feeling.

I ran a hand through my wet hair as I looked back over at Rick, watching him work at the fireplace as he struggled to get the fire going. His shoulders were tense, his wet shirt clinging to his back- He eventually got the fire going and warmth started to faintly fill the room, Rick sat back on his heels, brushing damp hair out of his face. His eyes flicked to me, lingering for a second too long before he spoke. “Better?” “Yeah.” I nodded with a small sigh in response and I headed over to my outer-clothing and moved it near the fire. “I gotta dry this.” And he let out a small nod and chuckle in response, “Yeah - I should probably do that too.” And he followed my actions as he grabbed his jacket off the ground and placed it beside mine.

“We’ll probably have to stay here for the night- head back at first light.” And I nodded in response. I sat down beside him, my knee brushing against his for a moment. We both stayed silent for a while- unsure of what to do or say and just embraced the warmth and the fire crackling filled the room.

Rick eventually spoke up as he looked over to me. “Ya’ handling this better than most would.” I blinked, surprised and spoke up once more. “What? Handling a mouse-infested cabin?” I laughed out softly and a small smile crept up on his face as he shook his head in response. “Guess so- but, not what I meant.” “Out there...the herd, the run. You kept your head. Did what needed doin'. That ain't easy, not for anyone." His words made my chest tighten in a way - that I would never admit and I shrugged. “I guess I did learn from the best.” and I looked back at the fire.

Rick looked at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as his gaze dropped to the fire. “I mean it,” he began, a small sigh escaping his lips as he looked over at me.

“Feel’s like I can trust ya’.” He murmured, “Ain’t a lot of people I can trust nowadays – but you? I can trust you.” I seriously didn’t know what to say- I know it was just a small compliment , was it even a compliment? Whatever - my heart began beating faster than it was when we were running from that herd before and I could feel my face start to heat up a bit. Before I could find my words his hand reached out, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and his hand lingered for just a moment, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. “Ya’ tougher than you give yourself credit for.” his voice drooped just a little bit.

And I thought he would’ve..well- kissed me, but his hand moved away and I felt a bit disappointed and he gave me a small smile. “You can rest, I’ll keep watch-” “-you sure?” And i knew there was no point in arguing, i stood up with a small sigh and nodded. “M’kay. Goodnight.” “Goodnight Y/N.”

–

A few hours - minutes, whatever had passed and I stayed awake hoping that if i kept my eyes closed I'd eventually drift off to sleep.

I couldn’t sleep and I had to hold back stirring and rolling over every minute with Rick in the room. I had that moment in my mind playing over and over again like a broken record.

My mind started to wonder when Rick was going to sleep- maybe he probably already had, just against a chair on the floor. Just as I was about to call out his name I paused as I felt the bed dip slightly behind me. At Least he actually got in the bed- last thing he would’ve wanted was back problems from sleeping on the floor, right?

And I decided to stay silent, I thought that maybe if he knew I was awake he would’ve left.. My eyes fluttered open as I felt him shift closer and as his arms carefully wrapped around my waist. “I know ya’ awake..” he whispered gently into my ear. “Oh.” I sighed out- thankful he didn’t pull away and I shifted closer to him. He groaned softly, burying his face in the side of my neck and his arms squeezing me slightly as he pulled me closer, pressed up against him. His warmth against my back was a stark contrast to the cold that had clung to my skin all night, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he held me close. “How’d you know I was awake?” “Kinda easy to tell when ya’ tossin’ and turnin’ all the time.” I let out a small sigh and bit my lower lip, feeling a little embarrassed."Sorry," I murmured, but he shook his head, his chin brushing my shoulder. “Get some sleep.” He murmured against my neck, pressing a gentle kiss as his thumb traced absent patterns on my hip. “You too.” I murmured in reply as I turned around to fully face him, his leg slipping in between mine - just as I was about to say something I could notice the look in his eyes in the faint light and without another word he closed the gap between us,

His lips brushed against mine, urgently but gently as if he’d been holding back for farr too long. My hands automatically trailed up his chest, my arms wrapping around his neck.

Rick picked me up slightly, groaning softly into my mouth as he lowered me under him.

“Guess we’re not gettin’ much sleep tonight.” He murmured with a small smile. "Guess not."

deadass dont know why this took me so long to write i need more motivation

#౨ৎ sofisweb #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction

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yoursweetwife · 1 year ago

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Synopsis: chess game didn't end the way Ratio wanted it to, but he's definitely not complaining.

Warning: kisses, fluff, a little shy reader, self-confident Ratio, female reader

"Do you want a rematch?"

Ratio looked up from his book and looked at you calmly, as if he was ready for this question. You were standing right in front of his desk, your face inches from his. Sometimes you forgot about your personal space (although who is he to talk about it?).

"That's right, this time I'm going to defeat you!"

You spoke excitedly and started giggling. Ratio couldn't deny that it was a pretty sight, but he needed to keep himself in check, thanks to his excellent self-control.

"So," a loud bang echoed through the huge office and the book ended up on the table. "I see mistakes don't teach you anything."

Ratio grinned and waved his hand. A chessboard appeared not far from the table.

"The rates are the same as before. Any wish of the winner."

You looked defiantly at the man in front of you. You may not be as good at chess as Ratio, but days and nights of training should do the trick. You've managed to take his strongest pieces before, so there's a chance that you'll win today, right?

"Mistakes help us achieve perfection, even you weren't always a chess master.

You said, sitting down on the chair in front of Veritas.

"Over the years of my life, I have honed my playing skills to perfection," he put one foot on the other, not breaking eye contact. "it's going to take a lot more than a few months of amateur play."

Did he just call your game amateur? Did he even know how much time you spent training? You smiled irritably, trying to remain calm, although, judging by Ratio’s teasing look, he saw your emotions perfectly.

"I'm starting."

Your hand moved towards the pawn. Veritas has been watching you closely.

"Yes, it's better that way."

It is unknown how long this game lasted. The students and almost all the teachers went home, but you two didn't care.

A drop of sweat trickled down Ratio's forehead, his hand lingered over one pawn, then another. He couldn't help but see your progress, that's what he likes about you, your tenacity and desire.

For the first time, he felt such a huge adrenaline rush from just playing with someone. He glanced at your tense face. Your gaze never left his hands, waiting for the long-awaited move.

After Ratio's move, you saw the gap he left for the King. Without giving your opponent time to think, you "ate" the King.

"Checkmate, Veritas."

Ratio's gaze did not leave the King's figure. His wide-open eyes expressed shock and bewilderment at defeat. Did you really just beat him?

"It can't be..."

You didn't pay attention to the man's confusion and continued to celebrate your little victory. Finally, you will be able to carry out your little plan.In an instant, the chessboard disappeared. You looked at Ration in disbelief. Veritas turned away, as if considering something.

"Veritas?"

You gently called his name, an action that is only allowed to you.There was a slight blush on his cheeks after you called him by his first name.

"Defeat is defeat, you can ask for anything you want."

You instantly perked up and smiled shyly. Your body ended up in front of a seated Ratio, who was intrigued by your strange behavior.

Your eyes met.

"Kiss me."

Ratio looked at you like you were an idiot.

"Kiss you?"

"Why are you asking again!"

Your face has turned incredibly red from embarrassment. You were sure you were ready for this!

"Idiot, how can you ask such a thing."

He closed his eyes, trying to put his thoughts in order. No matter how absurd it may sound, but Ratio had the idea of kissing you for a long time, but he did not know that today he would have to face his worst fear face to face.

"Compared to what you told me to do, a kiss is just a flower."

Veritas's heart was beating against his chest with great speed. He wanted to listen to his rational side, which says to stop it, but the soul wants to continue. This may be the only chance to get closer to you than standing next to you.He sighed and looked at you seriously.

"So be it, I will fulfill your wish."

A soft sigh escaped your lips when Ratio abruptly pulled you in. He really decided to kiss you! Your lips met each other. The feel of his soft lips on yours made you relax and put your arms around his neck. To your surprise, Veritas's arms wrapped around your waist, gently stroking it with his big hands. You behaved almost like a couple...

Veritas moved your face away from his. The scientist couldn't see himself, but he could tell with certainty that his face was a mess, just like yours. The sunset outside the window, heavy breathing, heartbeat in time and your red faces created an atmosphere of romance in which you wanted to stay. Just like your lips, painted with strawberry balm.

You smiled sheepishly because of the intense attention of the golden eyes. Still trying to put your thoughts in order, you moved away from Ratio (you couldn't help but notice how his hands were trying to hold you back). You weren't an expert in romance, but there's no denying that there's something between you and him.

"Ah, a simple kiss on the cheek would be enough..."

Ratio snorted and stared at you.

"Be glad you got it. If all your next wishes are the same, then I won't let you win anymore."

Lie.

You both understood that.A smile spread across your face.

"Then I'm waiting for the next game."

With that, you left the office, slamming the door. Ratio did not scold you because of the loud sound, left to himself, instead he continued to stare at one point and reflect on this situation.

Veritas could tell for sure that from now on, your relationship will be different. Not that he was against it.

#Dr Ratio #hsr x reader #female reader #honkai star rail x reader #dr. ratio x reader #dr ratio x reader

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green-alm0nd · 7 months ago

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[The Bad Batch x gn!reader (headcanons)]: Wearing their t-shirt

----

Summary:

Each of the Bad Batch members react to your wearing their t-shirt.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None, pure fluff. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

----

HUNTER:

He is completely smitten at the sight of you wearing his black t-shirt, one that he usually matched with his civilian clothes.

He came into your shared bunk to check some stuff about medical supplies and he found you trying out his black t-shirt. It wasn't oversized, but it wasn't super tight on your body, either.

He leaned on the side of the bedframe, smiling to himself.

"It fits you. You should keep it."

You're startled by how stealthy and quiet he was.

"You think so?"

He nods, hugging you from behind, pressing his chest against your back.

"Of course. Keep it."

He feels very protective over you, especially when you're wearing his clothes.

He acts like he doesn't mind, but in reality, he wouldn't mind you trying out his clothes more often.

ECHO:

He came back from a mission to your shared apartment just to see you with his pyjama shirt on and he instantly turned red.

You were watching a holomovie, hugging a cushion against your chest with his shirt on and he felt his heart speed up to a hundred miles per hour.

He slowly approached you, trying to look like he was cool with it, and ruffled your hair.

"Evening. I see you're wearing something of mine." He chimed.

You smiled, and stared at him. Truth be told, you missed him dearly when he went on long missions, so you looked for a piece of clothing that was his to remind you of him.

When you explained that to him he directly melted.

He thought he was so lucky to have a partner like you, a thoughtful mind and a loving person.

He joined you shortly afterwards, staring at you with a silly smile any time

WRECKER:

Excited. Like a kid on Christmas.

"Awe! Look at you! You're so adorable!"

He had bought some Mantell Mix for him and Omega when he decided to go back to the ship to rest and that's when he saw you.

To be fair, the t-shirt he used to dress up as a civilian looked like a huge, oversized dress on you. But that's what made it endearing.

"You look so cute!"

He hugs you tightly and kisses you to demonstrate how much he loves you.

If you wear his t-shirt, he will steal a wristband and put it on his wrist to show that he's also willing to wear your stuff.

May turn into a competition at some point, but that's not what we're here for-

Bonus: he feels extremely protective over you when you're wearing his clothes.

TECH:

Unfazed. Not bothered.

Or, at least, that what he likes to act like.

In reality, he got very flustered and awkward the first time he saw you wearing his t-shirt.

He stumbled with words and stuttered uncontrollably. He was probably the most flustered out of the entire batch.

He was done fixing the Marauder's hyperdrive and decided to check on you when he saw you with a t-shirt he used to sleep. And his heart rate skyrocketed.

Like I said, he acts unfaced and excuses his stuttering by saying he had been talking for too long. Not a very good excuse coming from his smart brain.

Then again, it's not like his brain worked after seeing you on his t-shirt.

He thought of places he could place the t-shirt so you'd be able to wear it more often.

This man is really head over heels for you.

CROSSHAIR:

"The heck you're doing with my t-shirt on?"

"Don't act mad, Cross."

"I'm not. I'm just asking."

He did acted mad. He was actually about to melt then and there.

Him and Hunter had gone on a mission to gather some intel and he had come back to the small cottage you and him shared on Pabu just to see you with his white t-shirt on.

Deep down, he loved it. He loved that you were wearing something that was his, he loved that you were his significant other.

He was just too proud to admit it.

The first time he saw you wearing his clothes, he snuck his hands under it to gently grip your waist. He adored the feeling of being able to hold you.

And yet again, he was too proud to admit it.

----

There's not much I have to say except I finally got my helix piercing done and I really do love it :p

And I might edit Crosshair's part because it doesn't really match his personality anymore.

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated!

My requests are still open!

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taehyungsgrowl · 2 months ago

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birthday cake

hi! it is one of my best friends birthday today (happy birthday, reyna ily) and so here is a little yoongi birthday fic 🩷

in which yoongi decides to make a cake for his gf…

just blushy yoongi. fluff. slightly suggestive. no smut!

Yoongi found himself standing in the middle of his tiny kitchen, apron tied around his waist, frantically flipping through a baking book. He hadn’t baked in God knows how long, but today was different—today was Y/N's birthday, and he was determined to surprise her with the perfect cake.

He glanced at the clock, nodding to himself—plenty of time before she’d be back. No need to worry. After all, how hard could making a birthday cake be?

He regretted those thoughts instantly, rushing the first layer of cake back to the counter—if you could call it rushing. The kitchen was a disaster: eggshells scattered like confetti, flour dusting every surface (mixing in with the few strands of gray that nestled between his black hair), half-used sticks of butter, and sugar in places sugar should never be. "Ah, ah, ah..." His fingers danced under the baking tray, trying to avoid the heat, even through his thick baking mitts.

He shoved everything he could into the sink, trying to make room for the first cake layer. This couldn’t be the only way to do it—he had to have missed a step. What do you mean he had to repeat the whole process for the second layer? He muttered curses under his breath. Why hadn’t he thought to grab a second pan? Now he’d have to clear the one he was using, then make the frosting, decorate the cake, clean up, decorate the house, and still somehow look presentable. Where had the time gone? Y/N would be home any minute, and the kitchen looked like a war zone—with no cake in sight.

Yoongi's phone vibrated in his back pocket, taking him out of his zone. Her face flashed on his screen from the incoming call. Panic started to set it. She'd have to be on her way if she was calling! He tried to get it together and answered the call. "Hi honey," she could hear the smile in his voice, "Happy Birthday."

"Yoongi, you've already wished me a happy birthday," she laughed, adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder as she walked down the street.

Yoongi’s phone was wedged between his shoulder and neck, his head tilted just enough to keep it in place. His hands were busy, stirring the cake mixture as he tried to work the clumps out. "Yeah, I know I already said it, but I mean it. I want you to have the happiest day—every day, really. How was lunch with your sister?" He was proud of how carefree he could sound despite the anxiety this cake was giving him.

"Great! I'm actually calling you to tell you that she's taking me to go pick out my gift so I'll be back at a little later than expected -"

"He'll be fineee," he heard Y/N's sister whine in the background.

"Tell her I say hello too," he chuckled, "And not to keep you too late -she has to share." He couldn't stop the pout from forming on his lips, but he was also started making a mental list of ways he could thank Y/N's sister for buying him time. It was gonna be okay!

He quickly resumed his work, moving through the kitchen at the speed of light (or so it felt - but he had to keep stopping to check the instructions and recipe).

Yoongi carefully tried to lift the first cake layer, hoping he could slide it onto the cooling rack without incident. But as he moved it, the spatula slipped, and the edge of the cake tipped over the side. The layer landed with a soft thud on the counter, its corner now crumpled and slightly bent.

“C’mon, don’t fall apart now,” he muttered, his heart rate picking up. He gently tried to lift the cake, but the soft edges were starting to crumble under his touch.

With a frustrated sigh, he quickly steadied the layer, praying it wouldn’t collapse entirely. The last thing he needed was for this to fall apart before he even got to the frosting.

He glanced nervously at the clock—Y/N would be home soon, and this wasn’t exactly the picture of a perfect cake. "This is fine," he told himself, wiping his hands on his apron. “It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”

He gently placed the cake back on the rack, willing the crumbling edges to hold. It wasn’t perfect, but it was salvageable. At least, he hoped it was. Frosting fixes everything, right?

After more work, Yoongi stepped back and looked at the scene with a small, exhausted sigh. The cake wasn’t perfect, but it was finished—mostly intact and topped with a layer of frosting that, while not “artistic,” at least covered the obvious flaws. He gave a quick glance at the clock again. Y/N would be home soon!

He quickly grabbed a rag, scrubbing down the surfaces, and tossing used utensils into the sink. He kept glancing over at the cake, praying that it would stay intact for a few more minutes. It wasn’t perfect, but he was determined to make it look like he had it all together.

His mind was already racing to the next task. The house. He had to make it look less like a disaster and more like a cozy birthday surprise. Yoongi hurried through the living room, straightening the pillows on the couch and turning on her favorite candle. He didn’t have time for perfection, but he could at least make the place feel welcoming. He placed the happy birthday banner up on the wall. The fresh bouquet of flowers gently placed in a vase. It was all coming along!

The door opened just as Yoongi finished adjusting the last of the decorations. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly wiped his hands on the apron, glancing around the living room one last time to make sure everything was in place. It wasn’t perfect—there were still a few flour smudges on the counter, and he hadn't quite managed to get the place spotless—but it would have to do.

He opened the door with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up as he saw Y/N standing there her face lighting up when she spotted him.

“Happy birthday!” he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud, a little too eager. The words came out with so much enthusiasm, but that was fine—he was just relieved she was finally home.

Y/N smiled back at him, her eyes softening in that way they always did when she looked at him. "You didn’t have to do all this," she said, looking at the decorations and then back at him. "It looks amazing."

Yoongi’s heart fluttered at the compliment, but before he could say anything more, Y/N’s eyes flickered down, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Uh… Yoongi,” she started, her gaze narrowing in on the corner of his mouth. “I think you missed a spot.” She reached up and gently wiped her thumb across his lip, picking up a small smudge of chocolate frosting that he hadn’t noticed. Without missing a beat, placed the thumb in her mouth sucking it clean, slow and deliberate.

Yoongi’s face went red as he stepped back, blinking in surprise. "What? Oh," he chuckled, his voice soft as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I, uh... might’ve taste-tested the cake. Can’t risk it being too sweet, right?”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to her thumb, then back to her, his breath catching in his throat. He was blushing so hard he could feel the heat creeping up to his ears.

He flashed her a sheepish smile, still standing in the doorway in his apron, realizing only now how ridiculous he must look. “I kind of got caught up in... well, the cake... and, uh, decorating…” He gestured vaguely to the living room. “You know, the usual birthday chaos.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound light and warm. She stepped inside, giving him a playful shove. "You're adorable," she teased, brushing past him to take in the rest of the room. “But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out like this. I’m happy just being with you.”

Yoongi felt a swell of warmth in his chest as he closed the door behind her. “I wanted it to be special,” he said quietly, his gaze softening as he watched her smile.

“Don’t worry, it is,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a wink. "Though, I might have to help you with that messy kitchen... and maybe some other things later."

Yoongi followed her into the kitchen and he nervously glanced at the cake, still standing in the kitchen with his hands behind his back. He couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck. "Uh, so..." He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "I, uh, made this for you."

He turned around slowly to reveal the cake—lopsided but covered in a thick, uneven layer of frosting, and sprinkled with a few hastily placed decorative touches. It wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely made with care.

Y/N smiled warmly, her eyes softening as she looked at the cake. "Wow, you really did this all yourself?" she asked, genuinely impressed. She leaned in closer, taking in the little imperfections with a fond smile. "I love it. It’s perfect."

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking anywhere but at her as his heart raced. "I, uh, wanted it to be special. I know it’s not... fancy, but I—"

Before he could finish, Y/N leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Don’t worry," she said, her voice soft as she reached for the cake. "I think it’s perfect."

Without another word, she dipped her finger into the frosting and brought it to her mouth, licking it off slowly, savoring the taste. Yoongi’s breath hitched as he watched her, his pulse spiking. He tried to look away, but his gaze was glued to her finger and the way she cleaned it off, her eyes meeting his for just a second.

The warmth in his chest spread to his cheeks, and he immediately turned his head to hide the flush on his face. “Did you... like it?” he asked, his voice low. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest like it was about to leap out of his ribcage.

Y/N, still holding her finger to her lips, smiled coyly. “Mm, I do. It’s... sweet.” She licked her lips slowly, her gaze playful. “I think I’ll need more of this.”

Yoongi swallowed hard, the heat in his face intensifying. He opened his mouth to say something, but his brain couldn’t quite catch up with his racing thoughts. Instead, he just stammered, “Happy birthday, by the way…”

She let out a small giggle, stepping closer to him.

“Mm, the cake is really yummy," Y/N said with a smile, wiping a little frosting off her lips as her eyes locked with his. The look was gentle, but there was something in it—something more—something Yoongi recognized.

He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing. “I’m glad you like it," he murmured, his voice low. His hand reached for hers, fingers brushing her skin lightly.

Y/N’s thumb traced the back of his hand, the light touch sending warmth up his arm. She didn’t say anything more, but the silence between them was heavy with everything they’d been feeling in that moment. She was close and yet it wasn’t enough. Yoongi could feel his breath hitch as he gazed at her, his fingers tightening around hers just a little.

"Y/N," he breathed out, his voice soft but full of meaning. She didn’t pull back. Instead, she gave him a look that made his stomach flip, and the distance between them was gone.

He leaned in, his lips finding hers with a familiarity that made his heart race even more. It wasn’t tentative or hesitant. It was the kind of kiss they shared when there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Yoongi’s hand cradled the side of her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

Y/N’s arms slid around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair, her body pressing into his. Yoongi’s chest tightened with the simple pleasure of having her so close, so warm. They kissed slowly, savoring the closeness, the sweetness of the moment. His tongue parted her lips as he deepened the kiss. He could taste the chocolate off her tongue.

Yoongi smiled as he heard her gasp against his kiss. He swallowed her sounds, his fingers gripping her hair.

Y/N's senses were everywhere. The sweet scent of the kitchen filling her nose, Yoongi's tongue tracing patterns as he kissed her, her fingers tangled in his hair.

She could feel him smirk as she gripped his hair and Yoongi made a mental note to keep his long length just a little longer (if it were up to Y/N, he knows he wouldn't be getting his hair cut any time soon).

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath. Yoongi smiled softly, his fingers still tangled in her hair.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a little raspier than usual.

She smiled back, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Thank you, Yoongi," she said, brushing her lips lightly against his. "Best gift ever.”

Everything just felt right. It was simple—just them, the cake, and this little piece of happiness they’d carved out together.

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