#and then I lived alone until this august | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hairyjocktf · 6 months ago

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A Sweaty Semester

Dean let out a heavy breath as he wiped the sweat from his face. His phone said it was 98 degrees out but it felt like 112. He’d been dreading moving in August for this very reason, but at least the worst was over now, he thought. Surrounded by boxes he slumped onto his new bed, his soaked shirt cold against his back. Dean had just moved into his dorm room in central Texas, a full week early because his mom said he should “get to know the town”. The building was old and the air conditioning was barely functioning, leading to a miserable couple hours of moving boxes in oppressive heat. After a long drive and the unloading ordeal, he was exhausted, the heat lulling him to sleep as he laid on his bare bed.

That was until the door to his room flew open, banging against the wall and startling Dean out of his nap. He heard shuffling and grunting outside in the hall as a stench began to leak into the room. It was almost more nauseating than the heat, a pungent mix of sweat, body odor, and who knows what else. Dean’s eyes watered as a figure holding several boxes stepped into the room before dropping them onto the opposing bed. He turned around revealing himself to Dean. He was at least six feet tall, broad and pretty built, his large frame only partially covered by a sweat soaked tank top. His face was covered in a thick beard, and the tank revealed a substantially hairy chest and shoulders. Now that he was in Dean’s face, the stench was ten times as bad, he could practically taste the sweat on the guy’s body in the air. He grinned and stuck out a hand towards Dean, “The name’s Hunter.”

Dean stared at him for a few seconds too long before stretching out his own, “Dean.” Hunter’s grin turned into a full on smile.

“Well nice to meet ya dude!�� he said with a vigorous handshake. Dean was still staring at him, there was no way Hunter was a college freshman, he looked years older than himself at the very least. His daze was broken when Hunter raised an arm to scratch the side of his head, letting a fresh wave of musky stench out directly into Dean’s face. He nearly doubled over from the intensity; how on Earth was he going to live with someone who stunk like this?

“It’s a real roaster out there today huh? I’ve got some more boxes out in my truck that I’m gonna go get, but first let’s get some air flowing in here.” Hunter proceeded to open the dorm window letting a gust of blistering air inside. “It may still be hot but at least it’s some circulation,” he chuckled before walking back into the hall and leaving Dean alone. He was stunned. The outside air helped marginally with the lingering scent but made the heat even worse, and in minutes he was back to sweating buckets. Dean’s mind was racing with thoughts trying to cope with how the next year of living with this guy would be. He could barely think straight when Hunter was in the room with that eye watering aroma of his. While he was still alone Dean stripped off his sopping wet shirt and threw on a fresh one to try and maintain some level of comfort, before beginning the arduous task of unpacking all of his boxes.

A few minutes later Hunter returned with another huge stack of boxes, his sweat-drenched form glistening in the afternoon light. “Alright I think that’s most of it, guess I’ll join ya here in putting it all away!” he laughed. Dean managed to put on a smile but internally he was really going through it, and that was before Hunter pulled out a speaker and put on some music that sounded like something Dean’s father would listen to. Dean gulped, and they both got to work unpacking box after box. Even though he’d just changed, Dean’s shirt was soaked almost immediately. He had to pull out his bath towel just to wipe the sweat from his face. He knew it was hot but this was getting ridiculous, and on top of that he could barely breathe with Hunter’s noxious fumes filling the room. After a while of hanging clothes and dripping sweat all over the room, Dean backed out into the hall to use the bathroom. Miraculously, it was significantly cooler out there. Maybe the open window was doing more harm than anything, he thought. Upon returning to the room a few minutes later he was greeted with a blast of late afternoon heat, the intense smell of a sweaty body, and Hunter lounging on his haphazardly made bed, exposing his ripe pits to the air.

Dean paused in the doorway, unknowingly staring at Hunter’s pits. They were covered with thick tufts of brown hair, matted down by sweat. He could practically see the stench wafting from them. Hunter looked up from his phone, catching Dean staring. He smirked before reaching with one hand to tousle the hairs, even pulling his hand up to his nose after to sniff it. Dean’s trance was broken by his gut reaction to gag at such a sight. Why had he been staring at those disgusting pits in the first place? He put those thoughts out of his mind and got back to shoving stuff under his bed. Sweat dripped from his hair onto everything in front of him; it was so hot in the room, and the smell of sweat permeated everything. Dean couldn’t get the sight of Hunter’s hairy sweaty body out of his mind for some reason, no matter how much he tried to focus on what he was doing. He even caught his dick pressing hard against his shorts at one point. What the hell was going on?

That night Dean laid out on his bed, tossing and turning from the heat. It had cooled down but Hunter insisted they keep the window open; at least it helped with the smell a bit. He could feel the top sheet beneath him was fully soaked through, his sweat was inescapable. He could see the drops on him shining from the streetlight outside. It was near impossible to get any rest like this, with Hunter snoring across the room stinking up the place. He’d taken off everything but his underwear just to try and cool down, exposing all of him to the heat. His thin pale body dripped sweat in the stagnant night air, drops sliding down his hairless skin. As Dean laid there, the sweat coating his body slowly began to soak into his skin. Thin, wispy hairs began to push out around his nipples, nearly invisible if not for the streetlight catching them. Following those, more hairs poked out in the center of his chest, these slightly darker and spreading over a wider area. They were short and laid flat against his skin as his chest became slightly less bony with a thin layer of muscle and fat gracing his rib cage. His forearms were dusted with a light coating of thin hairs, growing thicker near his wrists. His thighs expanded slightly in size before hairs began sprouting across their expanse, growing slightly thicker and darker than the others. His face itched as peach fuzz across his upper lip darkened a tad, with some more fuzz appearing around his chin. Dean groaned softly in his sleep as his dick pushed harder against his tight underwear, exposing his small amount of hair above. As the sweat soaked in, hairs began to multiply, short dark hairs pushing out from his bush, spreading upwards towards his stomach. As he rolled and twisted on the bed he exposed his bare armpits, and under the soft light from the lamppost thin wispy hairs began to sprout. The hairs grew longer, not too visible at a distance but enough to begin catching some sweat and scents of his own.

Hunter was awake as soon as the sunlight began to light up the room. He looked over at Dean, who was still out cold. He grinned upon seeing the light dusting of hairs that now adorned Dean’s chest and pits, before scratching at his own. He threw on some clothes and left to go jog and hit the gym. By the time Dean finally woke up all that was left was the faint remnant of Hunter’s smell. He rolled out of bed and hit the shower, too tired to notice any changes until he looked in the mirror after. His blood ran cold. What the hell was this? He had hair on his chest. Not much, but more than he’d ever had before. And his legs! They were nearly smooth yesterday! He raised his hands to his head and saw a dark spot under his arms. Pit hair?! Dean was really starting to freak out now, but for some reason he lowered his nose down and sniffed at one of his pits. Despite having just washed them, they already smelled fairly strongly of sweat and body odor; the scent was almost… familiar. Despite his mind screaming in anguish, the smell calmed him slightly.

Dean tried to put the shower behind him as he got dressed and left the building. He had some shopping to get done before classes started and he wanted to get familiar with the area. An hour later he was walking down aisle after aisle of home goods and furniture, but his mind was somewhere else. He kept thinking about the hair growing on his chest, about Hunter’s strong odor, about how he couldn’t look away from Hunter’s rancid pits yesterday. He didn’t know what to think anymore, what was happening to him.

When he finally got back to the dorm he could already tell Hunter was inside, his smell leaking from under the door into the hall. It seemed slightly less putrid than before, but still an affront to his nose. WIth a deep breath, he opened the door. It was hot and smelly in the room, the afternoon sun blazing through the open window. Hunter was again laid out on his bed, this time entirely shirtless. His broad and toned torso was completely covered in thick hair, and drenched with sweat on top of that. He looked up at Dean and smiled.

“Hey champ! Where’ve you been?” he asked cheerfully. The question barely registered in Dean’s head as he was staring at the rug on Hunter’s chest. After a delay he responded.

“Oh, uh, just had some things I needed to pick up before school gets going,” he said. Hunter sat up and stretched his arms over his head, revealing both his sweaty pits. Dean was blasted by a fresh wave of the odor coming from them, but he didn’t recoil this time, or even gag.

“Ah yea, I should do that too probably,” Hunter laughed. He scratched at his pit, making eye contact with Dean while doing so. He noticed the bulge in Dean’s pants from across the room, before smiling devilishly. “I noticed this morning you’ve got a little more hair on you than I expected! Have to give you some credit,” he said with a smirk. Dean’s face went bright red.

“Did you do this? Are you the one fucking with my head? This isn’t me… It’s been in my head all day… How could you even…” Dean trailed off. Hunter stood up from the bed and walked over to Dean, his large size dwarfing the boy. At point blank the smell coming from Hunter was intoxicating, and Dean was internally torn. Part of him, the original Dean, was disgusted, the lack of cleanliness was an affront. But the other part of him had grown to love the scent, to think about it and Hunter all day, to crave it more and more. Hunter looked down at him with a cunning grin, before raising one of his arms and exposing that damp, rank, hairy pit. In that moment, the new Dean won. He stuck his face deep into Hunter’s dank armpit and breathed in, taking in the most intense smell yet. Hunter laughed and then grabbed the back of Dean's head and pushed it in even farther. Sweat dripped from Hunter’s pit hairs onto Dean’s face, his body soaked already from the thick summer heat.

As the sweat dripped down his face, Dean could feel something itching. The soft peach fuzz that had grown the night before was thickening. Light wisps grew into thick dark hairs, spreading from his upper lip and chin across his jaw and down his neck. The hairs pushed out quickly, filling in into a dense beard that scratched against Hunter’s pit. Hairs climbed up his cheeks, giving him a thick coating across his whole face, able to trap even more of the sweat dripping on him.

The sweat continued to drip down Dean’s neck and onto his chest as he breathed in more of Hunter’s thick scent. His flat chest began pushing outward, muscle piling onto his frame as two sturdy pecs made themselves known. The light coating of hairs he had grown was quickly overwhelmed as a carpet of thick dark curly hairs erupted across his chest. The sweat fertilized the open expanse as hairs wormed out all over his pecs, engulfing his nipples and tangling together. They reached up over his collarbone and even started growing in on his neck. The dense rug grew even thicker between his growing pecs, hairs multiplying until they looked like fur, hiding any skin. Dean pulled back from Hunter’s pit, gasping for fresh air as he rubbed his hands through the newly grown hair.

Dean felt almost high from taking in so much of Hunter’s pit stench. He wobbled back against his bed and continued to rub his hands through his new chest hair. He groaned as he felt his body continue to expand. His shoulders grew larger and rounder, biceps exploding with size, and his torso grew muscled and took on a V shape. He stripped off his sweat drenched shirt only to see the thick hairs from his stomach spreading downward. His tight stomach was buried beneath a dense mat of dark hairs as they raced south towards his groin. It was then that he finally noticed the massive bulge in his pants, his cock having grown at least a few inches and pushing his shorts to their limit. Hunter stepped over and ripped both his shorts and underwear clean off, letting Dean’s still growing cock bob free. Hunter grabbed it with one hand and before Dean could finish moaning he shoved his face back into his sweaty armpit. Dean’s open mouth was filled with sweaty hair, Hunter’s pungent sweat now dripping down his throat. Dean continued to moan from inside the pit, the pitch growing steadily deeper as his Adam’s apple pushed out.

Hunter took his hand off Dean’s cock, wiped it across his furry chest to get it nice and sweaty, then returned it and began stroking slowly up and down. Dean’s body shuddered with pleasure as pre immediately shot out of his cock. As Hunter slowly moved his hand he watched as the thin bush of hair around the base of the cock began to thicken up. Thick hairs began sprouting up like weeds, dark and curly they wove together into a monstrous bush that kept expanding. The hairs crawled all across his groin, up onto his stomach, and out onto his thighs, the bush only growing denser as more hairs sprouted between old ones. Within minutes Hunter could smell Dean’s growing scent as sweat gathered in the thick bush. Dean groaned as his balls swelled in size and hung lower, the sack becoming engulfed in the same thick fur as it raced from his groin to his ass. His hole was quickly surrounded by dark wiry hairs that sprouted densely in his crack, before blossoming out across his tight ass in a dense fur.

Dean kept moaning from within Hunter’s hairy pit, letting more sweat down his throat. His body continued to grow, muscles popping out across his arms and legs and his frame steadily bulking up. He was even growing taller as a result, Hunter had to push him back against the bed to keep his face locked in. The more Hunter stroked Dean’s cock the more hair continued to spread across his body. His thigh’s already dense coating only grew darker and thicker before moving on to his calves and feet. His shoulders began growing their own coat with thick hairs popping out across the broad expanse, with his arms following suit. His forearms grew dark with a thick rug stretching onto the backs of his hands.

Hunter released Dean’s face before reaching down into his newly grown bush. He got his hand nice and damp before raising Dean’s arms, exposing his paltry amount of hair, and starting rubbing the groin sweat in. Within seconds he could feel his hand rubbing through more hair than before, as new thicker hairs started to shoot up. Dark wiry hairs exploded from Dean’s armpits, forming into a thick tuft of hair that stuck out in every direction, even connecting to the rug on his chest. Hunter grinned as he began to smell Dean’s own scent coming from the pits, growing stronger as more and more hairs pushed out. The hairs kept spreading, giving Dean the thickest forest of pit hair Hunter had ever seen. Dean’s sweat stuck in the jungle, giving it a ripe scent almost immediately. Hunter released Dean from his grip, and his instincts commanded him to sniff his own ripe pits. Dean groaned as he smelled the sweaty odorous pits, scratching his fingers through the thick fur.

Dean then went to stroking his massive cock that Hunter had been edging for a while now. He moaned as each pump coursed through his body, adding more muscle and fur to his frame. His beard pushed out more from his face, even his back began to grow coated with fur. The room was thick with the mixed scents of Hunter and Dean now, and every breath was intoxicating. His breaths grew ragged as he neared climax, and with a roar his cock erupted with the biggest load of Dean’s life. Blast after blast of thick cum shot out, landing all over his hairy body, with some even flying onto Hunter, who laughed. Dean’s cock continued to drizzle the last bits of his load as he collapsed onto his bed, soaked in sweat and cum stuck in his thick body hair. He slowly rubbed his hands across his massive body, feeling how much he’d grown. He’d become a giant to match Hunter, muscled, hairy, and incredibly sweaty and smelly. The stench of both their sweaty bodies was too much for almost anyone, but all Dean craved was more.

Thank you all for 1,000 followers! What an insane milestone. Hope you enjoy this one!

#male tf #hairy tf #jock tf #bear tf #hairy #hair growth #beard #hairy chest #hairy pits #hairy torso #sweat #my writing

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soobibabe · 4 months ago

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espresso kim mingyu

rewite of one of my most popular oneshots, espresso! pairings: kim mingyu + reader trope: friends to lovers genre ▸ romantic comedy (including smut) wc: warnings: 'unprotected' sex (she's on the pill tho) , oral [m + f receiving], fingering, choking, lots of praise and pet names, creampie, v. squirting. lmk if I miss any.

[ august 2nd 2023 ]

It’s been so long since you last saw the friend group that just walking in makes you jittery. You've known these guys since high school, all thanks to Mingyu, but university life has kept you too busy to catch up.

You do see Mingyu the most, given that you both attend SNU together, but the rest of the gang has been a rare sight.

When you finally step through the door, your nerves quickly dissolve. The room erupts in cheers as soon as you're spotted, with Soonyoung’s voice ringing out in delight.

“Come hereeee! You’re all grown up now!” His eyes light up as he watches you move towards the circle they’ve formed in the living room. He’s already looking tipsy.

“Soooonieee, I missed you!” You hug him tightly as soon as you’re within reach. Chan’s voice cuts through the celebration. “Yah, quit hogging her!”

“Ignore them both; they’re half a bottle of soju away from full-blown drunkenness,” Dokyeom says with a laugh, pulling you away from their clinging. “Let’s get you settled. What do you want to drink? It doesn’t have to be alcohol if you’re not into that, though we were about to start a drinking game.”

You smile, feeling a wave of nostalgia. “Just water for me, but a drinking game sounds fun. I’d love to join, though you know my tolerance is pretty much nonexistent.”

“That’s fine,” Dokyeom says. “You can just watch, but—”

Before he can finish, Mingyu joins you in the kitchen, cutting in smoothly. “We were thinking of playing truth or dare, or drink. DK suggested it for old times’ sake.”

You don’t notice Minghao entering until his voice calls out your name, making you jump slightly. “I missed you. It’s been so long!” He moves in for an embrace, but Mingyu grabs your wrist and steers you towards the others. “Missed you too, Hao—” Your words are cut short by Mingyu’s brisk pace.

You miss the tense exchange of glances between Minghao and Mingyu, the latter looking determined while Minghao wears a sly smirk.

DK follows into the living room, carrying a tray of shot glasses and bottles. “So, who’s up first?”

The game kicks off with outrageous dares, from posting twerking videos on Instagram (DK’s specialty) to speaking Korean with an American accent for the rest of the game.

When it’s Minghao’s turn, he locks eyes with Mingyu. “I dare you to call the girl you like and confess exactly how you feel.”

The dare hits you like a punch to the gut. Mingyu hesitates for a moment before downing his shot in one go. Since when was he seeing someone?

The game continues with laughter and more dares until Wonwoo finally arrives, fresh from a long day at his internship.

The night has been the most fun you’ve had in years, but Mingyu’s secret lingers in your mind. Why hasn’t he told you about this?

Later, after everyone else has either left or collapsed on the couch, you and Mingyu find yourselves sitting on the porch outside his room. The cool night air and the city’s soft hum create the perfect backdrop.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked someone?” you ask, trying to sound casual despite the twist in your chest.

Mingyu looks at you, his expression unreadable. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? We’re best friends, Mingyu. You can tell me anything,” you press.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Really, don’t worry about it.”

Defeated, you decide to drop the topic. “Anyway, it’s late. I should get going—” But before you can finish, Mingyu’s warm hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back. The touch is unexpected but gentle.

“Don’t go,” Mingyu says, his brown eyes earnest. “It’s past midnight; you shouldn’t be driving alone.”

“It’s okay, Gyu, I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you closer, his grip firm but tender. “Please don’t go.” His plea makes your breath hitch. You’re used to his alcohol-fueled clinginess, but this feels different. Your heart races, and the tension between you makes your cheeks flush.

You grab Mingyu’s leftover soju from the ledge and take a swig. He watches you with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Mingyu, can I do something stupid?” you ask, feeling the alcohol’s effects loosen your inhibitions.

“Do anything you want, whether it’s with me or something else. Just stay with me,” he replies, his voice low.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the moment, but you lift your hand to his cheek, standing on tiptoe to meet his gaze. Lost in his eyes, you notice his focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, as if he could read your mind.

He doesn’t hesitate. With a swift, decisive movement, his lips crash onto yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away for air, but he immediately follows, chasing your lips with his own.

His hands explore your hips, then waist, until he's grabbed one of your thighs, pulling it up to his frame.

He pulls away, this time you expect him to say that you shouldn't be doing this, but to your surprise... "Need more. I need you, y/n" The whininess in his tone causes you to reject any worry you previously have about 'ruining the friendship'.

"You have me, Gyu". you manage to say, but you're so breathless it comes out sounding like a moan, it ignites something in Mingyu You'd never seen before.

His eyes grow dark in an instant, kissing you again this time leading you into the room with the hold he had on your hips. Strangely, you're the one who feels intoxicated now, mingyu sobering up by the minute.

"Can i touch you, y/n?" he whispers, breaking the kiss.

"Please do" you whisper back. He feels feral. Now you're on the bed, back against the mattress with mingyu hovering above you. He takes off his shirt and you're blushing like a teenager all over again.

You've seen Mingyu shirtless a number of times throughout your friendship. You would always have to look away, afraid he'd notice how flustered he made you. All those times were nothing compared to being this up close.

"Do you like what you see princess?" the way he says nickname has your heart and core fluttering. He holds your hand, presses it against his chest and you feel his heartbeat racing.

"I'm nervous too, its alright. we can stop at any point you don't feel like doing more, okay?" No other guy you've got this far with before paid this much attention to your satisfaction, he's unreal.

"Mingyu, i need you"

"You have me pretty girl, just tell me where"

You start by placing his palm against your cheek, then down to your chest torturously slow following the line that divides the left and right of your torso all the way down to your clothed cunt. "Here." you bat your lashes at him, doe eye on full display.

Mingyu wastes no time, he tugs the waistband of your pants all the way off in one swift motion. "Tell me how bad you want it baby" "Please gyu," you start, but your mind wonders far off anything coherent when you feel his lips graze your supple skin. He bites onto your panties, pulling them down your thighs with his teeth. So slowly, so sensually it almost feels surreal.

Once it's off, all of his attention is on your bare cunt, "dripping for me already and I haven't even touched you yet" "let's take care of that, yeah?" almost immediately, his face is buried in your heat, licking a long strip from your clit to your needy hole until he's back up, attacking your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good" he practically moans out against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

Not long after the constant cycle of rubbing your clit and eating you like you were his last meal, he pulls off, spitting directly onto your slit and slides his middle and ring finger into you. His face returns to your cunt, repeating everything he did earlier, this time focusing on stimulating your gspot with his fingers.

“Right there! mmh” you whine out, trying to suppress your moans incase one of the guys outside wake up (which they wouldn’t even if you were to scream, because they’re all blacked out drunk).

“Don’t stop, please! fuck, gyu don’t stop” you feel him smirk against you. Your hands scurry the bed for something to hold onto when the pleasure starts to feel like too much. They finally reach to mingyu scalp tangling his hair causing him to moan out.

Without warning, his hands and lips detach from your pussy, earning pained a whimper from you feeling empty.

“Need to be inside you. Like now. i’ll make it up to you. Promise” he leans in, pulling you into another passionate kiss, hands busy with the him of your shirt “Take this off pretty. Wanna feel all of you.”

“Good girl” he hums once you do, kissing you as a reward. “Put me in”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated by his size. Not only was he long, but he was blessed in the girth department too.

You reach for him, holding the base of his cock to align it with your entrance. Once you start pushing the tip in, you’re scared you might not be able to handle the rest of him.

“That’s it, keep going you can take it.” he encourages. He glides in easily thanks to his fireplay earlier, but the stretch was alot. “Don’t worry baby i’ll make it fit.”

He gently moves your hand off of his dick where you connected and places his on your hips instead. “It’ll feel good soon, i promise” he whispers.

He slams every inch of himself into you all at once in a sharp motion. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good for me” his strokes are slow, but hard. Not missing your g-spot once. The pain turns to pleasure faster than you thought.

“You look so pretty like this” you’re unable to respond to the compliment, too consumed in how good he makes you feel.

Your nails graze his back, surely leaving marks. It drives him insane. the thought of you claiming him gets him so worked up his pace quickens, his pelvis snapping against yours.

Mingyu busies himself in your neck, leaving bites thatlll most definitely bruise before tomorrow.��Gyu m’gonna cum” you’re seeing stars.

“let it all go for me princess” that’s all it takes for you to release all over his cock.

His pace is constant, fucking you through your orgasm.

“Shit, that was so hot, good job pretty”

Your pussy clenches on him repeatedly, sending him closer to his edge. “Ass up” you obey as soon as he requests. Once you’re flipped over, he puts a pillow under your stomach ensuring your comfort.

“Took me so well just like i said you would”

In no time, he’s back to his previous pace, thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt. “Has anyone else ever made you feel this good?”

“No! fuck, only you gyu!” you can’t see him, but you can already assume (accurately so) that he’s got a smirk plastered across his face.

As he continues, you feel the coil from earlier build up again.

Mingyu holds your hand, pulling it under your body, between your lower tummy and the pillow, pressing it against the bulge that appears when he strokes all the way into you. “Do you feel me here?”

“Yes, god cumming again” he presses down against the bulge harder, adding more stimulation to your second orgasm.

“Good girl. Me too” he groans.

“Fill me up, gyu” he does exactly that.

“Fuck,” he chucked lowly “you can’t just say stuff like that, it makes me wanna ruin you”

“Then ruin me” you muster out through broken moans from the overstimulation.

Your walls are coated white, flodded with his release.

He still hasn’t pull out of you, not wanting to break contact.

“You mean that?” he says as he collapses onto the bed, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Nah i was just kidding” of course, you’re only teasing. After this, he can do anything he wants to you.

“Uh huh, will you still be saying that when i ask you to sit on my face once you’re no longer sore?” he bites back at you.

“Shh go to sleep” you attempt to change the topic, aware that you’re playing a losing game.

“No sleeping yet pretty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up” and with that, he scoups you up bridal style, walking you to the bathroom and starts the shower for you two.

“My legs are wobbly because of you”

“Weren’t you just begging me to ruin you?”

“Okay whatever let’s get this over with i’m sleepy “ you sulk.

Mingyu spends most of the time in the shower focused on tending to you even though you reassure him you’re okay to do it on your own.

You’re in his clothes, cuddled up into his large arms. He can’t believe this is really happening. The girl he’s been inlove with since he was a teen is really here, right now, beside him like this.

“are you asleep?” he asks softly.

“depends” you respond playfully, making him roll his eyes.

“i’m really glad… this happened” his tone changes to a whisper, much more serious than earlier.

“Me too. i’d be even more glad if it happened another time?”

“Noted” he giggles, which turns into a yawn.

“goodnight, y/n”

“goodnight, gyu”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in somehow even closer. You both fall asleep in a matter of minutes. your heart feels so full.

[ august 3rd 2023 ]

You wake up wrapped in Mingyu's embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest syncing with your own. As you shift onto your stomach, you lift your head to take in his sleeping face.

He looks utterly serene, the most angelic sight you've ever seen up close. Without thinking, your hand reaches up to cup his face, tenderly caressing his cheeks.

"I wish we could stay like this all day," you whisper, and his peaceful facade momentarily falters as a smile tugs at his lips.

"You sly little sh—" you begin, but yourwords are cut off as he flips you over, positioning himself on top of you.

"Let's stay like this then," he murmurs, burying his face in your chest, unwilling to let go of the warmth.

"But what about the guys?"

"What time do you think it is, baby?" he chuckles. "They all left, which is why I was already awake."

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's already 11 a.m.

"Don't blame me; you're the one who drained the life out of me last night!" You wince internally, regretting your choice of words as you notice him blush, his face hidden against your chest.

"Anyway, I made breakfast for you. Let's head to the kitchen," he says, and you can't help but think that Mingyu just keeps getting more perfect.

You spend the rest of the morning at his place, showering together, brushing your teeth, and lounging around in his clothes while eating and chatting casually. Well, almost casually. Mingyu finds every opportunity to steal kisses—at first, he says it’s to check for something on your lips, then it’s to blow an imaginary eyelash off your cheek. None of it is necessary, but you revel in his affectionate gestures.

Later, Mingyu insists you stay longer, but you have plans with Jiwon, your best friend, that evening. Reluctantly, you agree to leave, making a promise—thanks to Mingyu's persuasive charm—that you'll spend more one-on-one time with him later that week.

At the mall, Jiwon and you meander through a maze of shops, trying on clothes and chatting about everything under the sun. By the time you both concede to taking a break, your feet are sore, and your energy is depleted. You nestle into a comfy corner of a café, where you order a couple of steaming lattes and pastries, ready to unwind and catch up on life.

Despite your constant communication, there's always a treasure trove of new topics to dive into. Today, though, you’ve been brooding over how to drop some major news, and after much mental wrestling, you decide to take the plunge.

You're not sure how she'd react to the news about mingyu, so you decide to rip the bandage off all at once out of nowhere after hours of contemplation.

Jiwon’s eyes perk up immediately. "HE? YOU? Oh my god, stop! I’m going to pass out! YOU GUYS? Y/N?" Her shock and disbelief are palpable, reflecting your own feelings when you first wrapped your head around it.

You nod, a smile playing at your lips. "Yeah, I was just trying to figure out when and how to tell anyone."

Jiwon leans in, her face a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Well, now that we’re on this topic… how was it? Was he… you know… well-endowed?"

You laugh, feeling a flush of embarrassment mixed with amusement. "To sum it up in one word: heavenly. And yes, he’s definitely… well, impressive."

“Oh my god, this is amazing!” Jiwon’s eyes widen. “Honestly, I kind of saw this coming. He's always looking at you like he’s about to fall over from adoration. And even though you play it cool, it’s clear that you both have this crazy thing for each other but are too scared to admit it—probably because of the whole ‘maintaining the friendship’ thing.”

You cringe at how spot-on she is. “Okay, I won’t argue with your assessment. But you can’t deny that he’s seen me at my best and worst. He’s the best guy friend I’ve ever had, and it would be strange to end things since we share so many mutual friends.”

“Whatever’s meant to happen will happen, Y/N. Just do what feels right. I think that means letting whatever started with Mingyu last night continue.”

“Ugh, I agree. Thanks for being my moral compass, Jiwon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” In a spontaneous gesture, she grabs your hand.

You expect her to say something sentimental, but instead, she surprises you with her usual boldness.

“Cute. Now let’s go get you some lingerie to celebrate with your boy toy.” Jiwon’s lack of a filter never ceases to amuse you.

[ august 7th 2023 ]

Mingyu's at your apartment, finally able to hang out together like you decided on the last you met.

You're both on the couch, keeping fair distance whilst you watch 'Crash Landing On You' for the second time with him.

Halfway into the second episode, mingyu slides himself closer to your end of the couch, breaking the invisible barrier between the two of you.

"i miss you" he pouts, seeking your attention.

"i'm right here" you can't help but giggle at how stupidly adorable he looks.

He places a hand on your waist, reeling you closer to him. "I have an idea of something more fun we could do"

"Mhm, and what is that?' you inquire.

"Let me show you" he lifts you like you weigh nothing more than a feather, settling you on his lap allowing you to straddle him.

"Remember what i said about sitting on my face? Can you do that for me pretty girl?" his fingers dance on the elastic of your underwear, waiting for your permission before he goes any further.

"Yes i can, but can i taste you today instead, gyu?" your reply catches his off guard.

"Anything you want baby" the pet name sends shivers down your spine, encouraging you to act upon your urges and pulling him into deep kiss.

You get off of his lap, knees against the hard wooden floor, ridding him of his jeans whilst he tugs his shirt off. He's so fit.

His dick bulges through his calvins, fighting against the fabric. "Look at how hard you make me pretty"

You take his cock out of his boxers, almost salivating at the sight of it. His tip is crimson, begging for relief.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, drawing it closer to your face. You lick a long strip along it, coming back up and stopping at his tip and taking it into your mouth.

Once he's past your lips, he's a groaning mess. "Fuck, you're doing so well, keep going."

You take him in further gagging around him when he's all the way in, stuffing your throat. "Good girl. So good for me, shit"

His hands pull your hair into a loose ponytail, using the light grip to guide you. You bob your head, thrusting him in and out of your mouth at a steady pace.

It doesn't take long for you to find a rhythm, but it's not enough for him. He really just wants to be inside your cunt, so to speed up the process, "Can I fuck your throat baby?" his voice drops a few octaves down, losing himself in pleasure.

You nod in response, and that's all the confirmation he needs to push your head closer to his pelvis. He stands up to angle his dick better, thrusting in and out of your mouth, gradually reaching his climax.

Your eyes are full of tears, mascara running down your face tipping him over the edge. "Can you handle swallowing?" he asks through broken moans making you nod again. He holds you in place, reaching all the way down your throat where he releases his load.

He reaches out to hold your hand, pulling you to your feet, flush against his body into a kiss. "You're unreal".

He sits both of you back onto the couch in your previous position. "Please fuck me" you whimper out, too horny to care about how desperate that must've sounded.

"So bold" he smirks "Well, as my lady wishes"

He works on removing your bottoms while you unbutton the silk pajama shirt you're wearing. When you're finally stripped out of your clothes, he's in awe at the revelation of what you'd been hiding underneath.

"You're gonna be my demise" is the last thing he utters before yanking your panties to the side, lifting you to align your cunt with his cock, and slowly sinking you down on it.

You moan in unison at the feeling of the initial stretch. It feels like he's breaking you in two in the most divine way possible.

"Fuck, y/n nobody else can ever feel you like this."

"I'm yours mingyu, fuck!" you manage to whine out.

He holds your hips to slam you onto his dick. His free hand creeps up to your neck, choking you slightly as he fucks into you. It drives you insane, feeling him all the way inside you near your cervix. At some point, his cock really does kiss your cervix, causing you to sob out from the overwhelming pleasure mixed with that unfamiliar pain.

He doesn't fail to hit the spongy tissue in you even once. He changes position, laying you on your back with his hand still on your throat. Your vision suddenly blurs, a mix of white and stars clouds your mind with your eyes sealing shut.

You're squirting. All over him at that.

"Holyyy fuck," Mingyu groans out. "Y/n, fuck you're gonna make me cum" "Cum-" Youre interrupted by a wave of your orgasm crashing through your body "-in me"

And so he does. This might have been the hottest thing mingyu has ever experienced.

"You're clenching down on me so hard, fuck. oh fuck-" The overstimulation from his relentless thrusts sends you both over the edge.

"The couch" he says followed by an airy laugh, but you couldn't really care less about the mess right now.

"You have officially ruined me" you whisper with a fucked out smile.

"Good." he smiles back. his eyes linger on where you connect, pulling out of you and admiring the sight of his cum dripping out of you. "Fuck, can I take a picture of this?"

"Sure, just dont show it to anyone" his eyes sparkle at your response.

"It's cute that you think i'd share you" he uses two fingers to plunge into your tight, dripping hole and fucks his cum back into you. "so pretty" he pulls his phone out, snapping a picture of the image he's already embedded into his mind.

"Let's go clean you up"

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

A/N: this is a rewrite of one of my most popular one shots :] i intend to turn this into a series and the first version of it felt a little to scrappy for a chapter one! i hope you enjoy!

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sinstear · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ SUBURBAN BLUES ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤpairing. milf!abby x mechanic!reader

SUBURBAN BLUES, Abby Anderson, the southern peach of the neighbourhood, the sweetest to ever be in the bluebonnet state has built a family to be proud of. With a blue collar wife, Ellie, and her baby cub Remi to take care of her life should feel complete, whole. Yet on the cusp of a failed marriage, she’s lonely, struggling to do everything this household requires. She seeks solace in someone else and that friend just happens to be you. ⛧ warnings. not really any smut in this part, but still 18+, tooth-rotting fluff, a lil sprinkle of our dear old angst, flirting, mostly from reader, they are a heavy flirt oops! but abby secretly loves it, tehe wc. 5.3k masterlist.

There’s nothing like summer heat in the middle of August. In California, it could be more than brutal, the cruel heat waves penetration from the tall windows making Abby nearly sweat underneath the warm sun. As far as it was, it could surely make an impact. After nearly half the night, not to mention a few hours this morning, she finally got Remi to sleep. Even if she felt light-headed, her sweet baby’s screams turned into murderous knives each time they came hurling towards her head.

Ellie didn’t really seem to like getting up, only if she was asked. Abby got tired of asking so she would get up in the hour of rooster, cooing her six month baby back to sleep. Godbid anyone disturb her sleep. Ellie was the working one in the family, she was owed her rest, according to her.

As time went on, it was difficult on every level not to feel a certain kind of resentment. It rested on Abby’s tongue, a weapon to use as she wished. When she feels particularly exhausted, she reminds Ellie of why she’s so goddamn tired. Taking care of a child, much less a baby, is a full time job. Most days, she feels as if she’s doing it all alone. Without the help of her wife, the one who is supposed to be there, they choose to do this together but she can’t help but feel as if she’s all alone in this.

It all boils over on a Sunday afternoon, heat rises as long with overflowing emotions, suppressed until Abby has finally had enough.

Ellie with her hand on her hips as pinches at her forehead, repeatedly rubbing over the skin. It’s a necessary fight to be had, she knows it even if she’d rather ignore it, Abby has reached her limit. With crimson cheeks, and an irate frown, she’s calm as ever but she talks so lowly, the only thing keeping her from screaming off the top of her lungs is her sleeping daughter upstairs.

“You don’t help, Ellie. You’ve completely checked out. See? Even when I’m talking to you, you’re not here!” Abby snaps her fingers in Ellie’s face to regain her attention. “I might as well be expressing my concerns to a wall.”

“I’m listening.” Ellie argues.

“Yeah, just about as well as you listen to Remi’s cries at night.”

Abby knows it’s backhanded, she wants it to hurt but at this point part of her wonders if you’re even listening to her. She doesn’t even bring up the fact they haven’t had sex since she gave birth. Not a bone in her body wishes to vocalize her need for affection, to be touched, loved — cared for.

Ellie opens her mouth for a countless number of excuses to tumble out but Abby knows her too well. She won’t have it, not for another moment.

“Just do better, Ellie.”

The remainder of the afternoon, Abby spends it with Remi. Feeding, burping before putting her down. Mindlessly, she focuses on tasks requiring no further though. Deep cleaning the fridge, finishing the laundry, and she vacuuming the living room when she finally breaks down.

She wants nothing more than to smash their wedding picture to bits. Five years ago, she would have said it was the happiest day of her life, but now the day she had Remi was. Even if having her daughter reshaped her marriage for the worse, the only kind of magic she finds is those baby blue eyes staring back at her.

She still has the love of her life even if it’s shifted from her wife to her daughter.

All Abby has time for is Remi, she can’t cater to a relationship where she’s the only one fighting for it. Ellie is content with hiding in the shadows of their issues, spending her time away from Abby in any way she can. This time Ellie goes for a run around the neighborhood, when she runs into you.

It isn’t the first time, the two of you tend to go jogging at the same time. Ellie joins for a bit, but you’re usually passing her. It’s a bit of a bruise to her ego. Your endurance is better than hers, but you make fun of it, it’s really that big of a deal. It’s a nice stress reliever and it’s a stroke to your ego.

Bending over the hood of your car, just in your black shorts clinging to your sweaty body and your sports bra slightly wet, Ellie approaches sitting next on the stool next to your massive tool box. They’ve spoken a few times, nothing more than surface level conversations. Small talks that numbs your brain, good enough to get rid of the silence but not enough for a friendship to blossom.

“So,” Ellie pauses, “How much do you know about cars?”

Ellie wants to slap herself in the face for being so painfully awkward, she might as well have stumbled over her words, that would have been less embarrassing. You stand up to your full height. Ellie would say it’s intimidating, just a little, especially when it always looks like you’re going to punch a bitch out if they say one wrong thing to you.

You’re really the pariah of the neighborhood. Most of the time, you don’t come to cookouts assembled by the neighbors, you keep to yourself, the only time you’re ever seen by anyone is on the weekends, working on whatever car you’re flipping next. Jesse, the man who lives on the other side of Ellie, knows you work at a shop, but that’s the only detail anyone has seemed to pull out of you.

“You know I’m a mechanic, right?” You gesture to the massive tool box, one that probably cost more than Ellie’s monthly salary. You shut the hood of the GT-R, clearly you weren’t going to get some silence but you didn’t mind, your back could use the break. Taking the towel out of your pocket, wiping the grease and grime off your hands and forearms, wiping the excess sweat off your head forehead.

“Well obviously.” Ellie says.

As if you didn’t just have a drill in your hand moments ago.

“What do you need?” You keep it short and sweet, especially the way Ellie is looking you up and down. As if you’re something to be devoured, you shrug it off, grabbing the tools you’d be using and dispensing them into the drawers.

“It’s this collectible car, we have a 67’ camaro but it doesn’t run. We have a new motor for it and a new timing belt but I can’t replace it. I fucked it up the last time so my wife is adamant about me not touching it again.”

You offer her a light chuckle, of course she fucking did. Idiots thinking they can do it after watching one video and then get stuck somewhere in the middle, fucking up the vehicle even more. At least Ellie wasn’t pretending like she knew what she was doing. Still, you didn’t know if you could get past the way she’s looking at you, a desperate need curved into her eyes. One you sure as hell would not be giving to her. You weren’t going to be caught in some fucking mess.

More than anything, you enjoy your quiet life. Day in and day out, there’s solace in a steady life, no surprises. It’s the way you like it. Going to work, coming home and going for your evening run, working on cars until you're met with the midnight sky until the day repeats itself. It’s predictable, easy — comforting even.

“It’s going to cost you, m’not free.”

“Of course, whatever you want.”

Curtly, you nod as if you’re asking if she needs anything else but Ellie sits there looking at you like a deer in headlight, emerald eyes so lost in yours but you’re just looking at her with a scrunched face and furrowed eyebrows. You’re positive you would find drool on your garage floor if you met her where she sat. You want to chuckle when she flexes her arms as if you’re supposed to be impressed by it.

Ellie opens her mouth as if she wants to say something else, but you cut her off. Grabbing a business card, with your work cell on it and handing it to her. “Text me when you want me to come over and take a look. Just give me a little heads up so I can move around my schedule.”

“Yeah, of course.” You chuckle as she stands up losing her footing as she stands

up.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then. Maybe for our next run?”

Our?

“Sure, Ellie. Have a nice night.” You keep it short and sweet, scared she might try something else if the interaction lasts any longer. Closing your garage door, finally in silence away from the prying eyes of Ellie. Her poor fucking wife, you thought. Such a sleazeball for making starry eyes at someone you’re not married to. Regardless, you’ll keep your head down, you don’t want to get tangled into someone else’s mess.

Treating yourself to a hot shower, you let the steam nearly suffocate. The water pressure hits your back perfectly, helping with some of the tension you carry from your shoulders. Today’s work finally catches up to your body, shutting your eyes as you let the water wash away the sweat and dirt, the muddy gray water pooling at your feet. It’s the most relaxing part of your day and you don’t take it for granted. Some days it’s the one activity you look forward to the most, as depressing as it sounds. It isn’t long until you’re falling asleep in your clean, cold sheets, soothing your body to a full night’s rest.

—

You were running late. Sure, they live next door, and you wouldn’t have far to go, but shit you were late. You had promised you’d be there to fix the car at 10, and as you stumbled through the living room, trying to get yourself ready and boots on your feet, you noticed it was a little after 10:30 on the click above the stove, almost taunting you that you had overslept. Which wasn’t like you. You were always on time, maybe just a couple minutes early.

Shrugging on your jacket the minute you step outside into the crisp air, you shoved one of your breakfast protein bars in your mouth, your toolbox tucked under your arm, and your hand quickly slammed the door behind you. Winching at the loud sound that echoes through your eyes. If you keep slamming things, you’re going to have to end up fixing the door every goddamn night.

You could tell Ellie and her wife, who you still have yet to meet, have lived here for a while just based on how neat and tidy their garden was. The flowers still looked fresh, watered regularly, and overall the colors were beautiful. You’ve not been here a long time, but long enough to know that you barely see Ellies car in the drive, the spot usually empty whenever you go outside. Did she have someone to keep it that pretty? Her wife, maybe? Shrugging away your thoughts, you took a few long strides up the pathway, up the 3 steps and stumbled over one of the plant pots when you weren’t looking where you were going. Knocking the ceramic off the step completely and breaking just beside you with a loud crash.

“Shit, fuck!” You groaned, kneeling down to pick up the broken pieces carefully, nipping yourself in the process of trying to clean up the mess. “Jesus Christ.” You frowned, looking around, suddenly more nervous than you were for being late. “Fuck.”

You were so into trying to clean up the mess your dumbass had made that you weren’t fully focused on a certain blonde looking through the window on the door, watching you clumsily throw the small piles of soil into the other flower pots, still wanting everything to look as pretty as it did when you walked up their pathway. “Are you okay?” Came a gentle voice. A voice that caught you so off guard that you almost fell down the steps this time.

“Oh fuck, hi!” You stammered, standing to your full height when the door opened and a small giggle had caught your attention. “Shit, I swear I didn’t break it on purpose, I wasn’t looking where I was going and somehow walked right into it. M’sorry.” You apologized profusely, your breath getting caught in your throat when your eyes found baby blue ones staring back at you.

Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, down her back, a soft smile tugging at her plump lips, one of the thin dress straps fell down her shoulder, and you didn’t know where to look all of a sudden. Her pretty face? Her freckled shoulder? Her legs? Shit, focus dumbass. “I spoke to your wife, well I assume she’s your wife, told me about a car that you needed fixing so uhm, here I am”

Really? Why are you nervous right now? She hasn’t even said anything.

“Or if you’re busy I can come back later—”

“You’re bleeding.” She cuts you off, eyebrows furrowed and it’s then when you realize she’s not even looking at you. More so looking down. Your hand was bleeding. How didn’t you notice or feel it?

“Sorry?”

“Did you cut yourself on the pot? Come in, I can fix it for you and you can tell me what Ellie told you.” You don’t miss the huff she lets out when she simply wraps her hand around your arm, and tugs you into her home. Hiding the blush on her face at the firmness of your muscles beneath her hand.

The coldness from outside was gone just as fast when you found yourself standing in the hallway, the warmth from the living room fire instantly stopped the small shake of your body as you watched her halt in her steps, turn around and quirk an eyebrow up at you. “Are you coming?” Her sweet voice spoke, soft and smooth like honey.

Fuck. Maybe.

“Yeah, yeah, m’coming”

Your legs pick up, feet moving towards her while she slips into the kitchen, the fruit scented perfume filling your nose the more you walk, the more you follow her like a love sick puppy. Really, what the fuck are you doing? She’s married. “Is the cut deep?”

“It’ll be fine, seriously, you don’t need to fix me.” You chuckled under your breath. “It happens all the time, always breaking something and getting injured.”

“So you're a clumsy person?” Her next question comes, looking at you with a soft smile. A smile you’ve never seen before. Especially not by someone so beautiful, so sweet.

“I wouldn’t say I’m clumsy, sometimes I see things and I just get,” you paused, a smirk curving up on your lips when you find her looking at you, waiting for you to finish. “Distracted by pretty things.”

Her cheeks flush, something you don’t miss as she beckons you to sit on the stool beside the small island in the middle of her kitchen. “M’sure that’s it.” She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It is.”

“What did Ellie tell you?”

You turned your head and if it wasn’t for the fact you were sitting down already, your knees would have buckled beneath you and sent you flying to the floor when you found her bending down, reaching for what you could only assume was a first aid kit, and making soft grunts trying to reach it. “Jesus.” You mumbled, biting your fist.

“Did you say something?”

“Just that I like the flowers in your garden. S’pretty.” You coughed, squirming around on the stool and trying to contain the thoughts swimming around in your head. Swallowing when she stands up and looks over at you. First aid kit in hand.

“Oh, thank you,” She smiled shyly, placing the small green box on the counter. “I love my garden, it helps me with stress. Minus getting my clothes dirty, I hate that part.”

I don’t. I’d love to see you in dirty clothes.

“So you tend your garden?”

“If I left it to Ellie, they would all be dead.” The smile she gives you doesn’t meet her eyes. It wasn’t like the previous smiles she’s given you. It seems more emotionless. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not used to talking to someone about hobbies I love doing,” Her fingers felt soft against your skin when she lifted your injured hand, your rough skin against her softer skin had shivers running down your spine.

“Your wife doesn’t talk about them?”

“Doesn’t really talk about much apart from work, but s’okay. I’m Abby by the way.”

Once you introduced yourself, you shook her hand with your only good one and smiled at her. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Abby. If it helps, i would gladly love to hear about your other hobbies.”

Abby’s breath hitched in her throat, was it because you wanted to know about her and all the things she loved, or was it because you were touching her? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t mind it. You were kind and gentle, something she hasn’t felt in a while. “I warn you, they can be boring.”

“Impossible. I will listen no matter what.”

Abby was careful with your wounded hand, cleaning the cut with one of her antiseptic wipe gently, dabbing away the drying blood, as well as the fresh with a neatness you hadn’t see before. Just like her flowers, she took care of you like you were fragile, always mumbling what she was going to do next, warning you the antibiotic might sting a little. Stunned at how you didn’t even flinch, and then she was asking herself things. Were you used to getting injured? Had this happened before that you barely reacted to anything like this before? Abby had many questions, but then again, so did you. Of course.

“Have you guys been married long? Wait can I even ask that?”

“You can, if you want a truthful answer,” Abby replied with a soft laugh that had your heart racing. “We’ve been married long enough to have a daughter, if that’s what you want to know. She takes care of her, in her own way, i guess.”

“We don’t have to talk about your wife, if you don’t want to. We can talk about more of your hobbies if you’d like. Or even talk about your daughter, i bet she looks just like you, hm?”

“Didn’t Ellie tell you about the car? I wouldn’t want to bore you with things about my life.”

“What about you is borin’, sweetheart?” God fucking damn it.

The way you were looking at her made her feel seen. Of course, Ellie’s had looked at her before, but she’s never looked at her the way you are. Like you really wanted to know her, wanted to know her likes and dislikes. Looking at her like she was everything. You were looking at her like she was the only woman in the world, something her own wife doesn’t do. And she loved it. “I’m a mother who stays at home—”

“Who tends to her own garden, looks after and takes care of her daughter, fixes an injured person who was stupid enough to broke her really petty plant pot that i still need to clean up. Wouldn’t call you borin’, love, i would say that you just live life differently and none of that is borin’. I think it’s pretty beautiful, it seems like your wife is the borin’ person in this situation, but what do i know? Maybe the fact she makes you tend your own garden while you’re already takin’ care of your child. Not my business though, just an observation, if you will.” You shrugged, licking your lips and smirking at her.

“She does care, in her own way.” Abby found herself defending her wife, a wife who barely see’s her. Why? Abby still loved her, or maybe she thought she did, she wasn’t so sure what she felt half the time. Ellie’s never there for the important parts. She misses the different yet small milestones her daughter makes and that makes Abby’s blood boil. If she can’t be there for her wife, she sure as hell can be there for her daughter.

“Never said she didn’t, Sweet. I’m just sayin’, if you were my wife, gave birth to our daughter, i would not let you lift a finger.” You found yourself admitting, eyeing her up a little more than you should be doing. Ellie, her wife, asked you to fix her fucking car, so why are you flirting with her wife? “I mean, those dirty clothes you mentioned, you’re telling me she doesn’t even wash them for you?”

“She has a job.”

“She also has a family.”

Wrapping the bandage around your hand, Abby pouted at your sudden wince and cleared her throat. “There, done.” The Blonde murmured, the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you, and before you could even do anything, Abby’s wiping them away and smiling again. “The car is in the garage—”

“M’sorry if i made you upset,” You sighed, reaching your hand up and wiping away the droplets that fell down her cheek. “That wasn’t my intention, you just, you’re doing everything, you know? S’not fair on you is all i’m sayin’.”

“I appreciate you worrying, but m’okay.”

“Well, I live across the street, so if you need someone to talk to, just come over” You smiled, the thud of your boots hit the floor as you push yourself to your feet and tugged at your jacket sleeves. “Right, your car.”

Ignoring the fire in her stomach, Abby just nodded, moved toward where the keys were hanging up and grabbed the one for her car, completely oblivious to the way your eyes were raking her up and down, licking your lips and turning around just so you could keep yourself calm. “Okay, I think it’s this one— are you alright?” She giggled upon noticing you weren’t facing her anymore.

“Yeah, just hot in here, no?” You huffed softly under your breath. “Might be in for a heatwave this week.”

More like you’re in heat.

“Well, if it gets too hot in there, i’ll bring you something to drink, if you want.”

Your eyebrow quirked up as you turned slightly, looking at her with that stupid fuckin smirk. Oh, what a pretty housewife she is, you thought. “Thanks, Sweetheart.” The petname rolled off your tongue so smoothly and in a way that had Abby’s stomach fluttering.

“Y—You’re welcome.” Well fuck.

Just as you grabbed the keys from Abby’s soft hands, the sound of loud crying rang through the baby monitor and had the blonde frowning but quickly smiling at you again. That smile was going to get you into trouble. You were fucked. “Shit, sorry, I need to go and feed her. If there’s anything you need for the car, it—”

“Don’t worry, Love. I got everything i need.”

This time, you didn’t miss the dark crimson blush Abby was sporting as she rushed out of the kitchen to attend to her daughter.

—

After the next few weeks, you’ve considered Abby to be a good friend. You didn’t mind listening to her problems, you very much enjoyed being there for her when no one else seemed to notice how much she struggled. Having a newborn and an absent wife was no easy feat, especially when you feel like you’re doing it alone.

The amount of times you’d been able to be there for her were piling up, one after the other, bringing you closer to her. It’s the only reason you felt the need to wish her a good evening before you exit for the night. All the grease and oil on your body, the aching in your lower spine bending over the hood, you need rest — badly.

Coming through the garage, her car started acting up and giving her trouble so she hastily called you, again — you couldn’t find her in the living perched on the couch, where she’d usually be with her daughter but you couldn’t find Abby there. You climb up the stairs, going into the nursery when you see her cradled in Abby’s strong arms, but she uses every ounce of a gentle hand when her daughter’s in her care.

With her eyes shut, she couldn’t have been possibly aware of how exposed she should feel. The dress she’d been wearing pulled down to her waist, her upper torso exposed, but all you could focus on was her breasts. Full, breathtaking breasts, her baby girl suckling on the milk funneling into the infant’s mouth. You try to move, look away, save yourself but you can’t. As if your feet are nailed to the hardwood, you’re unable to move an inch, only in awe of the women in front of you.

The beautiful blonde taking away every last breath you have.

You’re thinking about how much you wish to touch them, feeling the soft skin in your palm, how sensitive they would be, thumb grazing her lactating nipple. Would she whimper, whine, or even let a moan fall from her lips? The squeeze in your thighs is involuntary, the rapid beat of your clit as you drool over the sight of her breasts. They are so full, begging to be sucked and teased. Before you can help it, you’re drifting to unspeakable thoughts, the image of your mouth sucking on her nipples, another white substance falling on your tongue. Allowing your taste buds to revel in it as you swallow every drop.

There’s an even more unimaginable thought coming to mind, one you’re not sure you can allow yourself to indulge in, if you do, there might be no point of return. Then you’re reminded of the sparkling rock on her left finger, the one that glimmers in the moonlight. Even if her wife isn’t around, you shouldn’t abuse that? Right?

Abby begins to stir, blue eyes opening slowly as blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Silently she questions the limits of a taboo dream and finite reality, her eyes adjusting to the bright light seeping from the hallway.

Then there’s a creak, as soft as it should sound, the silence makes it echo. Abby comes to full alert, but then she just sees you. Yet, you feel like a deer in the headlights, caught red handed gawking at your employer’s wife. Vulnerable and exposed, and you’re acting like a teenager who's seeing tits for the first time. Severely, you’re in awe at the kind smile she offers as she cradles Remi to her chest. The sweet youngling, finding safety in the comfort of her mother’s arms. Too strong for her own good, after the little bits you’ve picked up from her over the past few weeks, all you can do is look upon her with intense admiration.

Abby motions for you to move closer, but you’re still nailed to the ground, too anxious to move any closer when she’s so exposed. You’re not sure if you can keep eye contact with her when your sight craves to drift south.

Jesus, get your shit together. Fucking freak.

Slowly, you get closer to her but thankfully she saves you, asking for the baby pink bib placed on top of the dresser. There’s also a blanket, but Abby doesn’t ask for it, leaving you even more puzzled. Does she not care to be covered? Perhaps, she feels comfortable? You try not to tumble down the dangerous black hole, wiping it from your mind entirely.

“You think I would have remembered to grab it but she’s sleeping and I don’t want to wake her.” Abby coos at her daughter, lightly smoothing over her blonde hairline, almost invisible to the eye.

“Yeah—” You speak quietly, not wanting to wake Remi. “Here.”

Abby offers small thanks, with a gentle hand she wipes the milk from her face, making sure she’s clean of it as she continues to rock her to a peaceful slumber. “I wanna apologize,” You croaked out after a few minutes of comfortable silence, not wanting to startle either of them, as your eyes found a small canvas on the wall.

“Apologize?” Abby repeated, looking up from her daughter, a tired smile on her face, to find you no longer looking at her, more like admiring the paintings in the room over everything else. “For?”

“Interrupting something that’s very special between a mother and their child. It’s getting late, so i was just coming to find you to tell you i should be heading home, but i couldn’t find you, so” You were still nervous, rightfully so, but Abby didn’t seem to mind. She thought it was cute.

“My wife,” Abby paused, softly chuckling on how to explain it without seeming like she was overreacting. “She doesn’t, well, she never really has an interest in me doing this? I guess she just doesn’t like it, which is fine, but it’s okay that you’re here. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable that you’re standing there, so you can stop acting like it’s making me uncomfortable, please” She laughed. A beautiful sound you always want to hear from her.

“She doesn’t stay with you?” Your reply was short, almost a scoff. “That seems a little shi— stupid.” You catch yourself quickly with a nervou laugh as you remember her child was quite literally still in her arms, in the same area as you and asleep. “I think it’s beautiful, if that helps. She’s missing out on a lot, you know?”

Abby doesn’t know how to repsond for a while. Part of you thinks you’ve overstepped on your words, insulted her wife in a way you didn’t mean to. But she just smiles at you again, and shakes her head. Those blue eyes piercing into yours which has you holding your breath at how pretty she looks. “It helps. A lot, actually. Thank you”

“You’re uh, welcome.” You nervously laughed and rubbed the back of your head. You didn’t know why she made you so nervous, but you were also not complaining about it too much. If anything, you loved it. Maybe that was because you were a freak. A freak who was thinking about touching her tits not even an hour ago. “I should really get going though, is there anything else i can help you with before i go?” You smiled.

Are you flirting right now? Shut the fuck up, she’s married.

“No, it’s okay,” Abby whispers, not wanting to wake her daughter up, who was soundly asleep in her arms. “You’ve done enough to help me, with the car and everything. I could make you something to eat when you’re here again? An extra thank you for helping me” She suggested, her lips curving up into a smile which has you forgetting how to breathe for a few seconds.

“I would like that, Mrs Anderson”

“You can call me Abby, you know?”

Her question, such an innocent one on her end, had you smirking deviously, like the freak you were and looking at her like she was your prey and you were ready to pounce on her at any given moment. “Mommy sounds better rolling off my tongue. Well … to me at least” You gave her a subtle wink before walking out of the room.

#milf!abby #mechanic!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x you #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson angst #ellie williams fic #ellie williams #ellie williams angst

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stevehours · 6 months ago

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drinking game

steve harrington x fem!reader

18+ minors dni, drinking, smut

wc: 4.4k

As far as first dates go, this is the lamest one you’ve been on. Which you’d somewhat anticipated when you agreed to it. Steve Harrington is a couple years younger than you. The kid’s barely twenty. But he is incredibly handsome and well, it’s been awhile for you. Steve’s wooing skills haven’t graduated high school, like he has. He insists on picking you up, gets to show off the car his daddy bought him. It is nice. Must’ve cost a fortune when he was gifted it on his sixteenth birthday. The damn thing has a telephone in it. Power seats and windows. And the seats heat up, he tells you. Though in the middle of August, it’s not really necessary. It has great speakers, proven by the cheesy, 70’s baby making music he’s blasting from them. You can’t imagine Steve actually listens to this, but that it’s an attempt to get you in the mood.

He brings you to a diner for dinner where he tries to share a milkshake with you and then it’s a trip to the drive-in movies. It’s ripped out of the 50’s. Especially the part where he tries to make out with you, which okay, yes you indulge in until he grabs a handful of your breast.

“Alright, Romeo,” you laugh, pushing him back, “Cool it down a little.”

“Sorry,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles back into the driver's seat. His cheeks are ruddy, either with embarrassment or arousal, you aren’t sure.

“It’s fine—“ you tell him and adjust your blouse, “It’s kind of cute.”

“You’re really pretty,” he blurts out, smiling and it does make you giggle. But you feel a little childish right after, so you shove his head and tell him to keep watching the movie.

Must be a win for Steve because that saccharine smile doesn’t leave his face.

After the movie, he starts driving but not in the direction of your apartment. He glances at you, “I’m having a really good time. Would you be up for maybe coming back to my place? For a drink or something?”

“Your place?” you snort, crossing your arms but you’re already convinced.

Steve blushes again, “Well, I live there. My parents are like, barely home. Business trips and stuff.”

“Alright, Harrington,” you shrug, “It’s early. Let’s do it.”

—

“It’s called Flip, Sip or Strip,” he says, holding up a quarter and looking at you under hooded eyes.

You cackle, fingers delicately holding the crystal wine glass that’s definitely worth more than anything you own. You didn’t know Steve’s parents were so loaded, though the car should’ve been the indicator. The pair of you are sitting in the living room of the Harrington home. It’s so intricately designed, the entire house following the same decorative theme. And it’s remarkably clean for a place a young man lives alone 75% of the time. You wonder if there’s a housekeeper that comes and cleans up after Steve.

“You want to play a drinking game?” you scoff, crossing your legs and you don’t miss the way Steve’s eyes follow the movement.

“You’ve heard of it, then?”

“Not since freshman year of college but, sure, let’s play,” you placate him, leaning back in the chaise lounge. In the back of your mind you’re wondering why expensive furniture is so uncomfortable. Steve scrambles from the equally looking stiff couch, opening what you can assume is his parents liquor cabinet. Under the record player that plays that same cheesy, romantic 70’s R&B he was blasting in the BMW.

He sets two glasses and a bottle of tequila on the coffee table and then pats the cushion next to him on the couch.

You raise an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t it be better to stay here? So you can actually see me?”

“Good point,” he grins excitedly and then says, “You first. Call it.”

“Heads,” you slur in a sultry voice, smirking at the way he looks back at you all slack-jawed.

Then Steve flips the coin in the air, catches it in his palm and slaps it on his forearm. He uncovers it and gets this real mischievous smile on his face. He doesn’t even have to announce it, you know the coin is tails up. You laugh and lean forward to grab the bottle of tequila, pouring yourself a small shot and downing it with ease. Then you extend your palm out and Steve hands you the coin. You watch him expectantly until he says, “Tails.”

You flip it, catching it in your hand and flipping it onto your arm. You giggle as you uncover it, wiggling your eyebrows at Steve when you tell him, “Heads.”

He shucks off his coat, tossing it behind him and making grabby hands for the quarter. You roll your eyes as you drop it into his hand and tell him, “Heads.”

Steve flips the coin and then his face scrunches up in disdain, “Heads.”

You snatch the coin from his hand as you cackle triumphantly. A few more rounds go on, you take off your heels with Steve’s eyes glued to your feet and he takes a shot. Then you’re challenged again to either take a drink or remove another bit of clothing. And you’re honestly feeling that shot of tequila so you’d rather not take another so quick. Hence, your tights come off. Steve watches the motion and chews on his bottom lip.

“You a virgin, Harrington?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together.

He laughs, almost offended as he shakes his head, “Far from it. You’re just too good to look at. Anyone tell you that you could be a model?”

“Flattery will get you almost anywhere. Heads or tails, big boy?” you smooth your thumb against the warm quarter.

He guesses correctly, but you don’t on your turn. And so off comes your blouse. Steve spreads his legs across from you, hands smoothing down his jeans as he grins salaciously at you. He incorrectly guesses tails and then pulls off his polo, exposing this jungle of chest hair you’re shocked by. A smug smirk spreads across his lips as your mouth hangs open. And he’s got all these moles decorating his gorgeous skin like constellations. He combs his own fingers through his chest hair and leans back on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Still has his Nikes on.

You scowl as you throw the quarter at him, “Heads.”

And you lose, but you opt for another shot as you feel far more exposed than Harrington is.

A few more rounds leads to you both pleasantly buzzed and in your underwear.

“This game is stupid,” you decide when you incorrectly guess again.

Steve giggles and tosses the coin on the coffee table, “That’s okay. I’d rather take those off myself anyways.”

You hate that it works, makes your thighs warm up with dull arousal as you take your eyes over Steve’s body. He’s lean, soft but very faintly muscular. And those moles go all over him. All the way down to his feet. You heave a sigh and stand from the chaise lounge, stepping in between Steve’s legs and grabbing a hole of his square jaw. He blinks up at you, mouth ajar with fucking stars in those round, brown eyes.

“You have a really stupid, cute face,” you tell him, pushing his thick hair off his forehead.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies and you straddle his lap, pushing both hands into the waves of chestnut hair. You look at it, eyes narrowing.

“Do you have highlights?” you ask.

“Naturally— from the sun and—“ he starts but you interrupt him.

“Bullshit,” you grab onto his jaw again, “You get highlights in your hair.”

“No, I don’t,” he narrows his eyes and you completely seat yourself on his lap, feeling his erection press against your ass. You grind down on it and he lets out a gargled moan, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“You do,” you tell him and then get your lips on his jaw, feeling the subtle stubble against your face. You lick against his jawline, pushing your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back to give you more room. You begin kissing down his neck and his hands grab onto your hips, guiding you up and down against his strained, hard cock. The whole hair argument is completely forgotten by Steve, his hips jerk weakly as he leans his head back and lets out these pretty, soft sounds. The kind of sounds that make your stomach fill with excited, horny butterflies.

You mark up his neck, the skin purpling from your pleasurable abuse. Suck and bite until bruises form and Steve’s whimpering underneath you. You relent on his neck, pulling his head back to look at you as you writhe against him. His hands skate up your sides and back down, landing on your ass and pushing you harder against his erection. And you get a real good look at his pretty face. His eyes tilt down slightly at the ends and they’re so full of desire. Wonderfully expressive and beautiful. You look up at his brows, smiling to yourself as you notice they’re manicured, just ever so slightly. This man takes care of himself. More than most. His complexion is remarkably smooth. You drag your fingertip down the bridge of his nose to the tip, smiling at the sharpness of it. Then you settle your eyes on his lips as they quirk up into a smile, he likes how you’re looking at him. Admiring him. His lips are plump, pink from the way he’s been biting at them all night.

“You’re pretty,” you whisper, dragging your thumb across his bottom lip and he kisses the pad of it. Sending your stomach ablaze as you roll down on him a little firmer.

“You’re prettier,” he replies, voice husky.

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend?” you ask, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I haven’t asked you, yet,” he tells you, smirking as he smooths his hand up your back to your bra. Unclasps it with two fingers, impressing a gasp from you and he smiles, straight and white teeth on display.

You help pull the straps from your arms and discard the lacy fabric aside, wrapping your arms around his neck again and then leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. You don’t think too much about what he’d just said, this is fun and you’ve just met. This is the first date, you barely know each other. But while this started out as a lame date, you feel uncharacteristically smitten at this point.

Steve kisses like he needs it. Hungry. Like his oxygen supply comes from your lungs and he’s been suffocating all night. Makes you breathless and dizzy. You whimper into each desperate exchange, sucking on his tongue whenever he slips it past your lips. His arms wrap around your middle, pulling you completely flush against him. Your hands get tangled in his hair yet again, a little obsessed with the way it feels between your fingers. Your noses keep bumping into each other and his pokes your eye a handful of times but it doesn’t slow either of you down.

You lift yourself up and Steve offers a whine until he sees you’re moving to take off your underwear, then he’s helping get them off and you’re situating yourself between his legs on the floor. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and peeling them down his thighs, gasping when his impressive length pops out and slaps against his abdomen. You give yourself a beat to look at it as Steve spreads his legs and writhes against the couch. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wrap your hands around the base of him. Your fingers don’t even meet when they’re circled around his girth.

“Christ,” you mutter and he laughs, a soft and almost insecure sound.

“I- I know, it’s kind of—“

“Huge?”

“Scary?” he asks, tilting his head as he gazes down at you.

It’s your turn to laugh, wondering how many girls have told him that. You’re not scared, no, the opposite.

“Not scary,” you tell him, “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

“Yeah? I’ve… I’ve been told it’s too—“ he swallows and his eyes squeeze shut as you stroke his length firmly.

“Too big?” you offer and work your hand up and down his gargantuan cock slowly, “I like a challenge, Stevie.”

He laughs again, but it’s a breathless laugh. He opens his eyes again and watches as you lick a broad stripe up the underside of his cock. His eyebrows furrow, lips parting with a sweet whine. You wrap your lips around the head of him, tasting the salty precum leaking from his slit. As you grip onto the base of him and attempt to take him into your mouth, you can feel just how hard he is. You lock your eyes on his, slowly sinking down on his cock. Drool slips past your lips and down the rest of his length, your hand slides up and smears the natural lube over him. You continue like that, fingers moving up and down where you can’t fit him in your mouth. You make a conscious effort to breathe out of your nose and use your tongue while you bob up and down on his cock.

Steve watches intently, thighs shaking as he tries his hardest not to buck his hips up. Just the size of him has spit pooling in your mouth and seeping down his length all the way to his heavy balls. His face looks extra pretty right now. Dazed and drunk on the pleasure, perhaps some of the tequila too.

His hands tangle into your hair, holding it out of the way as you continue your way up and down his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathes out, chest heaving as he praises you, “Doing so good for me.”

Those words hit you, make you moan on his length and wiggle your hips. You try to take him as deep as you can before pulling off, working your fist over his cock as you catch your breath. Once he’s not in your mouth, he bucks his hips and moans out shakily.

“Oh, fuck…” he seethes, his toes curling into the carpet.

You move your mouth to his balls then, still working his shaft in your hand and you start licking at his sack. Keeping your eyes trained on his gorgeous face. Steve blinks rapidly, rolling his hips up and spewing the prettiest little moans. And you’re kind of obsessed with his face at this moment, the absolute pleasure painted on it.

“So fucking pretty,” you tell him because you really can’t help yourself and Steve seems to like it, tugging on your hair and whining.

“C’mere… wanna kiss you,” he babbles out and you stand on shaky legs before crawling back into his lap and kissing him sloppily. He wraps his arms around your middle and thrusts his hips up, the side of his cock gliding through your folds and punching a surprised moan from you, which he swallows. Then his hands move down and firmly plant on your asscheeks. At first you assumed Steve was close to coming but the way he’s grinding you down on his cock tells you otherwise— he just really wanted to kiss you.

Then Steve pulls away, “Can I taste you? Please?”

You’re not inclined to say no to that, nodding your head emphatically and standing up from his lap again. You make a move to lay down on the couch, but Steve’s laying down first and grabbing at you.

“Sit on my face, please,” he whines and you flush, but do as he asks. Maneuvering your leg over his shoulders, you hover and look down at him. As if to ask if he’s sure. Which he answers by pulling you down on him, his warm and wet mouth meeting your dripping cunt. You moan out, hands grabbing onto the armrest to keep yourself upright as Steve devours your aching pussy. He’s moaning into you, seemingly loving the taste as he sucks and licks at your folds. Once you’re comfortable and downright desperate, you begin riding Steve’s gorgeous face. His hands are planted firm on your ass, guiding you through it.

“I’ve been dying to taste you all night,” he manages to tell you, pulling you off of him just the smallest inch before he’s dragging your pussy back down against his eager mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” you mutter out, “You’re so good at that…”

He really is, uses his whole face to do it. Nose rubbing against your clit, tongue teasing your hole while you drip all over his chin. You try to look down at him, lock eyes with his dazed, pussy-drunk ones but the pleasure gets overwhelming and your eyes start to flutter shut as you grind down on his expert tongue and really use his nose to get off. Your stomach fills with fire, your release gaining in ok you quickly. And once Steve’s tongue penetrates you, you’re a goner. Crying out his name in desperate pleas as you ride your orgasm out. You’re shaking when you pull off of him abruptly, worried that you’re about to suffocate him. And as you stand, looking down at him, you can’t help but giggle at the look on his face. Steve looks like he just came. Blinking slowly, a pleased smile plastered on his pink lips.

He stands with you, laces your fingers and kisses you softly. You can taste yourself on his lips but you don’t mind, giggling into it.

“Can I take you to my bedroom?” he asks once he pulls away.

You nod, shyly and looking up at him with stars in your eyes. He guides you up the stairs, stopping along the way to steal kisses. You’re not sure the last time you felt so much romance tangled in with sex. He presses you to the wall next to his bedroom door, swoops his mouth down to capture yours in a disproportionate chaste kiss. Again, linking your fingers and holding them above your head as he connects his forehead to yours.

“Don’t laugh— okay?”

You giggle, gazing up at him curiously, “Sorry. I won’t.” It’s unclear exactly what Steve’s asking you not to laugh at, but once he opens his bedroom door, you get it. It’s the ugliest bedroom you’ve ever seen. Everything is drenched in plaid, the wallpaper, the curtains, the bedspread. All so offensive. You bite your lip to stifle the laugh, but it all dissolves when you turn to watch Steve close the door and get a glimpse at his cock which is very much still hard. Then his bedroom doesn’t seem so silly anymore. Your hand wraps around his length as you press him against the door, kissing him filthy all over again.

Steve whimpers from the touch, muffled against your tongue as he places his hand on your face and holds you while he kisses back.

“I need you,” he slurs into your mouth and you nod, kissing him before you walk towards his bed. You lay yourself on it, head on his pillows as you bring your hands up to fondle your own tits. Watching as Steve’s hand falls down to his cock, stroking himself slowly. He then climbs on top of you, kissing you tenderly before he’s reaching over to his nightstand but something tells you to stop him, so you do. Hand on his wrist.

“No… I,” you swallow, lust driving this decision completely, “I wanna feel you… just you.”

Steve inhales sharply, moves his hand to push his cock down for some relief as he says to you, “Fuck… are you sure?”

You wrap your arms around his neck as you nod slowly at him, spreading your legs for him. He drops his head down to kiss you, all slow and gentle. His hand slips between your bodies, grabbing his cock and teasing the head of it against your aching center. You gasp softly, hands tangled in his hair as your hips roll, causing the tip of his cock to catch on your dripping hole. Steve sinks in slowly, inch by inch. It’s quite the stretch, has your jaw dropping as you adjust. His cock is hot and thick, you can feel it pulsing as it drags against your walls. It’s so delicious and heady, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and your hips roll up until he’s completely sheathed inside you. And Steve’s gentle, doesn’t jack hammer into you immediately like most men would. He stays still and lets you get used to the feeling, kissing you softly and tenderly between needy moans and gasps.

“Feel so full,” you confess in a whisper and that gets Steve thrusting into you, groaning lowly against your lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, “You’re so fucking wet and tight… squeezing my cock so good.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moan, tugging his hair while he slowly builds a steady and deep rhythm. His hand moves to grab your thigh, squeezing it while he grinds down into you. The tip of his cock prods against that spongy, sweet spot inside you. Punches a yelp out of you to which he looks down at you, panicked.

“You okay?” he asks, blinking rapidly.

You nod, scratching down his back as you plead, “Fuck, yes… right there, do it again.”

A smile spreads across his lips, pretty teeth showing as he thrusts into you again. And again. Your back arches with it, pressing your tits to his chest as your legs spread further on their own volition. You place your hand on his cheek, watching his stunning face as he sinks in and out of your pussy, the filthiest sounds echoing in the room. He licks his lips, brow furrowing as his thrusts get harder and faster. Each time, he rubs against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. Dragging the most pornographic sounds you’ve ever made from your throat. You’re not sure you could recover from this, suddenly really hoping he does ask you to be his girlfriend. The two of you have barely even started and it’s the best you’ve ever felt in your life. His cock filling you in a way that makes you want to cry, in a good way.

“Steeeeeve…” you moan out, low and uncontrollably. “Fuck… that’s so good. Just like that, baby… yes…”

His lips are on your ear now, lowly telling you, “Taking me so well… such a good girl…”

Your cunt clenches around him, little desperate and pleasure filled pants and moans pouring out of you. “Steve, Steve… oh, Steve!” you chant, scratching down his back a second time.

His hips still and he laughs, burying his face in your neck as he mumbles, “Fuck- fuck, don’t wanna cum yet.”

You grab his face and pull his lips to yours, unhooking your legs from his waist as you kiss him deeply. Tongues lazily curling together, panting into each other's open mouths. You give him a beat to come back down, then you’re flipping the pair of you. Get Steve on his back and you on top of him, without disconnecting where you two meet. You place your hands on his furry chest, feeling the jungle of hair you’ve been staring at since he took his shirt off that night. His hands grip onto your hips, gasping and panting as he stares up at you, awestruck look on his beautiful face.

“You’re so pretty,” you tell him again and he laughs, that wonderful breathless sound you’re starting to fall in love with. Which is dangerous but right now, you don’t care.

“I’ve got the prettiest girl on top of me… and she’s telling me I’m pretty,” he mumbles out, dazed smile on his face.

“You are,” you assure him just as you start to rock your hips, face confronting as you feel his cock prod at that sweet spot deep inside you again. Your eyes cross from it, eyebrows knitting together as you bite your lip and you begin riding him steadily. Slow and gentle at first but soon enough, you’re bouncing up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby… just like that…” Steve babbles out, snaking his hand around and his thumb finds your clit easily. Works in quick, firm circles. Has you riding him even faster and harder as your climax threatens to rush over you. Building and building so quickly.

“Steve…. Steve?” you whimper.

Sweet, lopsided smile on his face when he asks, “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you confess, scratching your nails against his chest as you grind down on his length.

Steve keeps up his ministrations on your clit, doesn’t switch anything up. But he heaves this happy, aroused laugh and tells you, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Use me.”

Your body tenses when it hits you, sending you over the edge and you collapse on top of him. Face buried in his neck as you spew cries and moans. He grabs your hips, holds you steady and plants his feet on the mattress. That’s when he lets loose, thrusts into you with everything he’s worth. Mouthing praise against your ear as he fucks you silly.

Your eyes roll back, his thrusts punching repetitive and loud moans from your lungs.

“Fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns and squirms underneath you but you make no attempt to move.

“Fill me up, Steve,” you whisper against his ear, kissing under it and then telling him, “Wanna feel it. Cum inside me, baby.”

He lets out a gargled moan, arms wrapping around you firmly as he thrusts one last time and releases inside you, coating your walls with his spend. Your lips meet again, lazily and spent kisses as you both come down.

Steve strokes your hair, holds you close and kisses your cheek before he asks, “You wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I do,” you reply, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. “As long as you make you breakfast.”

“I’ll make you anything you want,” he says with a smile before flipping you over and kissing you deeply.

And okay… maybe it wasn’t such a lame date.

#steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington

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sweetshuga · 2 months ago

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Roommates ✧ CS [Origin]

𓆩 Sweetshuga Original - Roommates 𓆪

Contains⚠︎ Suggestive remarks!, strong language!, pet names, mentions of taking pictures without permission + taking intimate belongings, low-key obsessed!reader, mentions of masturbation, etc. ⚠︎

Word count. 3.3k (3367)

Notes. English is not my first language! Au! (Matt and Nick go to different colleges so they won’t be apart of the storyline!)

[The fanfic of the same named blurb series -> Roommates]

Starting college was exciting, you got to live alone— well, not quite alone, you had a roommate. The dormitory rooms were fairly big so the dorm manager and college employees, along with the majority of the students, decided to arrange everyone into pairs. Though, most of the pairs were same sex—to avoid any sexual activities, or so they said.

It was a surprise when you arrived at the dormitory and went to your assigned room – a key and your luggage in hand – and was met with a guy with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes when you opened the door. He looked equally surprised to see you, probably thought his new roommate would be a guy.

Sitting up straighter on his bed as he awkwardly shifted on it, "uh... so, roommate?" You nodded, slowly closing the door behind you and walking over to the other side of the room to sit down on the bed there. "Should we, uh, call the dorm manager or sum’?" he said as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost nervous.

"Yeah... we probably should," he nodded and took his phone from the bed beside him and called whoever was in charge of the dormitory. A few rings later, an elderly woman’s voice answered the call and the guy started to talk, occasionally glancing at you.

You took in the room while he made the phone call. One single bed on each side of the room, a small sofa and a study desk with a chair were the furnitures the dormitory provided. His suitcase and bags were perched beside his bed, along with a small box.

You suddenly felt curious, staring at the box and wondering what was inside before shaking your head slightly to clear your thoughts. After all, you didn’t want to come off as a creep by staring at his things so intently like that.

"What?" your attention averted to him when you heard the surprised tone. He glanced at you again and motioned you to come over to him. You looked at him in confusion, but stood up and walked over to him anyway, sensing it was something important. "Yeah? What’s up?" he just handed you the phone and you took it and put it up to your ear, confused.

"Umm, ma’am?" the woman sighed before speaking in an apologetic tone. "I apologize for the confusion and awkwardness, but unfortunately, we had so many students in the dormitory this year that it had become full. We couldn’t skip over someone on the list only because of their gender you see."

The woman paused before continuing in a more calmer tone, "but if you feel uncomfortable and insist on changing roommates, we can arrange you into the new dormitory. The downside of it, however, is that the new dormitory’s construction won’t be finished until February." You frowned, it’s August now so six months until the new dormitory is available? You couldn’t wait that long.

Sighing as you looked at the guy—only to have him staring back at you. "Sorry, is it okay if we call back after talking?" you asked, "of course, I’ll be available until evening so you two could come by my office to talk more if you want so." You muttered a "thank you" before ending the call.

Taking the phone away from your ear before you approached the guy to give him his phone back, accidentally grazing his fingers with yours and feeling a shiver down your spine. "So uh, you heard that too I suppose?" he spoke, idly fidgeting with his phone. "Yeah... Uh, you okay with this arrangement? ’cause I can’t really wait until February."

He seemed a bit taken aback by your suggestion, but finally spoke a few moments later. "Yeah, neither can I, it’s fine with me I guess..." his voice trailed off as he looked away, continuing in a quieter tone, "as long as you don’t feel uncomfortable sharing a room with a guy."

You couldn’t help the tugging at the corners of your lips at his consideration. "I’m alright with it," his eyes widened slightly, looking mildly surprised at your agreement, but nodded nonetheless. "Well, I’ll call her back, to y’know tell her about the agreement."

He called the person in charge again and explained our conversation to her, "yeah, thanks, that would be great, yeah, okay, yeah, yeah, have a good afternoon ma’am." You looked at him expectantly, "well, what did she say?" He looked at you for a few seconds, and you could’ve sworn his eyes raked your body up and down, but you chalked it up to your imagination.

"She said this’ll be an expectation and we should probably make ground rules, just in case or sum’," you nodded, seeing it was most likely necessary. "Oh and since we had such a ”disadvantage”, she offered us both discounts on campus lunch."

Your eyebrows shot up, a smirk creeping on your face in amusement, "yeah? Did you take it?" The guy chuckled, "of course, discount for a month, basically free food for a month, who wouldn’t take such an offer?"

You laughed softly, "Yeah, that I can’t argue with." Your laughter slowly ceased as you plopped on your own bed, feeling more relaxed and open after that little laughing fit. "So, Mr. Roommate, what’s your name?" The guy smiled, "the name’s Chris, yours?"

You told him your name, "pretty name," he commented, making your heart thump, but it probably didn’t mean anything, just a small compliment. He hummed, "mm, so, about the ground rules," you leaned forward slightly and nodded. "Yeah, probably should make ’em now."

He took out a notebook and a pen from his bag. Starting to scribble something on the notebook before looking up from it and at you. "Let’s start with something simple like... Don’t touch each other’s belongings without their approval or sum’," you nodded, "yeah, fair enough."

"Oh, and don’t disturb— no, don’t invade each other’s privacy, it goes hand in hand with the first one." He nodded and wrote it down, "alright, think it’s looking pretty neat, wanna take a look?" You stood up and walked over to his bed, leaning down to look at the list.

" 1. Do not fall for each other.

2. Do not invade each other's privacy.

3. Do not touch each other's belongings.

4. Don't invite guests over after dark.

5. Respect each other's boundaries.

6. Do not lie to each other.

7. Clean up after yourself. "

Your gaze skimped over the rules, and an amused chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at the first rule again, "Was the first one really necessary?" Chris grinned, "of course it was necessary, can’t have romance in the dorm, can we?" He said in faux seriousness until a wide grin formed on his face.

You couldn’t help but copy his grin, it was Infectious and awfully cute— no, no, let’s not think like that. You cleared your throat and spoke, trying to distract yourself from the bubbling thoughts, "so, what uh, you got a girlfriend?" You immediately pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes widening as you realized what you just asked.

Chris blinked and stared at you for a bit before opening his mouth to say, "uh, no, I don’t... why? You interested?" He teased, a chuckle escaping his lips as he saw your stunned expression. Your face flushed, not expecting him to tease you like that, stammering as you tried to backpedal. "No? That, I don’t know why I asked that, just ignore it."

As you two talked, you felt a shift in the mood. The awkwardness from before was replaced by a more familiar and relaxed atmosphere, and it made you feel all fuzzy inside. The way he laughed and smiled just seemed to make your heart beat a tad bit faster. You couldn’t possibly be falling for him already, could you?

Life with Chris as your roommate was nothing short of shits and giggles. He was a fun guy, and really good looking to boot. You couldn’t help yourself at times, staring at his profile while he was focused on assignments or when he was sleeping.

Even you knew it could come off as creepy, but what could you do otherwise? You had the privilege to see him every day, it wasn’t a surprise you took it to your advantage. He seemed oblivious to the attention you were giving him and it made you all the more encouraged to keep looking at him when he wasn’t looking.

Your intentions were pure—you just liked looking at him.

𓆩♡𓆪

Chris was the type to go out a lot. He had many friends, after all. "A social butterfly" some would say, and he would often be seen in parties. He wasn’t really a fratboy, but close enough for some to refer to him, jokingly, as one. He would laugh and joke about it as well, but you could tell he would get uncomfortable sometimes.

One day, you just couldn’t stop yourself from asking about it and he blasély replied with "Yeah, ’s just, most fratboys here are assholes, ’nd sometimes it just feels more like an insult than whatever they meant it as y’know?"

That made you like him more. It was bare minimum, but you kinda thought he was just another one of those fraternity guys with hollow words and dick brains. You felt a bit stupid for judging him based on his demeanor and looks, but it wasn’t an impossible scenario since he had many girls at his feet.

You were laying on your bed, phone in hand and earphones plugged in, when Chris called out to you. Your attention shifted to him and your eyes immediately widened. He had a towel around his waist and nothing else, his hair damp and small water droplets dripping down his collarbone and chest.

"W-what?" You dumbly asked, sitting up on your bed. "Have you seen my navy briefs?" He repeated himself, walking closer to your bed for some reason. "No, I haven’t? Also, wear some clothes will you?" You barely kept yourself from stammering and freaking out at the realization that he literally had nothing under his towel.

You looked away, a creep of pink dusting your cheeks as you cleared your throat, "it’s probably in your drawer," he sighed, "yeah, Sherlock, already checked it and it wasn’t there, that’s why I’m asking you," you rolled your eyes, "as if I’ve seen it."

"Whatever, kid, guess I’ll just wear something else." He mumbled as he walked back out to the semi-private bathroom, shared between you and two others. You breathed a sigh of relief as you slumped back onto your bed, "crazy, he’s crazy, absolutely nuts."

You mentally scolded yourself for getting horny over your roommate, biting your lips as you waited for him to come out of the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A shaky exhale came out of your mouth when you saw him enter the room again, now clad in a black tank top and blue flannel pj pants.

You quickly stood up from your bed and stormed out, making a lame excuse about having a stomach ache. Once inside the bathroom, you made sure to lock the door and closed the toilet seat and sat on it. With uneven breaths, you started to touch yourself; your thoughts plagued by Chris.

𓆩♡𓆪

The dynamic between you two didn’t change, but you had started to develop feelings for him—romantic feelings. You tried to reason with yourself, telling yourself that he was good-looking and you felt a slight attraction towards him because of that but nothing deeper than that. You knew it was just a lie.

It had been quite a bit since you two started to share a room. Your 6th month sharing a room, to be specific, so it wasn’t unexpected when he suggested a small celebration. Anniversary of some kind, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited. You were thrilled.

You had already broken most of the rules – if not all – unbeknownst to Chris. There was only one that you hadn’t broken, yet. The last rule: Clean up after yourself. The reason you hadn’t broken it yet was because you were a bit of a clean freak, always making sure everything was in place and tidy.

Chris seemed to respect your will to keep things tidy and cleaned after himself as well. His side of the room was messier, yes, but he made sure to always keep it as clean as he could. You appreciated his efforts, but you couldn’t help getting drawn to his stuff. That mysterious box that he seemed adamant about hiding from you.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you approached his bed one day while he was gone getting snacks for a movie night for your anniversary. "It’s supposed to be somewhere under his bed," you mumbled to yourself as you crouched down, looking down at his bed before your gaze landed on the medium sized black box.

"Bingo," you chuckled as you pulled it out from under the bed, "I shouldn��t be doing this... but a small peek won’t hurt, right? I mean it’s not like I’m taking anything, just a look." You reasoned with yourself, slowly opening the box, your heart pounding against your ribcage in anticipation.

You almost dropped the box when you saw what was inside—various panties and lingerie along with polaroids were inside it. Polaroids of you, and your lingerie and panties. You put the box on his bed, looking at it in disbelief for a moment before finally regaining your ability to think.

Tentatively reaching out to take one of the polaroids for further inspection, you noticed most of them were of you sleeping and some when you weren’t looking. A chill ran down your spine, "what the fuck?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the box, an uneasy feeling creeped up your body, but there was a strange excitement mingling with it.

You felt a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that he was obsessed with you, so much so that he had a box full of your pictures and belongings, but you tried to push away the odd feelings. "This is supposed to be creepy, hell, scary even... but why do I feel this way?" You thought out loud, looking at the box.

𓆩♡𓆪

Chris arrived back at the dormitory with two bags of snacks and drinks. A small smile on his face as he made his way to your shared dorm room. As he opened the door, he was met with a mess. Your lingerie and panties adorned his neatly made bed. The polaroids of you scattered all over the floor.

His eyes slowly widened as his brain acknowledged the scene before him. The bags threatened to escape his grasp as panic rose within him, and a series of panicked no’s rushed out like a waterfall as he entered the dorm room. Chris quickly put the bags on the study desk before he closed the door.

His breathing ragged as he gathered up the pictures and he suddenly froze, a hitch in his breath when he saw the note attached to one of the polaroids. "I know." What did you mean by that? His brain fogged as it tried to make sense of it. "Fuck, what does she... Where is she?" He mumbled to himself, fumbling with his phone before dialing your number with shaky hands.

Your phone rang on your bed, his head snapping towards the direction and only now he noticed your abandoned phone—perched on top of a small box. His curiosity grew as he hesitantly stood up and reached your bed. His hands shook as he took the box and opened it.

A gasp left his lips when he saw a small black vibrator along with a small note beside it. "Open me" written on it in neat handwriting. He gulped thickly before opening the note, and it reads as follows: "What a surprise huh? Well, here’s a little surprise for you:)" Just as he finished reading it, the dorm room door opened.

"Oh, you’re back already?" Chris blinked as he looked at you, taken aback by your casual demeanor. "Hm? Why are you looking at me like that?" He barely kept himself from stammering as he spoke, "why...? I mean, why aren’t you creeped out? I thought you would’ve already gone to the dorm manager, or worse, reported this to the police."

You shrugged, a small smirk playing on your lips as you closed the door behind yourself. Sauntering further into the room before plopping on your bed, looking up at him and chuckling as he stared at you like you were absolutely nuts. "What? You really thought I would give my precious roomie to the police?"

He hesitated, not knowing what to say – making you chuckle more. "Oh c’mon Chris, I can’t believe you thought that little of me," you teased, making him shift awkwardly on his feet, "yeah—no, I don’t think lowly of you, it’s just... I don’t know, I mean, you would— hold on." He paused, unable to make a coherent sentence.

He gasped, his body stiffening when you suddenly pulled him on top of yourself. Propping himself on his forearms as he looked at you with wide eyes, searching your face and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He could hear the pounding even in his ears, almost deafening.

"What—what are you doing?" He said shakily, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried his best to compose himself–only to fail miserably. His breathing was uneven – heavy – and his gaze darted down to your lips subconsciously every few seconds, snapping back up to your eyes to search them.

You were an absolute vision in his eyes, the girl of his dreams. It wasn’t a surprise for him when his body reacted to your proximity, his dick hardening and straining against his pants. He cursed at himself internally, wanting to kick himself in the nuts for his body’s betrayal in such a compromising position.

With the angle you were in under him, you could clearly feel his stiff bulge and a grin plastered on your lips. Chris groaned when he saw that damned teasing grin, biting his lips slightly and briefly closing his eyes as he tried to control himself. Only for his eyes to snap open and jaw drop a few moments later due to your hands fumbling with his belt.

"Wait, you don’t, I mean, are you sure?" He stammered, uncharacteristically nervous as he gently held your wrist—stopping any further movement. "I am, I wouldn’t be here otherwise," you chuckled, "if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have you on top of me and my hand trying to unbuckle your belt."

With your reassurance, his grip loosened just enough for you to resume what you were doing. You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, eliciting a hiss from Chris when your fingers grazed his aching length through his boxers. Smirking as you slowly teased him with your fingertips, not quite giving him what he wanted, but enough for him to buck his hips.

"Please," he whispered, his voice strained as he pleaded, "please, ma, don’t tease me." You saw no need for further teasing at his plea and decided to give him what he craved for—your touch. Gently pulling his boxers down seemed to make him shiver in anticipation, and your hand tentatively wrapping around his hefty length made him gasp softly.

His hips bucked shallowly, fucking your fist as he whimpered and moaned into the crook of your neck. Every noise from him and the squelching of his cock sliding through your hand made you grow wetter by the second. "Mm... Such pretty noises," you cooed, making him whimper.

Satisfaction and desire surged through your body as you relished in the control you have over him; the way he was wrapped around your little finger already. You smiled to yourself as you continued to help him jerk off, occasionally whispering praises and sweet nothings to him, and earning low moans and whimpers from Chris.

To be continued... 𓆩♡𓆪

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remlionheart · 10 months ago

Text

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

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You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

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#chuuya smut #bsd smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #soukoku #rem writes

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sinfulspencer · 1 year ago

Text

Human

Prompt: Reader shows Spencer that prison might have changed him, but he's still the love of her life. She's going to stick by his side until he gets tired of her. Based on the song 'Human' by Daughter.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: angst, mature (18+)

Warning: self-doubt, self-pity, Spencer is just sad; implied unprotected sex

Words: 4.8k

A.N.: This is a fic I wrote last year around July-August and now it can finally see the sunlight. Thank you @andiebeaword for being my beta-reader for this!

MASTERLIST.

REQUESTS GUIDELINES.

TAGLIST FORM.

Break me out of this shell-like case I’m in

Underneath the skin there’s a human

Buried deep within there’s a human

And despite everything I’m still human

The bed creaked underneath the weight of his body and the blanket shuffled on top of me, while my eyes got used to the darkness of our bedroom. The silent sound of footsteps made me turn on my right side, trying to figure out what was happening and why I was about to wake up.

Instinctively, my hand went to the side and touched the warm spot Spencer was supposed to occupy. His pillow was still there, but he wasn’t.

I wasn’t surprised.

My eyes fell on the clock on my nightstand and, just like the night before at 4 am, I was alone in our bed. The darkness surrounding me wasn’t as comforting as it was before, because it felt like it was swallowing me whole - but I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Spencer, on the other side of our apartment, was sitting on the couch with his weighted blanket wrapped around his shoulder and his eyes closed. He was rocking back and forth, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth with his hands clutching to the blanket.

That’s how I found him in our living room.

I didn’t want to get too close, terrified that I could’ve spooked him, but I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.

The pained expression on his face broke my heart as a tear escaped from those kind eyes that watched me with love and tenderness. I couldn’t just stay there and not do anything, I needed to help him somehow.

“Spencer?”

I called out his name to try and take him out from that hazy state he was clearly in, but I didn’t succeed. His eyes were still closed tightly and his knuckles were white because of the tension on his fingers, still gripping the blanket.

I took another step closer. “Spencer, my love?”

He didn’t move, but I saw his body relaxing when my voice reached his ear. Like a knot coming undone, Spencer leaned back against the couch with his blanket falling down from his shoulders.

His eyes didn’t open, but there was no need to.

“My love, I’m here.” - I whispered, taking another step closer to cover his shoulders with the blanket again - “You’re home.”

When my right hand barely brushed Spencer’s skin over his elbow, his fingers gripped it tightly and moved it over his chest. I didn’t pull away, following the path of his fingers before caressing the tender skin right above Spencer’s heart.

I could feel the quick beating of his heart underneath my fingertips.

I wanted it to match mine, calmer and more relaxed.

“Can I sit here with you, my love?”

Spencer didn’t answer me, but he moved to the side in order to leave space on the couch for me. His left thigh was slightly pressed to mine as his fingers lost their grip on my hand, cradling on top of my thigh.

I didn’t know what he wanted to do, but it was fine.

If touching me was what he needed to feel better, then I was more than willing to help him in that way.

Once I got comfortable on the couch, kneeling by his side with my right hand on his chest and the left one behind his neck, I leaned forward. I rested my chin on his shoulder, as Spencer’s curls tickled the lower part of my face.

He released a long sigh, tilting his head.

“Is there something I can do, my love?”

Spencer shook his head, pulling me closer to his body. I could hear the faint sound of his sniffles as he hid his face in the crook of my neck, clinging to the warmth radiating off me and the smell of home that embraced him.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and climbed onto his lap.

“You’re home, my love. You’re not there anymore.” - I whispered, running my fingers through his curls - “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes.”

Spencer’s voice came out broken by sobs, his body shaking as he tried to get as close as possible to me. My chest was pressed to his and my fingers were playing with his curls, a gesture that usually helped him calm down whenever he had those moments.

Prison changed Spencer, and not for the better.

Though his confidence peeked somehow, his whole demeanour changed whenever we were alone in our apartment. Spencer used to love having his space, but after his release from prison that changed: he never left me alone for too long, he always found a way to touch me and hold me close, as if he was scared I might disappear.

I knew it was all in his head, he knew it as well - but that didn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t stop holding my hand or asking me to come closer to him.

Spencer was terrified of losing me.

Before prison, losing me was just a temporary fear that would go away with my reassuring words. After prison, that fear became more irrational, more rooted in his brain to the point he would call me too many times on the phone just to make sure that I was safe and at work.

I couldn’t blame Spencer.

He saw his friend getting slaughtered in front of him. He had to taint other prisoners’ drugs in order to stay alive. He had to spend three hellish months in a place where he didn’t belong, to a place that crushed his spirit and ruined all the progress he had made through the years.

The nightmares were probably the worst part, though.

Endless nights of Spencer waking up screaming at the top of his lungs, where he would cry and cry in my chest because he thought I was dead, because he dreamed about being covered in my own blood branding a knife behind his back, because he thought that he hurt me.

His hands would shake me to make sure that I was still breathing and then he would kiss me, apologising to me for waking me up because he was so scared, whispering that everything was okay and he was just scared.

Scared wasn’t even the right word for it, Spencer was.. panic-stricken.

Shivers down my spine whenever I felt him shuffling out of bed and running outside the bedroom. I followed him every single time, everywhere around the house, fearing that he might do something awful, something drastic.

It was exhausting.

The more I tried to help him, the more everything seemed pointless.

But I wasn’t going to give up.

Underneath that shell of a man, there was my Spencer.

My darling Spencer, the man I’ve loved more and more each day.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay, we can sit here in silence and watch the sun come up.” - I offered, pointing to the purple curtain covering the glass - “How about that, my love?”

Spencer didn’t answer me, but he held me closer to his chest as he hid his face in the crook of my neck. His curls tickled my skin as his hands brought me down on his thighs, feeling the warmth radiating off every inch of my body.

It wasn’t sexual.

It was far from that.

Spencer was making sure that I was real, that I was alive and breathing, that I wasn’t a figment of his imagination and that he wasn’t having another dream. The gentle massage of his fingers all over my thighs stopped as soon as I turned to the side, looking at the closed window not too distant from us.

The sky was still black and grey clouds were dancing ahead of us, but the faint lights of the sleepy sun were slowly peeking. I hoped the view could reflect Spencer’s episode as well: dark in the beginning as the poisonous thoughts clouded his brain, with the light slowly filtering through as the fear dissipated and my love lullabies him back to me, back to reality.

“Are you going to work today?”

I leaned my head on top of his, nodding. “Yes, but in the afternoon. Do you want me to call in sick?”

Spencer released a frustrated sigh as he went quiet.

I knew what he was thinking: he wanted me to stay at home with him, but he knew he couldn’t ask me that. Replacing me at work wasn’t easy, I knew my co-workers wouldn’t have appreciated that.

However, I was willing to do anything in my power to help Spencer out.

If he needed me to be with him for the whole day to hold his hand, to cook him some food, to read him a book, I was ready to do it. I didn’t want Spencer to feel bad for keeping me away from my colleagues and my work, I didn’t want Spencer to think that I resented him for asking for help.

I would’ve never done that.

Asking for help is one of the hardest things the human kind has ever learned to do, and some people still struggle with it. Spencer always kept everything to himself before prison, but then he realised that there was no need to fight all alone.

There was no need to use all of his strength and keep on fighting when there was no one by his side because he pushed them away, because he built this hard, cold wall all around his heart.

But he had to come to it on his own time, at his own pace.

Unfortunately, what made him understand that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, was prison. In that shit-hole Spencer understood the power of love, the power of his own words and that his feelings were valid.

They were a part of him, they were what made him a person.

Spencer had a really hard time processing that, but never did I push him. Never did I force him to speak when he didn’t want to. Never did I tell him that everything he did hurt me, because he knew that.

Deep down in his bright, warm heart, Spencer knew that by keeping quiet and never speaking he was hurting me. But who was I to tell him that? Who was I to kick a man who was already down? Spencer was well aware that communication meant everything to me, but I couldn’t force him to speak if he couldn’t.

He had to find his own voice, he had to find the strength to ask for help.

And when he did, his whole world changed.

Spencer found everything more difficult as soon as he spoke the first time. He didn’t look into my eyes, he didn’t hold my hands, he didn’t get close to me because he thought that talking about his feelings would make me hate him.

It didn’t. On the contrary, it made me love him even more.

Dealing with your own feelings is hard and dealing with your partner’s feelings, who’s not a big fan of processing them, is even harder. Sometimes people told me that it would’ve been much easier to leave him, to let Spencer deal with his own shit all alone and move on.

What kind of human being thinks that? What kind of person gives up on another person who just learned how to recognize and explain his feelings? What kind of person would let another deal with such a burden on their back, all alone?

Not me.

“Alright, I’ll call Francis.” - I kissed Spencer’s forehead, looking down at him - “Do you want to go to the bookshop later? We can pick a book and…”

Spencer shook his head, interrupting my sentence. “No. I want to stay at home.”

His fingers gripped me tighter as I tried to sit by his side. “That’s okay. Do you want to take a bath? Or bake something?”

“A bath would be nice.” - his voice was small, shaky - “Can we do that?”

I smiled at him, bringing both my hands on his cheeks. “Of course! Whatever you want, my love.”

Spencer followed me to the bathroom in silence, basking in the excitement that was clearly rolling off each one of my movements. He knew how much I loved taking baths together, because it was one of the most sensual and romantic experiences one could have.

In prison Spencer never had time alone, especially not in a room like a bathroom.

But now, in the comfort of our own home, Spencer could finally relax in the warm water as I massaged his shoulders and peppered his neck with kisses. He could bask in the happiness he brought me and the love I tried to shower him with, in order to make him feel like he didn’t change.

Because his love for me didn’t.

Spencer leaned his head to the side, sighing softly as I ran the sponge up and down his neck. Drop of water ran down his skin while the soap covered the soap’s path and I wrapped my free arm around his chest.

“Does that feel nice, hm?”

Spencer nodded, intertwining his fingers with mine over his heart. “I’ve missed doing this with you.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, my love.” - I whispered, closing my eyes as I rested my head against his back while I moved the sponge down to his shoulder - “But…”

Spencer turned his head to the side, never letting my hand go. “But?”

Humming, I pulled away from him and started to bathe him again. “Maybe we should buy a bigger bathtub.”

A low chuckle escaped from his lips. “Hm, maybe we can buy a Jacuzzi.”

I laughed with him, shaking my head. “Spencer, that’s too expensive! But we can book a weekend at the Hot Springs they just opened to have that experience.”

“Yes, please. I want to go away with you for a few days.”

“I’ll make a few calls later, then.” - I pressed a kiss on the back of his neck - “Okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer me but he gently tugged my arm, forcing me to press against his body one more time. With my cheeks against his back, my whole body was pressed to his while I stayed silent.

The idea of going to the Hot Springs with Spencer filled me with joy, because it was our first get-away after he came home from prison. I didn’t know if he was going to fully enjoy it, but I was going to try my best to make him forget all the feelings he had within himself.

“Can you sit in front of me?”

Spencer’s voice interrupted my train of thoughts, echoing inside the bathroom.

He couldn’t see me, but I nodded as I stood up from the water. Spencer held my hands in order for me not to slip and fall onto the floor, making sure that I was steady enough to exit the bathtub.

I didn’t know why he wanted me to sit in front of him, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it. It was probably because he needed to have me closer to him - and by closer, he desperately needed to have me on his thighs just like in the living room.

I wasn’t going to complain.

Spencer helped me get back inside the bathtub, watching me.

Those honey-coloured eyes were staring back at him with all the love and tenderness they’ve been showing me throughout the years, looking at me as if I was Spencer’ most precious possession - and I was, as he kept reminding me each day.

I brought my hands on his cheeks, leaning forward to kiss his lips while Spencer lifted my hips and gently sat me on his thighs.

“You look pretty.”

I bumped my nose against his. “Are you trying to get into my panties? That’s shameful, Doctor Reid. I am a lady.”

My words made him laugh as my heart swelled in my chest at the sight: when Spencer laughs, he has this cute, dumb, adorable smile on his lips and the most beautiful dimples on those soft cheeks.

He was so fucking beautiful and he didn’t know.

“I don’t think I need to have you sitting on my thighs to get into your panties, lady.”

I hummed against his lips, running my fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. “True, you can have me anytime you want.”

Spencer closed his arms around my waist and hid his face in the crook of my neck, breathing in and out through his nose. I kept caressing his hair and playing with his curls, hoping that my words didn’t make him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t unusual of me to make sexual innuendos at the most inappropriate times, Spencer knew me that well, but… I felt bad for saying that. I knew that Spencer didn’t want to have sex - if he wanted to, he would’ve told me or probably grabbed me by the waist and dragged me to the bedroom.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Shaking my head, I brought my hands down to his face and tilted it upward. “I decide whether you deserve me or not, Spencer.”

His eyes never left mine. “But it’s true. You’re always so good to me, and I haven’t been myself lately. I keep shouting, crying..”

“So? Do you think those things are enough to make me walk away?” - I asked, pressing a kiss over his lips - “I’m not going to leave you just because you’ve experienced something that caused you so much pain. I promised to stay by your side, I’m here for the long run.”

He didn’t have to speak because the way he leaned forward and closed the distance between us told me everything I needed to know. He was apologising through the kiss for claiming he wasn’t enough for me, but I understood his point of view.

Spencer knew he was being difficult to be with, but he also knew how much I loved him and cared for him. I wasn’t going to give up my love for him just because he had to go through such a traumatic experience.

I was willing to do anything in my power to help him, even if it would’ve taken me years to get him back.

But Spencer never went away. He was still himself underneath that glass shell.

He was still the man I fell in love with, just a bit bruised.

“I love you, Spencer. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know.” - he replied with no hesitation - “But I really don’t understand how you manage to stay with me.”

I raised my brows, pulling away from him. “Did you forget what I just said?”

“Sometimes love is not enough.”

My heart broke at the pain in his voice.

“Not in my case, my love.” - I reminded him, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip - “In my case, love is more than enough. I’m with you because I love you and I don’t think I can survive without you, honestly.”

Spencer kissed my thumb. “That’s not healthy.”

“Drinking almost six cups of coffee in one morning is not healthy either, but you do it anyway.”

“Actually, four or five cups of coffee a day…”

Interrupting him with another kiss on the lips, I huffed. “Spencer.”

He chuckled, running his fingers up my back. “Sorry. It’s just… hard for me to understand why you would want to be with me when I’m being like this.”

“I’m with you because I’m in love with you.” - I answered him - “I’m with you because the day I agreed to be yours, I promise you I’d do anything for you. And I’m not going to give up on you just because you think you’re difficult.”

Spencer looked down, sliding his hands over my thighs.

“You’re not being difficult, Spencer. You’re traumatised, there’s a big difference.”

“I’m scared that I will push you away because of what I’ve been through.”

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m doing the best that I can to be with you, Spencer. I know that I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, so I can’t give you medical help, but I’m willing to support you and be with you every step of the way. That’s what a partner does.”

Spencer released a sigh as the water inside the bathtub moved under us.

“I love you.”

I kissed his lips. “I love you too, more than words can say.”

In silence, I washed his curls with my strawberry shampoo. Spencer didn’t complain, keeping his eyes closed the whole time as he basked in the kindness of my touch over his scalp, his shoulders, his chest, his face.

I took your time to rinse off the shampoo and the soap off his body, to make sure he was clean and felt like it as well.

I couldn’t catch a glimpse of his thoughts, but I knew that at that moment Spencer felt safe in my arms. The way his body moved underneath mine made me understand that he didn’t want to let me go, that he was grateful to have me by his side and that he was going to do anything to be okay.

To get through this moment of his life.

When I was done with his bath, I cleaned myself and got out of the bathtub with his hands in mine. I struggled to move inside the bathroom as Spencer kept me close to his body the whole time, not daring to step away for a second.

It felt like I had a koala attached to my back, but I never once complained.

Spencer’s skin against mine felt perfect.

Following me to the bedroom, Spencer left his phone on the nightstand while I pushed the blankets down. He was looking at me the whole time, admiring how my naked body looked under the faint lights of the bedroom.

There was nothing sexual in what he was doing, even though I was naked and not afraid to show every part of me. I became so used to his eyes and his hands on me that when Spencer took a step back, I felt lonely.

I suddenly missed the warmth of his fingers on my waist and the hardness of his chest pressed to my back.

“I want to stop thinking for a while.”

I looked over to him, laying down on the bed. “How can I help, my love?”

Spencer didn’t speak, sitting on the edge of the bed. He twisted the little curls right behind his neck, with his eyes looking elsewhere. He was trying to gather the right words on his tongue.

“There is something, but…”

“Anything for you.” I frowned when he didn’t look at me

Lifting myself up, I crawled closer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind so that my chin was pressed over his shoulder. I left an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck.

“I’d do anything to make you feel better, my love.”

Spencer turned to his side, looking at me before gently grabbing my hand. Our fingers locked together as he looked to the window right in front of us: he was still silent, probably pondering the words and picking the better ones.

I knew what he was silently telling me with the way he behaved, but I needed the words to come out of his lips. I needed Spencer to be honest and fully in control of the situation, because I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Spencer brought our joined hands to his chest. “I don’t know how to ask this.”

I crawled closer to him until I was sitting, again, on his thighs. Our hands were still locked together, but Spencer moved them from his chest to mine and slowly, he pushed them down right above my belly button.

It was clear what he wanted, and I understood how difficult it was to ask for that kind of comfort in such a moment but I was willing to help him.

I had to do all the talking, I wanted him to feel safe. And I needed him to know that I would’ve done anything for him.

“Do you want to make love to me?”

Spencer looked up at me as if I finally put a voice to his thoughts. Nodding his head, his lips touched mine as our hands separated.

My fingers immediately travelled up to his neck as I kissed him even harder, hoping that the love I was pouring into the kiss could be felt. I needed Spencer to know how much I loved him, how much I cared about him.

Spencer deserved to know every emotion I felt for him.

By the way he laid back down on the bed, with his hands pressed to my back so that our chests couldn’t separate, Spencer hinted at me that he felt everything.

Every beat of my heart, every breath I took, every smile and laugh… They all belonged to him.

There wasn’t a single part of my body that didn’t belong to him.

It didn’t take long for our bodies to connect, with me still sitting on his thighs and Spencer’s staring at me with those sweet, honey coloured eyes. I tried my best to stay still as Spencer brought his hands behind his neck, smiling at the sight of my body tightening all around him.

I moved as slow as I could, kissing his lips and whispering how much I loved him while Spencer couldn’t do nothing but take all of me, feel my body welcome him and show him that nothing changed between us.

We were still the same old us, wrapped in our own love bubble that nobody was going to burst - prison didn’t, Spencer understood that as I praised his name, whining in pure ecstasy the more our kisses became erratic and his hands flew on my waist.

His fingers dug into my skin, leaving the same marks my mouth was peppering his neck with. I painted his skin the way he painted mine, owning his body the way his was owning mine.

I made sure to remind Spencer of how good I felt as he looked at me completely breathless, struggling to move his eyes off me. I didn’t want him to - he deserved to know that he was still able to make me crumble, to make me whine his name, to make me his all over again.

Moans spilled from my lips like a chorus of prayers while Spencer kissed my throat.

He dragged his nails up to my thighs, whispering my name in that soft tone I loved more than anything in the world. He looked breathtaking, just like every night I’ve spent on top of him, underneath him, by his side, all around him.

We were one, that night.

With our eyes locked, I felt the euphoria crashing through my body as soon as his warmth filled me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I struggled to kiss Spencer while I let my pleasure blind me to the point I didn’t know where I started and Spencer ended, but I didn’t mind.

His hands were all over me, touching every inch of my skin as his eyes closed. Tears fell down his cheeks and mixed with mine, clashing onto our chests while we collapsed against one another.

Still enthralled in our pleasure and our love bubble, we clung to each other as if we were pathetic grass in the middle of a tornado. A perfect metaphor of our life ever since his sentence, ever since he got locked him and I stayed out, waiting for him in our bed, in our shared home.

But we were free, that night.

We were with one another, because Spencer came back to me.

He was still mine, he has always been mine even when his brain told him that I didn’t want him anymore, that I wouldn’t be able to be happy with a man like him by my side.

When the air filled our lungs again, I rolled off his body.

His right hand immediately clung to mine, with his fingers intertwined with mine.

“I love you,” Spencer blurted out.

I turned to the side, looking at him. “I love you more, my love.”

Brushing the back of his free hand to his cheek, Spencer cuddled closer to me. His nose pressed to the side of my throat while his whole body shuddered, as more tears spilled from those beautiful eyes I kissed.

I hugged him and held him as tightly as I could, caressing with the tip of my fingers his cheeks, his lips, his nose, his forehead. He kissed the skin he bit before as I sighed, holding back the tears.

I hated to see him so broken, and I hated not being able to help him just by snapping my fingers. I knew it was going to be a long and difficult process, but I was going to stay by his side every step of the way.

“Thank you.”

“For what, my love?”

Spencer looked up at me and his nose twitched. “For making me feel like a human being who deserves to be loved.”

I was going to turn this into my life’s mission.

With a weak smile, I closed the distance between our lips.

Remember that liking, reblogging or commenting on the fic are the only ways for you to give me feedbacks - which is always appreciated. Being ignored is a shitty feeling.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid angst fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut imagine #spencer reid angst imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Summary: Based on this request! You write and perform a new song, Spencer hears it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x singer!fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: post break up blues, reminiscing past relationship

Word count: 2k

a/n: i hope this is what you wanted <3333

main masterlist

Backstage, your heart raced. The thump of the music and the roar of the crowd seemed to pulse through your entire body as if the whole of Madison Square Garden was vibrating with your nerves. You took a steadying breath, trying to collect yourself, but it was hard to ignore the flood of emotions clawing up from deep within. The thin straps of your dress sat delicately on your shoulders, and you smoothed your hands down the ruffled fabric, hoping that the trembling would stop.

This wasn't just any performance—it was the performance. A surprise song, one no one was expecting. One that held the raw, unfiltered truth of your heartbreak. "I Love You, I'm Sorry." You had written it when everything was still fresh, when the pain of your breakup was like a shadow that followed you everywhere. At the time, it had been too hard to even think about sharing with the world. But tonight, you were ready.

The understage elevator began to rise, and you closed your eyes, willing the nerves to stay down, to let your voice and the song take over. The cheering above grew louder and louder, shaking the very ground beneath you. The audience didn't know what was coming, and part of you reveled in that—the sweet anticipation, the feeling of holding something so dear to yourself just a moment longer.

When the platform locked into place, the stage lights were blinding, but they were familiar, almost comforting in their brightness. You took another breath, one more attempt to steady yourself, and pasted on a smile as you faced the crowd. The warm air filled with thousands of screams and cheers wrapped around you, the collective energy swallowing you whole.

Then, the first soft notes of "I Love You, I'm Sorry" filled the arena, a gentle melody drifting across the vast sea of faces. It was only seconds, but you could feel the change in the crowd, the gasp of realization—their screaming rising to a fever pitch, louder than anything you'd heard all night. This was something new. Unheard. Unseen. Yours.

You gripped the mic stand tighter as the lyrics began to spill from your lips, each word carrying the weight of the heartbreak and healing you'd experienced. For the first time, you weren’t just singing to them—you were sharing a piece of your soul, one you’d kept hidden until tonight. And in this moment, standing on stage with the sound of your voice echoing off the walls, you felt like you could finally let it all go, each note a step towards something new, something freeing.

This was your moment. Your truth. And as the crowd listened, every word hung in the air like a shared confession—a story that was yours but felt like it belonged to everyone who ever loved, lost, and tried to find their way back.

Two Augusts ago

I told the truth, oh, but you didn't like it, you went home

You're in your Benz, I'm by the gate

Now you go alone

Charm all the people you train for, you mean well but aim low

And I'll make it known like I'm getting paid

—

Penelope’s phone buzzed on the desk, lighting up with a notification that had her immediately squealing with excitement. Her eyes darted to the screen, and she gasped, hand flying to her mouth as she read the alert. It was from a fan account—one dedicated to her absolute favorite artist. The one she had posters of plastered all over her home office and whose songs made up nearly every one of her playlists. And they had huge news: a surprise song, performed live tonight, and someone was streaming it illegally.

Normally, Penelope would never (lol) endorse anything illegal, but this was different. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment she couldn’t miss. With barely a thought, she tapped on the link, the stream immediately popping up on her screen. The image quality wasn’t the best—dark and shaky as someone tried their best to hold their phone steady over a sea of swaying arms—but the audio was good enough. And Penelope’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized she didn’t know the song.

She pressed the phone closer to her ear, listening as the artist’s voice rose above the noise of the crowd. It cut through the chatter like a blade, the lyrics flowing effortlessly.

That's just the way life goes

I like to slam doors closed

Trust me, I know it's always about me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Reid!” she shrieked, almost dropping her phone in her haste as she rushed to her feet. She moved faster than she had in ages, practically leaping down the rows of desks to where Spencer was hunched over, diligently working on his reports. The bullpen was nearly empty at this late hour, with only a few agents scattered here and there, too tired to react to Penelope's sudden outburst.

Spencer’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion as she dashed toward him. “Reid!” she repeated, more insistently this time. “You have to see this!”

He blinked, looking between her and the glowing screen of her phone, a bemused expression spreading across his features. “What’s going on?” he asked, leaning back in his chair as she thrust the phone right in front of his face.

The phone's speakers crackled slightly as Penelope thrust it closer to Spencer's face, the low-quality audio doing nothing to dull the sharpness of the voice that poured from it—soft, melodic, achingly familiar. Spencer's pulse quickened as soon as he heard the voice, and his breath caught in his throat. That voice... It was you. It was your voice. And every word that spilled from your lips seemed to slice through the silence, embedding themselves into the space between his ribs like a blade.

Two summers from now

We'll have been talking, but not all that often, we're cool now

I'll be on a boat, you're on a plane

Going somewhere sane

And I'll have a drink

Wistfully lean out my window and watch the sun set on the lake

It might not feel real, but it's okay

'Cause that's just the way life goes

I push my luck, it shows

Thankful you don't send someone to kill me

I love you, I'm sorry

Spencer's mouth went dry as the lyrics tumbled out in your voice—so familiar, like a touch he'd longed for but hadn't felt in ages. The melancholy melody hung in the air, weaving a story so heartbreakingly intimate that it felt as though you were standing right there, whispering the words directly to him. He couldn't move; his eyes were glued to the shaky video on Penelope’s phone, but his mind was far away, drowning in memories he’d tried so hard to keep at bay.

Every note, every breath in your voice struck a chord within him. And the lyrics—the lyrics stung. Spencer could feel the thin layer of calm he'd built around himself start to crack, the words hitting too close to home, exposing emotions he'd tried so desperately to hide away.

His fingers clenched the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as he fought to steady himself. Did you still... love him? Despite everything? Despite the separation, the silence that had stretched between them like an unbridgeable chasm?

I love you, I'm sorry.

"Reid?" Penelope’s voice sounded distant, her usually bubbly tone filled with concern as she took in Spencer’s reaction. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

I was a dick, it is what it is

A habit to kick, the age-old curse

I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad

Stare at the crash, it actually works

Making amends, this shit never ends

I'm wrong again, wrong again

The words cut him deep. Each line seemed to hold up a mirror to your past—a past he’d tried so hard to bury, but one that never really stayed buried. Spencer could hear the regret in your voice, and it only made his own regrets bubble to the surface. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, and he could almost see the intensity in your eyes, the way you closed them as you sang, finally letting the truth out.

He couldn't breathe. It was too much. He could feel the familiar tightening in his chest, the way his heart ached like it was being squeezed by a vice. You had always known how to say exactly what you felt, even if you didn't always share those thoughts with him when you were together. But this... this was different. Every note felt like a confession. A confession of the mistakes you made, the mistakes he made.

God, you were beautiful. You looked so beautiful that it hurt to look. It hurt to remember how it felt to hold you, how you fit perfectly in his arms, how your laugh had always been contagious, how your voice could calm every storm in his mind. He could feel a tear prickling at the corner of his eye, but he blinked it back, forcing it away. He couldn’t lose himself like this, not here, not in front of Penelope.

But he knew why she was showing him this—of course, he did. He knew Penelope adored you, both as a fan and as a friend. But more than that, he knew Penelope loved him, and seeing him carry the weight of the breakup had broken her heart just as much as it broke his. She probably thought showing him this would help, somehow. Maybe hearing your voice again would bring some sort of closure. Or maybe, Penelope just wanted him to know that you hadn’t forgotten about him either. That you still felt something.

The way life goes

Joyriding down our road

Lay on the horn to prove that it haunts me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Penelope,” Spencer's voice cracked as he tried to speak, his gaze never leaving the screen. He wanted to tell her to turn it off, to shut it down before he completely unraveled right there in the office. But he couldn’t. The sound of your voice had him rooted to the spot, and every breath felt like a struggle.

Penelope bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before she spoke. “I... I just thought you should see this, Spencer. I know you’re not, like... together anymore. And I know you never talk about it. But... this song... it’s about you. I just know it is.”

Spencer let out a shaky sigh, gripping the phone tighter as your voice filled the air around them. He couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in—the way her your smelled when you rested your head on his shoulder, the way you’d laugh at the smallest, silliest things just to make him smile, the fights, the apologies, the “I love you’s” whispered in the middle of the night.

And now, all those memories seemed to wrap themselves around the lyrics you sang—lyrics that felt like a secret letter meant just for him. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to listen to the rest of the song, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, either.

The way life goes (you were the best but you were the worst)

(As sick as it sounds, I loved you first)

I wanna speak in code (I was a dick, it is what it is)

(A habit to kick, the age-old curse)

Hope that I don't, won't make it about me (I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad)

(Stare at the crash, it actually works)

I love you, I'm sorry

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

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sourholland · 1 year ago

Text

timeless; thomas shelby

This idea has been plaguing my mind for days, I cannot get it out of my head. I’m not sure if I will make any more parts of this, it all depends on how I feel about it and if it is well received. The timeline of this is skewed on purpose, it’s also heavily based on Tommy’s time fighting during the war. Timeless by Taylor Swift was a huge inspiration.

Both you and Tommy became unlikely friends during childhood, only for you to realize you had always loved him. Tommy finds himself seeing you in a different light, only war being able to separate the two of you. (3.5k)

Thomas Shelby was the first and only boy you had ever loved.

It was 1902, Tommy was twelve years old. He played with your older brother, they went out into the street with the Shelby brothers and few other boys from the neighborhood and kicked a ball around. You were eight, trailing your brother Joseph at every chance you had.

When you met Tommy, it was because you had chased after your brother one August afternoon with the intention to join their game of kickball. The moment you approached the large group of prepubescent boys, Joseph looked absolutely mortified. Even though he was older than some of the boys, at fourteen, he still followed all of Tommy’s orders. This, you didn’t understand.

“Go home,” he leaned down to your level in gritted teeth.

“I just want to play, just one game,” you pleaded with him. “Please, Joey.”

“No,” he barked. “Y/N, you gotta get out of here.”

Feeling your face heat up, you were near tears and embarrassed in front of all of the older boys. Joseph would not let up, angry at you for trying to play with him and his friends.

“What the fuck d’she want?” Arthur bellowed towards your brother.

Peering over at him, you could tell that he was not very patient and was even older than Joseph. After Arthur had yelled, you turned back to go home. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as you shuffled back to where you lived and went inside to play alone.

“Fuckin’ asshole is what you are,” Tommy shook his head a bit. “Game’s not fuckin’ hard or anythin’, Joe. She could have played.”

That was all they ever said again on the matter, your brother never brought it up to you that night and you never spoke of it to him. It wasn’t until later on that month that anyone had approached you about what happened that day in Small Heath.

You were sent out to pick up your mother’s cigarettes, dragging your feet along the dirt path with the coin in your hand. Every Wednesday, you made the same trek. Tommy Shelby came up on your right side as you walked one day, you saw a screwdriver sticking out of his pocket and nearly shuttered. The kids around the neighborhood spoke of him in hushed whispers, calling him a gypsy and saying he and his brothers carried razor blades around with them.

“You’re Joe’s sister, aren’t you?” He asked, peering over at you. “Tried to join in on a game a while back?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

He hummed in response, kicking dirt with his shoe as you both walked. He was much taller than you, though he was still quite narrow and scrawny. Truthfully, there was no denying that you had a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on him.

“Where’re you headed?” He finally spoke up.

“Grabbing my mum’s cigarettes,” you told him with a sigh. “She sends me out every week to pick some up.”

At the time, you had no clue why Tommy had followed you all the way to the shop and then walked you home. He never gave you any inclination either. Then, he did the same the next week. He came outside when you passed his house and you walked together. This occurred every week after the first.

Of course, you assumed this meant he liked you and this caused you to revel in the attention just a little. Tommy would talk to you about school and horses mostly, he was kind to you.

About six months after you and Tommy had developed this weekly routine, you mentioned something to your brother about it and he teased you about having a crush on Tommy. Making the mistake of saying he must’ve liked you back if he continued to walk along with you, Joseph was quite cruel in return.

“He doesn’t do it because he likes to,” Joseph laughed. “Father started pestering me to walk with you when he found out you were being picked on in school, bothered and such by the boys around. I started to give Tommy a bit of my allowance to walk with you so dad would finally get off my fucking back.”

You no longer walked to the shops on Wednesdays.

Tommy waited for you the next week, but you never left out front and began past his house. The week after, he did the same and you still did not come.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice came up the staircase on Thursday morning. “Come to the door.”

Tommy stood there in the walkway to your home, talking with your mother about something as you came down the steps. She left you to walk outside together and down the stairs into the street.

“You’re not getting your mum’s cigarettes anymore?” He asked you suddenly.

“No, I am,” you told him. “Just don’t want to walk with you anymore.”

He seemed taken aback by this, not used to the idea of you sticking your nose up at him and looking the other way when he tried to talk to you. Tommy knew you were smitten with him, he didn’t mind it. He thought you were nice enough, he liked to walk with you every week. He just didn’t see you the same way that you saw him, you were too young and too curious about certain things.

“Why’s that?” He shot back a little annoyed.

“Joey told me that he’s been paying you to do it, to make sure nobody messes with me.”

“And?” Tommy asked. “Doesn’t really fuckin’ matter if you ask me, whether he’s payin’ me or not.”

This made you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him and leaning against the brick of one of the alleyways you walked down. Tommy was confused as to why this bothered you so much, truthfully it didn’t really matter about the money to him. It helped him to buy cigarettes, that was all. He didn’t mind walking along with you, though. He would’ve done it without the payout.

“It matters to me,” you told him. “I don’t need looking after or anything like that.”

Turning on your heel, you thought that you’d been able to get the last word. Little did you know, nobody but Tommy got the last word. He only realized you had decided to go out on Saturdays, rather than Wednesdays. He told Joseph that he wouldn’t be requiring payment anymore and you walked in silence for over a month before you spoke to him on your walks again.

His stubbornness irked you, leaving you infuriatingly mad at his inability to leave you alone. Your cheeks went hot when he came around, stomach in knots whenever he would say your name.

Over the years, you had tried to shake your feelings for Tommy. This was mostly due to the fact that you had grown attached in a way that allowed you to call him a friend. By the time you were eleven, Tommy had taught you how to ride his horse. He spent an entire summer working with you. He was fifteen and definitely had plenty of better things to do, but he spent hours upon hours in the grueling sun with you.

“Tommy,” you said, laying sprawled out on a patch of grass one afternoon when you were thirteen and he was seventeen. “D’you want to come ‘round to mine for supper tonight? Mum asked me to invite you over.”

The last bit was a lie, you truly just wanted Tommy to join you. He inhaled shortly before propping himself up on his hand and looking over at you.

“Can’t tonight, m’sorry,” he apologized to you.

“Why not?” You asked curiously, assuming he’d saying something about having to be with his brothers or Polly.

“I’ve actually asked a girl out,” he confessed to you. “I’m planning to take her out tonight.”

This was one of the few times Tommy discussed his love life with you. Your friendship mostly consisted of doing other things, less intrusive things. He still really saw you as a younger sister type of figure in a way. He thoroughly enjoyed your company, but there was no denying his attraction to the girls he saw in school.

Once, Tommy told you about Arthur bringing home a prostitute. He didn’t tell you why he did it, or what they did. Only laughed it off, unbeknownst to him that you really didn’t know what a prostitute was. Joseph had called them whores, but you lived a rather sheltered lifestyle and none of the older people around you ever spoke about such things in front of you.

Tommy took girls out, he’d had several girlfriends as you approached your later teenage years. Your friendship, however, never faltered. When you were seventeen years old, you remember going out riding with him and telling him how you wanted to make something of yourself beyond what Small Heath had to offer. Planning to become a schoolteacher, Tommy had always admired this about you.

“Don’t you want to be something other than all this?” You asked him, alluding to the fact that he was growing more and more responsible for the Peaky Blinders. “I mean, I just wondered if you ever had other dreams.”

“I’d like to work with horses,” he told you quietly, running his hands over the mare’s mane.

“Why don’t you?” You questioned him. “I know you feel some sense of responsibility over your family, I think it’s one of your best traits. Don’t you ever want to just—I don’t know, live a less tormenting life?”

Tommy played with the reins, looking at you and shrugging. This was all he’d ever known, and all he would ever know. There was no Birmingham without Tommy Shelby, you knew it as well as anyone. It still hurt, though. Knowing he was playing with fire every day, testing God, as your mother had called it.

Once Tommy had grown more involved in the gang, your parents no longer allowed him to come over to the house. They detested you seeing him at all, your brother most of all. He settled quickly, marrying a woman and starting a family.

Tommy realized he loved you when he was twenty two years old. He’d known you for ten years, having called you his best friend for a decade. You were eighteen years old and had just begun training to become a teacher, you were commuting frequently and saw Tommy less and less.

It was that Christmas when you’d introduced him to the man you had been courting, his name was Michael. When he shook the man’s hand, Tommy felt something inside of him shift. Suddenly, you were no longer that little girl with scuffed shoes and long pigtails. He saw a young woman with ambition and heart, but you were no longer holding out for Tommy like you had for nearly ten years.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Arthur came up and clapped Tommy on the back of the shoulder. “S’fucking Christmas and you’re really bringing my spirits down.”

Tommy said nothing, downing more whiskey as he watched Michael spin you around in a dance. You were in a fit of laughter, smiling at him adoringly.

“Be serious, brother,” Arthur sighed, drunk and wondering how Tommy could truly be as he was. “You can’t tell me that you’re sitting over here in the corner drinking away your sorrows because she’s brought along some bloke.”

“Fuck off, won’t you?” Tommy shot him a look.

“Unbelievable,” Arthur walked away laughing.

It was completely and utterly unbelievable, not only to Arthur, but to Tommy as well. He’d spent years with you, practically praying that you would find someone, anyone to avert your feelings too. As you grew older, you also were able to hide your feelings and emotions better in Tommy’s case.

He watched you the entire night, nodding a farewell when he noticed you trying to approach him. He had no intention of speaking to Michael again, for fear that he may be physically ill.

His hope that it was a passing courtship died with what looked to be your close friendship. The two of you hardly saw each other anymore, animosity forming between you after the night of the Christmas party.

Months later, Tommy found himself at your apartment door when Ada had told him that you mentioned thinking Michael was planning to propose. He left to see you after midnight, walking the entire distance to where you lived and putting himself at your front door well past one in the morning.

“Y/N,” he called out as he knocked. “It’s Tommy.”

Opening the door, you were only left in your nightdress. Your hair was down completely, something Tommy had not seen since you were some years younger. He could not help but to notice the sheer material of the fabric, the buds of your nipples showing through.

“Tommy?” You yawned. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” he told you.

“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

Ushering him in, you let him shut the door behind him and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Tommy felt himself growing hard, looking at you in such a state.

“Y/N, don’t marry him,” Tommy blurted out in almost a whisper.

“What?” You looked at him, shocked. “What did you say?”

“Don’t marry him, don’t marry Michael.”

There was a stillness to the room, a silence that made you almost sick. His face was somehow stoic, but pleading at the same time. His eyes bored into your own, as if they were making it impossible to get a word out.

“He is a good man, Tommy,” you said. “He wants to take care of me, to make me happy.”

“With plenty of money and security, with a practical occupation and a good legacy to leave your children?” Tommy asked, sarcasm incredibly evident.

“Yes, Tommy. Fuck, I mean is that what you want me to say? That he can give me a good life? Why should it matter if he’s got money?”

“It shouldn’t, not if you love him,” Tommy told you. “Do you?”

It felt as if you were eight years old again, confronting Tommy about why he was walking with you in the first place. He looked at you with such yearning, such longing. It was as if he was begging you not to say yes, pleading with you not to have already devoted your heart to this man.

There was only one truth of the matter. Thomas Shelby was the only man that you had ever loved.

“Tommy, I have only ever loved you since I was eight years old,” you whispered.

As if unable to hold back any longer, Tommy embraced you fully and brought you into his arms. He kissed you furiously, without any doubt or question that you were meant for him. He let his hands run up and down your back and pulled you into his body.

Before you gave into your urge to let him rip your sheer nightdress off of you, you pulled away with swollen lips and eyes full of desire. This was not right, not until you spoke to Michael. Regardless of how you felt for Tommy, you could not do this to Michael.

“Not yet,” you whispered. “I gave a man my word, I need to speak to him before I can go any further here.”

Tommy respected your choice, he knew you wouldn’t want disloyalty on your conscience. He just nodded his head and placed a hand on your cheek gently, it was in these moments that he forgot about everything else.

Michael didn’t take the news very well at all, his ego was bruised and he pleaded for you to reconsider. He told you how deeply he loved you and how you had led him on, making him believe that you two would have a life together. He was right, you had encouraged him in all of his dreams of your future and you had done it without ever considering how it may end. It was selfish.

It took you weeks before you agreed to see Tommy again after Michael had left you feeling so guilty. Nights of tireless sleep, you would look up at the sky and pray to god that you were making the right decisions.

Over a year into your training, you would soon be able to do what you’d always dreamt of. Dark times approached, though. There were ghosts of whispers at every street corner, they spoke of war so feverishly. It was as if death was due to knock at the doors of families, stripping women of their husbands and children of their fathers.

The thought of this had left Tommy quite stoic most of the time, he held a monotonous view on the entire matter. Every time you had brought it up to him, he told you how he would be expected to fight on behalf of his country if it came down to it.

And so he did, when it came down to it and Britain had joined the War—The Shelby brothers and hundreds of other men in Small Heath joined as well.

“Tommy,” I sniffled as I watched him from across his bedroom pack a small bag of things. “I need you to promise me that you’ll come home, that you won’t die out there. They’re saying things about trench warfare, it’s all really terrifying—”

Tommy crossed the room and took your face in his hands, kissing you hard on the lips, as if it was the last time he would ever do so. A piece of you wondered if he believed that he would die out there.

“Please come home,” you breathed.

“I will come home,” he kissed you again. “I promise you.”

You planned to hold him to this promise. Having waited ten years for Tommy Shelby, you would wait however long more so long as he would come home to you.

It took two months before his first letter would come after you watched him depart on that large ship. Long months of kneeling at the foot of your bed, begging god not to take Tommy. Everything that was being said about the war was absolutely tragic, soldiers being blown to pieces or rotting below the earth in the trenches.

My Dearest Y/N,

I wish I was able to write to you sooner, I cannot say where I am for the risk of interception. Just know that I have never been in such conditions in my life, I spend my days underground. I have taken the role of a tunneler. Trench warfare has not been good to any of us, I find myself fantasizing of the end of this long hell.

I stare at your picture every night before I shut my eyes, dreaming of what it would be like beside you. There is no greater sorrow to me than your absence from my life at this point in time. I can only hope that it will not be for long.

Not long ago, myself and a group of men were gassed. I watched a fellow soldier go blind for nearly three days before he finally came out of it, only with some permanent damage. There are times when I have thought to myself, ‘Perhaps if I was hit, it would not be so bad. Perhaps even death is better than fighting in this war’.

Then I think of you. I think of the promises I made to you before I left to fight in this god awful war. I cannot understand how men are expected to live like this, nor how we will continue on. I was up to my knees in water last week, the trenches dark and desolate as we waited for the storm to pass. There is so much waiting these days.

I look forward to your letter.

With all of my love,

Tommy Shelby

#elle’s fics #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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tagapagsalaysay · 5 months ago

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This is Eman a Biotechnologist from Gaza. Asking for help is not easy. It's not easy at all. You have no idea how mentally and emotionally tiring this is. But when thinking that the price is my family's life, getting out of here safely and achieve my doctoral degree dream, it just pushes me more and more to do this until we reach our goal. I'm here as I try to reach out to more people asking for their help to support our family's campaign so we can survive while all you have to do is literally donating even by just the price of your morning coffee or maybe a simple breakfast, So I think I'm not asking for so much. We're really tired of living under these catastrophic conditions for a whole 10 months. Your generosity will not only change our lives but also remind us that even in our darkest hour, we are not alone. https://gofund.me/d597b8e2

Hello Eman, thanks for reaching out. I'll see if I can donate something soon because I don't have much in my card at the moment. In the meantime, I'll help spread your campaign. I hope you reach your goal and complete your studies soon. May you and your family keep safe.

CAD$ 15,773/40,000 (39.43%) as of posting, August 8

Please donate if you can!

#asks #Yeah her phd fellowship is legit btw #post

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augustsprincess · 5 months ago

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August Walker x Reader (Drabble)

Warnings: Daddy/little vibes, noncon/dubcon, violence...its August.

There's no plot I'm sick and possessed.

It was your fathers business, then it was your brothers business. You didn’t care for the details of it, you just looked after the gardens and made sure the house was in good condition. Talked to the servants and all that. Sure, you knew it was a dodgy business. Far too often you saw people going home in body bags in the dead of night. But you chose to ignore it.

The current guest….was a man named August Walker. You caught a glimpse of him as he was dragged in through the back door, unconscious. He was gorgeous in a demented, do not touch kind of way and that intrigued you all the more. So when your brother said he’d be away on business for 2 days and you weren’t to go into the basement…well. It was obvious what you would do. One peak wouldn’t hurt, right?

At first the man is terrifying, and even speaking to him is like dipping your finger into a lake of piranha and waiting for one to snap.

But eventually you realize his binds are painfully tight around the centre column he's sat against, which means you can tease and annoy the living daylights out of this poor guy. And hey, if he's tied up in your basement it's for a good reason. Maybe a bit of fun torture would do him well. Besides, you were dreadfully bored and the staff had all gone home for the weekend.

He can’t do a thing.

The more he calls you a slut, bitch, whore or worse, the more you giggle. It infuriated August to the point he almost welcomed death.

On the first day, you sit 10 inches from him with your drawing pad and sketched him. You made small talk, showed him your drawings. He'd even admit you're a decent artist, that is until you added the kitten ears and heart stickers to his illustrated face. After a few hours your curiosity grows. You've one pink heart sticker left and you want to see how close you can get to the lion before the lion rips your hand off.

"Don't..." He warns. You giggle. "I mean it, girlie. Don't you put that thing on me." He wiggles again and you pout, frustrated. “Get the fuck off me, dumb bitch!”

“Hey! That’s not very nice! I’m giving you my heart!” You giggle. Once he calms down you try again, ignoring his persistent complaints. The more he speaks, the more his warnings turn to a plea. "Hey! No!" He shouts, snatching his head away from your index finger.

"Hold still, Mister! It won't hurt." You gently press the sticker to his left cheek with your finger and smooth it over with a gentle kiss and a loud “Mwah!”

August huffs as he stretches his face muscles to try to get it to wrinkle but the damn thing won't come off!

"All pretty! Good night, mister." You blew him a kiss as you closed the basement door and left him alone for the night.

“Stupid girl…..” He mutters. Wait… Why was he so uncomfortably hard? “Fuck.”

On the second night, you feed him some bread and cheese by hand and reluctantly he actually lets you. You were finally taming him!

August sits with you in his lap, a firm and unwavering snarl painted on his lips. You begin to play with his curls with one hand, and his chest hair with your other. All the while August is growing more and more hard under you. You're so distracted by a specific lock of his hair that you fail to notice all but a sound when the rope finally snaps behind him.

With a stupid amount of bravery you climb into his lap and start to tell him all about your day as if he was a willing listener. You feel something solid beneath your skirt but choose to ignore it. Your nonsensical ramblings about the latest episode of your favourite TV show send him into a begging frenzy yet again, but what you don't realise is that those bindings are getting more and more loose as you yammer on.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, curiosity lacing your words

"Must be the pipes. We are in the basement, girlie." He lies.

You snort at him. “I like you. You even have a cute nickname for me! I’ve never had a nickname before.”

You start to comb your hand through his hair and you're suddenly taken aback by the look he's giving you. Like the cat who got the cream. Was he...enjoying you stroking his hair? You tried not to think about it and continued but his unwavering stare and….lustful eyes? Well, you were drowning in them.

You're gently pulled closer by his left hand and in your naivety you give him a sweet smile before the penny drops.

And boy does it fucking drop.

You gasp. His fangs show in a sinister grin and you launch yourself from his lap, snatching his hand from your hip. He only has one hand loose so you take it as your opportunity to escape, slamming the door behind you to slow him down.

You sit in the cloakroom, cowering with the cobwebs and long forgotten coats of the guests who never had the chance to leave this house. Hoping and praying your brother would be home soon to save you. But the truth of it was, superheroes don't exist.

The heavy sound of the prisoners bare feet on your father's old wooden floors beat in tandem with your heart as he chases you through your home. Eventually you lose him and as quietly as humanely possible, you climb into the cloakroom and hide.

Nothing was coming to save you.

You stayed silent for what felt like hours before you were alerted to a dull creak and a loud slam as the cloakroom door was almost ripped off its hinges.

"Found ya!". You screeched as you were physically dragged from the cloakroom by your ankles.

"No need to squeal, little pig. It'll only hurt a bit." You clamber to your feet, the harsh carpet making your ascend slow enough for August to catch you first. He sticks his foot out, tripping you to the floor again, toying with you. Like you were food.

"Oh stop crying, girlie. I thought you liked to tease?" You try to stand and run again but you're thrown over his shoulder in a split second and no amount of hitting him is helping. There’s nothing else to do but to watch his feet as he carried you up the stairs, straight to your bedroom.

With one swift movement and a harsh grip of your hips he has you pinned, chest down to the bed.

"That's a good girl, stay still for Daddy." He purrs, pulling your bright pink stockings from your legs. He tosses them to the floor as he climbs onto the bed, the mattress deepening under his heavy body.

"Please! I'm sorry, I was just bored! I didn't mean to upset you-" You try your best to help yourself, but it’s like a switch just been flicked and he turns from excited, to pissed the fuck off.

"You were 'bored'?!" The man flips you to your back and yanks your body towards him, as he leans on his calves. "No, no, no. You're a slut. A dirty brat and you thought you could get away with it, didn't you? Thought I wouldn't break free and catch you. Well I know just what you need, just what you asked for."

If you could, you would laugh at the situation. Here was this gorgeous, dangerous and absolutely insane man. Kneeling at the end of your bed, hard as a rock and all the while with a heart sticker attached to his cheek. And he was so pissed!

It was the reappearance of the rope binding in his hand that brought you back to the severity of the moment. Fear turned to manic terror as you shuffled backwards.

"No...no! Please don't!" August climbs on top of your body, thick thighs trapping you to the bed as he deliberately presses his hard crotch into you.

"Ah, ah, ah, shhh." He presses his index finger to your lips. You can't stop him, he's twice the size of you at least. So you watch as he ties your hands to the headboard of the bed.

Once he's done, he leans down....covering your entire body with his own...

"I fuckin' hate a tease." He snarls into your ear, before your pretty pink skirt is ripped clean off.

You’re pulled back to the office with a sudden wave of guilt and shame. Your face felt like it could light a match and your coffee cup almost slipped from your sweaty hands.

“Are you alright, Miss? You look like you just remembered an embarrassing dream.” Mr. Walker teases, before he walks on past your desk and towards his own. Fuck. How could you have forgotten that dream until now? How could you have even dreamed something like that up, and with your boss. And that look on his face, it was as if he knew.

You shake your head and face your computer, determined to continue your work and get on with your day. Maybe you could look into therapy later or talk to your best friend about it. Surely there was a completely normal reason for dreaming about your boss being tied up in your basement and then chasing you for some depraved, frustrated sex. Right?

“Ms. Y/S/N, Mr Walker would like to see you in his office, it's urgent.” Fuck.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #august walker #twickster writes

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concreteangel92 · 2 months ago

Text

The Angel Of The Night

AU Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: smut, PiV, oral (female receiving) praise kink, slight obsessive/stalker elements (this is based off of the ghost of the opera house himself 🤣) talks of the death of loved ones, dark romance, I’m pretty sure that’s it

So this has been in the works since August when I watched the phantom of the opera in Greece on my first night there haha I’ve always loved this show (west end and film!) and I even have a tattoo dedicated to it so it was a no brainer to me that Noah would fit perfectly into this aesthetic!

The mask (especially the new one!!) the glove, his voice all mixed with an old theatre and gothic aesthetic and atmosphere? Hell fucking yes!!

Remember that this is an inspired fic so you’ll see familiar names, themes, etc but it’s not the actual whole story! But if you’re a fan of the soundtrack, you may recognise a few lyrics here and there 🤭

I hope you all enjoy it, it’s a long one so grab yourself a cuppa and I’ll see you on the next fic. Also please let me know your thoughts!! I’d love to know what you all think as this is definitely the longest I’ve ever spent writing one story haha let me know, you can always message me anonymously if you’re shy 🖤

Tags: @triedbimsoblu333 @I00na24 @iluvmewwwww75 @veronicaphoenix @tosoundlessdarkistare @specialstay @dsireland86 @philomenie @clingylittlebun-blog @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lilcrazy011

Masterlist

You’d been with your theatre company since you were a child, having lost your parents at a young age, the opera house is all you have ever really known.

You loved it here, the old theatre was your home. You knew every wing like the back of your hand, every creaky floorboard backstage, how the orchestra pit echoed when no one was in it, you knew the creepiest parts that no one like to venture into. You loved it all, it was your sanctuary.

There was something about the theatre that made you feel at peace, standing up on the stage in front of a huge audience, hearing their cheers and cries that made your heart swell. The heat of the spotlights, the magic you felt as you danced to beat of the live music, everything about it made you feel so alive.

The year was 1870 in Paris and you were currently playing the leading role in the current opera ‘Hannibal’

It was your debut as the leading lady and to say you were nervous was an understatement.

You walked quietly around the empty stalls of the theatre, taking in its musky smell, the beautiful architecture of the building and the huge crystal chandelier that hung high above your head. You ran your fingers across the old red velvet on the chair in front of you and sat yourself down in one of the seats near the pit.

The stage was empty but you could hear the hustle and bustle backstage of the cast and crew getting everything ready for opening night tonight, although there was still hours to go, there was still much more that needed to be set up.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously in your lap, taking a deep breath, you couldn’t help but speak aloud softly.

“Please….please let tonight go well”

You kept your eyes closed as you leant back in the chair, allowing a moment for yourself to process the evening that you knew lay ahead. You were certain you had been alone….until you heard his voice.

From high up above your head, in the gods, you heard his beautiful, ethereal voice humming down to you.

With a small gasp, you opened your eyes and looked up into darkness, and there amongst the ropes and pulleys of the backdrops and lights, you saw his silhouette and instantly a small smile appeared on your lips.

“There you are”

Your words were barely a whisper, your angel of music was right there with you. You should have known he wouldn’t be far away.

“Y/N what are you doing down there? You need to get ready for tonight!”

You tore your eyes away from your mysterious friend and saw your teacher/guardian Madame Giry standing in the wings on stage left.

“Yes Madame”

You casted up eyes up once more to the heavens to see that he was gone, like a ghost who was never there in the first place.

•••••

He was nicknamed the ‘Opera Ghost’

No one in the theatre ever questioned that box 5 was always left empty so no customer could use it, people ignored the eerie echoes of his angelic singing that seemed to come from no where all around the old building. No one had ever seen him fully, only catching glimpses of his shadow in the night.

No one, but you.

You were the only person to have had any interaction with the ghost. He had started visiting you when you were a child, you were 8 years old when your parents had met their tragic end and you were fated to the theatre. It wasn’t long after that you started to hear his voice in the night.

It started off with just singing, he comforted you when you were crying yourself to sleep, not having come to terms with the loss of your parents and the change that was about to happen within your life. You had felt so alone, you hardly knew anyone within the company, the only reason you came to be here was because Madame Giry was a close friend to your mother and she had agreed to take you in when they died.

But in those long, lonely first nights and weeks, his beautiful voice helped you drift off to sleep.

As the years went on, the beautiful voice became deeper and he started to talk to you quietly from within the walls, the mirror, you never knew exactly where he was but you always knew he was there.

In recent years, he had been singing your songs with you, helping you train your soprano skills, a patient teacher and a loyal companion is what you knew him to be.

Although you knew people had dubbed him the ‘opera ghost’ you felt that wasn’t a suitable title for this angelic creature so you called him your very own ‘angel of the night’ which was a nickname you often heard him whispering back to you.

Your angel wasn’t just a teacher to you anymore, he had become a friend. You told him all your hopes, dreams and your darkest fears. You’d talk to him until you heard the faint sound of the birds chirping and saw the first rays of the morning sun rising over the horizon through your window.

He would still sing you to sleep on the nights you struggled, when the past traumas returned in the forms of nightmares, he was always there to help take your fears away.

His voice was like nothing you had ever heard before. He sounded almost like a siren calling out to his awaiting victims and just like one, you felt the pull within your soul every time he called.

Tonight was the opening night, your big debut, but that wasn’t the only reason for your nerves. You knew he’d be there, watching from box 5, hidden within the shadows, but always there.

“Will he be impressed? Will I be everything he hoped for?”

These thoughts plagued your mind as you walked down the corridor, your heels clicking with every step, until you reached your dressing room/living quarters.

You wrapped your hand around the old doorknob and turned it so your door swung open with a creak.

In front of you was your dressing room, your bedroom was through the door at the back of the room, the walls were a beautiful shade of red, almost matching the seats in the theatre stalls out front. There were beautiful paintings in gold frames on the walls of your favourite artwork, a huge mirror that took up one wall, a rail of costumes and props lined another, you had your changing screen next to that and then you also had your beautiful make up vanity, surrounded by candles and all your make up and jewellery that was laid out for you on the counter.

But what caught your attention was the most beautiful bouquet of flowers, roses of the darkest red lay across your chair with a hand written piece of paper on top.

You walked over and picked up your present, inhaling their beautiful scent while you read the note.

‘To my beautiful angel’

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you knew it was him, he had left you a good luck token in preparation for tonight.

You felt your nerve’s ease, you knew you could do this, as you knew your angel would be watching over you.

•••••

The sounds of a standing ovation, loud cheers and clapping filled your ears as you took your final bow, flowers of all kinds being thrown onto the stage around your feet.

The show had gone without a hitch, your solo performance had been an absolute triumph that brought the audience to their feet. Throughout the production you had tried glancing up at box 5, hoping to see a glimpse of him but of course, nothing. Just the sight of the curtains moving gently when it was take to take the bows, almost like they had been caught in the non existent breeze.

Your vision was blocked completely as the main house curtain fell to the stage, muffling out the sounds of the audience still cheering from the other side.

You felt yourself being embraced by your fellow cast and crew members, all congratulating you on your performance.

“That what incredible!”

“Bravo!”

“Y/N you were sensational!”

You felt your cheeks go warm at all the compliments, the adrenaline still fully pumping through your body as you tried to catch your breath.

You thanked everyone and helped pick up the flowers littered across the stage to take back to your dressing room.

“He was there, I know he was! I wonder if he liked it?”

You felt butterflies start in your stomach at the thought, you would never want to disappoint him, you craved to know how he felt. You couldn’t wait to get back to your room.

You once again gave everyone your thanks and made your leave, half jogging down the corridors behind the theatre.

Once you entered your room, you put down all your flowers, taking note of even more bouquets that had been sent here from different admirers that were now spread around and all the lanterns and candles were burning beautifully, giving the room a beautiful golden glow.

You walked behind your changing screen and started to remove your heavy dress, a costume you were relieved to be out of, finally feeling like you could breathe normally once the corset was gone. You settled for a simple white lace dress that fell to floor. You removed all the pins from your hair and allowed it to cascade down your back. You were about to remove the make up on your face when you heard a knock at your door.

You called out for them to enter and you looked up into your mirror and saw Madame Giry standing there with another body behind her.

“Sorry to disturb you Y/N but there is someone who would like to meet you?”

You turned around and glanced behind and saw a handsome young man standing almost nervously on the spot with his top hat in his hands. He had short dark hair, was an average height and was wearing a formal dinner suit fit for the theatre.

You nodded and Madame Giry stepped aside so he could walk forward.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you”

You smiled politely, stood and offered your hand for him to grasp in his own as he bowed his head gently.

“My name is Henry Edwards. Do excuse my intuition miss, I was just so captivated by your performance that I wanted to give my congratulations in person. I’ve actually seen many performances here at this theatre but tonight was by far the best I have ever seen”

You smiled wider at his words, his face definitely looking more familiar now that he’s mentioned he’d been here before. You’d often seen him admiring your dancing in previous productions.

“Thank you Mr Edwards, you are too kind”

“If I was to be so bold Miss Y/N, I would love to be able to discuss your performance further, perhaps over tea or a stroll around the park?”

You were taken back by his proposal, not used to men being so forward with you or even desiring you at all really.

“Oh erm…yes, I…I think that would be a lovely idea”

You panicked, you knew you weren’t particularly interested in the man in front of you but what harm was there to be courted for an afternoon.

Henry looked very pleased as he fumbled over a thank you, his next words were lost on you as you suddenly felt a presence within the room, the presence of someone who wasn’t happy at all.

You turned your head to the big mirror behind you and watched as a few of the near by candles flickered angrily before going out completely, leaving nothing but whips of smoke behind.

“Mine”

The word was whispered so low and dragged out that it almost sounded like the wind, but you knew better, the realisation sending chills down your spine.

You turned back and caught Madame Giry’s gaze, it was as shocked as your own, she knew.

“Well Mr Edwards, I’m sorry but that will be all for tonight, Miss Y/L/N is extremely tired and needs to rest her voice. Come back in a couple days to arrange this meeting?”

Madame had already started pulling gently on his arm and gesturing for him to leave, he looked baffled at first but soon composed himself.

“Oh erm…yes, yes, of course. Goodnight Miss Y/L/N and I’ll pop by in a few days?”

You nodded with a forced smile as you watched as he slipped his top hat back upon his head and walked out of the room, Madame Giry giving you one last look before shutting the door behind her, the sound echoing through the empty room.

But you knew you were far from alone.

You turned around to face the mirror, staring at your own reflection, the sound of his quiet humming started once more and you felt pulled towards the mirror.

Almost like you were in a trance, you stepped forward, your eyes glued to your own reflection until you noticed another pair of eyes staring back at you from over your shoulder.

You should have been afraid, you should have called out for help, but you didn’t.

Dark almond eyes gazed back into your own, his face becoming more clearer the closer you got. But it wasn’t his whole face you saw. It was covered by half of a white mask, almost like he was trying to hide his true identity.

You stood frozen in place as your angel came fully into view, it was like he’d appeared from the mirror itself, like he truly was a mystical creature from another world.

His song was hypnotising, the melody causing your head to feel so light and airy, like you were floating on a cloud.

You looked up in your dream like state to see him standing in front of you.

You reached your hand out without a thought and was met with a hard, firm chest, your angel was truly here.

Taking in his appearance, he was even more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. He was tall, extremely tall and towered over your small frame and was just as broad in his chest and back. You could see he had shiny, brown hair that was falling down to his neck, it looked so soft that you felt the urge to run your fingers through it.

Your angel was wearing a black suit with a long black cloak over the top and of course the half mask, you had never wanted to remove something so much in your life, his face was absolutely perfect, why would he hide? His eyes appeared darker now he was in front of you, he had the most intense stare that you’d ever seen, it was like he could see into your very soul and read your every thought.

The last thing you took note of was his tattoos that were peaking out over his collar and on his right hand, his other being covered with a black leather glove. It was unusual to see a man around these parts that had tattoos, you’d never seen any before.

He moved around your body slowly, his hands running up through the air next to your arms, not touching but still your skin felt like it had been set alight. As his hands came up near your face, he gestured for you to look ahead.

“Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside. I am your angel of music”

You inhaled deeply as you took in the sight of him standing directly behind you, his whole presence was consuming you.

His face suddenly looked angry as he whispered his next words.

“Insolent boy. Does your young suitor really think that he can take what’s mine?”

You turned to face him, the thought of your angel being angry with you was too much to bare.

“Angel my soul is weak, forgive me! Yours is the only one that calls me”

He stood staring down into your eyes, like he was trying to find a lie but he would find none. You knew your heart belonged to him, it always had.

“Hide no longer from me”

Your words were hardly audible but you knew he’d heard. No words were given in return, all you could hear the was sounds of his beautiful song again as it’s filled your mind. He walked back around your body and backed himself up towards the mirror, that was when he held out his hand to you, you took it without hesitation.

Your head light as a feather, you followed him willingly, you hardly paid attention to where you were going or how you got there, all that mattered was that you were with him. His siren song never once stopping as you made your way down the dimly lit corridors heading down to the catacombs beneath the city.

The walls were lined with candles, all lit up, the air was damp and cold against your skin.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Your beautiful angel in front of you, he could have been leading you to the pits of hell and you wouldn’t have cared. He kept looking back at you every so often, as if to make sure you hadn’t vanished.

Coming up to the waters edge, you noticed a small boat ready, he stepped into it first and one again extended his hand out, you took it and stepped into the boat after him.

The foggy feeling never left, you felt so free, so light, like nothing could touch you ever again. It was almost like you’d become a spirit of another realm, not of this earth but not quite moved onto the next.

You continued to listen to his voice, just as he always had done, he soothed away any of your fears. You took note of all the burning candles, the way the water lapped up the sides and casted a beautiful rippling reflection up on the walls.

As you rowed further into the catacombs, you saw your destination. This could only be his home.

It was breathtaking, even more candles lit the area and it was living space in the middle of the caves. Artwork, statues and musical instruments of all kinds surrounded you. And roses, dark red roses everywhere.

You closed your eyes as you felt the inner peace of contentment washed over you, you couldn’t describe it any other way, it was like you were in a dream.

The sound of his voice gently stopped as he got out of the boat and you stood to follow, allowing him to place his hands on your waist and lift you easily onto the floor.

You started to turn your head around to take in your surroundings but you felt his fingers grasp your chin gently but firm and pulled your face back to meet his.

You tilted your head and glanced down at his lips, wondering if he would lean down into you.

Gazing up into his face, you really took in his features, he was absolutely perfect. Your eyes wandered to the mask and your hand reached up slowly to push it off of him before you even truly thought of your actions.

Your hand was stopped by his gripping onto your wrist sharply and tightly, his eyes first the first time showing any sort of vulnerability as he shook his head slightly.

“Why do you hide from me angel?”

He brought your hand back down gently and took a deep breath.

“Because I would repulse you, you’d run from me”

You brought your free hand up and held onto his cheek, the pads of your fingers gently caressing his smooth skin.

“I could never, you’re my guide, my guardian…my friend”

His eyes soften at your words, you watched the candles fire reflecting and dancing deep within his irises as you waited for his response.

Your angel stood slightly straighter, he let go of your hand and he reached up until the base of the mask was between his fingertips. He hesitated for a moment before he ducked his head down and slid the mask off, his hair falling back into place as it was removed.

When he looked back up, the sight that greeted you was a shock. The whole right side of his face and into his scalp was burnt and had deep scaring. You would have believed it to be painful but it was clear to see that these were not fresh wounds.

You gasped quietly but you didn’t recoil. Instead you raised your hand and held the right side of his neck gently and leaned up and kissed his jagged skin softly, not missing the low moan it pulled from his throat as you did.

“Those that have seen your face draw back in fear. I do not”

“I do not frighten you little one?”

You shook your head and continued to gently stroke his scars.

“Never. Please tell me angel, do you have a name?”

“Noah”

His name left your lips in a whisper, your eyes half lidded as you looked up at him. It was a beautiful name that was well suited to the man before you.

His hand came up to brush your hair from your face, you couldn’t help but softy sing his own song back to him, not missing how his eyes darken.

“Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams”

Your eyes fell shut, the next feeling was his lips upon yours, gently moving with you.

It was electric, both of his hands came up to cradle your neck, holding close as he pressed his body into yours.

Pulling away, his hands slowly wandered down your body, your breathing was starting to quicken within your chest.

“Trust me?”

You nodded without hesitation, your eyes never leaving his. Noah then picked you up bridal style and carried you over to a huge king size bed that was covered in red sheets and was surrounded by a black lace canopy.

He set you down onto your feet and moved behind you to start undoing the ties on the back of your dress, letting his fingers trace the skin beneath as he did.

“Where does your soul long to be?”

You turned to face him, your dress loose over your shoulders.

“With you, I belong to you, I have always belonged to you”

He lowered his head down to you and once again captured your lips between his own, this time more passionate than before. Noah slipped his hands into the fabric at the top of your dress and continued to slide it off your shoulders as he moved his head down to start ghosting kisses along your collar bone.

You moved your hands into his hair and finally felt how soft it really was, it was like silk moving between your fingers.

You felt your dress starting to fall off of you, fully aware that your top half was completely bare underneath. You felt the material pool around your feet and his hands settled onto your hips as he continued to kiss and gently bite your skin, moving further down.

Your stomach was starting to tighten, the feeling that was washing over you was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he started to moved his head lower and gently sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, feeling his warm tongue flicking over the harden bud while his hand came up to caress the other, rolling that nipple between his fingers.

You tried to hold back the noises that your body wanted to make, feeling self conscious of how you must have sounded, something Noah seemed to pick up on easily.

“Savour each sensation my little angel, let me hear you, let your darker side give in to me”

You watched as Noah stood tall and removed the cloak from his shoulders and his jacket and carelessly let them fall to the ground, he then moved you back until your legs hit the bed and he guided you down onto the plush mattress and your body sank into the pillows, his body following yours swiftly after.

You felt his hands running up your bare legs up to your underwear, toying with the waistband teasingly before pulling them off slowly, he was clearly savouring every noise or squirm your body was making under his touch.

“You’re mine my little angel, you belong to me”

You nodded, unable to form any words due to the feeling of him ghosting his lips across your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart slowly.

“Say it”

“I’ve always been yours Noah”

The sound of his name felt so right, he had always been there and you had always been his.

Noah used his hands to push your legs further apart, opening you up for him. A low groan came from deep within his chest as he leant down and licked one slow, long strip up your centre, the feeling sending shock waves through your body and your back to arch off the mattress.

You felt his fingers move to your outer lips to part them gently so he could flick his tongue inside, loving tasting you for the first time.

The sensations that were flooding your body was nothing short of pure ecstasy, Noah continued to eat you out slowly and let his thumb move upward so he could start rubbing firm circles against your clit.

“Oh my….Noah, please!”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, your body felt alive, your stomach was twisting beautifully and your hands found themselves running through his hair, pushing him closer into your centre.

The pleasure that you felt was overwhelming, your thighs were starting to shake, tears were forming in the corners of your eyes as you couldn’t stop the cries that left your mouth.

Noah didn’t stop, he moved his fingers faster and continued to devour you until your legs squeezed around his head and the breath was pulled from your lungs as your orgasm washed over you and you felt like you were floating and falling all at the same time.

Once you started to come back down, you saw that Noah had stripped himself of the rest of his clothes and was settling himself down in between your legs. The sight of how many tattoos he truly had was astonishing.

“I’ve waited so long to feel you around me my little dove”

Noah reached down and gripped himself and ran his head along your folds, your wetness gathering onto him, before he slowly pushed his hips forward, the feeling of him stretching you open was almost sinful.

Your head fell back into the pillows and his head fell into your neck as he growled from the feeling of you. Your hands came and found themselves wrapped around his arms as you adjusted to his size.

“You’re perfect…it’s like you were made for me”

Your cheeks became warm at his words, his praise making your core throb with need.

Noah started moving his hips against yours, it was a torturously slow and deep pace that caused you to feel every inch of him against your walls, your body instantly reacting to his movements.

“You feel incredible around me angel, fuck…you’re so fucking perfect. My perfect little angel”

You moaned loudly, his words mixed with his deep thrusts was intoxicating, your heart was swimming with so many emotions, you never wanted this moment to end.

You reached your hand up and placed it onto his scared skin, wanting to show him that he was beautiful in your eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he started to thrust harder, a layer of sweat had now coated both of your bodies and the room echoed with the sounds of your cries and skin slapping onto skin.

“Noah…I..I feel…”

You couldn’t finish your words, you didn’t need to, Noah knew you were near your end. His hips moved faster, the motion pressing your body into the mattress as your nails dug into the skin on his back as your body wound itself up tighter.

“Cum for me, I want to feel you”

Noah’s own hips started to falter as your body was suddenly convulsing underneath his and you screamed out his name, you squeezed your eyes shut as you rode out the waves of your high, feeling Noah’s release deep inside of you as he groaned loudly into your shoulder.

You felt Noah kiss your skin softly as he slipped himself out, the loss leaving you feeling so empty. He brought you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly as if he was frightened you’d leave.

“Stay with me?”

You looked up with a smile and kissed his lips.

“Forever”

Noah smiled back and he pulled the covers over your naked bodies and he started to hum his song once again, the song that you’d known since you were young.

It was beautiful, it was haunting but most of all, it was comforting. You snuggled into his side and allowed your angel of music to sing you into a beautiful, deep sleep.

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