#he waited until like 3 days before they had to sign it before he told them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnyhugs77 · 10 months ago

Text

Mr. Take Your Bitch

Pairing: Idol! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: jk is a little cocky, player! jk, reader gets flustered so easily, jk is such a tease, smooth talker jk, clubbing, ft bts, interviews, reader is small (like 5'1), insults, alcohol consumption, infidelity, readers boyfriend is an asshole, mentions of smoking, impulsive jk, what happens in vegas stays in vegas, messyyy, suggestive themes, sweet gestures.

Other Content: hair pulling, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), squirting, missionary, jk splits reader in half, big dick! jk, doggy style, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, cream pies, minor possessive jk, unprotected sex (be better than them), recording.

"How do I look?" Sunny tosses the perfectly sculpted curls in her hair once more, pouting in the dressing room mirror, making sure that not a strand was out of place.

"For the eighth time, you look great, as always." She stands, her red off-the-shoulder top accenting her white pencil skirt and perfect figure, she really did look gorgeous. "Great isn't enough. This is the first time I'm interviewing THE BTS. I need to look perfect."

"You do. I promise." You reassure with a comforting right hand on her shoulder while you center her necklace with your left. "Y/n, we need you out here to help set up." Your manager cracks the door open to call for you briefly before leaving.

"I still cannot believe you dragged me into this coffee girl job just for you to get close to Namjoon." Sunny's full lips stretch from ear to ear showing off her million-dollar smile, "What's so wrong about me wanting you nearby for emotional support? But at least I got you a job out of it, 3 weeks ago you were on the brink of poverty.'' Her arms crossed and you had to admit, she did have a point.

"What was the whole point of this again?" You simply had to ask, remembering the midnight phone call Sunny surprised you with about a month ago when she landed the Hybe interviewer position.

"Remember the story I told you about, in Junior year, me and this boy from math camp snuck out 6 miles away with fake IDs and got shitfaced at the nearest bar then hooked up but I never got his name and he was in the middle of signing my journal we were interrupted and I never saw him again until-"

"You saw Namjoon's face on a billboard in Seoul, and you took this opportunity to get close to see if it was him or not. Yes, I remember now, it's all coming back to me." You finish her story for her.

"Exactly, and-"

"--Y/n, sometime today would be great." Your manager interrupts once again and you leave, apologizing frantically for making them wait, not wanting to lose this job. It actually paid pretty well considering all you did was make drinks.

Walking out of the dressing room, ignoring the buzz in the back pocket of your jeans as you followed your manager to the coffee cart offset. Although from here you had a perfect view of where the interview would take place.

They set it up to be very stylish and modern with BTS albums and concept photos placed strategically around the set within the camera shot. Along with a small coffee table, one chair on one side where Sunny would sit and seven on the other side.

It almost gave you chills to think about. The fact that in a few moments, the most popular boy band in the continent would be sitting right there. All seven of them, including the tempting one.

The one who makes you stumble over your words every time he comes down to the first floor to get a coffee even though there's a gazillion other places to get something to drink in the building.

Every time you see him, he's displaying a new style. Sometimes he comes down stacked with complex layers of clothing and covered in jewelry, or with nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, although the latter was possibly the worst of your few interactions. He's just so handsome, it made you want to squirm.

That day he was saying all the right things, yet saying nothing at all. Asking you simple questions like when you started working here, and if you liked coffee, meanwhile all you could mutter was an embarrassing 'yes'. What exactly you were saying yes to? You may never know.

You turned your back to the set and focused on making the pre-ordered drinks the members had sent down with their manager beforehand. By the time you turned back around Sunny was sitting in her place, anxious but ready.

You've been best friends since the 6th grade. She's incredibly outgoing and sociable, a balancing contrast to your more introverted nature although you could be a little extroverted with some alcohol in your system.

She was born for this job, you're sure she'll kill the interview. She mentioned that she'd bumped into a few of the members since she started working a month ago, but not Namjoon.

She definitely underestimated how hard it would be to 'bump' into a man who is guarded by security constantly and extremely busy, not to mention rarely in the country.

Hoseok was the first one to walk in, looking sharp as ever in casual attire but he he made it look incredible. Next was Jimin, and you noticed the way Sunny's eyes nearly widened when she finally saw Namjoon walk in behind Tae.

Finally, they were all inside and all greeted Sunny with a friendly hug and you can see she enjoyed her hug with Namjoon a little too much. Somehow finding something small to laugh about with him as they pulled away.

With an empty cup in your hand, you watched the most handsome group of men you've ever seen, file into the room and take a seat. "Go set these down before cameras start rolling." You feel a tap on your shoulder from another worker.

Did you zone out?

You placed a firm hand on your chest, taking a deep breath before placing a sturdy grip on the handles of the cart and bringing their beverages over. 'One foot in front of the other' you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the feeling of their gazes turning to you as you got closer.

Unable to look any of them in the eyes as you set down their drinks on the table saying the name of each one so they know which one is theirs.

You could feel his gaze on you whilst Sunny got to witness it first hand from where she sat. The way his jaw slowly clenches with each passing moment, watching you with dark, intense eyes. In that moment, the world around him blurred, and all that remained was the captivating image of you.

It was while you were placing down the final cup that you felt bold enough to finally look up from the table, glancing at Jimin who was talking to Hoseok on his right. Slowly your line of sight inches up and over his head to Jungkook who was sitting on a taller chair behind him.

He was looking right at you.

And that was more than enough for you to return to the cart and retreat to your station. The boys reached for their cups as the countdown to the interview began.

You watched with engaged eyes from the sidelines as the interview began, going through basic introductions and standard questions, you were listening along to the jokes made along the way.

It seemed they were having a great time out there, but you couldn't focus on all of them for too long. You wouldn't be doing your duties as Sunny's best friend if you didn't watch Namjoon's every move; including how he seemed to be the first one to answer almost any of her questions.

The questions were flying by and the discussion was so entertaining to watch but it was over before you even registered it. Sure, cameras had stopped rolling but they were all still talking.

You felt another buzz in your pocket, finally deciding to check.

Daehyun: Are you still mad? It's been 2 days, you're being dramatic. 12:02 pm

Daehyun: Why aren't you answering my texts? 1:12 pm

Daehyun: Fine. Keep ignoring me. Real mature, Y/n. 1:13 pm

You scoff at the messages.

Unbelievable.

Your boyfriend has left you astonished. Again!

You put your phone back on silent, secretly wishing you'd never checked it in the first place. Muttering under your breath about what a jerk he's been to you lately but you stop yourself. Because he's still your boyfriend, and sure, he fucked up a few times, bad. It doesn't change the fact that you're in a relationship with him.

If you could even call it that.

You've slept together twice. Well- 1.5 times if you wanted to get specific. The second time was so bad that you simply had to stop it altogether and make up some excuse so that you didn't hurt his feelings.

Shaking him out of your head and focusing back on your task at hand which was collecting the empty mugs from the table. Repeating the same process as before, avoiding all eye contact, but this time you didn't look up.

You didn't bother because you already knew he was watching you.

You were intimidated but you weren't oblivious.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" You hear her from around the corner before you see her running towards you at your coffee station on the first floor. Sunny was practically bursting. You would think that she had captured the sun between her hands but it was something that would take your life for a spin, but you didn't know that yet.

"You're interview went so well!" You slip in your comment first knowing that once she says whatever she has to say, it'll go on for years.

"I know right! After you left to pack up, I was still talking to the guys and they really seemed to like me so they invited me and any +1 I want to invite on their weekend in Vegas trip tomorrow night! All expenses paid for!" Jaw-dropping wasn't the word. Knee buckling may be a better fit as you had quite literally stumbled and dropped a mug, thankfully it didn't break.

"No. No no no." You say, backing up and her entire demeanour deflated like a devastated puppy. "Why not?" You lean in close, whispering, "Because Jungkook is gonna be there--" She interrupts you, practically exploding with emotions. "Oh my god, he wants you so bad. Did you see the way he was looking at you?!" She whisper shouts.

"I know!" you plain shout out, realizing your volume needed adjusting and leaning forward onto the counter. "But he's Jeon Jungkook and I have Daehyun-" The most disgusted look runs across Sunny's face.

"I cannot believe you are even comparing the two right now. You said it yourself, one is Jeon Jungkook, and the other is Daehyun, a man you should've left in the dust months ago." Here we go again, you sigh.

"C'mon Y/n. He's an asshole, he's childish, he's bad in bed and honestly, the list should end there but no, he humiliated you in front of your family and he was caught in your sister's dm's on Christmas!!"

"It's May for god's sake and he's still stressing you out, and seeing you stressed makes me stressed. So why don't you come tomorrow, I'll keep you away from Jungkook if it comes to that, but please, you need to let loose a little and forget about him for just the weekend." She begs.

She could see you were starting to consider it.

"Please?" She pouts, giving you those same puppy eyes that convinced you to work here in the first place. "Please don't look at me like that, stop." You try to avoid her sorrowful gaze but It's like it intensifies to a point where you just can't look away, nor can you deny.

"Fine, fine. Okay, I'll go."

Considering you only just found out you were leaving the country yesterday, you think you did pretty good packing light but efficiently.

That's what you were thinking as you stepped behind Sunny onto the empty private jet. She'd already made arrangements to sit beside Namjoon.

She was crazy but you had to give the girl credit, she worked fast.

You weren't taking in a single thing, part of you was still in disbelief you had even seen the boys up close and personal yesterday.

This would all sink in for you in 5 years and then you'll be hit with a numbing regret of not doing things differently.

Or maybe it'll sink in for you right now, Jimin's full head of brown wavy hair is the first one you see to pop up on the plane and he flashes you a kind smile, taking a seat beside you.

He introduces himself as if you and half the world don't already know him but you engage anyway, giving him your name and the rest is history.

The flight was 11 hours so there was a lot of ground to cover between the two of you for the first 6 hours. Jimin was just such an easy person to open up with, any time you said something crazy you felt like he would have an even crazier story of his own to share.

He'd told you all about his first impressions of the guys to his first scandal that the label somehow managed to cover up because even you were in shock. It would have been over for him.

Then it was your turn, telling him about your exhausting boyfriend since it all started seven months ago.

"On Christmas?!" He shouts, "Why are you with him again?" You groan, "God you sound just like Sunny!"

The two of you were clearly enjoying your conversation while Sunny worked on getting Namjoon to talk a little bit about his past, trying to see if he really was the boy from all those years ago, but he seemed occupied reading his book and she wasn't going to interrupt him any longer. She sighs softly, looking out the window, watching the clouds fly by like art.

Meanwhile, at the front of the jet, Jungkook typed away on his laptop, sometimes blurbing some possible lyrics, but mostly keeping himself busy with a thousand rounds of Tetris. He tuned out the sound of your angelic laughter with his headphones, but it couldn't stop him from glancing to the back of the plane where you sat with Jimin every so often.

Only about an hour left before you landed and you really needed to pee but Jimin was in the way and fast asleep. You looked around, it seemed that everyone was fast asleep, but you really had to go.

Lightly tapping Jimin and asking him to let you through, he moves, half awake, just giving you enough time to pass before going back to his original position.

You exited the bathroom, nearly falling to the ground in horror when you came face to face with the man you'd nearly forgotten was on the jet. He smiles that classic bunny smile that the fans go crazy over.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He says it so sweetly, and in this hushed tone due to the late hour of the night it was making your head think things. Things that you should not be thinking about.

"You okay?" Checking in, seeing that you seemed to have zoned out mid-conversation. Shit. You were doing it again. "Y-yeah." You hated speaking to him it made you feel like you couldn't speak at all. He was just so tall, and his eyes were so big and endearing and-

"Really? Cause it looks like you've got something on your mind." It comes out in such a way that brings heat to your face, suddenly hyper-aware that everyone is asleep, and the two of you are out of sight in the narrow hall of the bathroom.

"Yeah, just excited for tomorrow." You lie, you felt sick to your stomach. He made you sick to your stomach. He gets a little closer, now close enough for you to be able to smell the soft cologne on his clothes. "What's got you so excited?"

It felt like you were watching yourself fall from the sky, it was slow but graceful, but you knew once you hit the bottom, things would get ugly. So you grew wings. "My boyfriend. We're planning on Facetiming tomorrow." It was like a repellant, the way he stepped back.

"Oh, that's nice." He mumbles and you take this opportunity to run back to your seat, hopping over Jimin and strapping yourself back in your seat, shaking your head over and over again.

This was a bad idea. You should not have come on this trip.

"She has a fucking boyfriend." Is the first thing Jungkook says to Yoongi and Jimin while the three sit in the back of the taxi that is en route to the hotel. Yoongi wasn't listening, still half asleep after only waking up 30 minutes ago. He would need a repeat of it all tomorrow.

"Pfft. Barely." Jimin mumbles. Triggering quite possibly the fasted head turn known to mankind, Jungkook looks at him with intrigue, "What do you mean by that."

"He's an asshole. Like a literal piece of shit, but she's still with him for whatever reason. It's gotta be Stockholm syndrome." Jimin shrugs. "But you can't tell her I told you this, I think she's pretty cool, so before you get your dick wet, think with your head first."

Yoongi hums in agreement with that one statement. He may be asleep but he knows a good statement when he hears one.

Jungkook did think. He thought about you all night. From the cab to the hotel, until he fell asleep and again when he woke up. Sure, you had a boyfriend, but it sounds like you shouldn't be with him, or at least deserved someone better.

The morning sun seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the lavish surroundings. You and Sunny share a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the incredible experience that awaits. Or at least that's what Sunny thinks.

Instead, you retreat under the covers of your bed with an unpleasant sound. "How could I let you bring me here." Your voice is muffled and scratchy from it being the morning still. "Because you love me." She runs from her bed and jumps onto yours.

"Should we get room service?" She proposes and you slowly pull the covers down, revealing an interested expression. "Who's paying?" You ask. "Who cares! It's not us." She springs up and bounces for the phone.

By the late afternoon, you'd gotten an invite from Jimin, inviting you guys down to the pool, it was reserved just for them. "We're going, this isn't up for debate, Y/n. You said you would relax on this trip, so it's my job to make sure you do!" She pulls out the violet two-piece you'd packed in your luggage and shoves you into the bathroom, throwing the clothes in there with you after and shutting the door.

"I hate you y'know," you say from the other side of the door.

"You'll thank me one day, Y/n. One day."

There was a roar of cheers from the guys as the two of you walked into sight, the sun was beaming down on you and you were glad you brought your sunscreen.

Jungkook tried to be respectful to the sham of a relationship you were in but what was he supposed to do? You looked so hot in your bathing suit, you were so small but you still had curves in all the right places.

He just wanted to break you in half. Pin you down and-

A splash of water hits him in the face, "Stop eye fucking her and act like you've been neutered for once." Yoongi warns, swimming away before Jungkook could retaliate.

Jin calls Sunny into the water, and she just about jumped in while you were working on unwrapping your new bottle of sunscreen. Jungkook uses this as an opportunity. Looking down at the white shirt that was now soaked through, sticking to his abs he slowly steps out of the water.

Looking you right in the eyes as you shook the bottle. Now you were staring but you didn't care. You were looking at the son of Adonis, or maybe the god himself.

In the warm glow of the poolside sun, Jungkook emerged from the sparkling water, droplets cascading down his glistening skin. The pool's rippling surface bore witness to his athletic grace as he approached the pool chair where you reclined, still shaking the bottle.

His steps were confident, each one leaving a trail of water on the tiles beneath his feet. As he neared, he held your gaze with an intense, playful glint in his eyes. The air between you became charged with a magnetic energy, and a sly smile played on his lips.

With deliberate movements, Jungkook reached down to the hem of his white shirt, clinging to his sculpted physique. The fabric peeled away, revealing the contours of his toned abs. Beads of water followed the curves of his body, accentuating every defined muscle.

As the shirt came off, the sunlight caught on the droplets clinging to his skin, creating an ethereal effect. The sensual eye contact between the two of you intensified, creating a moment suspended in time. The poolside ambiance seemed to hush, allowing the connection between them to take center stage.

Your fist clenched, the sunscreen blurted out of the bottle, some landing on the smooth skin of your thigh but most hit the chair.

Jungkook's expression hinted at a playful confidence, acknowledging the allure of the moment. Your little accident told him all he needed to know. You wanted him.

Even if you didn't know it yet.

Wiping desperately at the sunscreen that had landed on you, a bigger hand comes to help. Gently rubbing the soft flesh of your thigh, Jungkook was crouched to your level with nothing more than a sincere smile as he helped you with your sunscreen.

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water as you watched him from beside yourself. Unable to believe what was happening. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, and other places but you shook your head.

"Wh-what-" Jungkook looks up to you, moving his hand away. "My bad. I didn't mean to overstep, I just noticed that you'd spilt some of your sunscreen," He inches just a little closer so that you looked down at him from where you sat on your chair. "I'd hate for it to go to waste."

That mischievous tongue of his makes an appearance briefly as it swipes over his bottom lip before retreating; leaving behind glossy plump lips. It's not what he says, but how he says it.

Almost as though he wanted you to break.

You hated how he made you feel without saying anything out of the ordinary.

"You have to be shitting me," Yoongi curses to no one in particular as he watches Jungkook lean up towards you from where he was floating in the pool on the flamingo inflatable.

"You've gotta admit, the boy's determined." Jin adds while Hoseok shakes his head, "He just doesn't know when to give up."

Opening your hotel room door to see Jimin leaning against the wall waiting for you. He looked incredible in his black button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair swooped to perfection.

"About time." He kicks himself off the wall as you scoff, "Don't blame me, blame the dress." Your freshly manicured nail points to the red, velvet dress that left your chest exposed before it went under the halter neckline.

There was so much skin offered to anyone that looked at you. You looked absolutely stunning. The way the dress clung tightly to your curves was almost ungodly but made you seem even more angelic.

Twirling on your toes slowly to showcase the full rotation of your outfit and Jimin failed to suppress his gasp. The back- Your back was completely exposed safe for where the halter crossed behind your neck.

"You look hot, and I'm not just saying that." You grin, leading the way to the elevator and waiting for it to come up.

While you were watching the elevator screen, Jimin was watching you. Not lustfully or anything since he really did see the two of you becoming close friends in the future but his gaze was full of.. fear?

Jungkook was going to eat you alive tonight, and he was willing to put money on it.

The man has been able to show limited amounts of self-control since the trip began, and his little shirtless stunt at the pool earlier that day was proof.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

You step in, hearing your phone vibrating from within your maroon chain side bag. Digging through your various lipsticks, mini perfumes and hair pins you finally grab your buzzing device.

Daehyun: When did you go to Vegas?? and how did you get there? 4:33 pm

Daehyun: Baby, I'm sorry. I mean it. Stop Ignoring me. (now) 8:12 pm

You sigh, scrolling through your messages sadly. "Am I being too hard on him?" Jimin leans over to look at the messages, his face turning sour at Daehyun's messages. "I bet you he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for."

The elevator doors close, and Jimin presses the star symbol for the nightclub on the first floor where you would meet the others.

Shaking your head repeatedly, "No. That's impossible. He knows, Jimin. Trust me." He doesn't seem convinced in the slightest,

"Okay. Since you're so sure-" He snatched your phone from your grasp, his fingers moving at the speed of light and you panicked, reaching for the device but he held it high. "Jimin No-!"

"I said 'What are you apologizing for'. I won't send it if you don't want me to. But It seems like he's only apologizing because he knows he's in the wrong, but doesn't know what for."

The elevator dings, going down floor by floor, the silence slowly creeping up on you, "Send it." You say, and his thumb hits send.

The doors open.

You and Jimin step out into the club. Before you sprawled a vast expanse of vibrant colours. Neon lights adorned the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues that danced in rhythm with the music.

The dance floor, surrounded by elevated platforms and VIP booths, was the epicentre of the vibrant spectacle. Mirrored ceilings multiplied the dazzling display, creating a sense of endless sin.

"Do you know where they are?" You ask while Jimin leads the way into the crowd of hot bodies and blasting music, he glances down to the text from Tae, "Tae said they're in section 9." Maneuvering your way through the swarm of people until you meet up with the others.

Jimin walked up the steps first, the group's cheers blending in with the roars coursing throughout the rest of the club as he joined them with you closely behind, the cheers continuing for you with whistles once you reached the platform.

"Oh shit!" Sunny curses, rushing to your side to shower you with compliments. "I guess being 30 minutes late pays off, you look great." Tae welcomes you with a side hug and an invitation to sit beside him.

"You need to cool it." Jin pulls Jungkook in by the collar so that he could hear him over the music. Jungkook finally pulls his hungry gaze off of you and looks to his elder.

"You're making it way obvious, and obvious is not what you want. She has a boyfriend. There are hundreds of other girls here, find someone else." He lets him go and Jungkook shakes his head.

How Jin even found out that you had a boyfriend didn't phase him. The seven of them were as close as brothers, it was hard for him and Jimin to keep anything to themselves.

Hundreds of girls but they weren't you. He couldn't just switch it on and off. This wasn't as fun and playful as it once was before, he was starting to get addicted to the thought of you.

"You have any pre-rolls on you?" Jungkook leans over to Namjoon who was deep into a conversation with Sunny. Namjoon reaches inside the pocket of his blazer, "Never leave home without them."

"Great. I need a smoke." Jungkook huffs, standing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. God you looked so fucking fine in that dress, it made him crazy, sick to his stomach.

He's Jeon Jungkook for god's sake.

The concept of want is so unfamiliar to him. Any girl he wants could easily be in his bed the same day, but you-- he shakes his head bitterly-- you were giving him a hard time, all over what? some lame-ass boyfriend.

"Namjoon you comin' ?" He looks over his shoulder to see both him and Sunny standing, "Mind if I join?" She asks, "The more the merrier."

You watched as the three of them disappeared into the bustling crowd vanishing out of sight. "Where did they go?"

Tae leans forward looking at where the trio had just walked through. "Probably went to go ball up." Tae shrugs, "Which means it's time to really get this night started. First round on me."

It wasn't until three shots later when Jungkook had finally come back, this was the first time you really got a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but a black jacket that had the most delicate body chains striping across his abdomen, giving you a clear view of his sculpted abs and-

Your phone buzzes.

You: Why are you apologizing? 8:13 pm

Daehyun: Because you're upset. (now) 9:27 pm

God, Jimin might be right. He doesn't have a clue.

You: Do you even know why I'm mad? 9:27 pm

Daehyun: Is it because of the nudes I sent Soo-Min? I was drunk, I promise. It was a mistake. 9:28 pm

You gasp. You had no idea what he was talking about. You were referring to him standing you up when you told all your family that he would be coming. You never knew this had even happened.

You: What the fuck are you talking about? 9:29 pm

You: I cannot believe you right now. 9:29 pm

You: Stop fucking texting me. 9:30 pm

You weren't even sad or disappointed. You were used to him letting you down constantly. "Looks like you need another shot." You look up from the screen in your lap, making eye contact with ringed fingers wrapped around a shot glass with your name on it.

You take the shot in your own grasp, looking Jungkook in the eyes as you down it. Your face wincing a little at the burn in the back of your throat but you were beginning to feel that exciting warmth in your chest.

The strobe lights turn red as Chris Brown's Take You Down begins to play through the loud speakers all around the club. "Wanna dance?" He offered you his hand, your brain was a little hazy and your cheeks were flushed but Jungkook was too hot to resist.

"Love to."

The two of you walk off to the dance floor with the rest of the crowd.

Taehyung looks to Jin who looks to Hoseok who looks to Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head slowly taking another shot. "It's out of my control. Once they step on that floor, their fate is sealed."

It's true, the moment Jungkook's hands were on your hips that swayed to the music you knew you were screwed. You had every right to be apprehensive about going on this stupid trip in the first place, but deep down you knew it was inevitable.

This very moment was destined from the start.

"You look fucking perfect tonight." He whispers in your ear from behind you, subconsciously pushing your hips back on him and Jungkook could swear he's never wanted someone as badly as he wanted you at this very moment.

"Says you," You spin in his hold, now face to face.

His grip on your hips tighten, body unable to maintain its façade for much longer. Your hair was up in a bun tonight, showing off the industrial piercing he never even knew you had.

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, and not just physically. He wanted to be able to sit with you over a cup of coffee and talk about everything and anything.

His tight hold on you prompted a breathless whine to escape your lips but he heard it. "Stop it." He says and your eyebrows scrunch, genuinely confused. "Stop what?"

"Stop tempting me. I'm trying to be respectful." Astonishment wipes over your features. "You're telling me to stop? It's been you all along, making me trip over my words, and being so shirtless and hot all the time, making me forget I have a boyfriend." He chuckles.

"So you admit it. You think about me too?"

You step back.

"Yes, Jungkook. I cannot stop thinking about you and that's my problem. I need to get you out of my head." Your mouth was saying one thing, but with the way he was looking at you, your heart wanted him between your legs.

The almost forgotten feeling of lust finally coursed through your veins. It'd been so long since you'd gotten any action, you needed this.

But you couldn't.

He steps towards you, even closer than before. You could feel his firm body crowding against your own. The way he towered over you made you feel dizzy. He leaned down, ensuring that you could feel his warm breath on the shell of your ear when he spoke "Tell me you don't want me and I'll walk away."

You don't want him. you lie to yourself.

Trying to put these thoughts into words, your mouth opens.

"I need you, Jungkook." Finally admitting it.

There was no going back now, his lips crashed against yours with nothing less than an animalistic desire. It was fast-paced and messy but you loved it.

The dam finally broke.

You kissed with more than your lips, his hands on your waist, squeezing tight as he rolled his hips into you with the rhythm of the music.

This was so so wrong, but it felt so right.

The way his tongue rolled over your bottom lip with such skill made your thighs clench, you could only imagine the things he could do with it--

"Y/n!" Sunny screams your name from behind you, not even processing what you and Jungkook had just been doing while Namjoon was busy enjoying the music behind her.

You turned around, a little breathless and bothered after being disrupted but you were immediately occupied with analyzing Sunny's appearance. For starters her hair was ruffled and looked like it'd been put through the wringer, her lipstick (what was left of it) was fading and a little smudged.

And last that you checked she was wearing lashes when the night began but they were nowhere to be found. "Sunny where did you go-- Oh my god- Did you and Namjoon-" Her non-stop nodding causes you to clasp your hand over your mouth.

"It's him! He remembers me!" The two of you have your moment, squealing before Jungkook whispers in your ear. "Meet me at the elevator in 5." Sunny actually does catch on this time.

"Oh my god!? Are you gonna-"

You think about it, "I don't know!! Should I?! Daehyun just voluntarily admitted to sending nudes to Soo-Min god knows when and-" Sunny groans. "Leave him, for the love of god y/n stand up!" She yells.

"I can't just leave him he's my boyfriend, and it wouldn't make me any better than him." Sunny's eyes roll. "It won't be cheating if you plan on breaking up with his ass tonight. Just hurry up and decide, Jungkook's waiting for you." She winks and it gives you butterflies.

He was waiting for you.

The moment you turned the corner of the hallway, you saw Jungkook waiting outside the elevator as he said he would be, finally pressing the button. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he laughs internally to himself at the double entendre, knowing Jungkook's track record, this has never been an issue for him.

The two of you step inside the elevator, it would be a long ride up to the 21st floor, the two of you did your best to stay to your respective sides of the elevator until there was a crowd of people that entered as well, pushing you into him.

Completely oblivious to the way your ass was pressed flush against his crotch, he looks up to the ceiling, wondering what he'd done in his past life to deserve this kind of punishment.

A beautiful girl pressed up against him but he couldn't do anything. As the crowd moved, so did you he hisses and your body stills, finally aware of what you were doing.

On the 13th floor the elevator empties completely, leaving just the two of you and you try to move away from him but his grip holds you in place. "Didn't think you'd be running from me so soon." You'd never heard his voice like this. It was deeper, bass full of wants and desires,

He spins you around, he had you cornered.

Looking up to him with that doe gaze of yours. His index finger gently rests under your chin, your gaze was practically begging him to kiss you, but in case he was hesitating you nodded just a little, permitting him to open your lips with his.

This kiss was a lot slower and deeper than the one before. It was soft and sweet, but slowly turned into a full-blown make-out session by the time the elevator made it to the 21st floor.

He leads the way to his room at the end of the hall, beside Hoseok's room.

Jungkook worked on unlocking the door while you chewed on the tip of your acrylic. Were you really about to do this?

"I'm going in my room, and you don't have to follow, but I'm leaving the door unlocked." He says, disappearing behind the door. Looking over your shoulder, your room was 4 doors down.

You could still back out now, it wasn't too late.

All you would need to do is have a long talk with Daehyun.

You scoff, even his name irritated you. Your heart knew things weren't going to work out between the two of you once you got back home, regardless of whether you slept with Jungkook or not.

He's broken your trust far too many times, and besides, Sunny was right, he is an asshole.

You walk into Jungkook's room and make sure to lock the door behind you.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before gracing you with a heated kiss, the kind of kiss that made you stumble as he walked you back to the door.

"Hope you put that phone on dnd." He whispers, kissing down your neck, skillfully managing to take your hair down at the same time. You looked like the epitome of sin, hair falling over your shoulders as if it fell from grace while your neck was littered with hickeys, your plump bottom lip tugged between those perfect teeth of yours.

Your dress was the first thing to go, he loved it on you, but it served its purpose, and it did it well. Soon his jacket was finally off revealing his muscular build that you'd seen in the fan cams but it couldn't compare to the real thing.

You kissed him back desperately as your legs were wrapped around his waist while he made his way to the bed, dropping you down to your back watching the way you bounced.

Your perfect tits are the first victim of his passionate affection. Leaving tender kisses on the soft flesh, "Jungkook-" you gasp feeling him wrap his lips around your nipples, tongue working hard to push you towards that edge that you'd been inching closer to since you got in here.

He groans as he feels your hands roam over his back, anticipating the feeling of your nails scratching his skin. Finally moving down from your breasts once they were covered with his kisses and hickeys.

You could feel yourself practically soaking through your under, not to mention the way it was sticking to you. "Looks like someone's worked up," he teases, slowly peeling you out of your ruined underwear.

"What's got you so hot and bothered, is it your boyfriend?" You sit up so fast almost getting a head rush and he laughs. "Jungkook." You say and he gives you a look of lust. "What? Say it baby, use your words. Tell me who makes you this wet. Is it me or him?"

You press your legs together, unable to believe that this was turning you on more. "He couldn't turn me on." He looks up to you with wide eyes. "Is that so?" Nodding your head slowly, letting Jungkook gently push you back down to the bed.

On his knees he takes a deep breath at your core, a guttural sound rumbling in his chest as he was face to face with your dripping core. "So you're saying it's me?" he asks, letting his tongue run a flat stripe against your soaked folds.

"YES! It's you Jungkook please, stop teasing, please I can't take it. I'm already so close." You beg, body thrashing around enough for him to pin your legs over his shoulder and to keep you still.

You were stroking his ego, telling you you were already so close and he's barely touched you. Your boyfriend must've been shit in bed, and he was determined to make it up to you. He was going to show you what you've been missing.

Finally eating you out to his heart's content, ignoring the way your feet continued to move frantically over his shoulders he lapped up at your core, flicking his tongue over your clit until your body spasmed uncontrollably. "I'm-" Unable to even finish the sentence before you were blinded by an earth-shattering orgasm.

It ripped through you like a storm and came squirting out of you just like one too. "You've got to fucking kidding me," Jungkook murmurs to himself and you froze. Was he mad?

He stands up, "Of course the hottest girl I've ever seen squirts on my tongue. Good fucking hell, Y/n. It's like you want me obsessed with you." Who was he kidding, he was already obsessed.

He picked you up so carelessly, bringing you to the balcony where it overlooked the Las Vegas strip. You could see the hotel's illuminated pool and all the car lights as they zoomed on the highway far in the distance.

"Hope you're not scared of heights."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of being so high up, but it was all forgotten once your leg was propped up and you felt your folds being prodded open by the fat head of Jungkook's cock.

"No- fuck! Wait." you cursed feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of his size nearly causing you to fall but he held you steady against the railing, bulging biceps on either side of your body, caging you in safely.

Jungkook knew better, this should be the last place he should be doing something like this but with your pretty ass right in front of him it was such a beautiful sight, and the scenery was cool too.

"It's too much," you pant, arms bracing yourself on the fence that kept you from falling 200 feet below. "It's only the tip baby, you sure you can take the whole thing?" You pause in thought, you needed him, all of him. "I can take it. keep going." You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every nook and cranny of your womb.

It felt like he was in your lungs, you were knocked breathless, and he didn't move. Your body went limp in his arms, exactly what he feared would happen. He quite literally split you open, but you were determined to take it.

You clawed at the railing desperately, looking for any kind of relief from what you were feeling. "Deep breaths baby, I'll go slow." You nod, eyes squeezed shut as his hips slowly roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in.

"Oo-oh. fuck. Jungkook, keep going." you moan, head falling onto your hands; feeling what was once pain morphs into an addicting, sweet pleasure, over time his pace picks up until he was fucking into you with no remorse.

Even if no one could see you from this high up, they sure as hell could hear you. The way you cried out his name like a prayer over and over while Jungkook's brain was short-circuiting with the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds it created.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this, huh?" He angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace even though you've already come twice now. Your body jolts with each snap of his hips.

You shake your head, but that isn't enough for him, flipping you around so that you're facing him, he pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Use your words Y/n. You're my smart girl, look me in the eyes and tell me that your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do." Your eyes snap open, "He c-could never fuck-!" Jungkook slowed down his thrusts to something so much deeper, your eyes rolled and Jungkook nearly came just at the sight.

"Shit, I'm gonna come." He pants, and with a few more erratic thrusts you feel his warm cum fill you up. He slowly lets you stand but your legs fail you immediately. Scooping you up in his arms effortlessly he brings you to the bed, clearly not done with you.

That's how you found yourself on the brink of your third orgasm while Jungkook plowed into you from behind, obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock.

Your arms had given out long ago hence why your cheek was smushed into the sheets of the bed while you whimpered like a whore. "God you should look at yourself," He laughs almost maniacally from behind you.

Feeling himself approach his climax, "Jungkook- please!" you cried out, the friction only adding to the stimulation, "m' gonna-" you try to get back up on your arms but you couldn't move.

"I wonder what your boyfriend would say if he saw you like this,'' A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he reaches for your phone that was forgotten somewhere on the bed, hitting record.

Pulling you up onto your arms, tugging your hair by a makeshift ponytail, the flash highlights the various bruises all over your body left by yours truly. The audio was picking up his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the room was quiet enough you could probably hear the welt squelch of your cunt sucking in his length with each push.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cry out, coming once more and your body goes limp, Jungkook ends the recording and tosses the phone to the side while he chases his own high finishing soon after you.

He pulls out slowly, "Y/n, baby? Are you with me?" He taps your cheek gently, and your eyes barely open, "I think you fucked the soul out of me," He dares to flash you a nervous smile as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

"That was one hell of a trip." You mumble to Sunny on the phone as you wheel your suitcase down the hall to the door of your apartment where there was a big bouquet of flowers.

"Oh my god," You say, crouching down, wincing a little as you did to read the card. "What?" Sunny asks and you explain what you were seeing.

"Do you think they're from Daehyun?" You scoff, "Fat chance."

You open the envelope to read the card aloud,

'To the hottest girl. We should get donuts sometime, I heard you like them cream-filled ;) Text me sometime xxx-xxx-xxx. -J.K'

Sunny squealed in your ear.

"I'll call you back." You say, dialling Jungkook's number.

"Hello?" He answers.

"You got me flowers?" You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face, and he could hear it. He closed his fridge and leaned on the counter, "You like 'em?"

Holding the vase in your hand you take a deep sniff, "I love them."

He shakes his head. "This is so sad. You're too easy to impress. Let me treat you better than that jerk, Y/n." Your mouth falls open-

"How- What?"

"Jimin mentioned the details to me but don't get mad at him; it doesn't change the fact that the guy is an asshole." You sigh.

"I know."

"So?" Jungkook starts, waiting for you to say something.

"I think you mentioned something about cream-filled donuts. When and where?"

He smiles.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jungkook fic recs #bts one shot #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #btssmuts #bts scenarios #fluff #bts smut #smut

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bluemoon-fever · 3 months ago

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needy

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: steve rogers is a very needy man.

word count: 2.45k

warnings: fluff, smut, dub-con (reader is tipsy, but not drunk), unprotected sex, possessive steve, allusions to DD/lg (but not really), D/s undertones, daddy kink, soft!dom!steve, begging, hand job, oral (male and female receiving), rough sex, fingering, light choking, spitting, dacryphilia, praise kink, grinding, mention of safe words, nipple/breast play, cum play, creampie, aftercare, it's filth, but it's also fluffy MINORS DNI

a/n: so i've been having this in my head for over a week, and i'm excited to finally share. i also have something else planned with steve (maybe a mini series or something. i'm still planning). while all can read, i do write with black/poc readers in mind! i hope you all enjoy! Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated! <3

not edited.

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL THIS POST. I do not give permission for my work to be posted on another site.

A symphony of giggles and clumsy steps lets Steve know that you’ve just arrived home. He’s at his desk, working on a new art piece. It’s a drawing of you sleeping soundly in your shared bed based on an image he snapped a few days ago. He goes to hide the drawing, wanting it to be a surprise for you when he’s done.

He hears you fumble with your phone and tell your friend through a fit of giggles that you made it home safe. Then, Steve hears the sound of you taking off your heels and walking into the kitchen. He sighs, waiting for you to finally finish up whatever you were doing and come back to him. It had been about three hours since he last saw you, and he had missed you.

On his days off, Steve cherishes your time together. It’s very rare that he gets days to be home, draw, and just relax, but when you told him you had plans to go to brunch with your friends, his mood soured a bit. He didn’t want to keep you from his friends, but he was feeling very selfish over you. He wanted you all to himself. This morning, he tried to convince you to stay in bed, but after about an extra 15 minutes of cuddles, you told him you had to get ready. He threw a pout at you that made you giggle, and you kissed his cheek all sweet before you got up to get ready. He watched as you got dressed and put makeup on which he constantly told you, “You don’t need it.”

“Thanks, babe, but I just wanted to be dolled up. It’s been forever since I’ve gone out.” Steve winces at your words. He had just gotten off a long mission, and since he had been back, he had been more focused on relaxing than taking you out on dates. Even though you never complained about it, he knew you were in need of a fun outing. That’s why he couldn’t be too mad that you were so quick to agree to brunch with your best friends. You knew he wasn’t in the mood to be out and about, and he didn’t want you to sacrifice your need for socialization just for him.

Well, he did, but he would never ask you to do that. Not when you’re his perfectly sweet, beautiful girlfriend.

Steve volunteered to drive you to brunch, but you said you already agreed to a carpool. When he volunteered to bring you back home, you shot that down (unintentionally). One of your friends agreed to be the designated driver. Steve held in a grunt, but his frustration dissipated slightly when you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and lips. “I love you! I’ll be back before you know it.”

And here you were, but what was taking you so damn long?

Steve was about to rise until he heard you slightly stumble towards the room. Your cheeks were flushed red, a sign of the bottomless mimosas he knows you downed at brunch. Your lipstick was long gone, leaving a slight pink tint on your lips. The rest of your makeup looked fine, and you were actually glowing. Your outfit, a black mid-length, bodycon dress, clung to your curves perfectly. Steve felt his dick start to stir.

God, he wanted needed you so bad.

“Hi, baby,” you said. You held a bottle of water in your hand and took a sip as you walked in the room. You weren’t drunk, but he could tell you were tipsy. You threw a playful smirk as you sauntered towards him. “I missed you.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t want to give into your sweetness. While he had missed you and missed your body, he wanted you just as needy as he was. He wanted you to need him so bad you were begging for it. While his exterior remained stoic, something feral bloomed inside of him that he had to stifle his own smirk.

You moved directly in front of him and leaned down to give him a kiss. When you didn’t feel him return it, your face flashed concern. Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you? You began to feel nervous under his gaze. Rather than say anything, you moved to straddle him and began to burrow into his lap. You faced him directly and wrapped your arms around his neck. When his expression didn’t budge, you buried your face into his neck and inhaled his scent.

God, you needed him so bad.

As you shrunk yourself in his lap, Steve gave a small smile. Seeing you become so little was making him harder. He knew after one drink that you were affectionate and needy. At events, you’d seek him out, attaching yourself to his side or finding some way to touch him. He had you right where he wanted you. You had mumbled something into his neck that took him from his own thoughts.

“What was that?” he asked, keeping his voice firm.

“How was your day?” you said softly, almost at a whisper. You turned your face and looked up into his sparkling blue eyes. You were so damn sweet he felt he was getting a cavity. “Are you enjoying being off?”

“It was fine,” he said, telling the truth. It was just fine. If you were with him all day, laying naked next to him, it would have been everything he needed. But seeing you concerned about him, being so sweet and kind, made him want to just pick you up and make sweet love to you in his bed. But a strong part of him didn’t want that; he wanted to ruin you and make you more pliant. “How was brunch?”

“It was nice,” you began, playing with the hairs in his beard. “But I really missed you, Daddy.”

Fuck, he thought. Here you were, his perfect girl, wrapped up perfectly in his lap and pliant. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He gripped your face in his large hands and began to kiss you passionately. You didn’t even try to keep up, letting him push his tongue past your lips and claim your mouth. You began to whine, and Steve felt you begin to grind against his hard-on. He shifted his hands to your neck and pulled you back.

“If you missed me so much, baby girl, then show me.” Your eyes were blown wide with lust. Your lips swollen and pink. You nodded and began to pull his dick out of his sweatpants. You began stroking him, creating a steady rhythm that made Steve catch his breath. “Fuck angel.”

You shifted off his lap and moved his rolling chair back. You settled yourself between his legs. You began giving kitten licks to the tip of his cock before staring up at him with the kindest eyes; Steve had to fight the urge to blow a load on your face. You teased him a bit more with the licks before swallowing his own length down. Steve gripped the back of your head, pushing his length further down your throat. You struggled to take all of him, and the sensation of it made him pulse a bit down your throat. He pulled you off of him and took in your state. Your eyes began watering, your mascara starting to smudge under your eyes. Your mouth was wet with saliva. Steve wishes he could take a picture of you, seeing you ruined made further awakened a beast within him.

You reached for his cock, moving your mouth back on him. He watched in amazement as you tried to deep throat him on your own. You began looking up at him, your eyes looking as big as possible. How you managed to make yourself still look innocent while sucking his dick was something.

“Look at my pretty girl, sucking her Daddy’s cock. You’re doing so good.” You keened over his praise. He watched as you attempted to move your hand under your dress to gain some relief, but he grabbed both of your hands and held them above you. He removed your mouth off of him as gently as he could. You stared up at him waiting for his next words.

“Get on the bed.” He let your hands go and watched as you moved quickly to kneel on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother making it, leaving your bed sheets at the foot of your mattress. You placed your hands in your lap. He got up and cupped your face in his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before his hand moved to pull the thin strap of your dress down. “How are we feeling?”

“Green,” you told him. You gave a small smile. “I need you.”

“I know. Be patient, baby.” If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black…

He pushed your shoulders back as a sign for you to lay back on the bed. He moved to pull your dress off, you lifting your hips to help him. You were left in just a lacy pink thong and strapless bra. You moved to pull the bra off and placed it on the floor next to your bed. You grabbed his hand and placed it on his chest. You were so desperate for some sort of relief.

Steve began massaging your breast, his fingers pulling at your nipple. You let out a breathy moan from the sensation, happy to finally feel something. Steve’s eyes darkened when he saw your hand slip inside your panties, and you began to play with yourself.

“How bad do you need me? How bad do you need your Daddy?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“I need you s-so bad,” you cried out. “I’ve missed you so much. Thought about you the whole time at brunch. Please, I need you.”

Steve removed his hands, causing you to whine. When you looked up at him, you saw him frantically stripping out of his sweatpants and white tank top. He didn’t even bother with underwear, secretly praying that you came home exactly like this, and he would have easy access.

His mouth began an assault on your neck. He pulled your hand out and roughly pulled your panties down, flinging them somewhere in the room. He kissed down your body, spending precious time kneading and kissing on your breasts before he found himself in between your legs. Without asking, you opened yourself up to him. “Please, please, please,” you whined.

Steve dove in, essentially making out with your pussy. You cried out, and he placed his left hand on your stomach to hold you down. His other hand began to push into your core, finding that spongy spot that instantly had your hips bucking. He looked up at you through his thick lashes, watching your face contort into pure ecstasy. He found your bundle of nerves and began to suck while continuing to play with you like you were his favorite instrument (you were). You immediately began singing out, a sign you were close. It was music to Steve’s ears, your incoherent cries.

Steve lifted up, removed his fingers from your core, and watched as your face fell in betrayal. “If you’re going to come, it’s going to be on my dick,” he spat at you. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, and Steve spit down your throat. He captured into another filthy kiss, you grabbing onto his back to pull you into him, trying to become one. He lined up himself at your entrance before pressing in quickly, filling you up quickly. You broke the kiss to moan, tears spilling from your eyes from the pressure. Steve felt himself grow harder as he began to lick at your tears. You felt so defiled, so nasty, and you couldn’t get enough. You began scratching at his back, desperate for him to move, for him to finally let you come.

“D-daddy, please. Please move. Please!” you begged. “Please, I need it. I need to cum. Please let me cum!” Tears began to spill from your eyes. Your face was so utterly fucked out that Steve could have came right then in there. But you were giving him everything he wanted, and now, he finally could oblige.

He began roughly fucking into you, pulling your legs into his arm to change his angle. Your back arched off the bed, and your moans grew louder. Normally, Steve would cover your mouth, not wanting to face your neighbors after this, but he didn’t care. He wanted the whole world to hear him fucking his perfect, sweet girlfriend on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. You grabbed at your breast and Steve brought his face down to one, popping one of your hard nipples into his mouth. You clenched harder around him.

“Steve, I’m s-so close. May I cum? Please, may I cum?” you asked so nicely.

“Yes.” You came with a cry, your body shaking as Steve continued to fuck into you. Seeing you fall apart gave him a second wind and he kept fucking into you. You fell into a second orgasm, your eyes beginning to close in exhaustion, but Steve didn’t relent. He pulled out and turned you on your side like a ragdoll as you laid limp on the bed. He immediately rutted back into you, his pace relentless. His release was building up. “Come on, baby. Come with Daddy. Just give me one more.”

Steve came with a roar. He looked down at your coated juices on his dick and fucked it back into you. He couldn’t wait to see himself leaking out of you. Honestly, if you gave him a minute, he could go again and have you filled with him for days. The idea of you filled with him, possibly making his child made him cumming again.

He collapsed on top of you, softly kissing your face. You started giggling before turning and grabbing his face in your hand. You captured his lips in a long, soft kiss. You whined as he pulled out of you, and Steve shifted next to you. Looking down at your legs, his eyes darkened seeing his spend leak out of you. He gathered it and pushed it back inside of you. You winced at how sensitive you were, but Steve knew you loved when he’d play with your mixed releases.

Steve rose and grabbed your water bottle, making you drink a considerable amount before placing it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He lifted you up and placed both of you under the covers of your shared bed. He pulled you into his chest as you lazily rubbed circles into his chest and him on your shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered before softly kissing at his chest and closing your eyes.

“I love you too.” Steve was happy. His perfect girl was finally in his arms, just like he needed.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x black reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Omfg pervy roommate König!!! And his poor little roommate is none the wiser to how he abuses her poor cunt every night. He does such a good job fucking his load into her that she confides in him as a friend that she’s pregnant and is super shocked!! But that’s okay, he’ll always be there for her. Now she’ll never be able to leave him. <3

Cw: forced pregnancy, NON-CON/CUB-CON, DARKFIC, pervy!önig, perverted behaviour, somnophilia, dacryphilia, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, drugging, tell me if I missed any.

You’re blissfully unaware of his advances, or his nightly excursions into, pumping his cum into your already filled womb and putting a baby into you. He liked how disoriented and confused you look the day after, waking up pantieless, your bedsheets crusty and dried cum sticking to your thighs. You always come to him for advice, wanting to know why you came all over yourself, leaving you covered in your own slick and cheeks burning with shame when you told him, oblivious of his gleeful eyes narrowed down at you with a hidden grin.

It goes on for a while, he feeds sleeping pills - the ones from his prescribed-bottle for his insomnia - breaking half a pill down to a fine powder and spike your bedtime drink, waiting for you to doze off, sleeping so deeply that even an earthquake wouldn’t wake you up, and he fucks you. He, sometimes, takes his time, thrusting slowly, enjoying the slow and romantic pace, feeling you wrapped around him. Other times, he goes feral, pounding and bruising you, hands manhandling you into the prettiest position to let him fuck you deeper, the head of his red, angry cock kissing your cervix brutally.

You don’t take pills or any contraceptives, letting your monthly cycle roll over and deal with the cramps with painkillers. So he’s not surprised when you come crying to him about being pregnant after going to see your doctor about your daily nausea and stomach pains. He expected you to be pregnant after so many nights of filling you up, pushing load after load of fertile cum - he takes supplements to make him more virile - into your young womb, what he didn’t put into account was the long time it took to finally knock you up, the months he spent waiting and biting the skin off his thumb until it bled to have you round and plump with his child.

You had the prettiest face when you cried, eyes puffy and lips pouty, it made his cock stir, throbbing in his pants. It drove him wild, seeing you cry and whine about not being ready to be a mother, still so young and oblivious to who the father was —you didn’t even remember the last time you fucked anyone. König spent the day comforting you, wiping your swollen eyes with high-quality cashmere tissues he bought just for you, whispering sweet lullabies to you until your tears stop - much to his chagrin - and cradled you in his lap, fingers thumbing the soft fat of your thighs, running soothing circles with his calloused thumb.

He’ll wait until the baby’s born to tell you he’s the father, he might not be patient enough to sit around and wait, but he is patient enough to know when he should and when he shouldn’t wait. He’ll care of you until you come to term. He has the money to buy you whatever you need, KorTac is the best paying PMC and he was a colonel in the past, racking up a large sum of money before he signed a contract. Your cravings, your needs, your wants and whatever else you ask, your roommate - your soon-to-be-husband - König will take care of everything.

What a nice roommate you have, no?

Taglist: @hiraya1802 @tess0288 @elichisstuff @emodanoriddler @kenz-ee @bunnyclaire @akenosimp167 @havoc973 @death8match @yourliebling @allicsirp00 @cross-axis @hereforhotbitches @delulu4ghost @monster-in-paradise @nordicvsp @madi0987 @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @223princess @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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Innocence Loss - König x Reader

Delayed Kinktober Day 3: Virginity loss - König x Reader

CW: Virginity loss, jealous König, rough sex, pussy eating, creampie, breeding kink if you squint.

"So wet for me, spatzi." König muttered softly, shaky fingers teasing your wet slit up and down, gathering your juices before his hand went back to his cock, soft groans escaping his lips as he used your own wetness to lube himself up. His mouth latched up to your cunt again, your whiny moans being rewarding enough as he worked up and down his long, veiny shaft.

"König... need you." You managed to speak between soft gasps and moans, the sensation of his long, flat tongue licking you up and down for the past 10 minutes was starting to become too much— he already made you cum twice, using the excuse that he needed you all wet so you could handle his big cock, yet in reality, he simply liked your taste. Like a starved man, König latched onto your clit, rubbing his cock so hard he already felt on edge.

"Beg for me." He said softly, his cockiness in the battlefield rubbing off on his regular life, yet surprisingly, he wasn't embarrassed about it.

"Please— fuck, I need you inside me. Please, baby?" Your pathetic begging went to his head, yet the look in his eyes betrayed just how much this man adored you. Messy hair, lips parted as you waited for him, a thin layer of sweat covering the body he was so enamored with, and your legs open, revealing the sweet cunt he craved so bad it hurt.

"Pretty girl." He muttered softly, pure affection on his voice as he joined you in bed, opening your legs even more to give his behemoth body enough space. He lined himself up to your cunt, gently pulling his foreskin down to rub the tip of his stupidly big dick up and down your wet entrance, slowly going in until he's bottoming out.

"Scheiße—" He grunted softly, voice going deeper as he grimaced under the mask. König was used to using his own calloused hand to cum, doing it only because he was bored and horny, which he grew out of the more years he spent in the military, yet the feeling of your tight, warm walls swallowing him up hungrily hit him like a tidal wave. You felt too damn good, and he had to resist the urge to cum already, not wanting to embarass himself.

"Are you okay?" He asked you gently, his hand slowly running up and down the length of your hair worriedly when he noticed the slight grimace on your face. König knew he was big in every single way, and his cock was not the exception.

"I'm good, just— move, please." Feeling the stretch of his massive shaft was just as painful as you imagined, yet the pleasure that came from it couldn't be denied. He builds up a pace, slowly going more and more intense as his thrusts get rougher, deeper, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills his private quarters, and you're secretly glad he's a colonel, as it gives you both more privacy.

"You've been bad, haven't you? Desperate for my cock, letting others flirt with you..." He mutters out between clenched teeth, his thrusts only getting rougher as he recalls what happened earlier. You didn't have the heart to tell him a member of KorTac simply was asking you for advice, the feeling of his tip slamming against your cervix was way too good to ruin the moment. He can believe whatever his jealous and possessive mind told him, as long as he keeps on angrily fucking you.

"No one else gets to touch you like this." He growls out, sitting on his knees while his massive hands easily hold onto your hips, lifting you up with him while he pounded into you, your moans mixed with his as he used you like you were simply a fleshlight— compared to his massive frame, you are.

König shows no mercy anymore, slamming his entire nine inches of meat into you with primal force. Despite the way he's being so rough, his light blue eyes are completely set into your face, looking for any signs of discomfort yet all he can see is pure bliss. His already big ego grows more and more as he hammers into you, all the pretty noises and faces you're making because of him, him and no one else, are getting to his head.

He moves your hips away as he pulls out, suddenly slamming himself all the way back in before you can protest. He drags a whiny moan out of you, pain and pleasure mixing as you can feel a familiar warmth building up in your stomach. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out pure nonsense in German. You can barely make out "Hure" between whatever he's whispering. His German sounds hotter than ever and you listen intently, dumbly nodding your head to his words despite not understanding him.

With each powerful thrust, he claims you, marking you as his own. The pleasure builds, coiling around your naked, sweaty bodies until it's way too much to bear. And when you finally release, his arms wrap around you protectively, holding your tiny body close to his as your bodies explode in a shared release. His thick, white cum fills up your womb, painting your velvety walls with his fertile sperm.

#konig mw2 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #konig cod #konig x reader #konig #cod konig #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #konig call of duty #könig smut #konig smut #cod mw #kinktober

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tojipie · 1 year ago

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welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago.

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk.

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder.

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his.

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper.

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face.

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt.

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear.

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really.

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view.

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes.

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity.

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change.

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look.

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside.

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight.

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later.

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away.

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade.

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car.

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles.

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years.

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care.

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?”

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base.

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him.

˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather.

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were.

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it.

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure.

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?”

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there.

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

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kisses4reid · 8 months ago

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convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid series

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 11 days ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

***

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

Eddie —

How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

Yours, Always

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all.

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy.

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room, all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show.

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again. When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

***

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation.

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

PART 9

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic

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harryslittlefreakk · 3 months ago

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favourite crime 3

summary: harry disappears and leaves y/n in the dark. when he finally resurfaces, they struggle to heal hurt and broken hearts.

warnings: angst, brief mentions of cheating, fluff, age gap relationship, teacher/student relationship

wordcount: 5.2k

a/n: strap in its angsty!!!!! but we’re almost at the end of the back and forth now, i want my babies to be happy 😭

thank you so much for reading & supporting 🤍 masterlist | favourite crime masterlist

“You really haven’t seen him?”

You nibbled on your lower lip as you waited for Courtney to reply, rubbing two fingers over your temple.

“No, and Josh still hasn’t heard from him either. Last I knew, he was coming to find you,” Courtney murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“There’s rumours everywhere,” you told her. “He quit, he got fired. You don’t think someone found out and he had to leave?”

Courtney shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “He would’ve told you. Even if it was the last time you ever spoke, I think he would’ve told you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. It had been over a week since you’d seen or heard from Harry. You’d checked with Courtney every day, hoping by some miracle that he’d gone home or spoken to Josh, but he hadn’t. He’d pushed you away in his office and then fallen off the face of the Earth.

You’d typed out and deleted texts almost every hour, rushing to check your messages and missed calls as soon as you woke up every morning. Your finger had hovered over Harry’s phone number, never hitting call.

You made sure to walk by his office everyday, hoping for some sign of life, but nothing ever came. Your mind was running wild. You couldn’t help but imagine him lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt and alone. Or on the run, dramatically changing his appearance to escape law enforcement after his relationship with you had been revealed. Or worse, he simply felt he had to disappear to save himself from you.

It wasn’t until you saw a flash of brunette curls disappearing into his door that your worry turned into white-hot rage.

Your heart rate quickened with your feet, your shaking hand fumbling with the doorknob as you barged in behind him.

The blood was pounding in your ears, every muscle in your body tense as he turned around and looked at you.

“What the fuck, Harry?”

Your voice was a whisper with all the anger of a shout, the words catching in your dry throat. Your hands balled into fists inside your sleeves as Harry looked over you, barely a speck of emotion on his face.

He was no different to the last time you saw him, his outfit one you’d seen before, each line and crease on his face no different than before. But the way he was looking at you was new. He was indifferent, arms resting at his sides as he waited for words that you couldn’t form. His eyes held nothing. You felt like a stranger to him, and you willed your feet to carry you away, back to the comfort of not knowing where he was but knowing who you were to him.

But as you turned away, he finally spoke. “How long does it take you to get home?”

“Thirty minutes,” you answered, tears resting on your eyelashes as you stared at your feet.

“Then I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” Harry replied, watching you leave his office as quickly as you burst in.

—

Harry sat in his car outside your house, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. His eyes were locked on the mirror, watching the corner of your street with a clenched jaw.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, a volatile mix of frustration and betrayal. The minutes felt like hours as he replayed the last time he was here, stoking the fire of his anger. He was determined to hear the truth, even if it meant he would never see you again.

The second you turned the corner, his heart near stopped. You didn’t seem to notice him or his car as you approached, your eyes weary and heavy-lidded as you stared straight ahead.

Harry hadn’t paid much attention to you in his office, trying to ignore the pained furrow of your brows, the red tint of sleepless nights beneath your eyelashes, the way you looked almost exactly the same and yet so different to him. But as he looked at you then, dulled and burnt out even as the afternoon sun illuminated everything around you, his anger fell away and shame rolled through his body in a nauseating wave.

He was a grown man. With a job, a home, a life that shouldn’t involve someone in their early twenties, someone who’s education he was responsible for. You may have approached him first, but he barely thought twice before pursuing you, fisting his cock that night with only thoughts of you in his mind.

And worse than that, he’d run away. He’d backed you into a corner, fucking you, making you his, while making it clear to you that you’d never be more than a fun weekend. He’d kissed you, set up boundaries so weak that you had no choice but to push through them, making you believe that you were setting the pace and dictating what relationship you would or wouldn’t have. Then he’d backed off.

He deserved every inch of the hell he’d found himself in. Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else. He still wanted answers, but he found himself totally unfazed towards whatever the truth was. You had every right to want him to hurt.

At the sound of keys jangling in a door, he turned his head, watching you let yourself in. With a deep sigh, he followed, his legs wooden as he trudged towards the door you’d left ajar.

“Hi,” Harry murmured, slipping into your apartment behind you. He hadn’t seen it before, and it was absolutely no different than he’d expected. You had fresh flowers and house plants on almost every surface, lilies and roses in soft pinks and whites, posters and pictures dotted around the walls.

You turned to face him, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. “Where have you been?” you asked him, your voice sharper than you intended.

You heard his breath hitch in the silence, the sound of his shoes banging as he pushed them off, his socks soft against the floor as he edged towards you. The air between you was thick, charged with everything unsaid, everything he’d been avoiding.

“I saw him,” Harry said quietly, an edge to his voice, a tightness that betrayed his restraint. “I came here.”

He’d paused a few paces away, his expression unreadable in the sunlight seeping through the window. But you could read the tension in the way his jaw was clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Saw who?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep the hurt at bay. “You kissed me, Harry. And then you disappeared. You didn’t say a word, didn’t even let anyone know if you were okay.”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand through curls that looked like they’d been toyed with all day long. “I didn’t know what to say! What do you want me to say? I came here to apologise, but you were clearly already busy.”

“You came here after I left your office?” you questioned, your voice rising. “I was tutoring, Harry. I told you I was fucking tutoring.”

He leaned the wall, steadying himself as you knocked the wind out of him. In the entire week he’d been gone, racking his brains every day for some kind of innocent explanation, he hadn’t even remembered that.

He knew he was jealous, overly possessive, even over people he couldn’t claim, but this was a new low.

“I was tutoring Tommy, who’s in your fucking class and has a girlfriend. I needed to get my notes from my room. Which is where I’m assuming you saw us?” you paused for him to confirm, feeling rage wash over you like a tidal wave.

“He followed me into my room, and then we studied, Harry. At the dining table. On opposite sides.”

You ran a hand over your face, eyes screwed shut as you tried to make sense of it all.

“You don’t know how it looked,” Harry whispered, the colour drained from his face, his jaw clenched.

“You disappeared for a week. No communication, no word to even Josh. I was going out of my mind, Harry! There were rumours everywhere. You were hurt, you got fired, you got caught with a student - how do you think that felt? How that looked?”

His silence said more than his words ever could, and it made your blood boil. You took a step toward him, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice starting to tremble. “You took me to the lake, you suggested the weekend away. You thought sleeping with me and then dropping me was the best plan. You kissed me, you pushed me away. And now you seriously think that I’d do this?”

When he still kept quiet, eyes flitting across your face, your anger reached boiling point. You were being mean, you knew that. You’d had just as much of a hand in anything that happened, but blaming Harry felt easier.

“Do you think I wanted any of this? You pull me close, like you want me, like you feel something, and then the second it gets too much, you push me away. Do you even know what that does to me?”

That struck a nerve. You could see it in the way his face twisted, his body recoiling slightly as if your words struck him deeper than you intended. He looked at you, and for a moment, there was something raw in his gaze.

Harry stepped closer, his body tense as if he was barely holding himself upright. He pushed his head back, inhaling a deep, deep breath before looking back at you. “You didn’t want any of that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry, and you know that. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this. But I wanted more,” you explained, turning your back on him as you tried to keep a hold of yourself.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” Harry confessed, pinching the top of his nose. “I don’t know how it all got so complicated.”

“You pulled the strings, Harry. You made it this way,” you replied, letting your chin fall to your chest. Nothing made sense to you. It had been two weeks with Harry, and you’d barely even spent any time with him during those weeks. Yet you were practically falling apart, sagging under the weight of the heartbreak.

You turned back to face Harry, needing him to see the hurt he’d caused written over your face.

His eyes dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked as though he would say something - finally actually admit what he’d been feeling. But instead, he just shook his head, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe that this had all just been some misunderstanding, that he wasn’t as scared of his own feelings as you thought. But you were exhausted. Tired of the back and forth, of the emotional whiplash that had been defining whatever it was the two of you had.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady. “What do we do now, Harry?”

He looked up at you then, and the way he was staring, it almost felt like a plea. Like he was hoping you’d have the answer, that you’d know how to fix the mess you’d both found yourself in.

But you didn’t. And if your heart hadn’t already shattered, it would have broken at the realisation that neither did he.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things. You stared at each other, neither of you knowing what to say, both of you too scared to admit how badly you needed each other.

It felt like you were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, each too wounded and too stubborn to reach across.

“I just want there to be a reality in which we can be happy.”

You turned back to face him, willing your heart not to shatter as Harry’s whisper cut through you. It was a thought you’d rejected countless times since seeing Harry in the bar that night. Happiness in a relationship, especially at the start, shouldn’t have been so hard to find and hold on to. But for some reason, there had been trouble at every turn.

You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes, the image of Harry in front of you blurring. Your hands trembled as you reached up to wipe your eye, the dam finally breaking.

Tears streamed down your face, unbidden and unstoppable. You had fought so hard to keep it together, convincing yourself that things would get better, that they could still fix what was clearly broken. But standing there in the silence in the wake of Harry’s words, you felt completely destroyed.

Harry looked away, his gaze falling to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes anymore. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as if the fight had drained all the energy out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I hate this.”

You let his words hang in the air, unsure of anything you can say or do to make the situation better. “I need to change,” you told him eventually, padding past him towards your bedroom.

Harry watched you leave, your arms hanging limply by your sides, your steps light despite the darkness weighing on you.

He followed after a minute, holding up his fist to knock on the door, before it falls to his side. He picked it up again, reaching out for the doorknob with tentative fingers, before completely abandoning any attempt to get you to let him in. His heart broke with how badly he wanted to be there, to ease you out of the day’s clothes and help you into new ones, to wipe your tears with the soft knit of his jumper and to make it all better. But he didn’t know how to be in your space, how to comfort you when he was the very source of your tears.

When you eventually opened the door, you tried to walk straight past him, but he reached out to gently catch your arm. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and in that instant, he couldn’t hold back anymore. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as your body trembled. He cradled you, his hand smoothing over your hair, the other placed firmly your back, and you stood there, enveloped in him, his scent and his touch filling the space around you, until your breathing slowed.

Once you were steady, no longer wrapped tightly around him as though he was the only thing keeping you up straight, he lead you to the sofa, his hand never leaving your lower back. You lay your head in his lap, staring straight out of the window at the setting sun.

Harry softly ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips scratching at the roots in just the way he knew you loved. A soft smile tugged at his mouth, remembering how you’d fallen asleep in seconds after his hands found your hair. His eyes never left your face, trained on every detail as though he was worried this was the last time he’d ever see them. He watched the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, noticing the faint furrow of your brows starting to smooth out after a while. The pink tint at the tip of your nose, the soft freckles dotted over your cheeks, the shine on your lower lip. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

After some time, you shifted onto your back, turning to face him. Reaching up with a gentle hand, you l pushed a stray curl from his forehead. "I’m so sorry, Harry. I never thought things would get like this,” you whispered, a single stray tear slipping down your cheek, coming to rest on the fabric of his slacks in a tiny damp spot.

"You don’t have anything to apologise for," he replied, his voice tender, laced with emotion.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you hungry? Do you want to shower?"

You nodded at that, feeling the weight of the past week clinging to you, suddenly desperate to wash it all away.

You sat up, your head pounding after so many tears and such twisting emotions, and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

You sat on the edge of the bath, staring at yourself in the mirror. You looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically drained in the wake of a week that had nearly broken you.

Harry followed you after a few minutes, watching from the doorway as you gathered your strength. He couldn’t bear the thought of a life without you, without the colours you’d brought into his world. He kneeled in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid he might break you further.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice soft. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze pleading for forgiveness, for the chance to make things right.

You nodded, too tired to protest, and that was all Harry needed. He tugged on your hands to make you stand, his hands soft and steady as he undressed you. There was a tenderness in the way he moved, a quiet determination to show you that he was still there, and that he wasn’t going to let go. Not then, not ever.

He turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature, then adjusting the radiator so it would warm your towel as you showered. As he was about to walk away, you pulled on his arm, directing his attention back to you.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, thumbing the hem of his jumper, waiting for permission to strip him of his clothes. When he didn’t protest, you undressed him in the same way he’d done for you, then finally stepped under the water.

His fingers gently brushed your hair back, away from your face, and you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water and Harry’s presence soothe you. He reached behind you, running your soap between his hands before gently massaging them over your skin.

His touch was featherlight, as if he was trying to wash away not just the exhaustion, but the hurt that had built up between you. He was careful, attentive, his actions filled with unspoken words of love and regret. As he moved, his lips brushed against your shoulder, a silent apology, a promise that he would do better. The intimacy of it made you weak, your body turning to jelly as he cared for you in a way you knew no other man was capable of.

“I don’t want you to ever think I was using you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. “You’re so much more than what you can give me.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, as he stepped a little closer to you. The warm water cascaded over both of you, its steady rhythm filling the quiet space between you and Harry. His eyes searching yours as the droplets slid down his face, his breath slightly ragged.

Your hand lifted slowly, fingers coming up to caress his cheek as you stared at each other through the steam, your fingertips lingering as if you were scared to let go.

“You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough,” Harry murmured, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, your throat closing around any words you could come up with. “Harry,” you whispered eventually, your voice raw from all the emotions of the day. “At times like this, I can really picture a life with you,” you finished, shy as the words finally came out.

You weren’t even sure what the fate of your relationship was, whether you even had another shot at happiness with him. But you knew, as much as it pained you to realise it, that things had only gotten so fucked up because both you and Harry had felt so much more intensely for one another than you’d ever expected. It wasn’t just sex, or a weird fling. There was something real between the two of you, you were certain of that.

His fingers traced along your jawline, his eyes glistening as he took in what you’d said. And then, without hesitation, Harry leaned in, closing the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, yet full of urgency. It wasn’t at all like the other times, it was deeper, filled with apology, with longing, with the need to prove that neither of you were willing to let go.

The water poured over your entwined bodies, but all you could feel was him. His kiss was tender at first, but as the seconds passed, it grew more passionate, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his lips moved against yours, seeking not just forgiveness, but something solid to hold onto as you both tried to find your way back.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kissed him back, matching his intensity, your fingers curling into his damp skin as if afraid that if you let go, you’d lose him all over again. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of his body against yours, and finally anything outside of that moment faded away.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together, Harry’s chest was heaving, his eyes still closed as if he was trying to hold onto the feeling of your lips on his. His hands didn’t leave your face, and you could feel the slight tremble in them as he pulled you into his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re everything. Everything,” Harry muttered, his voice muffled by your hair, one arm wrapping around your back, holding you tight to him.

He shut the water off after a while, letting you melt into him for as long as you needed to. The air in the bathroom was thick, warm steam curling in the corners of the room.

“Come here,” Harry murmured, holding your towel out for you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, but then you moved closer, letting him gently wrap the towel around your body. His touch was careful, tender as he pulled the fabric tight around you, tucking it securely. His fingers lingered for a second longer, grazing your bare skin as they brushed over your arms. His eyes met yours, filled with that familiar warmth, but there was something else, something quieter. Maybe regret, maybe something unsaid.

“Go on, princess,” he whispered, his voice soothing, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be taking care of you. “I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

You nodded, offering an exhausted but grateful smile before heading toward the bedroom. The weight of the day had left your body heavy, but Harry’s presence, his care, made everything seem softer, lighter somehow.

Harry stood in front of the kettle, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he waited for the water to boil. The kitchen was quiet, except for the low hum of the kettle, but his mind was anything but.

He tried to focus on the task at hand - two cups of tea, something simple. Something he could control. But his thoughts kept drifting back, slipping through the cracks he was trying to seal up. The mistakes he'd made, the moments when he’d let you down, they all crowded his mind, a slow, sinking weight in his chest.

He thought about the hurt, the missed chances to say the right thing, the times he’d let his guard down only to retreat again out of fear. He’d always been good at getting in his own way, letting his own doubts cloud the way forward. It was no different now that he had been risking his career for you. He’d wanted so badly to protect you, to keep you close without smothering you, but somewhere along the way, he’d gotten lost in his own head. And now, standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, those moments felt like stones in his chest.

You deserved better. He knew that. And he wasn’t always sure he could be that person for you. You needed someone who didn’t hurt you, who didn’t let their own insecurities and mistakes get in the way.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the thoughts down, but they kept rising, unbidden. What if he wasn’t enough? What if he made another mistake, and it was one you couldn’t forgive?

The kettle clicked off, its billowing steam piercing through his thoughts, grounding him again. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. He was there, caring for you, showing you how badly he wanted to fix what he’d broken. He poured the water over the tea bags, watching the liquid swirl, darkening as it steeped.

As he waited, he thought about the look in your eyes when he wrapped the towel around you. The way you trusted him, the way you let him take care of you without question even after such a shit show of a day - a week - because of his immature insecurities.

Teas in hand, he took a deep breath, steadying himself before heading back to the bedroom. You were perched on the edge of the bed, the beginnings of a cloud of sleep hovering over you.

“Here you go,” he whispered, placing the mugs down before brushing a strand of hair from your face.

As soon as he straightened up, the towel wrapped precariously around his toned hips threatened to come loose. His hands flew to it, protecting his modesty with a sheepish grin.

A laugh bubbled out of you for the first time that day, shaking your shoulders softly as the giggles exploded out of you.

“I should have considered this scenario before getting into the shower with you,” Harry smirked, covering the soft blush of his cheeks with his free hand.

“I still have your t-shirt,” you offered, nudging your head towards your top drawer. “But I can’t help with pants.”

“Somehow a t-shirt with a loose cock feels worse than this,” Harry murmured, frowning as he glanced down at the tiny towel barely covering any of him.

You let your eyes linger on his body for a second, knowing that absolutely none of your clothes would fit his big frame. Your gaze dropped to your own t-shirt, thinking for a beat before pulling it back over your head and dropping it by your feet. “Solidarity,” you told him, not failing to notice how his breath caught at the sight of you, as if he hadn’t just run his hands over every part of your naked body.

Harry reached over you to grab your towel, turning away before pulling his own from his body, heading towards the bathroom with a little sway in his hips, as if he knew you’d be watching.

And you were. You leaned around the door frame, eyes locked on his tight ass until he was out of sight.

The weight in your chest lightened as you smiled, the domesticity healing a part of you that you didn’t know was broken.

You lay back against your pillows, cradling your mug in your hands. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon outside, casting soft shadows across the walls. It was quiet, save for the sound of gentle breathing, yet the silence between you and Harry felt heavy.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against Harry’s shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You had been here before, so close, so intimate, but it felt different. There was a weight in the air, a lingering sense of uncertainty. You were clearly over the worst, both hearts mending slowly and carefully, but it still felt too raw and too heavy to be fixed so fast.

"Do you think we still have a chance?" your voice was faint, your words timid as if you didn’t actually want an answer, but the question pierced through the stillness with raw vulnerability. You screwed your eyes shut, afraid of what Harry’s answer might be, but you knew that it needed to be heard. The uncertainty was what had been hanging over your heads, both of your minds drifting to that very question in every quiet moment.

Harry’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you closer ever so slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tightening as he thought. He had been hurt, and so had you. But the risks were far greater for him, and anything between you both, whether it was love of heartbreak, needed to be worthy of that danger.

"I don’t know," he admitted finally, his voice hoarse. "I want to believe we do. I don’t think we would be here now if there wasn’t a chance." He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I don’t want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

You swallowed hard, turning to face him with leftover tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I don’t want to lose you either," you said, your fingers tracing small patterns over his bare chest. "But I don’t know if things can go right back to how they were.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and he gently tipped your chin up so that your eyes met. There was something soft yet intense in his gaze, a quiet determination lurking beneath. "I don’t think either of us want them back to the way they were,” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the laugh that wanted to slip out. “Maybe better than before. But I don’t know if that can happen straight away,” you confessed.

Harry took your mug from your hand, reaching behind you to place it on your nightstand, before pulling you closer to his chest. Snuggled up to his side, with his arms right around you, you suddenly felt more secure in yourself and Harry’s future than you ever had.

“All we can do is try,” he whispered against your skin, his nose nudging at your cheek.

Slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, finding a softness in his face that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if even he was uncertain about his every move, but the tenderness in his expression made your breath catch. You leaned further into him, your lips ghosting across his.

Then his lips brushed yours, a sweetness in the gesture that made your heart stutter. Your eyes were locked on each others, seeking permission and acceptance, neither of you sure about how the other would react. But when neither of you made the effort to move away, or to protest, the space between you disappeared in the smallest of breaths.

Harry’s mouth moved with hesitance, as if he wasn’t sure he really had the right to be there with you, wrapping himself around you. But you kissed him back, of course you kissed him back, praying that any movements you made showed him just how much you wanted him there.

Your hand found his, your fingers lacing together as if to make your connection deeper. Neither of you pulled away, savoring the tentative closeness, letting the quiet stretch between kisses, as if testing the waters of something new and unknown.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested against each others, breaths mingling in the soft light. Harry’s thumb brushed across the back of your hand, his touch grounding and real.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trailed over his face. “Tomorrow is a new day,” you murmured, nudging your head into the space between his shoulder and his neck, breathing him in with a content smile brewing your lips.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” Harry repeated, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

oop thank you so much for reading!!!!

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 8 months ago

Text

Thinking about bodyguard!Miguel O’Hara who insisted on waiting for you in the corner of the room while you did the table reading, rather than go wait in the car or around the lot like the rest of the cast’s personal security did.

Bodyguard!Miguel whose eyes never left your presence, it took you a minute to shake off the feeling, you always felt his eyes burning holes into your back when you were doing something and he couldn’t be right next to you. But after a while, you finally got yourself into the groove of the script material.

Bodyguard!Miguel who-despite mentally checking out ten pages into the script-was still able to pick some stuff up. It was a romance, he wasn’t surprised, since romcoms tend to sky rocket careers these days.

It was a period piece. Your character, who was named Anastasia, was a princess who was coming near the time where she had to be married off to someone else at a neighboring kingdom to be crowned as their queen, the problem is, that your character’s heart already belongs elsewhere, in the hands of one of the royal guards who worked in the castle.

That was all Miguel had really picked up.

Bodyguard!Miguel who finally tones back in when the reading was finished, hearing the head director tell everyone about how they’ll be receiving their schedules through their managers, before dismissing everyone (not before having everyone sign his copy of the script so that the marketing team can post it to social media later).

Bodyguard!Miguel who was about to make his way towards you so he could escort you home, but stopped when he saw your coworker who plays the love interest , Peter B. Parker come up to you to properly introduce himself.

—

“Why hello Anastasia.” Peter said as he came up to you with the friendliest smile you’ve ever seen, to which you quickly returned, both of you shaking hands with your free hands as the other held your respective scripts.

“Sir Tristan.” You giggled, calling him by his character name, before pulling your hand out from his. “I’m excited to work with you, I hope you feel the same.”

“Of course I am! Always ready to act with new and fresh faces-“ his phone starts to ring in his pocket, cutting him off, taking out to read the screen before looking back up at you. “I gotta take this, but I’ll keep in touch, I’ll have my manager send you my number in case you ever want tips, or to run lines over.” He told you, tucking his script under his armpit, giving you a quick wave before slipping out of the (now mostly empty) room, answering as he left.

You finally turned and headed to Miguel, who was now waiting by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you. Neither of you spoke until you were in the parking lot, that’s when Miguel finally broke the silence.

“So… Parker huh?” It was obvious Miguel had to be a bit familiar with Peter’s work, who wouldn’t be though. He was a big star at the moment, having just come off from the Spider-Man films. Still, you weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you nodded and let out a small “mhm” anyways.

—

Part 1<

Part 3<

Not proofread.

Word count:500

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @miguelzslvtz @scaleniusrm @xerorizz @enananawoah @messicampeon @anastasia1972 @lauraolar14 (if you want to be added click here, it’s easier for me then asking in the comments☺️)

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222col · 4 months ago

Note

"i'll sign an autograph later, but right now, you're in my seat." I ALMOST MOANED. The entire fic was the hottest thing i have ever read in my entire life. I know this is probably a bad idea but can you make a part 2 of Womanizer Art where he takes her out and end the night with them sleeping together just for him to stop texting her again but when he asks her to be in a committed relationship she rejects him and tells him to stop texting her. After the rejection Art tries to go back to his old ways sleeping with other girls but they don't feel like y/n or just gets depressed and only focuses on his career but he realizes that he's falling more and more for y/n no matter how hard he tried distracting himself while y/n is living her life as if nothing happened. So Art starts stalking her, going to places she goes and sabotaging her relationships with other men and he keeps texting her and sending her gifts and flowers to her house literally doing the kind of things he's has never done to another woman before until she gives in and agrees to be his girlfriend 😩 pretty please PLEASE PLEAAAAAASE 🧎‍♀️

!!!!!! thank u thank u thank u xxx yes omg love that idea but this will never be as good as @lovetrt's stalker!art but i will try my hardest 🧎🏻‍♀️ part two of this <3 | cw: slight forcefulness

"get out my fucking house." art orders the blonde in his bed when she attempts to hold him. "but-" he cuts her off with just a look. scrambling for her belongings and running out of his room. he slips his boxers back on and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. he sends yet another text to you.

can you stop being a brat and just text me back?

scrolling through the endless messages he's sent you before locking his phone and attempting to sleep once he hears the front door close.

it's been a month since your date with art. he took you to dinner and then of course back to his, where he fucked you silly on his bed again. you stayed the night, had breakfast with him before returning home. you enjoyed the date, and art's company, but as you told him, relationships weren't your thing. art isn't used to being told no, especially from girls, so when you stopped replying to his texts and wouldn't answer calls, he had to take matters into his own hands.

he's been fucking anything that moves and spending all his other free time on the tennis courts. agreeing to more brand campaigns, just in the hope that you'll see him on an ad somewhere and coming running back to his bed. art wakes up the next morning, checking his phone first thing, as he always does now, praying you'll have text him back.

not even if i actually let you fuck me with a racket?

art got in touch with patrick's buddy's now ex-girlfriend, begging for your address, telling her some bullshit like you left your watch at his and he wanted to mail it to you. she doesn't buy it, but she likes art, and does as he asks. he's been sending you flowers and presents every few days, but he knows it's time to take the next step. throwing on shorts, a t-shirt and his baseball cap, he drives to your apartment. there's a coffee shop opposite, ordering a drink and sitting outside, waiting for just a glimpse of you. he's sat there for a while, until the door to your building opens, and he sees you. an oversized t-shirt hides your underwear you lean over and kiss the man you're ushering out the door. art grits his teeth, his mind full of thoughts of fucking you on the stoop of your building.

the guy leaves, looking too smug for art's liking. he can't help himself. running over and stopping him in his tracks. "how do you know that girl?" he asks. "woah, hello? what's it to you, buddy?" the guy questions art. "just fucking tell me." art pushes, closing the distance between them, intimidating him. "she's just some girl i fuck." stepping back away from art. "how often?" art needs to know, he needs to be told you haven't slept with this random gym bro more than you have him. "alright, twenty questions, like twice a week." art's angry, tempted to knock this guy out, except that yeah, art may be taller, but he doesn't think he's as strong. "for how long?" art keeps questioning. "christ man, look i'm sorry if she's your girlfriend or something, i met her like two months ago, we've been hooking up since then." art's eyes narrow, looking down at him. "stay the fuck away from her." he seriously doesn't know what's come over him, normally he can't stand to look at a girl after he's come all over her, but now, here he is, squaring up to a stranger that fucked you.

art comes to the coffee shop opposite your apartment most mornings, warning of any of the guys that you walk to the door. spamming your phone with more and more texts, he can't take it anymore. arriving at the coffee shop again, waiting for you to kick the guy out of your bed. he catches the door to your building as someone leaves, no more than ten minutes after you showed the latest guy out of your apartment. he runs up to your door, turning the handle, silly little girl not locking her door, he thinks as he enters your apartment. you've driven him crazy, he could get anyone else he wanted, but he's here, breaking into your home because the five minutes he sees you every morning aren't enough anymore. he needs to feel you, breath you in, taste you.

there you are, stood in your kitchen, making coffee in nothing more than a bra and panties. he's already hard, coming up behind you, covering your mouth with his hand, immediately kissing your neck. you try to scream, eyes wide as you extend your neck, trying to get a glimpse of your perpetrator. art fucking donaldson. you push your body off of him. "you're a fucking psychopath!" you shout, trying to steady your breath. his hand reaches between your legs. "why are you so wet then?" he's right, you're soaked. you hate how your body is secretly loving what he's doing. he's so fucking desperate for you, you've never seen anything like it. you slap him across the face, he turns back to you, his eyes are dark and he's smirking. he reaches over and grabs you by the throat, "stop acting like you don't want to fuck me right now." a moan escapes your lips, satisfaction spreading over his face.

"tell me, tell me you don't want me to fuck you and i'll leave." pulling you closer by the grip around your neck. you can barely breathe, forcing your words out. "fuck me, please," it takes seconds for him to spin you round and bend you over the counter. pulling your panties down your legs. "good girl, you even said please." he pushes his shorts down his legs, spanking your ass before pushing himself into you. your knuckles turn white, gripping the side of the counter so hard, his hands on your hips, bruising your skin as he thrusts in and out of you. "such a dirty little slut aren't you, baby," he bites your earlobe, all you can do is nod your head as your eyes roll back. he spanks your ass again, gripping and biting and sucking every bit of your skin he can.

"you missed this dick, didn't you princess?" you're not lying when you tell him yes, he's the best sex you've ever had. he lifts one of your legs on to the counter, pushing himself in deeper. it's mere moments before you're a mess before him, screaming his name as you orgasm. he kisses your back as you do, not slowing down until he pushes himself over the line, pulling out of you as his come drips down your legs. you both stay still for a few seconds, collecting your breath before art spins you round to face him. "will you please, please, be my girlfriend, fuck me," he's kissing all over your face. "art, you've only taken me on one date, and i told you, i don't do relationships." he only stops kissing you to reply. "i don't fucking care," he wraps his arms around your naked body. you hate commitment, it petrifies you, but something, somewhere in you is screaming at you to say yes. "if i say yes, will you stop sitting at that damn coffee shop every morning?" you're teasing him, and for the first time, you see art shy. "i'm sorry, i don't know what's happening to me, i'm not usually this fucking obsessive, you've done something to me." his head is buried in the nape of your neck. "fine, yes, i will be your girlfriend." his head shoots up, kissing you so intensely. "fucking finally."

#idk how i feel about this #challengers #challengers fic #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donalson x reader #challengers au #challengers smut #womanizer!art

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deadhands69 · 1 month ago

Text

Something More [than each other]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: smut, angst!!!, light violence/injuries, drinking/intoxication, vomiting, swearing.

[sorry, you’re a mess in this one - i'll make it up in the next one, i promise!]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - this is part 7 - part 8

“[y/n]”

Your name in his voice haunted your dreams and followed you through the day well after you’d woken-up. Such a small thing to mean so much. Maybe you’re overthinking it, you have to be. People say things they don't mean to during sex all the time. Especially when they've had a bit to drink.

It's not like that though, this is different.

Katsuki Bakugo had never used your real name before, opting to call you ‘Backfire’ based on your quirk or some other rude nickname he came up with on the spot. If he hadn't added it to the top of a project the two of you submitted together, you could have assumed he didn't even know your full name. Even after sleeping with him for a month you still weren’t on a first name basis.

That is, until last night.

The memory is etched into your mind. Living rent free, playing on repeat.

“[y/n],” he moaned in your ear moments before whimpering into your neck as he finished. His face lingered on your shoulder, soft lips grazing your skin while he panted to catch his breath. Typically, he moved quickly. One of you being out the door of the other's room within five minutes. Last night he took his time, arms wrapped around you even after you'd both recovered. Eventually, he kissed the back of your neck, cleaned himself up a bit, and left - forgetting his hoodie on your bed.

(Like someone who is normal and totally not obsessed,) you've picked apart every detail of the night for signs of meaning. It all comes back to your name. Over and over and over again.

Nothing else exists.

Of course, you want to ask someone for advice but you haven't told anyone yet. When you tried to, it felt too personal. Also, with your friends reminiscing about their cute dates it felt weird asking them to decipher the significance of your friend with benefit’s moans. A friend they'd known since high school. Too awkward.

You couldn't even talk to Bakugo for a reaction, because he left this morning. His part time side-kick job requires him to travel sometimes. He'll be in another country the whole week and you don't think he even has cell service. It's just you now. You, here alone in your room with his voice stuck in your head.

You want to text him every time you're thinking of him, but don't want him to be overwhelmed when his flight lands and the messages come flooding in.

This is a totally normal way to feel about a friend you tell yourself while laying face down, clutching his sweatshirt in the bed he fucked you in last night.

A week later, and you still can't get him out of your head. Your closest friends have been keeping an eye on you more than usual, although they don't know the whole story. Being the only people (as far as you know) who know about your "situation" with him, they both assume you're distant this week because of his absence.

If only they knew.

In any case, Jiro and Mina are heading to a party tonight and you decide to tag along. It'll be good to get out for a bit. Quickly throwing on something cute, you don't make too much of an effort because Bakugo only just returned so he's likely jet lagged and going to bed early. You saw him out your window a bit earlier, looking tired and pretty roughed up. Tomorrow you'll reach out. For now, let him rest for the night. He needs it.

In the lobby, you meet up with your friends before leaving. Kiri texted Mina that Bakugo would be there as well. Your heart jumps more than you'd like to admit at that. The three of you almost wait for them but Kaminari wants to make a beer stop on the way so you agree you'll see them all there shortly. Everyone seems to be preparing to go harder than most nights.

There will be no crazy partying for you though.

Professor Aizawa was nice enough to offer to train with you in the morning, making space in his busy schedule. You’ve been struggling with expanding the reach of your quirk and mentioned it to him in passing. Much to your surprise, he’d offered to help. In spite of what Katsuki Bakugo believes, you absolutely do not have a crush on your teacher but he’s been your favorite hero since you were a little kid and you can’t pass the opportunity.

Speaking of Bakugo, you see Sero and Kaminari. Where is he?

This house is massive. You begin wandering around the party in search of a tall blonde, he should stand out. The living room is dimly lit but you finally spot his messy hair. And he's-

Suddenly, you wish you hadn't seen him. In a dark corner, he's letting himself be pressed into the wall by a random girl you'd never seen before. His hand on her shoulder, staring down into her eyes making that awful lovesick face.

Fuck.

Being stabbed in the heart might have felt better. You stumble out the door of the house, the contents of your stomach begging to escape. A quick visit to the bushes gains the attention of a very worried Jiro, but you're determined to get out of there. You can explain it to her later (considering how hesitant she still is of your situation, she'll completely understand.)

Carelessly, you slam straight into Shinso. His purple gaze looking you over to make sure you’re okay. There’s some unspoken communication between him and your friend before he decides to get you home safely. You know you’re completely sober but by the way you’re behaving, eyes glazed over and stumbling, no one else does. Nor would they believe it if you pressed the issue. You don’t fuss about it, simply following him on autopilot.

You’re not here though, your brain is a million miles away being forcefully wrenched from some universe where you and Bakugo had any chance together.

He’s not yours, you know that.

He’s not anyone’s. He doesn’t do that sort of thing.

You know it was just physical. Just for fun.

You know it shouldn’t be a big deal.

You know.

Then why does this hurt so bad?

Shinso grabs your wrist, helping you narrowly avoid tripping over a curb. Still, you can’t be bothered to pay attention to your surroundings.

Your heart hurts. You just want to be home in bed, but even that doesn't sound comfortable. Nothing and nowhere will make you feel better. And what's worse, you let this happen. You shouldn't have spent the last week daydreaming about someone you should have known doesn't care about you like that.

You told him you wanted more fun in your life and, feeling guilty, he gave you that. What was it he said at the beginning of the term, that you needed to get laid but no one pitied you enough to? Then he had reason to feel bad and proceeded to sleep with you. Maybe you should have listened to him when he told you who he was. Let's face it: you chose the wrong person to care for.

The boy with his hand around your arm is so fucking nice, why can’t you just like him?

Or anyone else? Or better yet, no one?

Before you know it, you’re sobbing. Concern creeps over the violet haired boy’s face, having been prepared to keep you safe physically, not knowing to expect this. He brings his face level with yours and asks if you’re okay. You don’t respond.

Because you’re not okay.

You want your life to go back to when you were happy just being alone. Before you knew what it was like to be close to Katsuki Bakugo. Before you let him get too close.

[sorry this one is so short! it made the most sense to end this part here. i won't leave you hanging too long though - part 8 will be up very soon. it's the final part, switching between Bakugo’s perspective and yours]

part 8 m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove @gold24fish @ita606 @arc6021

@pikachuzhc @jeanbabygirl @nemisimp

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wandascosmic · 4 months ago

Text

get your humor like i do (3)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part three of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 2871

tags: best friends to lovers, reader being completely in love with wanda, wanda's an oblivious best friend, i might mean oblivious to her own feelings as well but who knows, both of them being complete dorks, reader messing with sam with wanda as her pranking accomplice

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“Last night, on trading spouses,” you told Wanda enthusiastically, leaning over her desk on your elbows.

“Uh huh,” Wanda nods, chewing on the end of her pen as she listens to your story with a smile.

“There was- oh, wait, have you seen it?” a look of realization comes across your face.

“No, actually, I have a life,” Wanda jokingly responds.

You laugh, “Interesting,” you played along, “What’s that like?”

“Fun, you should try it sometime,” Wanda quips back.

“Wow,” you said thoughtfully, staring off with a wistful look in your eye. “But then who would watch my TV?” you remark.

Wanda laughed agreeingly as she looked up at you from her chair.

“That’s sort of like a win-lose-” you continue until Tony’s voice interrupted your sentence.

“Y/N, can I see you for a minute please?”

Giving your favorite receptionist an apologetic look, you nod before following your boss into his office.

Wanda frowns slightly, sighing as she picks up her phone and gets back to work.

***

“I need you to help me decide on which healthcare plan the office should be on, then explain it to the rest of the office,” Tony says to you as you sit across from him at his desk, handing you the large stack of papers with the various healthcare plan options.

You nod slightly, “Wow, this is a great offer,” you point out, truthfully not believing your lie for a second.

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Tony replies with disinterest.

“But Tony, I really think I should be concentrating on sales,” you told him, holding back a smile at your plan. “I just don’t think this is a task that I’m well-equipped for, but I do know someone who is.”

“Wow, who’s that?” Tony answers monotonely.

“I think Sam would be great for this. You know, he’s smart, hardworking-” you sell your idea.

“Sure, yeah, whatever, go get him then,” Tony cuts you off.

You nod in agreement, smiling as you walk out of Tony’s office.

Sam was such a sucker.

***

“You did it again,” Wanda remarks, seeing Sam sitting in Tony’s office through the window, excitedly taking the papers Tony handed him.

“I did,” you admit, smiling at her as you're back at her desk once more.

“I can’t believe that actually works every time,” she says with a laugh.

You shrug. “Sam’s such a suckup that he’ll do anything to get on Tony’s good side. So, naturally, in his good nature he should be glad to do any task Tony gives him. Even the ones he gave to me first,” you say smugly, popping a candy from the dish at her desk into your mouth.

“You’re quite devious,” Wanda teases.

“All in a day’s work, Maximoff,” you reply with a grin.

***

Sam has fucked up awfully. You suppose it's no surprise since Sam has a limited understanding of natural human needs, however, his healthcare plan is basically as cheap as a gas station slushie. Everyone in the office is completely outraged.

You and Wanda have decided to attempt to convince Sam to fix his plan, as the health care coverage he’s chosen is basically second to none.

“Sam,” Wanda says as she opens the door to the conference room with you following behind her with your hands in your pockets.

“Wanda, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?! This is an office,” Sam says exasperated from the table he’s sitting at with papers scattered all over as you and Wanda stop to stand in front of him.

“It says workspace,” you point out, nudging your head toward the sign on the door, knowing Sam had argued toward the title of office, but Tony had told him no.

“Same thing,” Sam argues, reading over the papers.

“If it’s the same thing, then why did you write ‘workspace’?” you ask with curiosity.

“Just knock, Y/N,” Sam says frustrated. “It’s a sign of respect, and as your superior, I deserve that respect.”

“You’re not my superior,” you retort.

“Ok, well, then why do I have an office?”

You tilt your head slightly. “I thought it was a workspace, Sam?”

“Okay!” Wanda interrupts, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Sam, are you really in charge of picking the healthcare plan?” she asks the worker in front of her, crossing her arms over her button-up shirt.

“Yes, and my decision is final,” he responds with assertiveness.

“This is a ridiculously awful plan, Sam, you cut everything,” Wanda explains to him, her worry increasing at the fact that it might as well be considered as having basically no health care coverage whatsoever. You rub your hand slightly across her back, noticing the slight furrow in her brows indicating the fact that she’s worried.

Sam pouts in fake pity, ignoring the scene in front of him. “Well, times are tough, Wanda. Might as well get used to it.”

You narrow your eyes, his dig at Wanda irritating you slightly. “You cut more than you had to, didn’t you?” you cut in, knowing Sam’s lack of sympathy for anything related to the human race.

“Sure,” Sam shrugs without care.

“Well, why did you do that?” you ask, not understanding why he wouldn’t want health care coverage for himself as well. “You work here, Sam, don’t you want good insurance?”

Sam scoffs. “I don’t need it, Y/N,” he says obviously. “I’ve never been sick. I have a perfect immune system.”

You and Wanda look at each other in uncertainty. “Okay, well if you’ve never been sick, then you don’t have any antibodies,” you explain to him.

“I don’t need them. I have superior genes, I’m a Wilson. And on top of that, I have superior brain power. With extreme concentration, I can raise and lower my cholesterol at will,” he argues.

“Why would you want to raise your cholesterol?” Wanda asks, looking at Sam warily.

“So I can lower it, obviously.”

***

“Everyone, gather around,” Sam announces, stepping out of the conference room, looking frustrated.

You swivel around in your chair to face him, ready for whatever irritating thing will come out of his mouth this time.

“It has been brought to my attention that some of you are unhappy with my plan,” he says, his annoyance seeping through. “So what I’d like you all to do, is to fill out this form and write down any diseases you might be suffering from that you would like covered, and I’ll see what I can do, since you people are weak enough to get sick.”

You raise your hand, a clear issue in his plan sticking out to you. “Sam,” you cut in, and he looks at you irritated. “Well, we can’t write down our diseases for you because that’s confidential.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay, well, I didn’t say to write your name down, did I?” he answers sarcastically. “You can fill it out, and leave it anonymous. Or, don’t write down any disease at all, and it won’t be covered. “Sam slams the forms on the shelf next to the wall. “Alright, I’ll be in my office.” He retreats back into the conference room.

“Workspace,” you remind him.

Sam slams the door closed.

***

You stand at Wanda’s desk, the two of you filling out your forms together in silence.

Looking over at Wanda, you notice her biting back a smile as she fills out her form.

“Wait, what are you writing?” you ask with curiosity.

She looks up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Don’t write ‘Ebola’, or ‘mad cow disease’,” you tell her, her smile faltering slightly. “‘Cause I’m suffering from both of them,” you grin, showing her your paper.

Wanda laughs. “I’m inventing new diseases,” she reveals.

“Oh, great,” you lean further over her desk, intrigued.

“So, like, let’s say my teeth turn to liquid,” she describes. “And then, they drip down the back of my throat, what would you call that?”

“I thought you said you were inventing new diseases, Maximoff,” you wave your hand in an obvious gesture. “That’s spontaneous dento-hydroplosion,” you describe with a smile.

Wanda looks at you, impressed. “Nice,” she states.

“Thank you,” you respond, smiling as you watch her write down the fake disease excitedly.

***

“Y/N!” Sam growls from the conference room, rushing out the door. “All right, who did this?” he yells, holding up the forms.

“What are you talking about?” you ask with a tilt of your head, still standing at Wanda’s desk.

“Someone here forged medical information, and that is a felony,” Sam accuses, narrowing his eyes at every one of the office staff. .

“Whoa, that’s a pretty serious accusation there, Sam,” you warn, holding up both your hands in fake surrender. “How do you know that they’re fake?” you ask him.

“It’s obvious, Y/N,” Sam retorts. Reading out the diseases, he lists, “These hysterical diseases like, flesh-eating bacteria.” You snort. “Hot dog fingers.”

“Wow, that sounds awful,” you whisper quietly to Wanda who snickers at your dig.

“And my least favorite,” Sam reads out. “Government-created killer nano-robot infection.”

Wanda looks up at you cheekily, and you widen your eyes, impressed.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Sam accuses you, as you turn back around, narrowing his eyes.

“Absolutely not,” you answer calmly.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I know it was you,” Sam argues. “Okay, you know what,” Sam says frustrated. “I’m going to have to interview each and every one of you until the perpetrator makes him or herself known. And until then,” he pauses. “There will be absolutely no healthcare coverage for anyone!” Sam yells out, retreating back into his workspace and slamming down the papers in anger.

Holding in your smile, you ask, “Killer nano-robots?” you inquire to the receptionist in front of you.

“It’s an epidemic,” Wanda shrugs with a playful glint in her eyes, smiling at you.

You shake your head in amusement.

***

“The problem, Y/N,” Sam starts.

“Mhm,” you acknowledge, sitting across from him in the conference room.

“Is that the people who are really suffering from a medical condition won’t receive the care they need, because someone in this office is coming up with all this ridiculous stuff.” He picks up a form.

You listen with fake intrigue.

“For example, Count Choculitis,” he reads out.

You whistle. “Sounds tough.”

“Why did you write that down, Y/N? Is it because you know I love Count Chocula?” he says with seriousness.

“Do you?” you ask.

“I think you need to confess,” he explains.

“Mhm,” you nod, standing up out of your chair.

“The fact-”

“Yup.” You grab his keys from his desk.

“What are you doing?” he asks in confusion.

“What?” you ask, as you open the door and walk out.

“Those are my keys, Y/N,” he tells you, slowly standing up out of his chair.

“Good luck,” you tell him, starting to close the door on him.

“Y/N!” he sprints after you, the door closing before he can stop it from closing. “Damn it!” he slams his palms on the door window in frustration.

Locking the door completely, you hold the keys by their key ring to taunt him, then smile as you throw them behind your back where they land across the room.

“Let me out!” he bangs on the door.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you retort, plopping yourself down at your desk as you can’t stop the shit-eating grin on your face.

***

You smirk as your phone starts to ring.

“Y/N L/N,” you say mockingly as you answer.

“Let me out,” Sam says immediately through the phone.

“Who is this?” you reply, swiveling around in your chair to face him as he glares daggers at you.

“Let me out or you’re fired,” he fights back.

“No, you can’t fire me,” you say as you turn back around, putting your feet up on the desk.

“Yes, I can, I’m the manager for the day,” he retorts.

“Mhm,” you nod, not believing him for a second.

“Clean out your desk,” he continues.

“Ok.”you reply, when suddenly, your phone rings again. “Can you hold on one second?” you tell Sam as if you’re speaking to a customer. “I’m getting a, uh, beep.”

“No, don’t you dare put me on hold!” Sam shouts.

You ignore him, answering the incoming call. “Y/N L/N,” you introduce.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Wanda,” you hear the smile in her voice.

“Hey, Wanda!” you say enthusiastically, “How are ya?” Wanda playing pranks with you was a long-time tradition in your friendship, and it was something you treasured very close to your heart. Plus, it made you fall in love with her even more every time.

Sam bangs on the door, interrupting your train of thought. “For god’s sake, Y/N, open the door!” he shouts from the conference room.

You ignore him, continuing your conversation with Wanda.

“I’m doing good, how are you?” Wanda answers, watching you with a grin on her face. Playing pranks with you was probably one of her favorite things in the world.

“I’m doing ok,” you respond through the phone. “Getting excited for the weekend though.”

“Yeah, same, oh, I’m not bothering you, am I?” Wanda asks, biting her fist to hold in her laughter.

“No, not at all!” You reassure, turning your chair to look over at Wanda as she looks back at you with her glistening smile.

“No? You don’t have anything you’re doing?” she says mischievously.

“I have absolutely nothing to do,” you shake your head.

“Y/N! Sam yells from the conference room, banging on the door once more.

“Yeah, no, this weekend, I’ve got nothing,” Wanda says on the phone with you. “I’m not really doing anything.”

“Y/N!” Sam shouts again. “Stop flirting with Wanda and let me out!”

“Might go to the mall,” Wanda continues.

“The mall,” you repeat.

“I need new shoes,” she tells you.

“Oh, interesting, what kind of shoes?”

Wanda finally breaks as she laughs.

You smile, wanting to mess with Sam a bit more both for your entertainment and Wanda’s, you hold up your eraser to show her and she nods as she knows what you’re about to do. Turning around, you show Sam the eraser as well, then throw it directly at the window where he’s standing with fury in his eyes.

“I tried being rational!” Sam shouts at you.

***

“Tony, why did you leave Sam in charge of the healthcare plan?” Nat asks Tony, as he steps out of his office, the rest of the workers surrounding their boss in a circle.

“What did he do?” Tony asks disinterestedly, reading over the magazine in his hands. .

“His plan is awful, it’s basically a pay decrease,” Bruce explains to him.

Seeing Sam walk out of his workspace as he finally unlocks the conference room door after trying to pick it for an hour, the workers start to shout at hiim in frustration.

“Sam, what did you do?” Tony interrupts. “Didn’t you raise benefits?”

“I most certainly did not,” Sam retorts, crossing his arms and glaring back at everyone who looks at him in anger.

Tony sighs, exasperated. “I should’ve never let you do this,” he puts his head in his hand. “Alright, everyone, go home, it’s after 5, I’ll call corporate and have this fixed by the end of tomorrow.”

The workers mutter their distaste for the awful day they’ve had, starting to scatter and pack up their things.

“This isn’t over,” Sam tells you as you and him both pack up your things at your desks.

“Can’t wait, Sam,” you smirk at him as he scoffs back, bumping into your shoulder as he starts to walk out with his briefcase in his hand.

***

After packing your messenger bag, you run up to Wanda’s desk, drumming your fingers on the ledge as you ask her if she would like to walk out with you.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Wanda apologizes. “Vision’s on his way up now to pick me up so we can leave together.”

“Oh, okay, no problem,” you assure, your heart slightly deflating as you hear about her fiance once more.

“Thanks,” Wanda smiles.

“Yeah, you too,” you respond. “Hey, uh, that was great, how you helped me out with messing with Sam.”

Wanda laughs. “Yeah, that was fun. You really got him today, it was awesome.”

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” you tell her with a soft smile.

Wanda looks at you with affection, and you stare back at her, admiring the infinite green swirls in her eyes.

Clearing your throat you say, “So, um, I should probably head out.” You point to the door behind you.

“Oh, yeah,” Wanda nods with realization. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Maximoff,” you bid her goodbye with a wave.

Closing the door behind you as you step out of the office, you sigh at the day you’ve had, chuckling slightly at how you messed with Sam.

As you descend the flight of stairs to walk out to your car, a small smile makes its way across your face at the thought of a certain green-eyed brunette who always managed to brighten your day with just a simple look.

part 4

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