#hey so I haven't written anything in a long time so why not come back with a banger eh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hard-core-super-star · 5 months ago

Text

push me on the counter, call me princess [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

warnings: PURE SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> mentions of cheating! [no actual cheating, though! wandanat have an agreement, R doesn't know about it until things get spicy]; mommy + daddy kink; nipple play; impact play; wanda using her powers to hold R down; fingering [R receiving]; oral [Nat receiving]; twinges of humiliation; degradation + praise; nat's a little mean but we love her for it; use of the term 'slut'; probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: so...i'm technically not doing anything official for kinktober this year because school is kicking my butt already BUT i have a few ideas for some very filthy smut fics so i'll be posting them this month. i haven't written for wandanat in a minute so i hope i did them justice. please let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

That's what you told Wanda when she pushed you against the farthest wall in some dingy, badly-lit, New York bar.

The two of you had come back from a long, draining, mission and, instead of staying at the Compound and actually resting, you decided to go out and get drunk to let off some steam. The mission had technically been a success, but it had also been a pain in the ass...and in the shoulder, thanks to the knife wound you'd received.

So, yeah, maybe going out wasn't the best idea in the first place.

In your defense, it was borderline impossible to say no to the witch. Mainly because she was very convincing when she wanted to be, but also because of your massive, and borderline ridiculous, crush on her.

To make matters worse, Wanda was pissed off at Natasha for...something and you ended up taking the place of a supportive partner.

It would have been fine had the drinks in your system not made your inhibitions lower significantly, which rendered you helpless against the green-eyed woman of your dreams. Then again, it's not like you were particularly against that idea in the first place.

Maybe that made you a horrible person.

Maybe that made Wanda a monster.

But how could she be one when she whispered the sweetest words in your ear while taking you over the edge and destroying you in the most pleasurable of ways? How could there be anything wrong about her soft caresses and gentle smiles?

A part of you knows the answer. It's wrong because the witch's heart isn't yours. Or worse, because someone else's heart belongs to the witch.

Because for all their problems and arguments, Wanda and Natasha love each other. At the very least, they tolerate each other enough to stay together.

And you don't fit into their relationship.

You shouldn't.

But Wanda isn't a person you can just ignore.

She makes that perfectly clear no less than a week after your little "mistake".

You're in the kitchen at the Compound, eating some leftovers and scrolling through your phone to keep yourself occupied, when Wanda walks in. You don't need to look at her to know she's pissed off. Her energy is way too heavy to mean anything else.

"Hey, Wands," you say, barely looking up from your phone out of fear of falling under her spell once more.

She walks over to you, leaning against the counter and silently watching you for a second. Her silence honestly scares you, but you don't question her yet. You know better than that.

"You've been avoiding me," she says, her voice soft yet not gentle. "Why is that?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the question.

You know you can't lie to her, she's a freaking mind reader, but you can't exactly tell her the truth. You've both been trying to ignore it since the morning you woke up tangled together in her bed.

A bed she shares with someone who isn't you.

"I've been busy," you reply with a shrug. "Kate's been forcing me to train every day."

Clearly, that's the wrong answer, considering the tilt of her head.

Yup. You're fucked now.

"Is that so? I didn't realize you two were such good...friends."

Wanda pushes herself off the counter, taking slow, calculated, steps until she's standing behind you. If you weren't so focused on keeping your voice steady, you might have been able to guess what her plan in.

"Well, we both love annoying Clint and making Yelena mad."

She hums in response as her arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you back until you're firmly pressed against her.

The action almost makes you fall off your stool. You somehow stay put, though, even as every fiber of your being tells you to leave. The harsh truth is that you don't want to leave.

You want her so badly that the consequences don't seem to matter.

Nothing matters but her.

Which is exactly what she wants.

"You should be careful with the little archer," she says, her hands not so subtly caressing your sides. "You know she's just going to use you then throw you away when she's bored."

The irony in her words isn't lost on you.

You open your mouth to let her know that when her hands move up and brush against your chest. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from gasping.

"Wanda," you hiss. "We're in the middle of the kitchen."

"Relax, detka," she whispers into your ear, your body instantly obeying her words. "You know I won't let anyone see."

"Do I?" you reply. "Because it seems exactly like something you'd enjoy."

The witch chuckles despite herself. "That's true but you're not the only trying to keep things a secret."

You know her words should make you feel worse about this whole thing but right now, they only serve to turn you on. As messed up as it is, there's something exciting about the situation.

About how much Wanda wants you.

So, even though you know you should push her away, you lean back against her, allowing her hands to explore your body however she wishes.

Your obedience (if you can even call it that) is instantly rewarded by the other woman. Her hands sneak their way under your shirt, her fingers drawing teasing shapes on your warm skin as she makes the journey upward.

"You're such a good girl for me, baby," she mumbles almost absent-mindedly. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me play with you whenever I want."

A part of you wants to put up a fight. To show her you have a bigger backbone than she realizes. That you're able to switch the tables on her whenever you want.

Unfortunately, that part of you goes quiet the second her fingers find your nipples. "Look at you, all ready for me, huh?"

"Shut up," you mumble as your cheeks heat up.

Your words of defiance earn you a sharp pinch to your already sensitive nipples. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

It's impossible to stop your back from arching as the leftover sting rushes through your system. You'd learned the hard way that Wanda could either be the sweetest or the most unforgivable lover. In a way, it made being with her all the more exciting...and unpredictable.

Then again, you can't pretend you don't like it. If you didn't, you would have never gotten mixed up with her in the first place.

"Sorry," you whisper, not sounding particularly sincere.

If Wanda notices, she doesn't point it out and instead goes right back to playing with your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples as she pleases.

Her actions only serve to make you more and more desperate for her. It's almost embarrassing how good she is at reading you. At knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess.

A part of you knows it's thanks to her powers that she can read your desires so well, but you ignore the thought for now. You could beat yourself up over all this later, right now, you had a very important task ahead of you.

"You're eager today," she teases, her eyes zeroing in on the slight movement of your hips. "Did you miss me that much?"

You're not sure why you're in such a defiant mood today but your mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. "Yeah, Kate was too busy today."

You don't see the scarlet that begins to overtake her eyes since you have your back to her. You miss the warning signs until she uses her magic to bend you over the counter, keeping your hands behind your back.

"You're going to regret talking to me like that," she says, holding you down easily thanks to her magic.

It's obvious you should apologize and yet you remain as composed as you possibly can given the situation. As stupid as it is, you're still mad at her for putting you in this situation.

Out of the two of you, she was the one who was in the wrong. She was the one fucking up her relationship just because she was upset with her girlfriend. And she had the audacity to pull you down with her.

To make you like it.

You couldn't place all the blame on her and yet you did it anyway. As if that would somehow fix the entire situation.

Her hand comes down on your ass before you can make your predicament worse. The sudden sensation makes you jump, the leftover sting taking over your mind.

"Wanda." Your attempt to sound mad falls completely flat since your voice is far too breathless for it to be convincing.

She spanks you again. Once. Twice. Each time striking both harder and faster.

"Try again, detka," she tells you, her voice unforgiving. "And then maybe, I'll go easy on you."

She won't.

You know she won't. But the idea that she could is more than tantalizing enough.

Although, then again, it wasn't like you didn't enjoy calling her by her beloved title.

"Mommy," you whisper, your voice sounding way too loud in the empty kitchen.

You don't need to be looking at her to see the proud grin that takes over her features.

This is the real reason why she wants you. Why she likes being with you. Because she doesn't need to fight you to get you to submit to her every whim.

"Good girl." Wanda's hands toy with the waistband of your pants. "Tell me what you want."

You allow the silence to drag on for a second longer than necessary. You both know you won't deny her, you can't, but that doesn't mean you can't keep her guessing.

Maybe then she'll grow tired of you and stop using you so carelessly.

"Want you to touch me...please, mommy."

You half expect her to drag the moment out until you can't hold yourself back from begging for more. For her.

She doesn't, though, because unbeknownst to you, she's playing a different kind of game with you today.

Wanda uses her powers to undress you, barely giving you a second to register just how vulnerable she's leaving you. You know no one will walk in on you two, she promised you that much, but that doesn't make it any less scary...and thrilling.

"Look at you," she coos, her fingers spreading your slick folds. "So wet and I've barely even touched you. Such a needy thing, aren't you, sweetheart?"

It's embarrassing how hard your walls clench around pure air from the mere tone of her voice. It's that intoxicating mix between degrading and sweet that you want everything she's willing to give you.

"Yes, mommy," you whimper.

"Oh, I know," she says, pushing the tip of her index finger into your tight cunt. "She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but her powers hold you down and stop you from turning to look at her. Your question is answered before you can even ask it, though, as a certain pair of black boots make their way into your field of vision.

"I'm not sure." The sound of Natasha's voice sends a shiver down her spine. "She looks like a desperate slut to me."

Wanda stops you from answering, thanks to her powers. "Oh, come on, Nat, don't be mean. Look how eager she is to be played with."

The redhead rolls her eyes. "That just proves my point."

The witch laughs, taking the moment to sink her finger deeper into your pussy, relishing the wet sounds that fill the kitchen. You're more than a little humiliated, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. Worse, there's nothing you can do to deny how wet the situation is making you.

How desperate you are for more.

Wanda knows. Of course, she knows. It's partly because of her powers and partly because she knows your body far too well. And because she knows you so well, she gives you a chance to call the whole thing off before it even truly starts.

"What's your color, y/n?"

It would be so easy to say "red" and stop everything. You know there would be zero judgement. That despite whatever agreement they've come to, they'd both take a step back and make sure you were okay.

And yet...you can't seem to form the word.

Because, as much as you don't want to admit it...you want this.

"Green..." you whisper.

Wanda leans in, taking your mind off of Natasha's eyes on you, and peppers soft kisses across your back. The softness of her lips is a stark contrast to her previous demeanor and it helps calm down your speeding nerves.

The Russian steps forward, her hand cupping your face and gently tilting it backward until your eyes meet. "You want this, don't you, darling?"

You don't want to admit it but you can't bring yourself to lie to her. "Yes...I want this."

The sharpness in her eyes fades away slightly. There's still an edge of annoyance in her features but she looks almost as turned on as you feel. "Good girl."

Your walls clench around Wanda's finger and she chuckles before starting to move in and out of your tight heat. "I think she likes you, Nat."

"Shut up."

Wanda adds another finger into the mix, expertly stretching you out and drawing out a long moan from your parted lips. "That's it, just give in, sweetheart. Doesn't it feel better when you stop thinking so much?"

It's startling how right she is.

She doesn't wait for an answer this time, though, she simply speeds up her movements, curling her fingers in the way that drives you crazy. The pleasure slowly overwhelms your mind, removing all other thoughts until all you can focus on is how good it all feels. How much you like submitting to them like this.

"Mommy..." You whine, watching the way Natasha's eyes darken in response to your sounds. "Please...need more."

"Aw, are two fingers not enough for you, baby?" The fake pity in her tone turns you on more than it should. "Does your greedy pussy need more?"

You nod desperately, ignoring the humiliation that lingers in your every move.

All that earns you is another laugh from Wanda and an eye roll from Natasha.

The redhead steps back from you, causing you to whimper, before her hands move to her belt. Her eyes remain on yours as she starts removing her garments, slowly revealing the red strap-on resting between her legs.

Your lips part almost instantly once you catch sight of the full size of it and just how incredibly dominant it makes Natasha look. You shouldn't be surprised considering what everyone, including Wanda, always say about her. Then again, seeing is believing.

"So fucking eager, aren't you?" You know the Russian is technically making fun of you, but you can't help feeling a bit proud of yourself for the grin on her face.

She steps forward, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair and guide you forward. There's something weirdly soft about her movements, about the way she takes her time with you. Maybe, just maybe, she likes you more than she's let on.

You wrap your lips around the head of the dildo, your eyes glued to Natasha's face. You can see the flecks of pleasure spreading across her features, the way she clenches her jaw to stop herself from vocalizing it. It's like you're stuck in a far too arousing competition with her. Each of you trying your damn harderst to break the other.

Unfortunately for you, you also have Wanda working behind you, her fingers restlessly pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. She knows exactly how to wind you up.

Exactly how to keep you on your toes yet wanting more.

Natasha guides you further down her cock, working the length deeper into your mouth. "You look so much better like this, malyshka."

"I told you," Wanda pipes up, choosing that exact moment to work another finger into your tight heat. "You just wanted to be a party pooper."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next, Maximoff."

"You're no fun."

You've never heard Wanda like this. So pouty and borderline bratty. It's a stark contrast to the dominant woman you've grown so attached to. To the one that turns your brain to putty with just a few words.

"Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Mommy's still in charge here."

You moan in response, the sound muffled by the dildo currently stuffing your mouth.

"If you're Mommy," Natasha says, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Does that make me Daddy?"

You try to voice your approval for the title but neither of the women pay attention to you. They just keep talking like you're not even there, like all you are is a toy for them to play with.

"I thought you didn't like being called that."

The redhead shrugs in response. "I don't but now I'm curious."

"I think our good girl would like it."

You wait for Natasha to complain and say something about how you aren't theirs. Maybe make fun of you again for even thinking they'd ever entertain that idea.

She doesn't, though.

All she does is double her efforts as she keeps thrusting into your mouth.

The kitchen fills with the sounds of your pleasure as they both play with your needy holes.

You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each one of their well-timed thrusts. You're completely at their mercy and you love every second of their never-ending show of dominance.

Of control over you.

Wanda's movements speed up and you do your best to ask for permission to cum, knowing all too well the consequences that would await you if you forgot. It's practically impossible to speak, though, considering the way Natasha is still thrusting into your mouth, her hips grinding against the base of the dildo each time she slips the length back inside.

"I know, baby," the witch reassures you. "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

All she gets is a muffled whine in response, your body jerking forward when her thumb teases your swollen clit.

"Go ahead, darling," Natasha speaks up, her voice practically a low growl. "Cum all over Mommy's fingers for me."

You're not used to receiving such a command from the redhead and yet your body reacts immediatly to her tone. Your whole body seems to come alive as you fall over the edge, Wanda's fingers never ceasing in their movements. She expertly draws out your pleasure until you're left shaking and panting.

The ringing in your ears doesn't allow you to hear the string of moans that leave Natasha's mouth as she watches the scene. The sight of you coming undone so violently causes her to fall apart, her fingers tightening in your hair until you're sputtering for air.

Thankfully, Wanda knows your limits well.

No words are exchanged as she uses her magic on you again. You're barely coherent, your mind still too muddled by pure pleasure and the cotton-filled haze of submission.

She gently sets you down on the couch, wiping down your soaked skin with a wet cloth, making sure to look you over in case their rough movements bruised you up.

"You okay, darling?" The witch asks as she settles down next to you.

You nod in response, shifting a little until your head rests in her lap. "Yeah...just tired."

"You should get some rest, detka. We have a lot to talk about."

Her words make you laugh. "That's an understament, Wands."

"Whatever." She moves her hand down to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as sleep overcomes you.

There's a lot you don't understand, a lot you really figure out, but you feel safe with the knowledge that you haven't ruined anything. That you're not an intruder in their relationship. If anything, you're a welcome addition.

#wandanat x reader #kinktober 2024 #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda #avengers fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu imagine #wlw fic #writing

2K notes · View notes

saltcxrcle · 8 months ago

Text

cute glasses ◦◦ d. winchester

summary: your eyes are dry because of your contacts, so you have no choice but to put your glasses on

pairings: established dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.3K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', major fluff, some insecure thoughts, but mainly fluff

a/n: first official fic for dean!! also this was intentionally written as a blurb but as always, it seems i have more write than intended lol

please reblog and comment, i love to see your thoughts!

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You had to fight the temptation to rub your eyes as you stared hard at your laptop, the screen emitting a blue light that was beginning to give you a headache alongside the dryness of your contacts as you sat at the table in the motel room. You blinked hard multiple times, trying to bring moisture to your contacts and find some relief from the dryness, but nothing was working.

You were still dressed in the FBI garb you had put on in the morning when you and Dean were going to the station to gather information on the hunt the two of you were working. Sam would have joined the two of you, but he had come down with a cold, and Dean forced him to stay back at the bunker while the two of you would work the hunt.

You glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, seeing that 10 minutes had passed since Dean went out to get dinner for you two. You threw your head back with a groan, feeling the soreness in your shoulders as you sat down and hunched over your laptop, researching for hours on end.

You stood up from the seat and stretched out your limbs like a cat waking up from a nap and stalking over to your bag to grab your pajamas and glasses, and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower and get comfortable.

You jumped into the shower and rinsed off the day. After showering, you took out the dry contacts that were irritating your eyes, put them back into their case, and let out a sigh of relief when you blinked, and moisture was restored to your eyes.

You put on your glasses and strolled back into the room to find Dean sitting at the table and pulling the food out of the takeout bag.

"Took you long enough, sweetheart. I got us Chinese since there was a place I saw when driving in an-" He stopped talking as you crossed the room to see what he ordered.

"And what?" You asked him, looking at him with furrowed brows as you took in Dean's stunned expression, his mouth agape as his eyes flickered around and all over your face.

"You have glasses." Dean pointed out, blinking slowly as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, yeah I do."

"Since when?"

"Since I was a freshman in high school." You told him as casually as you could, not wanting to make a big deal out of you wearing glasses.

"How come I've never seen you with them on?" Dean asked you with knitted brows.

"Err…" You trailed off. You didn't really want the boys to know you had glasses since you could be considered a liability if anything were to happen to your contacts or glasses. But hey, you've managed this long hunting with them, and you haven't died yet because of them. You just didn't want the boys to look down on you because you had them, and they could potentially hinder you in hunts.

"I wear contacts, and I try to keep them in for as long as I can until I can get back to my room and put my glasses on." You finally explained with a sheepish smile as you rubbed the back of your neck.

Dean's face turned into one of realization. "Is that why I sometimes feel you slip out of bed and then come back a couple of minutes later?"

You felt your face flush with heat as you nodded in response. Dean chuckled lightly at your embarrassment and leaned in to kiss your forehead. Then, a chaste peck on your lips before turning back to the food.

"You're not gonna ask me why I kept this from you?" You asked, confusion coloring your words as you saw him sit down in front of your closed laptop and dig into one of the takeout boxes with a plastic fork.

"Do you want me to?" Dean questioned through a mouthful of chow mein.

"Uh, not really. I was just ready for you to go all Spanish inquisition on me." You sat down across from him and looked through the takeout boxes before opening one of them to find the orange chicken.

Dean swallowed the food he was chewing. "Look, you had your reasons, and yeah, I have many questions about them but right now I just want to stare at you with them on."

You raised an eyebrow at him again. "You like them?"

"Yeah," He shrugged. "You look beautiful with or without them on." Dean reached across the table and traded chow mein for the orange chicken box in your hands.

You smiled at him, feeling your cheeks flush with heat again before huffing an amused breath through your nose. You narrowed your eyes at him as you leaned forward, taking Dean, who was still in his FBI suit, minus the jacket, tie, and a few of the buttons on his shirt unbuttoned.

"The glasses are doing something for you aren't they?" You teased him as you took a bite of the chow mein.

"Yeah, you have this sexy librarian thing going on. Could only imagine how much hotter you would have been if you left your FBI suit on." Dean's mouth pulled into a coy smirk, his green eyes alight with mischief and desire.

You chuckled as you shook your head. "Of course, you'd be into that."

Dean shrugged again as he popped a piece of orange chicken in his mouth.

Later, when the two of you finished eating and did a little more research and while you were doing your skincare, a sliver of worry still sat with you as you thought about how this would affect Dean and hunting. When you climbed into bed with Dean and placed your glasses on the nightstand, your world got a little blurry, but you could still see Dean's slight smile on his face as he pulled you into his side, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Dean pressed a warm kiss on your forehead. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asked lowly, his voice laced with care and fatigue.

"S'nothing." You shook your head.

"Come on, don't like seeing you like this before we go to bed." Dean squeezed your waist.

You sighed before propping your chin on his chest. "Just concerned that you might worry about me because of my bad eyesight."

Dean looked at you before leaning forward to press another kiss to your forehead and brought his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft skin. You leaned into his warm touch, pressing a kiss into his palm.

"I'm always going to worry about you," He started, pausing before finding his following words.

"But you've been hunting with your contacts and glasses for a long time before you met me, and you've been able to keep up with me and Sam without us knowing. I don't care that you have glasses or contacts because you're still a damn good hunter."

You smiled at his words before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against Dean's full lips. Dean kissed you just as softly as you pressed your lips against yours and chased your lips as you pulled away.

You rested your forehead against his. "Thank you." You whispered, your lips brushing against his as you did.

"No problem, sweetheart. Let's get to bed, we've got a bastard to hunt."

You chuckled softly at his words and pressed a quick kiss on his lips before settling beside him and melting into his side as you guys slowly fell asleep, finding that your dreams were filled with Dean's joyous laughter and playful kisses.

2K notes · View notes

deanstead · 9 months ago

Text

Marry That Girl

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Word Count: 600+

Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: Short one because I haven't released something for Jay in way too long! This has been sitting in my WIP drafts for the longest time so I finally got it written! An anon requested something similar for Will but since I had a half-written fic, I finished this and posting this instead! As always thanks to bestie @seatsbythepit for being my beta queen~!

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

You hadn’t thought this through.

It sounded like an innocent enough date when Jay had asked if you wanted to go watch the game. You hadn't been dating for long, and every day felt a little unreal in a ‘I can’t believe Jay Halstead wants to go out with me’ kind of way, and you appreciated every opportunity you got to spend with Jay especially since you never knew if he would have to go undercover or spend nights at the district trying to clear a case.

But now that the game was approaching, you were in a bit of a panic.

You enjoyed watching a game, but you didn’t always know what you were watching or doing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to let Jay see that side of you.

“Y/N, everything okay?” Kelly’s voice interrupted your internalized panic and you glanced up.

“Ah, I should have thought of you!” You proclaimed, earning yourself an eyebrow raise from the squad lieutenant. “I need your help.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow but chuckled before nodding toward his office.

You thanked all the stars that it was a quieter shift. After all, an entirely quiet shift didn’t exist at Firehouse 51. But at least that’s the way you liked it.

Kelly gave you a crash course, but not without reminding you that you owed him one. You spent the rest of the downtime studying it so that at least you’d have something smart to say, even though there were a few times you wondered what the hell you were doing.

Hard work indeed paid off.

You walked out of the game, feeling a little embarrassed as Jay’s friends gushed over you.

“Jay, you got a good one. My girlfriend doesn’t even want to come to games with me.” One of his buddies quipped.

Jay laughed, putting an arm around you and grinning. “Hey, should I be worried? What if you guys just call her for the games instead?”

The laughter rumbled through the group as they all nodded, teasing Jay that they’d rather call you instead of him in the future.

You really did owe Kelly one.

As his friends dispersed, calling that Jay had better bring you out for the next game, Jay’s phone rang.

You nodded at him, telling him he’d better take it, assuring him that you and Will wouldn’t leave him behind.

Jay took the call from Voight, glancing toward where you and Will were talking as he nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I’ll be right in.”

Jay could feel the dread in his gut, that felt just a little too much like guilt that he had to blow off again tonight even though he’d promised a nice after-game dinner and maybe some drinks and cuddling.

“This is why you don’t promise anything, Jay.” He mumbled to himself, before he walked back toward the both of you.

“Hey, Y/N, I…”

You glanced at the look on Jay’s face and just smiled. “Gotcha.”

“Sorry.” Jay couldn’t even say anything more because everything else in his head sounded like an excuse.

“I’m not saying I’m not disappointed, because I kinda am. But I get it. And if these were bells going off for the ambulance, I’d do the same thing you’re doing now. So, go.” You paused. “But you owe me a mind-blowing date.”

Jay laughed and nodded. “That, I definitely do.”

You shot him a huge smile and headed off toward Jay’s truck to wait because you knew he’d at least take you home before heading back down to wherever he was supposed to go.

Will watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and awe before he glanced at his younger brother.

“Jay?” Will called, before Jay and him headed off in different directions.

Jay glanced up at Will and Will smiled. “You better marry that girl.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

#jay halstead x reader #resa.fics #jay halstead #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #will halstead #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead fic #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead fanfic

752 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 2 years ago

Text

classified | eddie munson x reader

summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]

contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).

author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!

Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.

It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.

So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins.

Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).

He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.

He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.

Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.

The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.

"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.

"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."

The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.

Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.

And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.

And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.

By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.

From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.

His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.

Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.

Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.

The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all.

When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.

"Hello?"

He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.

"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."

"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.

"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"

"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"

"I'm twenty-three."

You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.

"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."

He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."

He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.

You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"

"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"

"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.

He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.

"Y'still there?"

"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.

"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."

You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.

After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"

"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"

He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.

"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."

You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.

You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."

Can't argue with that logic.

"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?

"How do you want to do this?"

"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"

"What?"

"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.

"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.

"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.

"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."

"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.

"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Eddie. Munson."

"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.

That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.

It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.

There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.

What if you're great?

He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.

He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.

He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.

One hour.

He's early.

It's ten to six, and he's early.

The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?

Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.

Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.

"Eddie?"

He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.

You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.

You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.

As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.

You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.

"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.

"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."

"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.

"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.

"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.

He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.

"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.

"What?"

"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"

With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.

"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."

"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."

"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.

"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."

Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."

"Oh."

You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.

You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.

Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.

He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.

You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.

"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.

"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."

"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"

"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."

He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"

You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.

"Okay."

"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."

"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"

"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."

"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."

"Okay," you sigh.

"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."

"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.

"So did you grow up here?"

Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.

"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."

"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.

"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."

"And you got the job?"

"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."

"How's that going?"

"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."

He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."

He looks up at you. "Do your worst."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.

"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."

"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"

"Kind of, but that's also complicated."

"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?

You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.

"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.

You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.

It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.

"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."

He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.

You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.

There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.

"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"

All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.

He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.

"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.

"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."

When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.

His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.

"I've never been this close to anyone before."

He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.

"That's okay."

There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"

You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.

It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.

"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.

"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.

The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.

When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.

"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.

"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.

"You alright?"

You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.

"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.

"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.

"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.

"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."

"How so?"

He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch. "I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"

For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.

"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."

Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.

"What the fuck, dude?"

You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.

"I didn't-"

"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."

"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."

"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.

You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.

He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.

"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.

"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"

His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.

He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.

"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."

"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."

He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.

"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."

"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.

"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.

It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?

"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."

You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.

"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."

"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.

You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.

"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.

"Go on."

"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."

"Can I sit on your lap?"

"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.

"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."

"Go for it, baby."

He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.

It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.

"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"

"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.

"'Course you are, here-"

His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."

"Oh, for fu-"

He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.

It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.

You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.

You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.

"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.

"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.

"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.

His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"

His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.

"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"

You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."

He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.

"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."

You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.

"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."

"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."

"Okay."

You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.

"Shit," he hisses.

"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.

"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."

The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.

This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.

His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.

You trace them with gentle fingers.

"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.

"Okay."

You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.

You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.

As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."

You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."

There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.

He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.

"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"

You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up.

And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.

"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."

One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"

"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.

He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.

When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.

"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.

"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.

"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.

There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.

You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.

His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.

"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."

He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.

But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.

"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.

"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.

"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."

You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.

"Christ, yes, okay."

His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.

You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.

"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.

"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.

"Yes, yeah."

Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.

His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.

You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.

Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.

They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.

The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.

He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.

The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.

The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.

"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"

It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.

"No," you pant, "no, never."

"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay," you agree.

He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.

"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"

"I, uh…"

"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."

Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.

It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.

"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.

With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.

You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.

You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.

"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.

You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.

"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.

All you can say is, "That was insane."

He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"

"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.

He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.

"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"

It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.

"Uh, yeah, okay."

He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."

"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."

"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."

Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.

"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.

"Yes, ma'am."

Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.

He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.

"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.

"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."

He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.

"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him.

"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.

It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.

"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."

You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.

So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.

"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"

He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.

"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"

You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.

When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.

With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.

"You got condoms?"

"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."

"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."

His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square.

He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.

It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.

He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"

He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"

You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."

"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.

He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.

"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."

"I've got you."

He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.

The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.

"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.

When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.

"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.

"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."

"Okay."

The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.

As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.

"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."

His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.

"You close?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.

All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.

There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."

When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"

You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.

The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.

"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.

He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.

"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.

There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.

You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.

"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"

"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.

"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."

"Is it a date?"

"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."

"No one's ever asked me on a date before."

He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.

He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.

"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.

"You should," he says, a little deflated.

You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.

"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"

"I can go now, if you want-"

"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"

Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.

"I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.

"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.

"I'll be here."

"Munson! You made it!"

In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.

He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.

"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."

"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.

"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."

"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.

"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.

"Hi."

"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.

Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.

"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.

Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.

And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.

"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"

"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.

"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time.

"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."

"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."

The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.

He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.

Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!

#ha ha I am sorry!#god it's long #I hope you love it <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie stranger things

6K notes · View notes

jenniferjareauwife · 1 month ago

Text

Work Stress

pairing: billie eilish x fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety

word count: 629

summary: you get home after a stressful work day and billie comforts you

I came home with a heavy weight on my shoulders. It had been a rough few days, Billie was spending her free time making music which inevitably meant less time with her but I was stuck at work with meeting after meeting with nothing but anxiety weighing on me.

I set my bag down on the kitchen counter before retreating to Billie and my's shared bedroom.

There she was, headphones on, notebook in hand. Scribbles of art written all over the pages with one liners next to almost all of them. I wanted more than anything to get in bed next to her but she was busy and I didn't want to disturb her so I just walked to the bathroom to take off my makeup. "Hey baby." I couldn't help but feel my heart melt at her sweet voice.

"Hi." It came out as a whisper and I looked to her as she took off her headphones.

"Everything alright?" She leaned on the doorframe, her brows furrowed a bit as she tried to read me.

"Long day." I sighed and leaned against the counter with my hands, giving her a small frown.

"You could've texted me. I would've faked a car crash so you could leave work." I laughed along with her.

"Aw I really should've shouldn't I?"

"Well that's what I'm for, right?" I pretended to give it some thought but I eventually just agreed with her.

"It's not that I don't like my job." I started. "It can just be a fuck ton sometimes."

"I know sweet girl, I know." She took me into her arms, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"We should just live on an island or something."

"I agree. Have a few parrots." I laughed at the thought.

"We could create a civilization. Create a new language." I offered. She giggled and rubbed my back. "Come on baby, let's get you into some more comfortable clothes." She guided me to the bed before starting to undress me, starting with everything on top before removing everything on bottom.

"It's chilly. Hoodie?" She smiled and nodded, already reaching for her hit me hard and soft hoodie that was laying on the floor. It smelled like her, making my body relax.

"What else can I do for you my love?"

"Hm. I mean...I think I'm just really tired, you know? Kinda wanna settle down. You can go back to writing if you want, I just want your company."

"No baby, I've spent all day writing, I'm here for you." She pulled the covers up over me before getting comfortable next to me. "Any shows? Books?"

"I don't really know. Kinda was just looking forward to you."

"You're so cute." She kissed my nose before pulling the hood up over my head.

"Ew it's gonna mess up my hair."

"It's cute." She shrugged as I pulled the hood down, my hair already messed up. "You're so pretty." I scrunched up my nose and leaned into her, burying my face in her neck. "I'll tell you what. For this weekend, I'll cancel my studio times."

"Why?" I pulled my head out of her neck, a quizzical look on my face.

"To spend more time with you, help you through this bit of anxiety." She ran her fingers gently through my messy hair. "I'm sorry I haven't been here." She had a small frown on her face that I quickly kissed away.

"It's okay. I know you have multiple priorities, I can't expect you to be around all the time." I laughed softly, trying to make her feel a bit better.

"Okay." She smiled. "But if you ever feel this way at work again, remember, car crash." She held out her pinky, linking it with mine.

"Car crash."

#x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #wlw post #lgbtq #billie eilish x fem!reader #sapphic

192 notes · View notes

spideybatsy · 9 months ago

Text

Late Night

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 3K Warnings: being watched without knowing, mentions of erections, nothing too serious. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 This is the first chapter in my new series! I haven't written in a year, so be kind Masterlist

The wind pressed against your sweat slick skin as you stepped into the shadow of Wayne Tower. A shiver rolled down your spine, half caused by the weather and half by the ravenous butterflies in your stomach. Starting a new job is never easy but God, you have never needed a job as much as you need this one.

The renewal of your lease brought a steep increase in rent at the same time as your boss announced he was closing the business. You couldn’t really say you were surprised, the bakery was definitely a front for something nefarious, why else would the GCPD come in every other week?

It was a shame, really. You loved working at the bakery, especially during those quiet moments when you could just sit there and watch the world go by. God knows you’ll be rushed off your feet now.

Cleaning wasn’t your first choice, nor was it your second. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list. But you were not in the position to be anything but grateful when your friend mentioned an opening at their work. The hours weren’t the best but the pay was surprisingly good.

You walked into the building and were immediately shoved by someone sprinting to the lift. Taking a deep breath, you regained your bearings, straightened your shirt, and headed for security. You’d been in the building only once, for your interview, but figured you’d need some sort of pass to get into the actual offices.

The security man who served you was disarmingly attractive and you couldn’t help but blush as he ran his eyes down your figure. His hair was a dirty blonde, pushed back and behind his ears.

“First day?”

“That obvious?”

He chuckled, before asking for your name and looking you up on the system. “I’ll just call your supervisor, Emily, to come down.”

“Thank you.” The two of you fell into an almost awkward silence. “How, uh, long until your shift finishes?”

“I’m on a morning today, so I finish at 12. How about you?”

“Well, I’ll usually be doing the 4 till 10 shift but they wanted me in earlier today. So, I'll finish around 3.”

“Too bad.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I would’ve loved to take you out for dinner.” Were your cheeks on fire or was it suddenly just really hot in here? “Maybe it’ll have to be lunch instead.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted by Emily calling your name.

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!”

You flashed a sorry smile at him and rushed over to your friend's side.

“Hey, what’s that guard's name?” Although you knew he couldn’t hear you from here, you still whispered.

You cringed as Emily started to turn back, quickly reaching out and stopping her.

“I think that’s Russell.” She whispered back, “Why?”

“He asked me out on a date.”

“Really?” Well, no more whispering. You simply nodded your head, following her into the lift. “You don’t even have your access pass and you’ve got the men drooling. You dirty stop out.”

“I haven’t slept with him!”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be telling HR you called me a slut.”

“Hoping they’ll sleep with you too?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her slightly with your shoulder. As the numbers on the lift drew higher, the two of you settled down. Joking with your friend was one thing but you needed people here to take you seriously, even if you were just the cleaner.

“Are the people here nice?” You weren’t expecting your voice to sound so… small.

Emily looked over at you, affectionately bumping your shoulder. “Yeah, most of them are lovely.”

“What about the others?”

“Fuckable.”

The lift doors opened and filled the floor with the sound of your combined laughter.

—-

“And down here, you have Mister Wayne’s office.” You followed Emily down the hallway, looking into an office and making eye contact with an older man. You gave him a quick smile and was pleased when he returned it.

“That’s Lucius Fox, he’s really the boss.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?”

“What about him?” Emily stopped at the front of the last door.

“Well, it’s Wayne Enterprises, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You couldn’t help but gasp as she threw the door open, jumping to apologise to the aforementioned man.

Only, he wasn’t there.

Emily laughed, walking further into the room. “He’s hardly here, probably recovering from his drunken nights spent with supermodels.”

You hesitantly followed her in, amazed by the so-called office. This one room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. It definitely had better views.

“I’m not sure you should be talking about our boss like that,” you mumbled, walking over to the floor to ceiling windows.

Emily came to stand next to you, “it’s not like he’s ever here to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted around, instantly fearing the worst. Was it possible you could be fired before you even got your first paycheck? How were you going to pay rent now?

You couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or not when you realised it was the man you’d smiled at earlier. Lucius Fox.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Emily replied, turning back to the view.

Oh my God. What was she doing? “Please excuse my friend, Mr Fox. I think she meant-”

“I know what she meant,” he responded while walking over.

You opted to say nothing and pretended to look out the window, wishing for the tension to dissipate as quickly as possible.

“You’re scaring them to death, Fox.”

The older man laughed, coming to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Worry not, dear. You’ll grow used to the banter.”

The tension started melting from your shoulders, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

Within two weeks, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine. You came into work at 3:45 to make yourself a tea and read your book, before starting work at 4. You start at the side furthest from Wayne’s office, as they left the earliest. By the time you reached the common areas, the rest of the staff would be leaving, only Fox remaining. He was always the last one to leave, usually close to 7. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, since you knew he was typically the first person in the office too. So, you’d bring him a decaffeinated coffee around 5pm. You’d find yourself talking to him for a while, usually about stories from the past that you could both laugh about.

Truth be told, you were starting to really enjoy the man's company. He had a dry sense of humour that you found hilarious. Being in the office late could be rather lonely, so you clung onto the moments you had with him.

A positive of working alone in the office was that you could play all your music out loud. You’d recently gotten into a podcast where three friends read stories and discussed them. A lot of them were light hearted or ‘am i the asshole’ reddit posts.

Tonight, you listened to their supernatural episode as you finished up in Fox’s office when you heard a bang down the hallway. Slowly, you creeped to the door to peep down the corridor but there was no one there.

Maybe the ghost stories were getting to you. You shook your head and turned back into the office when you heard the noise again. Jumping, you looked toward the sound. The only thing down there was Mr Wayne’s office.

Clutching your mop between closed fists, you edged down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and rushed in, hoping to catch the perpetrator in action.

Only the office was empty, of course it was. You couldn’t help the relief that coursed through your veins. It was obviously going to be empty, you had yet to see The Bruce Wayne in this room. You were starting to wonder if it had even been used. Maybe Fox should get this office, that way someone can appreciate the view.

You laughed quietly to yourself before turning off the podcast and putting on some tunes. That was more than enough scares for you tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, you were not alone. A certain billionaire had stumbled in here before his night duty, expecting to find the place empty as usual. He hadn’t been in for a few weeks now but things rarely changed this high in the building.

Then you’d burst into the room, armed with a mop and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You were the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Who were you and what were you doing here?

He couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his trousers. No. Now is not the time.

He stayed in the shadows and watched you work, diligently going from one room to another before stopping in the kitchen to make a drink. You pulled a book out of your bag and read for a while. Bruce found himself creeping closer, eager to see what you were reading.

Then you looked up and it seemed like you were staring straight at him. He knew you couldn’t see him but he couldn’t stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Nor the way his lower half jolted.

What was it about you that made his infamous control slip? He’d never had this issue, not even as a teenager.

Your eyes widened as you kept gazing in his direction and he slowly turned his head. The bat symbol drifted amongst the clouds.

He held back a sigh as he shifted further into the darkness.

Maybe he was due a visit back into the office, after all.

—

Or maybe not.

It had been a week since Bruce first saw you in his office, clutching a mop like your life depended on it. Sometimes, when he lay awake in his bed, he thought about how oblivious you were to his presence that night. And every night since.

He should really get you some self defence classes, perhaps send them as a gift from Wayne Enterprises. He hated thinking about what could’ve happened if he really was a burglar. He could only keep you so safe, you needed to be able to handle yourself.

Then he felt a bit crazy. Here he was, talking about you like you were… part of his life. Although, he supposed at this point you were part of his life. He just wasn’t part of yours. Too many times he’d driven to the building just to never get out of his car.

He’d asked Fox about you at his last equipment meeting. He tried to act nonchalant about it, casually asking if there were any new staff on the top floor.

“We have a new cleaner.” Fox said, relaying your name. “They’ve been here for about three weeks. Settling in very well.”

Bruce repeated your name, strangely satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue.

“May I inquire why you’ve asked about them?” Fox’s words caught Bruce off guard. “You’ve never been interested in the Wayne staff before.”

“Just keeping up to date with the comings and goings of my fathers legacy.” Bruce suddenly found the kevlar padding very interesting.

“Better late than never, I suppose.” Fox hummed, running his fingers across the fabric. “This kevlar is half the weight of your current gear.”

“Is it still as durable?”

You didn’t come up in the conversation again but Fox filed the information away, eager to ask Alfred about it.

—

“What does your partner think about you working so late?”

Fox’s question caught you completely off guard, causing you to almost spurt out your tea. He immediately grabbed the tissues off his desk, handing them to you.

“Forgive me, it was an inappropriate question.”

“No, no, no. It’s fine.” You said, finally swallowing down your mouthful. “I, uh, don’t have a partner. So, I don’t think they mind.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.”

Before you could respond, he tactfully changed the conversation.

—

“They’re single, you know.”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look away from his newspaper. “Whose single, Alfred?”

His heart almost broke free from his chest when Alfred said your name.

“How would you know that?” Bruce’s words were more rushed than he would’ve liked, the newspaper long forgotten on the table.

“Every old man has his secrets.”

“You spoke to Fox,” Bruce sighed. “They probably thought he was coming onto them.”

“Worried you have competition, Master Wayne?”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, I may not be the master of romance but I hear that the first step in any relationship is to talk to each other.”

“Obviously,” Bruce muttered, picking his newspaper back up.

“What you’re doing right now has a name, Master Wayne.”

“And what is that?”

“Stalking.”

Bruce couldn’t help but flinch at the word. He turned to defend himself but Alfred was already gone, leaving him a pot of tea.

—

You were sitting in the kitchen, tea in one hand and your book in the other. You’d found yourself in the office a bit earlier than usual but didn’t mind. It was always good to have some time to wind down before you started your shift.

“What are you reading?”

You couldn’t help but inwardly sigh, putting your bookmark in. “Just a-” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. If Russell was attractive, this man was downright gorgeous. A face carved for a god with luscious hair combed behind his ear.

He looked eerily familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you bought your gaze back down to the book.

“I’ve never heard of The Dry Heart before,” Bruce’s heart leapt from his chest as he took the seat across from you. “What’s it about?”

You sneaked a glance up at him but immediately looked back down when you made eye contact. “It’s about an unhappy marriage, I’m reading it for a book club.”

He hummed, his eyes searching your face. You were even more breath-catching up close. “You must be our new cleaner,” you liked the way he said your name far too much. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“You have?” Who was this man? You would remember seeing such a gorgeous face among the office.

“I try to meet all the new employees but I’ve been a bit slack lately, please forgive me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to look at him and couldn’t help the way your lips lifted.

“Consider it forgotten,” you said softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Fox.

“Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” Lucius came in and stood beside you. “I see you’ve met our latest employee.”

Your eyes shoot, Mr Wayne? Surely not. In your rushed state, you completely missed the way Fox smirked at Bruce, causing the younger man to stare daggers back at him.

“Of course, it’s important to know everyone in the office.”

Fox hummed, turning back to you. “Please excuse us, I have a very important meeting to drag Mr Wayne into.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You had a hard time even saying the words, your mind whirling. Wasn’t Bruce Wayne an arrogant asshole? This man was the furthest from that. He was so kind and funny. And good looking. Holy shit was he good looking.

No, you’re not doing that. Not to your boss. Especially not when your boss is a world famous womaniser.

You can’t help the way your eyes follow him as he walks out or the way they trail down to his perfect ass. Entering the hallway, Fox rolls his eyes when he sees the massive smirk on Bruce’s face.

—

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

You can’t help but jump as Bruce walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Please,” he sits down at the table and smiles at you. “Call me Bruce.”

“Okay, Bruce.”

Bruce savours the way his name rolls off your tongue and how your cheeks go bright red under his gaze. His eyes follow as your blush spreads down your neck and under your neckline.

“I usually take the new employees out for lunch, your turn is well overdue.” He takes a moment before continuing. “I guess ours would be more like dinner.”

“I suppose so,” you smile at him, oblivious to his wandering gaze. “But you don’t have to do that, Bruce. It’s fine, honestly.”

“I insist. How about tonight?”

You brought a lousy microwave dinner for tonight but there’s no reason why it can’t wait for tomorrow. Plus, who doesn’t like a free dinner? Lost in thought, Bruce takes the opportunity to study the way you bite your lip and store it away for later.

“Sure, tonight is good.”

—

You weren’t sure what to expect during dinner but it wasn’t this. Bent over, your hand clutching your side in an attempt to ease your stitch as you laugh hysterically. Bruce is laughing too, his smile so big it shows his perfectly pearly whites.

“No way, you’re lying.” You gasp between breaths.

“I wish,” Bruce looks away in faux-shame. “I wasn’t always the smoothest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Your laugh settles into a smile.

“Why’s that?” He sounds genuine when he asks, curious even.

“Well, look at you.” You immediately heat at the implication, quickly stuttering off an excuse. This is not a date. “Y-You’re The Bruce Wayne. It would’ve been a-all over the newspapers if you, uh, messed up.”

Bruce merely hums, his eyes dropping down to your lips as you bite away at them again.

This is bad. You cannot be flirting with the boss, especially not your boss's boss. Sure, he might be into it now but he’s not known to stick around with the same person for long. You can not afford to lose this job if things go bad.

You’re saved by the server coming back to drop off the check. Bruce’s hand grasps yours as you go to take the check, sending a bolt of electricity down your arm. His eyes find your own, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’ve got you.”

Fuck.

387 notes · View notes

anenbylittlepotato · 11 months ago

Text

Tears of Love

Includes: Zhongli, Furina, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Itto, Ei

Warnings: Furina's is post-Fontaine archon quest bc I doubt she would be in any relationship pre-archon quest. Both Neuvillette and Furina contain vague spoilers

Part 2

How Genshin character would react to you hugging them while crying and then saying "I just love you so muuuucch..."

Also, uhhh hey guys, I know I haven't written anything in 5 million years haha, sorry... I have been died dw about it. To make up for it I'm going crazy go stupid with this one. Gonna try and make a part 2 and maybe part 3 but idk when or if it’ll even happen

Zhongli

When he sees you crying, he is instantly concerned.

And then, when you run up and hug him, he's even more concerned as he hugs back, gently placing his hand on your head and rubbing your back comfortingly.

"My love? What is the matter, dear?

He gently moves his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek when you look at him with them big ol wet eyes.

"I just love you so muuuuccch!"

He looks taken aback for a moment, surprised by that response.

Then he chuckles warmly and looks at you with all the love and adoration in the world

"My beloved, you and your love mean the world to me. Your brilliant radiance is more than enough to light up even the darkest corners of my mind. I cannot dream of spending my days without you, but if such a day were to ever occur, I would carry your memory with me at all times with all the warmth and love in my soul."

This makes you cry even more

"Aaaaaa I love you so much...."

He gently presses his forehead to yours.

"I love you too, my dearest."

And then he kisses you softly.

Afterward, he sits down with you, holding you gently.

Furina

When you come up to her crying, she's instantly panicking.

Oh no did she do something wrong? Did she say something that upset you??? Has she been neglecting you??? Did she forget something important? Oh no oh no oh no-

And then you hug her and she's like. Okay. Did someone else do something to upset you? She's not sure what she can do now that she's no long on the archon throne, but she'll try whatever she has to! Or maybe something else happened, maybe something that has nothing to do with other people, maybe some horrible thing happened to you like what happened to her.

"S-S/O? Are you okay?? What happened, what's wrong?"

Then you look at her with those big ol wet eyes and she turns to mush inside.

"I just love you muuuuuccccchhh..."

For several moments she just stares at you, not knowing how to respond.

And then she also starts getting emotional

"Oh."

She hugs you back really tightly, burying her face against you.

"I... I love you tooooo...."

And now you're both crying and telling each other how much you love each other.

Neuvillette

The moment he sees you crying, the beginning of rain can be heard outside.

He absolutely hates seeing you upset in any way and he immediately wants to just hold you in his arms and take all your stress and pain.

He immediately walks over and sits next to you.

"S/O? Are you alright? What's happened?"

He is a little surprised when you hug him, but not entirely, and he hugs back, gently rubbing your back.

"It's alright, dear, take your time."

"I just- I just- I love you so muuuuuuuucccchhhh..."

Well he certainly was not expecting that.

It starts raining outside even heavier.

"Ah... Is that... Not a good thing...? I am uncertain as to why this would make you sad..."

You uh... You'll have to explain to him that crying doesn't necessarily only happen when you're sad, but just when you're overwhelmed by An Emotion. Any emotion. Even positive ones.

He won't really understand all that well but he's trying 🥺 He'll definitely be thinking about it for the rest of the week and might even do some research about it if he manages to find the time.

In the moment, though, he just holds you and tells you how much he loves you as well. He is a little confused when this makes you cry more, but he doesn't say anything.

Kaveh

Like Furina, he also panics instantly the moment he sees you crying.

He's much more frantic and open about it though.

"Oh no, darling, sweetheart, are you okay?! What's wrong?! Did I do something wrong, what happened?!"

Then you hug him and he's surprised.

"S/O...?"

"I just- I love you so muuuuccchh!"

Kaveh.exe has stopped working

"Wha- You- I-"

My poor boy instantly melts into a puddle, becoming a complete emotional wreck.

This man is so fragile he just shatters like glass and the dam breaks and out come the tears, and now he's crying harder than you.

He somewhat incoherently babbles about how much he loves you and hugs you so tightly, just completely falling apart.

... He may have also been drinking a bit before this.

Okay, not a bit. A lot.

And now, even though you were the one who was crying initially, you're gonna have to sit down with him and try to calm him down

This poor pathetic little man... he's such a mess... I love him...

Itto

Also one of the panickers. Except he's stupid about it.

He actually has absolutely no idea how to deal with someone who's sad. He doesn't get sad often himself and his gang aren't the type to get sad often either.

So the MOMENT you hug him crying, he is freaking the fuck out

"Oh, nononono, baby, don't cry, don't cry! Hey it's okay, it's alright, don't cry!"

When he can't get you to calm down right away, he's immediately thinking of other solutions.

"Hey, ya wanna go see Granny Oni? She always knows exactly what to do to cheer me up when I'm sad!"

You have to stop him from picking you up and running off with you to take you to Granny Oni.

"No- Itto. I'm not sad, it's just.... I love you so muuuuch..."

He blinks a couple times.

"What"

For once, the man is speechless.

But only for a couple moments.

"Wait, but if you're not sad, then why are you crying???"

You'll have to explain it like with Neuvillette, except Itto's dumb so it'll take a lot longer for him to pick it up.

You end up spending so long trying to explain it that you end up not crying anymore and just laughing at him

And that just makes him more confused

"You were just crying a minute ago why are you laughing???"

Himbo <3

When she sees you crying she is surprisingly sweet about it.

She walks over and gently cups your cheeks, tilting your head to look up at her.

"What's the matter, dear? Are you alright?"

Her voice is so soft and gentle.

She isn't too surprised when you hug her and she hugs back, gently rubbing your back.

“I just- I love you so muuuucccchhh….”

She’s a little surprised by that response for a moment.

But once she processes it, she is just so endeared by it.

She looks at you with such a lovesick smile.

Like she feels like her heart is about to burst with love omg

She chuckles gently and pats your head.

“I love you too, dear.”

Afterward, she kisses you on the forehead, and then on the lips.

All she wants to do after that is hold you gentle in her arms

And she’s going to do exactly that

She takes you to your bed and gently holds you so that your head is on her chest

Doesn’t matter if you’re bigger than her. Your face? On the booba

I had to tag Neuvillette so many times bc apparently no one knows how to spell it 😭 Two Ls and two Ts people

If you like my writing, consider buying me a coffee! It really helps me out and helps me keep doing this!

615 notes · View notes

haruriin · 2 months ago

Text

VALENTINE EVE'S NIGHTMARE ♡ * ˖ ࣪ CH. O1

★ synopsis: every teenage girl has her own struggles, so naturally, you found a way to escape yours! though you never thought you would bump into a pretty boy who had the same habit as you...oh, he's actually in the same school as you? and you two share the same taste in movies too...? wow, lucky you!

*✧·˚ cw. rin itoshi x f!reader, this is a smau & written fic! reader has family issues, so does rin, reader is 16, reader is a smoker, this is angst for like 2 chapters the rest is pure crack/fluff trust, language.

after making sure you're carrying your headphones, keys, and —just in case— some spare coins inside your jacket pocket, you finally zip it up and carefully exit your room, opting to carry the few cat food cans that had been hiding under your bed in your hands, since carrying a bag for such a short trip would be a hassle anyways.

except the soft music blaring through your headphones and into your ears, the streets are mostly quiet except for the occasional sound of a car driving through the road every now and then. your neighborhood is relatively safe, so you haven't ever really worried much about going out alone, still, you make sure to be as close as possible to your home (even if being away is what you want the most) whenever you do.

when you get to the small park right next to the convenience store, there you see him, in all of his glory: mr. chonkers rolling around on his back without a care in the world. truly, you started sneaking out of your house late at night just to be able to breathe when your house got way too suffocating to do so, meeting the calico cat was pure coincidence, but he gave you an excuse to not make the people around you worry about your escapades, and honestly, you loved the (massive) little ball of fur, it kept you company when your mom wasn't there when you needed her, and when all your brother seemed to feel toward you was indifference.

"i could hear the mighty rumbles of your stomach from miles away" you kneel down in front of the cat, opening the cans of food and gently petting his fur while he gobbles them down.

you are lost in your thoughts, hugging your knees absentmindedly and resting your head against them when the soft breeze of the spring night envelops you, feeling at ease until you realize someone's very tall unmoving shadow looming over you...

"oh!" you gasp bringing your hand to your chest, your heart is beating faster than it ever has, thinking you were about to get robbed or something similar (at least you won't let anything bad happen to mr. chonkers!) and when you turn around, your heart beats twice as fast for an entirely different reason

there, what you think must be the most beautiful man you've ever seen, is standing with his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie, intently looking at...mr chonkers? as if you weren't even there.

"hm, that's why he was getting so fat huh" the stranger mutters under his breath while you try to pull yourself out of the trance that his beautifully long lashes have you in.

"um...is mr. chonkers yours?"

"mr. what..?" he seems to finally acknowledge your presence, turning to look at you with one eyebrow raised and a puzzled look on his face, you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze...and you just embarrassed yourself too! truly, you didn't think the cat would have an owner, so you just went ahead and named him mr. chonk-

"it's not mine." the boy's voice brings you out of your mental rant "i just feed him sometimes."

oh...that certainly explains why mr. chonkers is so...chunky.

you stare at your feet for a bit, thinking about what your next move should be, you've been coming here almost every night ever since you moved here but it's your first time seeing this guy, maybe he's new here? shouldn't you ask for his number or something? you really should...he's so pretty too! okay, you definitely can do this!

"hey, since you've been feeding mr. chonkers too, we could take turns, can you give me your-" you stopped when you finally turned around to look at him, only to find that he wasn't there anymore! curse you, he probably just left thinking you were weird as hell while you were mentally preparing to ask for his number...

sigh. you kneel down again "you could've at least let me know you had someone else feeding you too, y'know?"

"meow?" you giggle when the cat starts rolling around happily in front of you, and you bend down some more to sratch on his tummy and chin before standing up and making your way back home.

you light up a cigarette and bring it to your lips while walking back to the house, deciding to take the longer way so you could take in the scenery while listening to your music.

even though your mind was flooded with images of the pretty stranger and the way you embarrassed yourself in front of him, so you couldn't really focus on anything else...

⟡ * ˖ ࣪ m.list ⟡ *˖ ࣪ profiles ⟡ * ˖ ࣪ taglist: @x3nafix @taefanclub @lukapurin @vertejay @levihanmyotp @lovelymeguru @chigiri-luvr @kaz-0e @t3chn0chan @yiiscorner @sfwrin @yuukiririix @solaqes @nevvynev @beepbopzlorp @adrnmyknight @sugacor3 @saeflrt (ask 2 be added!)

a/n: finally got the courage to start posting fics again LMAO im so excited ab this one...hopefully i can post ch. 2 tomorrow🤞🏻

106 notes · View notes

sunrenity · 7 months ago

Text

STICK TOGETHER 、LHS

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ no matter what, you two will always stick together.

𝓁ee 𝒽eeseungㅤ✶ㅤ female readerㅤ ｡｡｡ ㅤest relationship, boyfriend! hee, fluffㅤⓘㅤskinship, confession, kissingㅤwcㅤ1233ㅤℬookshelfㅤzehra's note.ㅤso so sorry for not being active that much 😓 i'm on vacation with my family which is why i haven't been active and didn't write & post anything for a week (or more...).

the sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of indigo sky dotted with glittering stars. the air is cool and crisp, and the quiet hum of the evening embraces the two of you as you sit on the rooftop of your childhood home. the very rooftop where countless memories were written — memories of scraped knees, stolen glances, and a love that blossomed between innocence and time.

you lean back, your head resting gently against heeseung’s shoulder. his arm, warm and familiar, drapes protectively around your waist as if he's afraid to let go, afraid you might slip through his fingers like sand. he has always been like that, ever since you can remember — always holding on, always close. and you, in turn, never mind. how could you, when heeseung’s presence feels like home?

“you remember when we used to sneak up here and count the stars?” you muse, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

heeseung chuckles softly, the sound sending gentle vibrations through your body as he turns his head to press a lingering kiss against your temple. “how could i forget? you were terrible at counting back then,” he teases, his breath warm against your skin.

you nudge him playfully, smiling despite yourself. “hey, i’ve improved since then.”

“mm, sure you have,” he replies, his voice playful but laced with that tenderness you’ve come to recognize as his way of showing just how much he cares

the stars seem to blink in approval as silence settles comfortably between you. there’s no need for words when you can simply bask in the warmth of each other’s company. and that’s how it has always been. from childhood best friends to lovers, your connection has always been a steady undercurrent, strong and enduring, no matter what life throws at you.

heeseung is the boy who shared his snacks with you during recess, who helped you patch up your knees when you fell from your bike, and who wiped away your tears when the world felt too overwhelming. and in return, you’ve been his anchor, his constant. through scraped knees and awkward first crushes, through heartache and growing pains, you’ve stuck together, never wavering.

and now, as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, followed by another to your jaw, you feel that familiar flutter in your chest — the same one you felt the first time he’d shyly confessed his feelings to you under this very sky, so many years ago.

you were seventeen, the world still a mystery yet to unfold, and heeseung was by your side, as he always had been. the two of you had climbed up to the rooftop on a summer night, the heat of the day lingering in the air, but the breeze was cooler up there, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

heeseung sat beside you, quieter than usual, his hands fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. you glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, a tell-tale sign that something was weighing on his mind. but he hadn’t said anything yet, and you didn’t want to push. so, instead, you gazed up at the sky, letting the silence speak for itself.

minutes passed like this, and just when you thought maybe the moment would drift by like any other, heeseung took a deep breath. he turned toward you, his eyes wide and unsure but filled with a softness that had always been there, even when you were just kids.

"y/n..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves were fragile. "i... there’s something i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while."

you blinked, heart skipping a beat as you turned to face him fully. his face was bathed in the yellow light of the sun, and in that moment, you could see every bit of the boy you had grown up with — the one who used to steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, the one whose laughter was always the loudest when you were around, and the one who, in that moment, looked like he was about to step into something new.

heeseung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned closer, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. "i think... i’ve liked you for a long time. more than a friend." his words were tentative, a confession laced with uncertainty, but there was a conviction behind them that made your breath catch in your throat.

your heart raced as you processed his words, a warmth blossoming in your chest. this was heeseung — your best friend, your confidant — and yet, in that moment, you saw him differently, as if a veil had been lifted between you.

before you could find the words to respond, he leaned in, hesitating only for a moment, his breath mingling with yours. his lips brushed softly against your cheek, tentative and sweet, and your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. a second passed, and then he moved just slightly, placing a delicate kiss on your jaw. your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you felt something inside you shift, like pieces falling into place.

it was subtle, but it was everything.

he pulled back, eyes searching yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. "i’m not sure how to do this... but i know that i don’t want to lose you," he confessed, his voice barely louder than the wind rustling the trees below.

you smiled, feeling the same flutter in your chest you felt whenever heeseung was near — only now, it was different. now, you knew exactly what it was.

you reached out, taking his hand in yours, fingers lacing together as they had done so many times before. but this time, it felt new. it felt like a beginning. "you won’t lose me," you whispered back, your heart steady now. "we’ll figure this out... together."

the smile that broke across heeseung’s face then was brighter than the sun above, and as he leaned in to press his forehead against yours, you knew, without a doubt, that this was only the start of something even more beautiful between you.

back then, neither of you knew how to navigate the transition from best friends to something more. it had been awkward at first, filled with nervous laughter and shy touches. but heeseung, in his gentle way, had always known how to make you feel safe, how to make everything feel right.

his lips brush against your neck now, and a soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining like they have done a thousand times before. and yet, the simple act still sends warmth flooding through your veins, a sensation that never grows old.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but you know he hears it. he always does.

heeseung shifts slightly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorize every detail, every curve of your face. his gaze is intense, but not overwhelming, filled with a quiet determination that makes your heart stutter. “of course we are,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “we always have been, and we always will be.”

162 notes · View notes

lostbookmark · 8 months ago

Text

WHISPERED SECRETS MASTERLIST here

MAIN MASTERLIST here

MDNI 🔞

Summary: After four years your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive?

Pairing: Sisters ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader.

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance.

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, very light degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Overuse of the name, baby.

A/N Edited by me aka I just throw commas in and see if my document corrects it.

Yoongi is a bit…mean(ish) in this one.

Yay!! I have the next 2 chapters written. Posting will be every Sunday US time.

A little SMUT under the cut.

Kevin….Kris….Kihyun. No, none of those names sound right. He's good-looking and easy on the eyes, pretty smile but boring as hell. It's been a week since Yoongi took you home after the intense night you shared. You had stayed the night, and the next morning, you made up an excuse for needing to get home. You were scared to stay longer, afraid he would kick you out. He never questioned you or begged you to stay. You exchanged numbers, but he never contacted you. You felt defeated. You didn't tell anyone. Not Lisa or Jisoo. They would never let you live it down. Maybe this is why you let Lisa talk you into showing up at the “hot guy she ditched you for” house party. His name is Jimin. He seemed okay, you guess, but you haven't really gotten to know him. Her love interests never last long. Key…Kang…Kyle. That's it! You think his name is Kyle.

“I just got back from Milan,” Kyle boasts. He is giving you what you think is probably his most charming smile. “I'll be heading to London again soon. Got quite a few photoshoots lined up. Mostly magazines, but I got a commercial too. I even have some contacts for Paris fashion week. I'm going to be a big deal.”

You really don't care, and you know that sounds mean. Why did Lisa introduce you to him? Did she really think you would hit it off with him? Damn Lisa for making you come here. Damn Yoongi for not calling or texting you. Damn him for making the feel of his touch still linger on your skin. Did you do something wrong? Were you just bad at sex. You know that you are pretty inexperienced, but it seemed like he enjoyed himself. He even cuddled you after he cleaned up with a warm washcloth. He was a pure gentleman. He even ran a hot shower for you as he made a quick snack afterward. You may or may not have tried to remember the brand of his shampoo. After some light bickering, he let you sleep on his side of the bed. So, why didn't he call? Was there someone else? Oh my god! Were you the side piece? Of course, someone like Yoongi would have someone waiting for him.

“Lisa said that you two have been friends since you were young. You work together too, right? ” Key…no Kyle said and you nod your head.

“Yeah, umm..” You started but were interrupted.

“Baby,” you turn to see Yoongi staring daggers at you. How the hell did he know you were here? You're pretty sure that your jaw is on the floor right now. Yoongi places himself right behind you. He rests his chin against your shoulder and hands coming together around your stomach. “Who's your friend?” Why does he say it so calmly despite his glaring eyes?

You freeze, your body rigid, and can't say anything. One week, it's been one week, and now he's right here. You don't know what to say. Are you supposed to throw yourself at him after he ignores you? You wish you could throw a shitty comment his way, but you don't. It's not who you are. You wish you could tell him that since he isn't interested, maybe you will go home with Kyle. He looks at you and Kevin…no Kyle impatiently. His glare, thankfully, is fully on Kyle now, and you don't want it back on you. Nope, you are definitely not going to say that, even if it’s a lie.

“Hey man, I'm Kai,” Kai that's his name! You knew it started with a k. “Didn't know she had a boyfriend. Lisa lied to me. Sorry about that.” Kai apologized and rushed out of there. Literally, he walked away as fast as his legs could carry him. You wish he would take you with him. Technically, you guess Lisa didn't lie.

You turn in his arms to look at Yoongi fully. He looks pissed. You don't know if you should be scared, angry, or turned on. Is it possible to be all three? His eyes looked hard, unlike a week ago. It seems like such a long time ago. Maybe it was just a fever dream, and you made it all up. This Yoongi is different, and it is making you anxious.

“We're leaving,” he breathes heavily in your ear.

He takes your hand and threads your fingers through each other. He starts heading for the door, and you have no option but to follow him. You don't want to fight him and cause a scene. You try looking around for Lisa, hoping you spot her. You don't see her, but you do catch a glimpse of Kyle…Kai chatting up another girl. She seems thoroughly excited about it. Good for her. Looks like you probably dodged a bullet there. When you get through the door, you notice his car just down the street a little ways. Lisa picked you up earlier, and now you're kicking yourself for it. Yoogi practically rips the car door open and looks at you expectantly. He holds the door with one hand while his other is on his hip.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked. His stare is still cold. “Do you want me to go get Kai for you? Do you need him to help you?”

“Wh…what? No, why would I…” you were cut off.

“Get in, baby. I'm already mad, don't make me tell you again,” he told you.

With one last look back at the house, you get in the car. The same car and spot you sat in a week ago. God, a week ago, you were shivering with anticipation. Now, you were confused and honestly a little scared. Where was he, and why was he acting like you had done something wrong? You knew deep down that Yoongi would never do anything to hurt you. However, this is a side of him you have never seen. You didn’t see it years ago either when he was still with your sister. Even during their fights at the end of their relationship. You even spent a lot of alone time with him back then, annoying him. He never snapped at you. When you couldn't figure out how to parallel park, he never snapped at you. When Lisa got you drunk at homecoming and he had to pick the two of you up, he never snapped at you. He never did anything like this.

“Cold?” He asks you. You're rubbing your hands together.

“A little,” you answer softly. You want him to grab your hands and warm them with his own. Instead he cranks the heat.

The only sound in the car was from the radio and the heat blowing on your cold fingers. You don't know what the song playing is, but the deep bass is slow. It's almost comforting. You want to close your eyes and drift to sleep. Maybe if you go to sleep right now, you'll wake back up in his bed, and you can redo everything. Obviously, that's not possible. Your eyes slide over to him. He's concentrating on the road, and there's a small tick in his jaw. His hand had stayed on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white with his grip. He didn't touch you, not even once. You want to cry. What did you do? Why is he so mad? How did he find you there? What did you do? The song on the speakers switched to something less moody, and your eyes moved to look out the passenger window. The sky is clear, the stars shine bright and twinkling in the late night sky. You didn't care for it. Not even one little bit.

That soft yellow glow of the bedroom was exactly the same. So were his sheets and pillows. The memories were completely vivid and fresh in your mind. The sound of your skin slapping together, his grunts and your gasps. The way he held you when you drifted off to sleep. You look at Yoongi sitting on the corner of his bed staring at you. His elbows resting on his knees and his right knee bouncing slightly You can't tell what he is thinking. You stand next to a large desk in his room. You think he must use it for work. There's messy paper everywhere and pens scattered all around. You try to focus and see what's on the paper but can't make out the scribbles. Poems, maybe? Does he write? You can't remember if he ever mentioned wanting to write back then. Maybe you didn't pay close enough attention.

“Look at me,” he snaps at you. Your eyes immediately obey his command. “What were you doing there with Kai?” Yoongi spits his name out in disgust.

“I…I..Lisa introduced us. We were just talking,” you said softly. “I don't know him.”

“So, you were just going to go off and fuck someone you don't know?” He asked and you were taken back. He was basically snarling at you.

“NO!” You cried out. “I wasn't.” You were getting worked up. “Why do you care? I haven't even heard from you in a week.” You shocked yourself by actually saying that outloud. Shit. You can't take it back now.

Yoongi didn't seem amused by your outburst. Cracking his neck, he stood up from the bed and stalked up to you. You wanted to take a step back, but that messy desk prevented you from doing so. Yoongi rests both his hands on the desk, caging you in. His breathing and the sound of your own heart beating in your ears ring loudly in your ears. He runs the tip of his nose against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps race down your arms. Your body betrays you, wanting you to give into him.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear. “The phone works both ways, baby. Get on your knees.”

You swallow thickly. You aren't exactly sure what he means. Right here on the floor? On the bed? You decide not to make him wait and drop to the floor right in front of him. Are you supposed to undo his pants? Is that what he wants? You have never given a blow job before. Maybe you can fake it and figure it out as you go. You’ve seen porn. Just don't bite him, and you'll be fine. Your hands reach up and start to undo his belt around his hips. Yoongi chuckles a humorless laugh as he swats your hands away. Oh, that's not what he meant. Tears well in your eyes out of embarrassment.

“On the bed. On your knees, ass up,” he snickers at you.

You stand up slowly and walk with your head down to the bed. You don't want him to see the unshed tears or your embarrassed face. You know it's red. Your knees hit his mattress, the sheets are still soft. You lean down onto your elbows as you look at him, and he shakes his head at you. God, you probably look like such an idiot for not knowing what to do. Yoongi walks over to you and puts his hands on the back of your shoulders, and pushes you gently down. Your chest and the side of your face meet the bed. He turns your head gently to look at the other side of the room. There's nothing to see over there besides his closet. You feel the dress that you're wearing starts to rise up. Yoongi next adjusts your hands. Making sure that your fingers are interlocked above your head. You feel him get closer to your face. His breath tickles your ear.

“Are you okay?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you say meekly.

“Good. Stop me anytime,” he tells you as he kisses below your ear. “You thought I was ignoring you? You think that’s why I didn't call you?” He asks, but you don't answer. You can feel him slip your dress completely up and over your ass as he stands behind you. “Yes or no, baby?”

“Yes,” SMACK! As soon as you answer, he spanks you. It wasn't overly hard but just enough to sting. Your body goes rigid, and your eyes widen comically in surprise. Oh! You honestly were not expecting that.

You wait for him to say something, but you're just met with silence. You don't feel his presence near you. You strain your ears to try and listen for him. Did he leave the room?

“Y..Yo..Yoongi?” you asked softly and he didn't respond.

Suddenly, there was a tick…tick..tick noise in the room. Slowly, you turn your head, and you see him sitting at his desk. His shirt is off, hair beautifully messy, pants undone, but nothing obscene showing. Tick…tick…tick. It's one of those music things, a metronome you think it's called. The pendulum swings back and forth again and again. Tick… tick…tick. Yoongi is watching you kneel on the bed while playing with it in his hands. He almost looks bored.

“Turn back around,” he tells you slowly. You turn your head back around. Tick…tick…tick. “You know what i was thinking all week?” He asks you. “I thought I was a horrible person. Did I force you here? Did I make you do something you didn't want? You wanted out of here so bad the next morning I thought you were going to have a panic attack.”

The chair groans a little bit. You can only assume that he got up. You can hear the clicking of his belt buckle as if he's walking to you. You anticipate his touch, but again, nothing. Tick…tick…tick. The oscillating noise is putting you on edge. The sound of his belt tells you he's close. Your breath is starting to come out as pants as adrenaline starts to flow through you. Your interlaced fingers twitching.

“I wanted to give you space. I see that was the wrong thing to do. Why didn't you get a hold of me, baby?” He asked. You still can't see him.

“I didn't want to bother you,” you mumble. SMACK! SMACK! You press your hands together tightly and screw your eyes shut. Tears blurred your vision as they started to fall. You sucked in a shuddering breath.

“You could never bother me. Instead of talking to me, you decided to ignore me to fuck around with Kai? How do you think that makes me feel?” His voice raises some. SMACK! His hand gently starts rubbing your reddened cheek. Soothing the stinging with his cool palm. You hear him take a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say through tears. “I'm fine.” You really were. “I didn't…”

“What?” Yoongi asks. His hand is still gently rubbing your reddened skin.

“I thought you realized you made a mistake. I thought maybe I wasn't good enough for you. I'm not like my sister,” you hiccuped. You pressed your hands tightly together before he delivered the next smack. It never came. Tick…tick…tick.

“Why would you compare yourself to her? Why didn't you say anything?” He asked. His hand stroked some hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The strands were wet from tears.

“Have you met me,” you try to joke through tears. You highly doubt Yoongi thinks it's funny. Yoongi leaned over to look at your tear stained face. Bending down, he kissed the tears away. You close your eyes and welcome him. He's here. The soft, gentle Yoongi is here now.

Yoongi moved again and stood behind you. He hooked his fingers into your underwear and slowly slid them down your legs. His fingertips tickled the outside of your thighs as they traveled down. He lifted your knees one at a time so he could completely remove them from your body. Then, nothing. Why does he keep disappearing on you? You were tempted to turn and look for him again. Tick…tick..tick. Suddenly, his tongue is on you. You close your eyes and sigh, escape your lips , and fingers tighten together. You push your hips back against his face to get him closer. His tongue swirls magical circles against your bundle of nerves. One week, and you realize how much you missed this. How starved for his touch you were. You should have made the first move. This all could have been avoided. He was right. You didn't think about how he felt. You shouldn't have gotten in your own head. You always get in your own head. Yoongi pulls away. Disappointment floods through your body. Disappointment doesn't last, though. You hear his belt rattling, and pants hit the ground. He roughly pulls your body to him in one smooth move. Your own clothed back to his naked front. He gently tangles his hand in your hair, pulling your head back. Just like that, gentle Yoongi is gone. Dipping his head, he slants his mouth over yours. Tongue demanding entrance. You relax and press your tongue against his, tasting yourself on him. Soon, he lets go of your lips and hands roughly yank your dress down to your waist. You thrust your hips back with an arch of your back. He's hard.

“Still good?” He asks again, hands and slowly coming up to cup your naked breasts. His fingers tweak your nipple. It sends a jolt right down to your core.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you reply somewhat breathlessly.

Yoongi pushes you forward so you were down on the bed again. Chest flush with the bed, ass in the air. His hands grip your hips, bringing you back to him. You feel him run his cock up and down your wet folds. Dipping the head in and taking it back out. He does this several times and it's driving you mad. You try to swivel your hips but he completely backs off with an airy laugh. SMACK! He slaps your ass once more. Grabbing your hair again, he pulls you up savagely against him. His arm crosses over your chest, hand on your shoulder. He's supporting your weight against him. You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. Chest rising and falling with every pant of your breath.

“I should have fucked you in front of him,” he hisses in your ear. “That way you wouldn't have to doubt me again. Everyone at that party would know your mine now. Kai….Lisa….Jimin.”

Yoongi's free hand cups your pussy, giving you teasing strokes. Teasing just like before. Fingers enter you shallowly just to pull back quickly. You look at him and you don't even have time to question him before he's answering you.

“How do you think I found you tonight? We work together, baby. He likes talking about Lisa.” He explains with a chuckle. “Lisa… she likes to talk about setting her pretty little friend up with a date, but her friend is kind of shy. I took the chance that she was talking about you. Lucky me, huh,” Yoongi answers you as his fingers finally start pumping into you. Your wet, you thought maybe too, went given the situation. Your noises make it obvious how much you are enjoying this. “Too bad you're not available. Kai was pretty good-looking.”

“Please, I'm sorry. I need you. Yoongi, please,” you beg him. Yoongi kisses your neck. Lightly sucking on your sweat slicked skin as his fingers pump into you faster. Marking you, making you his.

《Chapter 4》

Yoongi lets his grip on you go. You fall to the bed and scramble to get back onto your knees in front of him. You lift your head and look over your shoulder at him. Trying to beg him with your eyes to do something…anything. Tick…tick…tick. Yoongi finally grips your hips and pulls you back to him. Leaning over you, he places you exactly like he had you before. Chest flush with the bed, hands above your head. Rubbing your red marks with his hand, he deals one more blow before he sinks all the way into you. You sigh. He feels like home.

Tagged reader

@unicornbabylover

140 notes · View notes

omagpies · 4 months ago

Note

hey have you considered a potential curlayna child wanting to be an astronaut and the both of them nearly have a heart attack... kthxbai

okay your ask sparked a conversation between me and @cyanidecrystal so here goes:

(slightly recolored james mcavoy faceclaim lmaooo) this is Yuri, they/them;

(sidenote: this drawing is retroactively about baby yuri now)

they grow up only knowing a very, very sanitized version of what happened on the tulpar; while PE had no finances to cover up the story, the company producing the ships did, so even the initial splash of news was quickly suppressed and only remains as sporadic bits free floating in the infosphere. curlanya only tell them the bare bones of it, but since their family relationships are solid, yuri sees no reason not to take their word for it.

what does win is curiosity, and yuri does end up trying to dig things up just to know more about their family. the blurry, low res picture of post-crash curly they manage to find is written off as either one of the dead crew members, or perhaps even something generated by AI.

as a child, yuri already proudly declares that they are going to become an astronaut; curly and anya by then still haven't set foot in a spaceship or even a plane, so they sweat nervously but ascribe it more to a childhood whim (i'm going to be an astronaut AND a president AND a garbage truck driver)

it is not, in fact, a childhood whim

as yuri is growing up, their interest becomes more prominent. curlanya, excellent parents overall, make their first serious blunder and try their best to discourage them from pursuing a career in space

of course, it means that yuri ends up going behind their backs and sneaking off on a short-ish trip (think a jupiter moon, not even leaving the system) as an intern. they text them right before they lose signal, something like 'hey, remember you said you'll make it up for me for not letting me go on that school trip? (it involved a transcontinental flight) i've got it covered now so no worries, see you in a week!'

someone on the trip recognizes yuri's last name, asks if they are related to curly. yuri is surprised by this, deeply unaware that curly had a solid reputation as a captain and a pilot back in the day.

the trip ends up taking a little longer. during it, yuri sustains a minor injury for reasons of being a goober. something benign like a mild burn or a blackeye, so they come back wearing a temporary eye patch and supremely chuffed about finally looking at least a little like dad

curlanya do not react well. they don't yell or anything, but they are Weird, and it's not the reaction yuri was expecting. they don't know how on earth this is such a big deal to them.

(meanwhile, curlanya are severely triggered by literally everything about this and are in the process of discovering that all the trauma they thought to have processed has not, in fact, been fully processed, and their kid is now making them face it on hard mode)

they do end up having an argument about it. yuri is upset and offended and says some things they probably shouldn't, like 'just because you had an accident doesn't mean i will, and you're fine anyway!' (in their defence, everything happened so long ago, and curly's had years to recover by now)

perhaps they even say something like 'i'd rather get into a crash than stay at home doing nothing like you'

yuri is forbidden from sneaking away again, so of course that's what they do.

this time, however, when someone asks them if they know curly, the person ends up telling them a fuller story of what happened. with a fresh and exciting degree of understanding of why their parents are Like That, yuri is forced to sit with their feelings until the trip is over. forced to think over all the jabs they'd thrown their parents' way because they didn't understand.

after that second trip, the three of them finally sit down to have an honest conversation. curlanya still omit some details (like anya's assault), but since yuri really does want to work in space, it's time for them to reckon with their paranoia. their trauma must not define the life of their child.

yuri asks curly how he'd lived. curly smiles and says that he doesn't know either, yuri would have to ask their mother about that.

from then on, they learn to support yuri. whatever breakdowns they have, happen when it's just the two of them.

curlanya are both emotionally involved parents, but this is where curly becomes a little more closed off and lets anya take the reins. he doesn't want to bombard their kid with his problems, so he sticks more to logistics.

(for example, obsessively looking up every crew member of every trip yuri goes on. no background goes unchecked)

eventually, yuri invites them to come on board the ship they're now working on. after much hesitation, curlanya agree. curly is allowed into the cockpit (recognized by name if not by face) and reckons with the strange mix of nostalgia and despair. the equipment is just different enough to not send him into a fully blown flashback, but he does have to make his excuses and go hyperventilate in the bathroom.

it's a real moment of growing up for yuri, when they goes to find their father and see him so helpless. it's a gradual process, a series of 'god, i never knew it was this hard for you guys to accept this'

the more they understand that, the more they, too, understand how much their parents love them and how much their support costs them

still, learning more about the accident doesn't pass without a trace for yuri. for a while, they are uncertain if this is what they really want to do. ('i think i saw a picture of you after the crash. tell me it was a fake')

anya wins that day. her trauma wasn't as obvious to strangers, wasn't gawked at or paraded like curly's. it's easier for her to think rationally about this. and after all of it, she wants yuri to chase their dream

(maybe yuri even writes a resignation letter for their company and tells anya about it. after their heart to heart, anya tells curly, and he calls the company and tells them not to process it just yet. yuri stays on the roster.)

eventually, of course, the cat is out of the bag, and someone callous enough to bring it up asks yuri about the assault and if they are a result of it.

deeply distraught, yuri doesn't immediately clock that the math doesn't math. all they can think of is that they might be the child of their mother's assailant. that curly might not be their father.

they come with it to curlanya, and that's when they finally show yuri a picture of curly from before the crash.

yuri has always thought they took after their mother in pretty much everything except eye color. now, they find a blond version of themself looking back at them, and it feels like coming home.

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curlanya #yuri the curlanya kid #caw caw #curlya

129 notes · View notes

fandomfix13 · 1 year ago

Text

Get Him Back - Rafe Cameron 18+

* HI ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT IM HERE NOW

* TBH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO BARE WITH ME

* This is so super long and also completely filthy at parts SO MDNI and pls read warnings

* little bit of fluff? Def some pretty smutty smut. This did not start out as smut but here we are

* WRITTEN IN Y/N’s POV, lots of dialogue

*anything in italics is your inner monologue

Word count: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI!, mentions of cheating (not rafe), toxic ex, oral (giving and receiving), fingering, rough-ish??, p in v sex, hair pulling, light choking??, not rated e for everyone

The rain is pouring down in sheets. Falling harder than it has in a while. My head is pounding from holding back tears, that I might as well let out. I never thought that I would be in this situation. Forced out of my boyfriend's car after a fight at nearly one in the morning, with a dead phone, left to walk home alone in the pouring rain. How cliche. Not to mention the fact that I’m just over three miles away from home. What a dick. Some “man” he is to leave me like that. For all he cares, I could be kidnapped out here. However, it's highly unlikely being that I’m wandering in one of (if not the nicest) neighborhoods in this entire state. Constantly guarded by a neighborhood watch, with gated community after gated community.

I can see the the sharp rain plummeting down in the glow of the street lights. Unlucky for me, the wind has picked up too making this walk even more miserable. At this point, I have two options; 1. I could continue to walk home in this miserable weather OR 2. I could lose all dignity and show up to Sarah’s house after not talking to her in months. Seeing as this storm is showing absolutely no sign of stopping, its looking like the second option is better. As I turn the corner, I approach the Seabrook Gated Community. A little ways down is the fence that Sarah and I used to hop all the time when we would sneak out. That’s my in. It’s an old rusty fence that is hidden behind some overgrown hedges behind some wildly overpriced house that rarely ever has anyone living in it.

After nearly slipping off of the slippery fence, I make my way down the street to Tanny Hill. Mentally preparing myself for the absolute humiliation that will occur if Sarah opens the front door. We had our falling out about 3 months ago and we haven't spoken since. We have tried our best to avoid each other at all costs. At least I’ve tried avoiding her, that is, until this very moment.

As I approach the front lawn, I genuinely consider turning around and quite literally braving the storm and walking home. As it is, I’m already soaked from head to toe and probably on the verge of pneumonia. However, I shake off my thoughts and walk towards the front door. I knock three times in hope that someone will hear. I don’t ring the doorbell out of fear of waking up the entire Cameron household which is the last thing I need to do. After a few seconds, nobody answers. This house is huge maybe they are coming. I convince myself that nobody is answering the door so I turn accepting my fate and I walk away. Suddenly, I hear the front door unlock and my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear his voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Fuck. Me.

“Hey Rafe.” I choke out. God I probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” he looks at his phone “at 1:26 in the morning.”

“Um. Is Sarah home?” I spit out, trying to avoid conversation.

“She’s not…but I am.” He leans against the door frame looking me up and down in a ‘you good?’ way. “You also didn’t answer my question.” He adds.

“I uh…I didn’t know where else to go.” I say quietly. I was right. This is in fact humiliating. He just stands there and stares at me. Clearly unamused at the fact that I still haven't answered his question as to why I am standing on his front porch looking like a wet dog. I would stare too. “Are you gonna let me inside? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me in silence.” I add.

“That depends.” He says lookin back into the house then back at me. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Or are you just gonna avoid the question.” Touche. We stand here in silence for a moment as he watches me get pelted in the face by the rain and I chatter my teeth. He finally pushes the door open further and gestures for me to come inside. Thank go Sarah isn’t home because I would be shitting myself out of embarrassment right now. I walk in and Rafe opens a hallway in the closet as he reaches in and grabs a towel that he throws at me. “If You get anything wet, Rose will lose her shit.”

“How kind.” I say with strong notes of sarcasm.

“Hey I didn’t have to let you in. I could've just left you outside on your own.” he’s right.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first guy to leave me outside tonight, so I probably would’ve been fine” I blurt out without thinking. What happened to me tonight is none of his business. Plus I’m sure he will hear about it anyway. However, he did let me inside which he did not have to do, so I could at least pretend to be grateful.

“Damn. That's rough. Sorry about that.” he almost sounded embarrassed.

“No, it's fine. Thanks for the towel.” he nods and sits down at the kitchen counter. We stand in silence for a bit as I ring my hair out into the sink. This couldn’t be more awkward. Here I am standing in my ex best friend’s house with her older brother, who was in fact my first kiss in a game of truth or dare years ago, and who happens to be the best friend of my boyfriend who just dumped me on the side of the road in the middle of the night. This is just grand. “Do you have a phone charger? My phone is completely dead.”

“Uh yeah its upstairs. Do you wanna-” he cut himself off before speaking again. “Do you just wanna come up with me so you can change?” Right. So. Apparently this absolutely CAN feel more awkward. Whatever. I need to charge my phone and honestly a change of clothes sounds devine. I silently follow Rafe up the stairs and into his room. “If you want you can take a shower to warm up. Your teeth haven’t stopped chattering since you got here.” he’s being frighteningly nice.

“Um sure.” I say hesitantly as I am incredibly confused by his nice attitude. I plug in my phone and Rafe hands me one of his old t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts that were surely left here by some random girl, but honestly I don’t care. I have to get out of these clothes. “Thanks.” I say taking the clothes and entering his bathroom, closing and locking the door quickly behind me. Literally what the fuck. There is no way this is really happening.

I take my time in the shower as I let the steaming hot water warm me up for a while. When I’m done, I put on the clothes that Rafe gave me, and open the bathroom door seeing him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey Topper called you like five times when you were in the shower.” He says unfazed. My attitude shifts almost immediately.

“You didn’t answer it did you?” I blurt out. Nice job y/n! That wasn’t suspicious at all!

“No…why would I?” he laughs clearly confused as I let out a sigh of relief. Once again. Awkward silence. I take a seat on the edge of the bed going through my phone. “Are you gonna call him back?” he asks. Before I could answer him, his phone starts to ring. Toppers name is displayed on the screen. Rafe looks at his phone, then back to me, then back to his phone.

“I am NOT here. Answer it. Put it on speaker.” I say frantically. Now he's intrigued.

“Hey Top!” Rafe answers. “Rafe! I fucked up man. I fucked up BAD! I’m coming over. I need a drink asap.” I am immediately shaking my head and mouthing ‘no’. “Top I can’t tonight man. My dad is on my ass and if Rose finds out I have someone over, I’m dead bro.” Is he seriously helping me right now?

Topper scoffs on the other line. “Since when have you given a shit about what Rose thinks? I’m already on my way!”

“Then turn around and go home man. I can’t tonight.”

“What is up with you dude? You never turn down a drink” its silent for a minute “Oh shit do you have a chick over right now?” Im disgusted at the change in tone in Top’s voice when he brings up Rafe having a girl over.

“Yeah bro I do. And she’s alone right now in my bed so I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow.” Rafe responds, very quick to go along with Topper’s question.

“That’s my man!” Topper laughs “is she hot? She better be hot!”

Even Rafe rolls his eyes at Topper’s comment. “Yeah she’s hot. Okay gotta go man.” Rafe responds as he hangs up the phone. Is that true, does he think I’m hot? I don’t care. Do I?

I let out a huge sigh of relief that we dodged the bullet of Top showing up here.

“So. Are you gonna tell me why I just had to lie to my best friend?”

I shift nervously. “Well technically you didn’t lie. There is a ‘chick’ here and she is sitting on your bed.” I try to make a joke avoiding this conversation at all costs.

“Y/n.” He says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly wants an answer.

“I broke up with Top and he didn’t take it well.” I say on an exhale. He doesn’t say anything because he’s not stupid. He has probably figured out that much already. I let out a heavy sigh. “He kicked me out of his car in the middle of the road three miles away from my house in the fucking rain because I accused him of cheating on me. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about. He said I was crazy, and that I was making shit up. But I’m not. I know for a fact that I’m not. It’s not the first time either. He’s done it before, which I’m sure you already know since you’re his best friend and he probably tells you everything.” I make that realization as I’m rambling my story out to him. Rafe is probably well aware of Topper’s lack of loyalty.

“I uh. I knew about it the first time.” He admits. His honestly with the situation makes me laugh a little as I roll my eyes.

“Of course you did. Being that it was with your sister. I’d be shocked if you didn’t know.” The look on Rafe’s face instantly changes. It’s almost like he’s holding something back. “Unless…Sarah wasn’t the first girl was she. There was someone else.” Tears that I have been pushing back for weeks start to well in my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious. Even Rafe doesn’t know what to say. Without thinking, I grab my wet clothes and my barely charged phone, and head towards his bedroom door. “I should go. Thanks for the shower and-”

“Y/n don’t be ridiculous” he says quickly following me. “You can’t leave right now that storm is getting worse” He puts his hand on the door, shutting it.

I turn and he is standing close enough to me to create an odd sort of tension.

“Why don’t you get him back?” Rafe suggests as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to get back with him Rafe I’m so ov-” he cuts me off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean get him back. As in revenge.” he says as he steps closer to me. Jesus Christ I’m an absolute idiot.

“Revenge…right.” I laugh awkwardly. He continues to inch closer, creating an even bigger amount of tension. Not that tension is an unfamiliar thing with Rafe and I. There has always been a weird tension between us. Ya know…the whole best friends brother thing. I’ve known Rafe for almost 10 years. Something about his cocky attitude has always been attractive to me. Call it toxic. I don’t care. It’s just the truth. Rafe and I are standing right infront of each other. He is towering over me as my back is still to the door.

“You know…They say that one of the best ways to get over a guy is to get under another.” He almost whispers while moving my hair out of my face. I can’t help but blush. The thought of getting back at Topper crossed my mind the second he cheated on me. The thought of getting back at him by hooking up with his best friend? That’s even better. Rafe leans down and starts to kiss my neck. “Rafe we probably shouldn’t do this” I whisper clearly enjoying it.

“Of course we shouldn’t. But I do shit that I shouldn’t do all the time.” He stops kissing my neck to look me in the face.

“Me too” I nod letting out a breath as I crash my lips onto his. The kiss is instantly filled with an insane amount of intensity. Rafe backs me up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He moves from my mouth to my neck, leaving hickeys all over. He is making sure that I can’t hide what we are doing. And I’m totally here for it. His hands move from my hair, to my hips, to underneath the hem of my shirt. Well. Technically his shirt. I’m braless since my bra got soaked in that rain earlier. He quickly realizes this as his hand grazes over my tits. He starts to grip them while kissing me, making me moan softly until he stops for a second.

“As hot as you look in my shirt…it’s coming off” he nearly growls. I lift my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I reach for his shirt to take it off. Once he takes it off his mouth is back on mine. Our foreheads are pressed together as our bare chests are rising and falling against each other. He hoists me up, grabbing my ass as I throw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We don’t last long against the wall before we move to the bed.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed as he hovers over me kissing me yet again. Each kiss gets more aggressive. We bite each other's lips between kisses. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck leaving more marks. Slowly, he makes his way to my chests. The marks he makes get darker and darker. He puts his mouth over my nipple, making me moan as he slightly bites down. He quickly moves his hand up to cover my mouth.

“Shhh. Baby we gotta stay quiet.” He says as he moves from one nipple to the other. I moan into his hand as he stifles the sound that comes out. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as he wraps his hand around it lightly. His lips meet mine again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” holy shit. I moan into our kiss as his hand is on my throat. His hand travels down my body until its hovering over my shorts. He’s moving his hand from one thigh to the other. Barely grazing the spot where I need him the most. I breathe into our kiss as his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts. He’s such a fucking tease. He hovers his hand there for a minute sensing that I want more.

“Oh my God Rafe” I moan out of anticipation.

“You want more baby?” he smirks against my lips.

“You know I do” Smartass.

“Say less” he moves from his position above me, to kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, revealing my bare pussy. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs in one swift motion, causing my breath to hitch. He leans down and attaches his mouth to my clit. This of course causes another accidental moan to slip from my mouth. I immediately throw my own hands over my mouth to quiet the noise. His tongue is swirling circles over my clit as he inserts two fingers without warning. As hard as I am trying to stifle my sounds, nothing could stop the groan that I let out at this moment. He moves his fingers at a faster pace that matches what his tongue is doing.

“Holy Shit Rafe.” I whine.

“You like that?” he smirks up at me. I nod and roll my eyes to the back of my head before shutting them tightly. But suddenly Rafe stops. “Open your eyes y/n. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to see who is making you feel this good.” I do as he says and open my eyes as I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view. “Atta girl” He smirks before burying his face into me yet again. He adds a third finger as I throw my head back while remaining eye contact. He curls his fingers as he eats me out and I want to scream at the pressure building up inside of me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers through his hair as he grins up towards me.

“Rafe! Oh my God” I let out a string of other soft noises and words.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” I look Rafe in the eyes as I jerk my hips and arch my back, completely unraveling in front of him. As he removes his fingers from inside of me, he brings them up to my mouth. “I want you to see how good you taste.” he says as I take his fingers into my mouth until they are clean. He removes his fingers from my mouth and laces his hands through my hair as he devours me with a kiss.

“That was incredible.” I breathe heavily.

“Oh we aren’t done yet princess.” the sound of him calling me princess was enough to nearly send me over the edge again.

“I’d hope not” I tangle my tongue with his as he deepens the kiss by pulling my hair back. I reach for his pants and I undo his belt.

“Eager are we?” he scoffs, pulling away for a moment. He removes his belt and his pants. Leaving his boxers for me to remove. I gesture for him to sit on the edge of the bed where I just was. When he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him over his boxers. I can tease too. I lean in kissing him as I slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap. I can feel him getting harder by the second. To be honest this is doing just as much for me as it is for him. I start to kiss his neck, leaving marks similar to the ones he left on me. I start to rock faster back and forth until he is letting out moans the way I was. I cover his mouth.

“I thought we had to stay quiet.” I give him a sly smile before kneeling on the floor and removing his boxers. I come face to face with his cock as I run my tongue up the side, looking up at him while I do it. I move my tongue to the other side slowly, taking my sweet time.

“Fuck y/n” Rafe groans as he places his hand in my hair.

I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and start to suck slowly, using my hands to work the rest that I can’t fit in my mouth. I bob my head up and down while I look up at him, my eyes are starting to water. He grabs my head and slightly pushes me down further, and I can feel his tip hit my throat. When it does Rafe lets out a deep moan with a mumbled string of “oh fucks”. After a few minutes, I can sense that he is going to cum. I don’t bother asking where he wants to finish before he finishes in my mouth. I swallow and look up at him with a smile.

“Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing.” He lets out a heavy content sigh. “We still aren't done yet. I need to be inside you.” He says laying me back down on the bed. I still cannot believe that this is happening.

Rafe wastes no time climbing on top of me leaving sloppy kisses up my chest and meeting my mouth with his. “You sure about this?” He looks down at me.

“Never been more sure about anything.” I nod.

“Good” He says as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and puts it on. Seconds later, he is lining himself up at my entrance. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he enters inside of me. His cock stretched my pussy perfectly. He moves with smooth motions leaving us both moaning into each other's mouths as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He brings his hand to my throat once again,barely applying pressure, making me let out a moan that was too loud to be stifled. He doesn’t seem to care.

“You like when my hands are around your neck?” He whispers in my ear.

“Yes! Oh my god yes” I am starting to get louder. He moves his hand from my throat to my mouth to keep me quiet again. I moan into his hand as his thrusts hit the perfect spot inside of me. He can tell that he has hit the spot when my hips start to buck in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. I am almost screaming into his hand. As he leans down to kiss me again.

“You gonna cum with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. I nod unable to speak, to stop myself from screaming. “Words y/n. Use your words”

“Fuck yes. I’m gonna cum!” I whine out. He thrusts in and out a few more times, hitting the spot perfectly making me squirm underneath him. With one final thrust, I arch my back as I scratch my nails down his, definitely leaving scratch marks. We cum simultaneously as we let out deep and hungry moans into each other's mouths. He just gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. He pulled out and laid next to me.

“Holy shit. I’ve waited so long to do that.” he says looking at me out of breath.

“Me too. I always had a crush on you ya know.” I say looking at him equally as out of breath.

“Yeah I know.” He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” I laugh back.

“Thank God I did. And I plan on doing it again. Just so you know.” I winked at me

“I’d hope so.” I smile, laying there next to him. He was right. That was the best way to get over someone.

** hi! I really hope you liked this. If you did and want to see more let me know what you want to see! I had fun writing this and in my many many years of writing fanfics this is somehow my first time writing smut so I hope it was okay lol ❤️

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc #obx smut

534 notes · View notes