#i live for tension and mutual pining okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- making out, masturbation (toru hehe), teasing and some very kinky ass thoughts, but mostly TENSION. Eventually - Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink. Gonna be a miniseries, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. WC this Part- 7.5k

Songs for this - Lose Contol // My Boo // Friends

This was supposed to be a oneshot but it's going WAY too long, so I'm separating it into three parts! (Also ty for 5k hehe) Comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Masterlist - Part Two>>>

Part one

“You love me, right?”

You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.

“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”

Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.

Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.

“How much you love me, hmm?”

“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.

“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.

“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”

“Satoru, I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”

“Your car is old enough to drink.”

“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”

“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”

“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”

“I love that movie!”

“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.

Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.

You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.

Not you and Satoru though.

For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.

“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.

“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”

“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”

“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.

“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”

“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”

“If I want to, what exactly?”

“Marry me?”

“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.

“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”

“Satoru…”

“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.

“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”

“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”

You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”

Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”

You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”

“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”

“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.

“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”

“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.

“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”

“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”

“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”

“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.

You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”

“Alright.”

“What!?”

He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”

“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”

“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.

“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.

“Satoru, you're insufferable.”

He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips. “Aww you’re still such a brat, since middle school.”

“You’re the brat here.”

“Meanie.” You both stick your tongues out, and when he’s walking you over to your shitty car, he wraps you in a big hug in his strong arms, making you melt against him. “Mwah, mwah, mwah you’re the best friend ever.”

“Oh, stop.” He’s smacking kisses on your head as you inhale his cologne, sighing as you contemplate just what the fuck you’re doing. “When do we do this?” You ask, pulling back a bit and looking up at him.

“I can have things going in a couple weeks, something super simple, like I said we’ll just live our lives, just be friends, it’ll be fine. Like a really long sleepover, hmm?” He teases, grinning now, putting back on his shades.

You figure, what’s it hurt? Your apartment is shitty, your car is old, Gojo is your best friend, and you’re down to help him avoid a miserable marriage for as long as he can. You nod then, smiling. “A long sleepover.”

One week of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend

Satoru Gojo thought he would control himself decently living with you, considering how many times you’ve slept over, how many movies you both have crashed out on the couch together. He’s seen you in bathing suits over the years, he’s caught glimpses of your pretty body of course, he knows how beautiful you are and he’s always maintained himself.

Satoru treasures you far too much to fuck it up in any way, despite the amount of times he’s almost lost it. Aside from Suguru, you have been the most important person in his life, and perhaps you’re closer now. But he can’t help but compare other girls to you over the years, and he usually makes quick work of the small relationships that he has with them.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated? Living with you walking around in your fucking panties and a crop top.

You nearly took him out the first morning you were here, when he went to brush his teeth, he has a huge house but of course you went to the main bathroom that divides his room and the room he set for you, it’s the bathroom you used when you stayed over. So he should have maybe anticipated it, but nothing prepared him for you bent over the sink, washing your face.

Your ass looked far too tempting in those damn boyshorts, half of each cheek tempting him to smack it, grab it, fucking lift you by it and slide into you. He was shocked when he was hard from the sight of it, he’s not inexperienced or not used to women, and he’s used to you, but something about the sight made him fucking feral, and he had to literally run to one of his guest bathrooms.

He now was almost used to you walking around in almost nothing, but this morning you’re in some little white tank top and he sees the outlines of the curve of your pretty tits, sees your nipples perked up, begging for his mouth. You’re wiping your eyes, yawning, using his Keurig to make coffee, smiling at him as if this is in any way normal or okay.

He gulps as you turn your attention to him, hair in a messy bun, his eyes struggle not to just stare at your body, he has to shut his mouth because it’s just slightly ajar. Satoru, a man who sees women naked frequently, fuck he has business meetings at strip clubs, nudity is nothing. But he can’t take it, take how your breasts are calling for him, how your thighs shift.

“Good morning, Toru! We have that event tonight, right?” You say sweetly, as his heart hammers in his chest, and then you feel his gaze on you, making your nipples tighten, more apparent as you look where he is now, biting your lip. “Shit, white isn’t the best color huh? How embarrassing… it’s kinda cold…”

“Yeah, cold.” He clears his throat, stepping closer, and your eyes drink him in, shirtless and built so perfect. You’ve seen him this way of course over the years, Satoru had no issue pulling his top off to work out, play a game of ball, but something about him in his soft sweats that show too much makes your brain run awry.

You should be immune to it, the god-like body Satoru Gojo has, how fucking perfect he is built, how pretty he is, but something makes your tummy heat up lately, especially when he comes closer, blue eyes lidded. “Um, I’ll make coffee?”

“Yes please.” He smiles sleepily, far too pretty, and you have to remind yourself, as you have all week, that you’re not with him, not truly.

It feels too easy, too comfy.

That was the point though.

“Got it.” You turn now, setting to put the pod in, tiptoeing to get his sugar, he chuckles deeply, reaching above you now, far too close to you, his bare chest pressing against your upper back. Your fingers grip the counters, feeling the cool granite of them, your breath catching.

“I’ll put them a little lower.” He teases, smirking as he sets them down, leaning a hip on the counter, and you smile, pretending to be calm, like your heart didn’t just beat out of your chest.

You’ve literally hugged this man every time you’ve seen him, you’ve even crashed next to him, why is he fucking with you so badly!? You suppose his presence in pieces was just easier to cope with than anything, but now your brain keeps having ridiculous images. Him having you up on that counter, your thighs spread, so intense you drop the spoon, it clatters to his tile floor.

“Shit, sorry.” You bend down, and your breath is right against him, over his thin sweats, and you look up at him, creating the worst images of his best friends he can ever imagine.

“It’s… fine.” He clears his throat, turning so you don’t see the clear evidence of what you’ve done.

“You okay, Toru? Tons of sugar, like usual?”

“Yeah.” His voice is gruff, as he glares at his cock, willing it to go down, you blink curiously at his back, wondering what’s wrong. You clear your throat again and hand him the cup, stepping next to him, he takes it, having put his cock up in the waistband of his boxers now, smiling nonchalantly. “Thanks sweets.”

“Of course! Can we go over a few things later today, before we go? I don’t wanna fuck anything up.”

“Of course we can. I also ordered you a dress and some jewelry, that cool?”

“Oh what? I have dresses, pretty ones!”

“I know, it’s really uppity bitches there though, you need something top notch.”

“Oh…” You trail off, a blush decorating your cheeks now, making you look even more tempting. “But you don’t know my size?’

Satoru brushes a tendril of hair that’s come out of your bun then, smirking just a bit. “Think I don’t know your size, sweetheart?”

“I… um…” Satoru has you flustered, dammit. “Oh?”

“Mhmm.” As if he hasn’t eyed your body a million times over. “It’ll be here later, I have to go to work for just a couple hours.” You nod then, for some odd reason wanting to kiss him, but you bite your lip instead.

“Sounds perfect, I have the day off!”

“Even better, go take a nice bath and relax before we deal with the snobby old fucks.” You giggle at him, you have always loved how he speaks of rich people, when he’s filthy rich, but Satoru? He’s very different.

He’s just…

Satoru.

Satoru’s heart doesn’t hammer in his chest, it almost falls out after he’s got his three piece pinstripe suit on, adjusting a skinny silk tie and peering at his silver Rolex, seeing what time it was, as you appear in front of him. The dress he picked out was a lacy black one, perfect for evening, but the way it hugs your every curve, the way your breasts are pressed up in that top?

You do a nervous spin, revealing your pretty back, the curve of your spine, the v neck so deep he sees hints of the dimples on your back. You turn back around, eyes glittering, enhanced with a little mascara and eyeliner, your lips the prettiest shade of red he can imagine. You look…

Beautiful.

Is that even the word?

How does he even explain it, when he’s speechless, when he feels his ears heat up at just how nervous he is to be in your presence then, eyeing a delicate gold necklace that hits just so in the hollow between your collar bones. You’re tilting your head to the side, hair falling softly in curls you’ve put it in, clutching your pretty little evening bag.

“How do I look, Toru? You look so handsome, but when don’t you.” You tease, and he tries not to look at the slit showing far too much of your pretty thigh, so tempting to slip a hand up it, find your surely pretty little pussy.

“You look…” He takes a breath, trying to act somewhat normal, smiling then. “You look… hot as fuck.”

You giggle then, rolling your eyes. “Oh whatever!”

“You look… amazing. Really.” He steps to you, giving into the temptation to brush the backs of his finger across the apple of your cheek, then across your jaw line, watching your breath catch, your red lips part, showing a hint of your little bottom row of teeth.

How would that pretty face look so fucked out?

God, it’s been a week, he needs to stop.

His hand falls, and you barely hold yourself together, breaths coming quicker and quicker. “You look beautiful, sweets. Gonna make quite the impression.” His husky admission makes you blush further, looking down and eyeing that little knot on his tie, as it’s like the entire room is holding its breath, everything so overwhelming, his nearness, his scent.

“Thank you, really for this dress. It’s so beautiful, and this.” You touch the pretty gold necklace, just making his eyes watch your pretty breasts rise and fall.

“Of course, it’s part of this, you know.” His little admission breaks you just a bit, for some insane reason, you felt like this was some date? You rein yourself in just a bit, smiling.

“Yes, but thank you. Shall we go, hubby?’

“We sure can, wifey.” You both laugh, the friendship of years prevailing finally, when you slip into the back of his limo with him, trying to ignore the feeling of his strong thigh pressing against yours, burning through the silky layer of the dress. “So remember the story?”

“Yeah, it’s easy to think of it happening, friends falling.” You then panic, as his blue eyes catch yours in the dark of the limo. “I mean-”

“No, of course it is. I’ll say that… I started falling in high school.” Because he did, god he did. After you all are about to be at the event, he notices it, your nerves, this just wasn’t your scene. “You look perfect, really.”

“Oh no…” He leans close, cupping your face, but it feels too good, your lips are too close.

“You do, gonna knock 'em dead, yeah?”

“We both will.” You smile tremulously, inhaling the night air greedily as you both walk up to the event, being ushered in. You’re clinging around his elbow as he casually goes about it, going into Mr. Gojo mode, you’ve seen him do it plenty over the years, still keeping his charm and sarcasm, but he’s just a force, the way he plays them all.

Knowing Gojo wants to take most of these people down is thrilling in its own way, you’ve always been enamored with how he fights for his principles, how real and raw he truly is with you about it. How humble when he’s come from everything, but still he knows that role he must play, and play it he does, his hand pressing on the small of your back as you two make small talk.

“I always thought of you two falling for each other.” Says your mom now, yes even your parents had to think it was true.

“I did too… so sudden though? Young love.” Gojo’s mom says, tossing back her silky long locks with a smile.

“What can I say? Your son is hard to resist, he’s so persistent. Like a cute little puppy.”

“A what!? Brat.” He’s glaring, but your parents and his mom are laughing, and you know it works, being real.

“Aren’t you two so in love?” Another person says later, as they observe Satoru placing a little peck on your temple, and he smiles with ease, not realizing the entire mess he’s making you.

“A beautiful couple. Gojo, you chose well.” One of his work friends says with a grin.

“We’re very lucky, both of us.” You say softly, stopping Gojo’s heart, when you peck a little kiss on his neck, tiptoeing in your heels, he turns then, your lips far too close, so close you taste the sweetness of his breath, and your eyes lock. “Aren’t we, Satoru?”

He blinks, realizing… you’re just helping him, and you’re nailing it. He tries to shove back the odd fluttering in his tummy, tilting your chin up. “We are lucky.”

The night ends up with plenty of dancing, plenty of schmoozing back and forth, and plenty of both of you being the perfect team. It was so easy, you both knew each other like no one else, the answers flow, the dancing flows, you’ve both danced in school before, you’ve partied together. You’ve been a plus one even as a friend.

Too natural, too perfect.

You soon need a breath, as you feel far too much as Satoru dances with a lovely girl, you recognize her, Gojo dated her and she’s a family friend. You assume she was a candidate for marriage as you recall her family ties, but seeing someone in his arms suddenly makes your heart break.

It’s only been a fucking week!? Can’t you keep it together!?

Later as you both get home, you’re taking off your shoes, wincing as the heels are off your feet, and Satoru looks at you curiously. “You okay, sweets? Kinda a long night of assholes, huh?”

“Oh it’s fine, Toru. Truly. Um… I recognized a couple girls there.”

“Yeah, they run in the same circles.” He takes off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves of that crisp white dress shirt, revealing the veins of his strong forearms, addling your mind further, how fucking attractive he is when he loosens that tie.

“Um, I know you said discrete, will you be… bringing them here?”

Satoru blinks at you, head tilting, soft white hair falling just so. “What? Bring who here?”

“Um, her, or any of the girls there really. If so I think I’ll probably… wanna know if you don’t mind? So I can make sure I’m in the room or whatever. A little notice?”

Satoru walks to you now, your head is tilted back when he hooks two fingers under your chin. “You think I am interested in them?”

“They’re beautiful. And we’re not together, so it’s fine! Just… a little notice would be cool?”

“And you, what if you bring someone over.” His jaw tenses, his words surprisingly sharp. “Will you tell me?”

You laugh softly. “That won’t even be a thing.”

“In a year?”

“It’s… never been a thing really.” You realize then, that you are almost spilling it, the fact that the entirety of your experience is one fuck in college, a two pump event that involved nothing really.

His brows draw together in disbelief. “Never? You don’t…”

“Listen, we’re best friends, but that’s private. Okay?” He nods, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, looking down.

“Shit I mean you date a bit though?”

“Yeah, I do. But… it’s… I need to get out of this dress.” You say then, suddenly rushing to your room, leaving Satoru’s mind whirling.

How do you think he wants anyone when you’re here killing him.

“Toru?” You lean your head out from the bathroom a few moments later.

“Yeah?”

“This is embarrassing, but the zipper is stuck, and it’s so expensive… I don’t wanna fuck the dress up.” You murmur, he smiles, feigning ease as he steps into the bathroom, peering at you in the golden gilded mirror.

“No worries, got ya. Huh it is a little stuck…” He gently tugs at the zipper, humming a big. “Um… hang on I need to pull it up a bit.”

“Sure. Be careful!”

“You’re worried about this when I could buy you ten more tomorrow.”

“Still!”

He smiles at your reflection, hand palming your bare back then, making you bite back a gasp, body shifting in desire at just the touch, your eyes shut so he can’t see them rolling back, but he sees those goosebumps everywhere. He unzips it then, revealing lacy panties that make him pause, letting the dress fall, you’re catching it at the front, gasping.

“I think I got it.” He says huskily, unable to stop his fingers from trailing up your delicate spine, blue eyes so bright in the mirror they wreck you, while you barely hold the material on. “Need any more help?”

“No! I mean… n-no.” Shit shit shit.

You’re soaked from a brush against your back!?

“Got ya.” He smiles just a bit, leaving you now, resting his back on the door, hand running across his face, curious how he’s throbbing with precum from seeing your fucking back.

Two weeks of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend

You arrive at his work, the coworkers all greeting you so friendly, as his assistant Miwa escorts you, giving you both soft smiles. “Your wife is here Mr. Gojo.”

Satoru looks up in surprise, you’re in your pretty work dress, looking all cute and professional, holding a bento box in one hand, a boba in the other. You’re smiling brightly, as his lips part in surprise. “I had an early day and I thought I should bring some lunch?”

“Oh… oh thank you… Miwa if you could?”

“Of course, I’ll give you some privacy.” You hear her giggle and you smile at Satoru, looking as he’s leaned back in his big leather seat, smiling softly back at you, eyeing your hands.

“I get lunch made for me, shit I am lucky with my fake bride.” You snort, rolling your eyes and walking up to him, setting them on the desk.

“It seemed wifey to do? But also I really do have a short day, figured you might be hungry?”

Fuck you’re sweet.

Fuck you’re pretty.

God, you’re looking at him like that, leaned over just a bit, his eyes darting over your body that tempts him every day more and more, but your sweetness ruins him, the thoughtful nature you’ve always had, but now so geared to him. Is it all for show, he can’t believe it is when you open the bento and show him sushi, onigiri and greens placed so prettily his mouth waters.

“You ordered this, yeah?”

“No silly, I’ve been practicing. You helping me have some time off work has literally given me so much time… I hope they’re yummy? Oh, I didn’t make the boba though.”

“Why didn’t you get anything?” He asks, frowning.

“Oh I’m good, I just was dropping it off. You’re probably busy, taking down the villains huh?” Satoru’s words catch in his throat, looking you up and down again, before looking back down at the food in front of him.

“Stay a bit, it’ll… look good you know, us having lunch together.” He murmurs, lying out of his fucking teeth, as if he didn’t want to eat you then and there.

Your thighs spread, panties to the side, lapping you up?

Yummier than this. Killing him to imagine.

“Oh, um… where do I sit, over here?” You go to scooch a chair over, and he stops you.

“Nah those are heavy, come on.” He pats his thigh, earning your eyes widening, pulse fluttering as he smirks. “You’ve sat on my lap at parties plenty.”

“Y-yeah… but it’s… I…”

“C’mon, have a couple bites please, I’ll feel bad if you did all this for me and didn’t eat.”

“Satoru, you have bought me a new wardrobe and a car, can’t I make some sushi?”

“Sit.”

You sigh, it’s true you’ve sat on his lap, but the past two weeks of constantly being wet around him are taking their toll. You smile brightly, sitting on one of his thighs, praying he can’t feel it, the heat from your pussy as you’re pressed on a muscled thigh, and he’s picking up sushi with chopsticks, popping one in his mouth and moaning, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck that’s yummy. You made it for real!?” You giggle, nodding and trying to be more comfortable, it’s your Toru, right?

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. That’s got eel sauce on it, this one is the spicy crab.”

“You like spicy crab, here.” He pops one to your lips, and something feels too intimate, on his lap like this. “Open.”

Open.

Open!?

The pictures of you hearing him that while on your knees makes your cunt dribble, you shift nervously, clearing your throat.

“Open, silly.”

You do as he says, as he pops the roll in your mouth, and you chew, feeling the flavor hit your tongue, he grins now, popping another into his mouth, and you wonder if it’s easy for him to be this way. He’s so natural at it, sipping his boba and humming happily, all while his thigh presses where you’ve been aching for him, forcing yourself not to touch your pussy to the thought of him.

You can’t do that, it’s fucked.

You try to get up, and he presses you down, big hand on your waist, far too close when he leans the thick straw to your lips. “Take a sip, it’s so good.”

“Oh… um sure. Thank you.” You take a sip, lips pressing where his had, and he can’t stop focusing on how good your lips look, wrapping as you suck, cheeks hollowing and making his cock twitch.

You both sit there then, staring at each other, breaths coming just a little too quick from you, as he sets the drink down, but you stay on his lap. “Y’know… the event tonight, we should probably actually kiss? There will be cameras all over.”

“Kiss!?” He laughs then, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I mean it’s kind of part of it. You’re comfy with it right, not gonna fall head over heels.”

“Psh.” You already have, long ago, it’s all fucking hitting. “You’re so cocky, Toru I swear.”

“I can’t help it, my lips are so talented, you know. Makes girls fall.” He brushes his silky hair back, winking at you then, and you swear you can hear your heart in your goddamn ears.

“I remember you were pretty good.”

“Yeah, you remember?”

“Yeah it… was my first kiss.” You mumble then, looking away, sipping his boba nervously, he blinks rapidly, blue eyes wide in shock.

“What now!?”

“No biggie, we were like seventeen…”

“But you… never told me?”

“It was embarrassing.” Satoru’s mind races to that night, as does yours, as you sit in his office, just the hum of the fan and soft music playing from his little device, staring at each other, both in a haze.

You and Satoru Gojo were thrown in a closet together, you’re sighing as you’re pressed against him, peeking at your phone in the dark to see the time. Being too close to Satoru wreaked havoc on your brains at times, though you have known him so long, you couldn’t lie and act like you didn’t think of things… kissing him, maybe dating him? But you know they’re silly thoughts.

“Don’t freak out, we’ll just let 'em think we made out.” He says now, and you turn your eyes up to him, adjusting in the dark, but even here you can see the glint of those bright baby blues.

“Y-yeah. You’ve kissed plenty, though.”

“You haven’t really?”

“Um, no.”

Satoru’s gently turning you to him now, tilting your chin up while his eyes adjust to see your pretty face, you’re thankful it’s so dark that he couldn’t see your blush. “We could practice, you know.”

“Satoru!”

“What? A little practice between friends? You know you wanna kiss me.” He taunts, teasing tone as he grins.

“No way!”

“Not at all? I’m hurt, sweets.”

“Oh whatever, it'd be weird, we’re too close. Do you kiss Suguru?”

“Oh yeah, have you seen him?”

You both laugh then, when he leans down just a bit. “Well, if you kissed Suguru, I feel left out now.”

“We can’t have that. Show me what you do know, I’ll advise.”

“Kissing expert, hmm?”

“Mhmm.” You lean up then, as he bends down, your arms wrapping around his neck, you pause as his hands press against your waist, making your heart race. “Ya scared?”

“No! Goofy ass.” He’s chuckling until you lean up, pulling him down for a kiss, and your lips meet for the first time.

Your first kiss.

He pauses, your lips connecting just do something. Satoru at seventeen had done plenty of make out sessions, but they were fun, something to do, exciting at times, but nothing prepared him for it. For your sweet lips on him, tingling them, his heart beating in his chest.

Satoru falters, and he never falters.

He doesn’t slip his tongue in, he doesn’t pull you close, he freezes, so in shock at how good it feels, how right it feels. You ease back, nervous then, clearing your throat, as he hasn’t moved his lips. “I’m sorry I’m not…”

Satoru yanks you against him then, pressing your body on his, kissing you over and over, so deeply, taking your breath away, you’ve never felt something like this, you’re trembling as you feel his tongue slip against the seam of your lips. “Open them up for me.”

This isn’t silly Satoru, goofy ass friend, his husky declaration destroys you, and he uses the gasp to slip his tongue inside, swirling with yours, igniting something between you that night that you will both avoid talking about for years. When he presses you against the closet door, sighing into your lips, and you’re being picked up in his arms, as your mouths move over each other.

You both pull back, gasping as the timer goes off.

What was that!?

“If I’d known it was your first kiss, maybe I wouldn’t have… gotten so excited.” He says with a little pink on his cheeks.

“No, you didn’t cross any lines, Toru. Don’t worry.”

He wants to laugh, because oh, he wanted to.

If he’d had more time he’s sure he’d have lost it, whatever control he has now he did not have as a seventeen year old. “Was it a good one at least?”

“The best a girl could have.” You say softly, smiling at him then, making his heart race when you both sit there, far too close, and he swears he can feel your heat against the hand that’s on your thigh.

“I know I’m pretty amazing hmm?” He teases, trying to hide the raging storm inside of him, you giggle, shaking your head and standing finally.

“You’re a conceited little shit.”

“Hey!?”

You’re both back at ease, as he stands now too, looming so tall over you, his presence making it hard to remember why you’re here. “I should go.”

“We should practice, though, yeah?”

“I mean… you think we’re that rusty?” You try to feign ease, he smiles then.

“Yeah, we gotta be. We’ll bump our heads together or some shit.”

“Okay… um…” You take a sip of his boba then, clearing your throat and smiling up at him. “Let’s practice.”

Satoru brushes his thumb across your chin, your ass pressed against his desk and you’re pinned between it and him, your hands sliding up his starch white dress shirt slowly, eyes lowering to his glossy lips. He presses a kiss against your lips, and you then know it, more than ever.

Nothing is like kissing Satoru.

Nothing is like his lips making contact with yours, as your eyes close, the feeling of him working his lips over you so gently, making you tremble, making you ache in ways you have tried to hide, to avoid. He pulls back, cupping your face and exhaling, his snowy lashes low over cerulean eyes, his lips parted just so, as you both stare at each other, speechless.

You don’t know if he’s as affected, and neither does he.

“How’s that?” He asks softly, and you lean up, your fingers enwrapping in his hair, as two of his hands bar you on either side.

“Maybe one or two more? To look natural.” You whisper, and you expect a smirk, or something cocky, conceited, but he slams his lips on yours now.

His tongue is swirling against yours in moments, as you both devour each other, hungry and needy, kissing each other desperate, messy now. A kiss like you’ve never had, as his hands press against your hips, then he lifts you on the desk, your thighs around his hips, making you cry out. The sound causes him to lose any semblance of control, he’s biting your lower lip, moaning into your mouth.

“Mmm!” Your hands pull his hair now, as his slip up your bare thighs, and then you feel it, the hardness under his slacks against your heat, your panties already sticky and damp, and you pull back with a gasp.

Your eyes shoot up to his when you break apart for just a moment, and Satoru’s breath is coming in little pants, his fingers scrunching your skirt up your hips, yanking you closer. You whimper now, head falling to the side, and he’s kissing down the side of your neck, your breasts pressing against his chest, dying for him inside you, as he’s ready to fuck you right on his desk.

“Satoru… what are-” You’re trying to whisper when his lips find the shell of your ear.

“I need-”

Knock knock knock.

You both pull back, his eyes dilated to the point they’re dark, his hands still on your bare skin, as his eyes dart down your body. “Yes?” He manages gruffly.

“Twenty minutes until your meeting Mr. Gojo.” You hear, and he curses softly, turning away, trying to calm his nerves, his racing heart, all while you’re hopping down, trying to pull yourself together.

You’re almost darting out of the door when he sees you. “Shit, please…”

“No, no. We um… were practicing?” You manage to whisper, as his hand is over yours on the knob. “I got carried away.”

He laughs, without humor. “You did?”

“I did. I’m sorry I don’t even do this.”

“Just how… inexperienced are you?” He asks softly.

“A lot.”

Because she can’t help but compare every man to Satoru Gojo.

“Well, you can’t tell, you’re an amazing kisser.” You blush furiously, looking down, biting your lower lip.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“You are, shit. My god.” He brushes your hair off the side of your neck, exhaling, breath tickling you, setting your body on fire.

“Thank you, so are you. We will be good to go tonight, you think?” You whisper, so nervous to say what you want to, and he pauses, clearing his throat, his hand falling off your shoulder now.

“We’ll kill it. Thank you again for lunch.”

“Of course.” You brightly smile, trying to remember.

It’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake.

As you’re repeating it in your head, Satoru is struggling to not lift your skirt up and fuck into you right on this door, he wouldn’t care if the entire office heard you scream his goddamn name. When you slip out the door he rests his head on it, the cool wood doing nothing to his overheated skin, hands clenching into his fists as he tries to calm himself.

What was that, what is that with you both?

He promised he would be respectful, he has to try to rein it all in, he has to make sure your friendship isn’t ruined because he can’t stop himself. Satoru tells himself that as he wills his cock to go down, but he can’t stop himself, soon he’s stroking it right in that seat, remembering feeling your pussy pressing against his length.

God he needs you, he shuts his eyes, imagining sinking inside you while he twists his hand up and down his length, desperate for any relief. He had some regulars he would call back in the day, but not only does it feel so wrong to do so, he doesn’t want anyone but you, he can’t even put a vision in his mind but you.

‘It’s fine, baby girl you can take me’ he murmurs softly, snowy lashes shut as he imagines fucking into you, stretching you god he bets you’re so tight, and he could feel that warmth, imagining you as he spits down on his pretty cock.

His pink tip is oozing precum while his head rests back in his office chair, he can still smell your scent, that shampoo you use, the body spray you have worn since high school, it’s you. He’d kiss every inch of your body, have you so ready you beg for him, fuck you so good tears pool in your pretty eyes, he can damn near feel is as his hand strokes faster and faster.

He lets out a soft groan, muttering a ‘that’s it, you’re so wet f’me, huh?’ to the very image of you on that desk, tasting your sweetness on his lips, while he pinches his tip, the precum and spit wetting his cock enough that the sound of him stroking fills his office. His breath quickens as he thinks of shoving your thighs up high, slamming into your cervix, ruining you.

As he cums white hot spurts all over his palm he cries out softly, the release feeling so good, he’s fought it, touching himself to you, but he can’t anymore. He quickly cleans up, panicking as he sees what he’s done, jerked off to one of his best friend’s in the world, someone who trusts him, and he’s not even holding himself together for shit now.

He exhaustedly leans his head against the desk as his alarm for the next meeting starts, struggling to remember this isn’t real, but his cock sure didn’t fucking realize that, and by the time he’s home and he sees you all dressed up for the next event? He almost has to go jerk off again.

You’re smiling all nervous in this beautiful glittering gown, and he’s once again speechless, trying to pull together his usual charm, but it falls flat. You look at him, concern clear on your features. “Everything okay Satoru?”

“Of course it is. Look at you.” He smiles, putting on the best show he can, as you wonder if you’ve over thought that kiss, he just seems so normal really.

Maybe he just got carried away, should you act normal too?But how can you, when just the brush of his hand on the small of your back shoots desire straight through your body. It’s only been two weeks, how could you hold out an entire year?

Sooo to have written this in a oneshot would have been INSANE but expect the next two parts very quicklyyy ;) Gojo is DOWN BAD my god- smut in the next hehe.

Part two

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shadyfestivalperfection · 1 month ago

Text

Fifth Time’s The Charm~Oneshot

Summery: Every date gets interrupted before they can steal the deal. By the fifth one, they’re both so wounded up, it turns explosive-in the best way

Characters: Bucky Barnes x F!reader

Vibes/warning: Sexual tension, mutual pining, flirty banter, interrupted make out sessions, smut, tension building.

Note: All characters except y/n are not mine.

||Master List||

🌙 Date One: Rooftop Romance & a Falcon Crash

Bucky’s hand is warm as it slides over yours, his vibranium arm resting on the rooftop table like it belongs there.

The rooftop restaurant is quiet. Just a few candle-lit tables surrounded by fairy lights, with soft jazz playing through overhead speakers. The skyline behind him glows like a dream. And Bucky?

He’s in a button-up. Sleeves rolled to his forearms. Hair tied back. Eyes locked on you like he still can’t believe you said yes to dinner.

“So,” you murmur, swirling the wine in your glass, “this is… kind of perfect.”

Bucky smiles. “I figured if I’m going to ruin someone’s night, might as well do it with a view.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not ruining anything, Barnes. Though I’m still not convinced this isn’t some weird pity date.”

He leans forward, eyes twinkling. “Sweetheart, if this were a pity date, I wouldn’t have rehearsed what to say in front of my mirror five times before picking you up.”

Your heart flips.

It’s funny—everyone sees Bucky Barnes as the brooding soldier, the stone-faced assassin, the Winter Soldier. But here, tonight, he’s just Bucky. Soft-spoken. Charming. A little shy. And very into you.

“So… what’d you rehearse?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He groans, covering his face with his hand. “Nope. That was supposed to stay buried.”

You grin. “Come on. You owe me at least one line.”

He groans again. “Fine. I was gonna say…” He sits up straighter, exaggerating the delivery. “‘You look beautiful tonight, doll.’ And then maybe something cheesy like… ‘Nothing in this city shines as bright as you.’”

You blink. “That’s… actually good.”

“Right?” he says, pleased. “Sam told me it was too much. Said I sounded like I was

quoting a romance novel.”

You’re about to respond—something flirty and appreciative—when your phone buzzes on the table. You glance down, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Don’t check it. I’m trying to live in the moment.”

You nod. “Me too.”

You don’t even notice how close you’ve gotten until his knee brushes yours beneath the table. His eyes drop to your lips for just a second. And your breath catches.

He leans in.

You lean closer.

He’s inches away. One hand rising to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice drops—

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time you handed me a cup of coffee in the break room—”

CRASH.

A loud thump echoes above you. Then—

“Shit! Sorry!”

You both jump as something heavy hits the rooftop ledge and rolls, a few pebbles scattering across the floor.

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “No. No no no—”

“BUCKY!”

You turn to see Sam Wilson—in full Falcon gear—tangled in his own wings, skidding to a stop right in front of your table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bucky hisses, standing up.

Sam grins sheepishly. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you were up here. Testing some tech. Kinda… overshot the landing.”

You just blink. “That’s… impressive. Actually.”

Bucky runs a hand down his face. “Sam. I swear to God.”

Sam glances between the two of you. “Oh. OHHHH. Shit—were you two—”

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky snaps. “We were on a date.”

Sam’s mouth opens. Then closes. Then he shrugs.

“Well… my bad. I’ll just… backflip off the side and leave you to it.”

“You do that.”

With a whoosh of his wings, Sam vaults back off the building—leaving behind only a couple of knocked-over chairs, one blown-out candle, and the unmistakable sound of Bucky’s teeth grinding together.

You burst out laughing.

Bucky glares at you—but it’s mostly mock offense. “Glad you’re enjoying the death of our first date.”

You reach across the table and take his hand again. “Okay, it was interrupted, not dead. Honestly? I like that he crashed it. Now you owe me a second date.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze his hand. “Next time… somewhere Falcon-proof.”

His grin is soft. Wicked. “Anywhere you want, sweetheart.”

You smirk. “As long as I get that kiss you were about to give me.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, you’ll get it. Trust me.”

🎬 Date Two: Movie Night & Third-Wheel Steve

The sound of a movie plays quietly in the background, but neither of you’s really paying attention.

You’re curled up on Bucky’s couch, under a fleece blanket, one of his old sweatshirts hanging off your shoulder. He sits behind you, legs spread, body warm and solid, and you’re tucked between them like you belong there.

Spoiler: You do.

“I swear,” you mumble, reaching for more popcorn without taking your eyes off the screen, “if this ends with another crash landing, I’m suing Sam for emotional damages.”

Bucky laughs into your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “This one’s Falcon-free, I promise.”

“You said that last time.”

He groans, playful. “C’mon, don’t hold that against me. It was one crash.”

“It was our almost first kiss, Barnes. That’s a felony in some states.”

He leans closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You want me to make it up to you?”

Your breath catches. “Yeah. I do.”

You twist in his arms, shifting so you’re straddling his lap, knees on either side of his hips. The movement is smooth. Bold. A little reckless.

But he doesn’t mind. In fact, he looks thrilled.

“Well damn,” he says, hands gripping your thighs through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. “Is this part of the movie, or…?”

You smile, teasing. “Bonus content.”

His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. “You’re killin’ me, doll.”

And then his hands slide up your thighs, fingers curling around your waist. You can feel him underneath you—hard, hungry, ready—and you’re barely even kissing yet.

His voice drops, rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop now if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, breathless.

That’s all he needs.

His lips crash into yours—hot, intense, a kiss you’ve both been aching for since the rooftop. His tongue teases your bottom lip, and you open for him, moaning into his mouth as his hands tighten on your hips. You rock forward instinctively, and he groans, hips bucking beneath you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “you’re gonna make me—”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

A heavy knock slams against the front door, startling you both.

You freeze.

“No,” Bucky mutters against your neck, lips still brushing your skin. “No. Not again.”

“Ignore it,” you whisper, grinding against him a little just to tease.

He groans. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re gonna kill me.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Bucky!” a familiar voice calls from the hallway. “I brought pizza!”

You pull back, blinking. “Is that—?”

“STEVE,” Bucky growls.

You scramble off his lap, cheeks blazing as Bucky nearly explodes off the couch.

The front door swings open—of course he still gives Steve a key—and there stands Captain America himself, smiling, holding two pizza boxes and a six-pack of root beer.

“Hey,” Steve says, totally oblivious, “movie night?”

Bucky’s expression is somewhere between a murder charge and emotional devastation. “STEVE.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

Bucky gestures wildly. “What does it look like?!”

Steve finally notices your flushed cheeks, the messed-up blanket, the very awkward distance you’re both now keeping.

“Oh,” he says.

There’s a pause.

Then: “Should I… leave?”

Bucky looks like he wants to throw him through a wall. You try not to laugh.

“Probably,” you say, standing and adjusting the oversized sweatshirt. “Unless you wanna be very scarred tonight.”

Steve holds up the pizza hopefully. “I brought pepperoni?”

You groan. “Okay, fine. But I’m picking the movie and you’re sitting at the other end of the couch.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath about “damn super soldiers and their terrible timing,” but you give his hand a squeeze as you walk by.

When your eyes meet, he mouths:

“Next time. You’re mine.”

And something about the heat in his stare tells you next time’s gonna be very worth the wait.

🖼️ Date Three: Art, Anticipation & An Unwelcome Mission

The Met is unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. Dimmed lights. Velvet ropes. Elegant, whispered conversations.

But Bucky’s not paying attention to the Monet in front of him.

No—he’s watching you.

Your dress hugs your curves too perfectly. Your eyes shine every time you pause in front of a new piece. And when you tilt your head, smiling at some abstract sculpture like it just told you a dirty joke, he damn near loses his mind.

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” you murmur, not even turning around.

“You make it hard not to,” he replies, stepping closer, voice low. “You know that dress should be illegal, right?”

You smirk, still pretending to focus on the painting. “So arrest me, Sergeant Barnes.”

His fingers brush your lower back. Soft. Teasing. “You sayin’ you want me to cuff you, sweetheart?”

You shoot him a warning look, cheeks heating. “This is a museum.”

“This is foreplay,” he corrects, voice deep and delicious in your ear.

You nearly choke on a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” His metal hand slides down your waist, resting right at the curve of your hip, “…you still came out with me.”

You turn to face him, caught in that pull he always seems to have over you.

“I came because I like the way you look when you pretend to care about art,” you tease.

He raises an eyebrow. “I do care. Especially about the nudes.”

“Bucky!”

But you’re laughing, and he’s leaning in—smirking, dangerous, beautiful. The tension between you crackles like electricity in the air.

“I need to kiss you,” he whispers. “Right now.”

“Not in the middle of the sculpture room.”

His smirk grows. “Then come with me.”

Before you can protest, he takes your hand and tugs you down a quiet side hallway labeled “Staff Only.”

“Bucky,” you hiss, half laughing, “we’re gonna get kicked out—”

“I’ll make it worth it,” he says, pulling you into the shadows.

The hallway is dark. Silent. Cold stone walls and empty echo. And Bucky?

He’s all heat and hands and hunger.

His mouth finds yours like it’s been waiting too long. You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands grip your hips and press you against the wall. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whimper—soft, needy—hips rocking forward just slightly.

The sound he makes? Absolutely feral.

“God, doll,” he groans, grinding into you. “You keep makin’ those noises and I’m not gonna make it to date five.”

You gasp against his lips. “Then make this one count.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips travel down your jaw, nipping along your throat. One hand slides under your dress, brushing the inside of your thigh—and you know if anyone catches you right now, you’d be banned for life.

And honestly? Worth it.

Just as his fingers start to trail higher—

Bzzt. Bzzt.

His phone vibrates hard against his chest.

Bucky groans like he’s in actual pain. “Ignore it.”

But it buzzes again. And again.

And then your phone starts to vibrate in your bag.

You both freeze.

He curses softly, reaching into his coat. The moment he checks the screen, everything changes.

His entire posture shifts. Military. Tense. Ready.

“What?” you ask, straightening, heart dropping.

“It’s Sam,” he mutters, already walking back down the hallway. “HYDRA hit a black site in Berlin. Nat’s down. Cap’s calling us in.”

You’re suddenly cold all over.

He turns back to you, jaw clenched, eyes apologetic. “I have to go.”

“I know,” you say quietly, following him.

“This isn’t how I wanted tonight to end,” he admits, pulling you into a brief, fierce kiss that tastes like regret.

“I know,” you whisper again. “Just… come back in one piece, Barnes.”

He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “You too.”

And then he’s gone.

You’re left standing in that dim, forgotten hallway—heart pounding, skin still tingling from his touch—wondering what the hell it’ll take to finally finish one damn date with him.

🌧️ Date Four: Rain, Restraint & a Damn Phone Call

It starts as a simple walk after dinner.

You and Bucky wander through downtown Brooklyn, hands tangled together like you’ve been doing it for years. The streets are damp, slick from a light drizzle that started an hour ago, but neither of you care.

You’re laughing. Warm. Buzzed off good food and wine and him.

He keeps sneaking glances at you like you’re the most stunning thing in the entire city. And truth be told, the way the rain makes your dress cling to your curves? He

might be right.

“You cold, doll?” he asks, pulling you a little closer under his umbrella.

“Not with you like this,” you reply, and rest your hand on his chest. It’s firm, warm even through his jacket, and you feel the way he subtly leans into your touch.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “You say things like that, I’m gonna have to press you against this brick wall and make out with you like we’re in a damn movie.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

His smirk could melt steel. “Why don’t we find out?”

And that’s all it takes.

You stop walking.

Grab the front of his coat.

And pull him into the nearest alley.

“Holy shit,” he laughs, stunned, as you shove him gently against the damp brick. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve waited long enough, Barnes,” you say, pressing your body to his, looking up through soaked lashes. “Every single date, someone or something gets in the way. Not this time. I want you. Right now.”

He growls low in his throat, both hands grabbing your waist with barely restrained hunger. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart.”

Then he kisses you—hard.

Tongue, teeth, rain-slick lips. It’s messy and desperate and hot. One hand slides down to your ass, gripping it like it belongs to him, while the other slides up under your dress, metal fingertips dragging fire across your thigh.

You whimper against his mouth, grinding into him. He’s already hard, pressed right against your core, and the friction makes your knees damn near give out.

“You feel that?” he rasps against your throat, dragging his mouth down to your collarbone. “That’s what you do to me. Every time.”

You moan, tugging at his belt. “Then do something about it, James.”

The way he groans at that—your real name for him, full of need—it’s feral. You feel him fumbling to push your panties aside, fingers sliding through your slick folds, and—

RING. RING.

You both freeze.

The loud, shrill ring echoes in the alley.

“No,” you gasp, panting. “No. Don’t you dare—”

He pulls back just enough to glance at his phone, face wild with frustration.

“Ignore it,” you plead, nails scraping down his chest.

“I want to, believe me,” he groans. “But it’s Sam.”

You nearly scream.

He kisses you again—fast, deep, like a fucking apology—then answers the call with a snarl in his voice.

“What?” he snaps.

You can hear Sam on the other end: “Uh… hate to ruin your date again, but we’ve got a situation.”

Bucky closes his eyes and lets his head thunk back against the brick wall.

You adjust your dress and sigh, already knowing the answer.

⸻

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back at his place, soaked and pissed off, watching Bucky gear up like he’s going into war. (He is. Kinda.)

“I’m starting to think the universe hates our sex life,” you say flatly, arms crossed.

He gives you a tight smile as he straps on his thigh holster. “I’m gonna kill something just for interrupting us.”

You walk up to him, grab him by the collar, and pull him in for a slow, intense kiss. Your lips barely part, breath warm and heavy between you.

“When you come back,” you whisper, “you’re not getting another first date.”

He nods. “When I come back, you’re getting every inch of me.”

Your cheeks heat. “Bold talk for someone who’s gotta run.”

He presses his forehead to yours, voice ragged. “I’ll be back soon. And when I am… we’re not stopping.”

You don’t say goodbye.

You just let the promise hang between you—thick with tension, soaked in heat, and aching to be fulfilled.

💥 Date Five: No More Waiting

He doesn’t knock when he comes back.

He storms through the front door, drenched in rain and adrenaline, chest heaving like a man who’s run straight through hell just to get to you.

And when he sees you—curled up in one of his shirts, waiting on the couch with wide eyes and bare thighs—he stops.

You rise slowly, heart thudding, drinking him in. His hair’s wet and messy, jaw tight, dog tags clinking as he drops his gear to the floor.

“Bucky—”

“No more interruptions,” he growls, striding toward you. “No more missions. No more waiting.”

You don’t speak. Just back toward the bedroom.

He follows.

You barely make it through the door before he has you pressed against the wall, kissing you like it’s the last oxygen on Earth. Tongue, teeth, need. You moan into it, fingers already tugging at his shirt.

“Off,” you breathe. “Want to feel you.”

He rips the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, muscles rippling as he tosses it aside. You press your palms to his chest—scarred and strong—and slide down, mouth open as your lips trail kisses across his pecs, down his abs.

But he stops you with a growl, metal hand in your hair.

“Not tonight, doll,” he says, voice rough with control. “Tonight’s about you.”

He lifts you easily—like you weigh nothing—lays you gently on the bed, and kneels between your legs.

“Bucky—”

“You’ve been so damn patient,” he murmurs, dragging your borrowed shirt up your torso, kissing every new inch of skin he exposes. “Four. Fucking. Dates. And every single one? Ruined.”

His mouth ghosts over your navel. “I haven’t touched you the way I want to.”

“Then touch me now,” you whisper.

He looks up at you—eyes dark, starved, desperate.

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m gonna do more than that.”

And then he slides your panties down your legs and devours you.

His mouth is sinful—hot tongue swirling, slow licks that make your hips jerk, breath catch. He doesn’t rush it. He feasts. Like you’re dessert and he’s been starving.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, back arching as his tongue circles your clit.

He groans into you, loving the sounds you make, the way your thighs shake around his head.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs against your heat. “Come on my tongue.”

You do.Hard.

Your climax crashes over you like a goddamn wave, and Bucky doesn’t stop. He guides you through it, tongue relentless, even as you squirm and gasp from overstimulation.

“Too much—” you whisper.

But he pulls back, just enough to kiss your trembling inner thigh. “Too much? Or not enough?”

You blink, dazed. “Bucky—”

“I need you,” he growls, standing, shedding his pants, revealing just how ready he’s been. “Been dreaming about this. About you. Every fuckin’ night.”

He climbs over you, forearms braced beside your head, his tip sliding along your still-wet folds.

“You want me?” he asks, voice thick.

“Yes. Please—”

He sinks into you in one smooth, slow thrust, and everything else disappears.

Your moan is filthy, and his? It’s practically a growl.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours. “God, you feel perfect.”

He starts to move—slow at first, deep and steady—rocking into you like he’s savoring every inch.

“You take me so good, baby,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Like you were made for me.”

Your nails dig into his back. You wrap your legs around his waist. “Harder.”

He obeys instantly.

His thrusts pick up speed, power—his metal hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread wide as he pounds into you with deep, possessive strokes.

The headboard hits the wall. The bed creaks. The room fills with the sound of skin, breath, moans.

“Fuck—Bucky—yes, just like that—”

He leans down, nipping your jaw, your throat. “You’re mine,” he groans. “This pussy? Fuckin’ mine.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “All yours.”

He kisses you then—hungry, messy, like he’s claiming you—and slips a hand between you to rub your clit, fast and perfect.

You shatter around him a second time, crying out his name, your entire body trembling. He follows moments later, burying himself deep, moaning low in your ear as he comes.

He doesn’t move for a moment.

Just holds you, breathless, bodies tangled, hearts racing.

Eventually, he rolls onto his back and pulls you with him, cradling you on his chest.

“Worth the wait?” he murmurs, brushing your hair from your sweaty face.

You hum, nuzzling into him. “Absolutely.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Next time,” he whispers, “we skip the date and go straight to dessert.”

You laugh softly, eyes fluttering closed.

And for the first time in weeks, nothing interrupts the night.

-The end

(Yes, I know that I said I don’t write smut. I am not good at it. But… I gave it a shot to see how it goes.)

#marvel #avengers #fanfiction #romance #female reader #captain america #shadyfestivalperfection #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #smut

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luckystay · 5 months ago

Text

𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣

words count: 7k

Relationships: bsf!bangchan x fem!reader x bsf!hyunjin

Synopsis: after years of friendship, you're shocked to learn your best friends aren’t gay, and are in-fact attracted to you.

Warnings: smut with plot, mutual pining, threesome (mfm), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), heavy sexual tension, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, light manhandling, praise kink, mild jealousy, mentions of insecurity, alcohol consumption, and swearing.

(Minors, please do not interact!)

A/N: again did not proofread, also i'm having so many issues writing smut any advice can help.

Chan was the first person I spoke to on my first day at university. I still remember the way he approached me—this energetic, smiling guy who exuded confidence, a kind of confidence I couldn’t even imagine having.

At first, I thought maybe he was just being polite, trying to make the nervous girl feel more at ease. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t the case. Chan wasn’t just friendly—he had this way about him that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. It wasn’t something he tried to do; it just came naturally. We clicked immediately, and by the end of our conversation, I found myself laughing at his jokes, sharing stories, and feeling a sense of comfort I hadn’t expected.

After that, I didn’t really have to make any more friends. Chan took care of it. He introduced me to his friends, and just like that, I found myself a part of a whole new group. Felix, with his sweet nature and infectious laugh, Jisung, who always seemed to know how to make me laugh no matter how exhausted I was, and then there was chan’s roommate Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was different. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated at first. He was... well, he was hot—too hot, actually. Tall, effortlessly cool, with an air of quiet intensity that seemed to draw people in. Honestly, I thought he was out of my league. Every time I tried to talk to him, I’d stumble over my words, my face flushing under his steady gaze. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious whenever he was around, like his confidence only highlighted how awkward I felt.

But all that changed when I started spending more time with them. Chan, being my main friend, and Hyunjin, being his roommate, meant I was bound to be around him a lot.

To my surprise, I started to see a different side of Hyunjin. The intimidating vibe? It wasn’t really who he was. He had a sense of humor—quirky, odd even, but adorable. Once he felt comfortable around me, he let his guard down, and I found myself enjoying his company more and more. He wasn’t the aloof, untouchable guy I’d once thought he was. He was just Hyunjin—relatable, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.

All throughout university their dorm room became my unofficial home. i’d spend hours there—study sessions that turned into late-night talks, long gaming marathons, and movie nights that always ended with one of us falling asleep in some awkward position on the couch.

We became this inseparable trio. We went through heartbreaks together, laughed over drunk nights, celebrated wins, and comforted each other through the lows

Slowly but surely, my feelings for Hyunjin evolved. He wasn’t some crush anymore—he was my best friend. Over time, I stopped thinking about him in that way entirely.

I knew both Hyunjin and Chan were hooking up with people now and then, but we had this unspoken rule in our friendship: unless it was serious, we didn’t talk about it. That part of our lives stayed private, and I was okay with that. It wasn’t something we needed to discuss, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

Eventually, though, I settled on an assumption that made everything easier. The way Hyunjin and Chan were with each other, so effortlessly close and affectionate—it just made sense. They had to be gay, right? That explained the mystery, the privacy, everything. And honestly, it was fine with me. I wasn’t interested in either of them like that, and they didn’t seem interested in me. Our bond worked perfectly the way it was.

Or so I thought.

Now fresh out of uni, we found ourselves navigating adulthood together. Jobs, bills, responsibilities—it was a new world, but at least we had each other. Moving in together felt like a natural extension of our bond. Splitting rent made financial sense, but beyond that, we weren’t ready to let go of the dynamic we’d built.

The house wasn’t huge, but it had just enough space for the three of us to feel at home. It was chaotic at times, sure—Hyunjin’s half-finished art projects scattered across the living room, Chan’s endless work-from-home setup that seemed to expand every week, and my collection of books and mismatched mugs taking over the kitchen. But it worked. It always did with us.

living together now was... different. They weren’t just my friends anymore; they were men. And men like Chan and Hyunjin? They were impossible to ignore.

Physically, the changes were obvious. Chan’s broad shoulders and steady presence commanded a room effortlessly, while Hyunjin’s sharp jawline and lean, athletic build seemed designed to draw attention. They moved with purpose now, their every gesture confident and deliberate. But it wasn’t just how they looked—it was how they treated me.

In university, we were a chaotic trio, all equals in the chaos of growing up. But now? Now, they treated me like I was something precious.

Chan, always the dependable one, had become a protector in ways that felt heavier, more deliberate. He’d steady me with a hand on my lower back when we crossed busy streets, or hold open doors without a second thought. When we walked home late at night, he’d position himself closest to the curb, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure I was okay.

Hyunjin, for all his teasing, had a subtle gentleness that made my breath hitch. He’d help me carry groceries without being asked, his hand brushing against mine as he took the heavier bags. When I complained about how sore my shoulders were after work, he didn’t hesitate—just walked up behind me, warm hands massaging out the tension.

their touches were what really undid me.

It wasn’t like before, when their hands would land on my shoulder or ruffle my hair in passing. Now, every touch lingered. Chan’s hand on my waist as he guided me through a crowded room felt possessive in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Hyunjin’s fingers brushing a stray hair out of my face felt more intimate than it should have been.

And it wasn’t just the touches—it was how easily they did it, how natural it seemed for them to manhandle me in small ways. Chan would reach over me without warning, his chest brushing my back as he grabbed something off the top shelf. Hyunjin would wrap an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer on the couch as he teased me about some show we were watching.

It was maddening. I’d tell myself it didn’t mean anything, that we were just friends. But the truth was; having two ridiculously attractive men treating me like this? Protecting me, touching me, looking at me the way they did? It was impossible to ignore the heat that simmered beneath the surface.

And the worst part? They didn’t even seem to notice what they were doing to me. To them, it was all so casual, so natural. But to me, it was intoxicating. Every brush of their hands, every low chuckle, every whispered “you okay?” left me more confused and yearning than ever.

Tonight, I’d slipped into a cream-colored sweater, paired with a black mini skirt that showed off a teasing amount of leg. It wasn’t like I’d dressed up for any particular reason; Felix and Jisung were coming over for dinner, and I wanted to look nice. Simple as that.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of garlic, onions, and herbs. hyunjin stirring something on the stove. His broad shoulders filled out the fitted black shirt he was wearing, and the veins in his forearms flexed as he moved the spoon in lazy circles. When I entered, the sound of my footsteps seemed to grab his attention. His eyes flicked up, scanning me from head to toe before settling on my face. It was quick, but it wasn’t subtle. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped, the look lingering just a moment too long on my legs before lifting back up. His lips curled into a smirk, just a little, and I felt my heart race.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too casual.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as I shrugged. “It’s just dinner.”

I crossed the space between us, standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His broad frame cast a shadow over me, and I instinctively tilted my head back to look up at him. He was taller than I remembered—taller, broader. The way his body seemed to fill the space made it hard to breathe for a moment.

“Thought I’d see if you needed help,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice was a little shakier than I wanted. I knew I had no idea how to cook, but standing this close to him made my mind scramble for anything to say.

“Help?” he repeated, his smirk deepening, his voice almost teasing. “You don’t even know where we keep the knives.”

“Not the point,” I shot back, hoping my words sounded more confident than I felt. My hands were already a little clammy, and my stomach twisted in knots.

Before I could say anything else, I felt a warmth at my back, and the unmistakable presence of Chan, who had entered quietly. His hand brushed lightly against the small of my back, his fingers just barely grazing my skin, and I froze.

Chan was wearing his usual jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clung to his chest in ways that made it hard to look away.

“Stealing her already?” Chan’s voice was light, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something I couldn’t quite place. His fingers lingered for a second longer, just enough to make me painfully aware of how close he was. I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

“Wasn’t stealing,” Hyunjin responded, still holding my gaze, his voice casual but there was that underlying heat again, like he knew exactly what was going on. “She just knows I’m the best cook.”

I shifted slightly, crossing my legs without thinking, trying to hide the sudden flutter of heat I felt coursing through me. Chan’s hand didn’t leave my back, his touch light but somehow heavy all at once. I tried to focus on the conversation, on the joke they were making, but it felt almost impossible. The tension in the room was thick, and it felt like both of them were acutely aware of how close we were, of the way my body responded to them.

“Don’t steal her for yourself just yet,” Chan teased, a playful glint in his eyes. “We still need her to taste-test.”

I managed to force out a laugh, but it felt weak compared to the way my body was reacting to their proximity. The casual banter, the touches, the way their eyes lingered—everything felt too intimate. It was as if the friendship we’d built over the years was beginning to blur, and I didn’t know how to pull away from it.

This is not how friends should feel towards each other right?

Dinner was lively, filled with laughter and chatter as always, you were seated between Hyunjin and Felix, with Chan directly across from you, you couldn’t escape the charged atmosphere no matter how hard you tried.

The first real jolt came when you reached across the table for the salt shaker. It had been sitting just out of reach, and without thinking, you leaned forward to grab it. Before you could touch it, two hands moved toward it simultaneously—Chan’s from across the table, and Hyunjin’s from beside you.

Hyunjin’s arm brushed your shoulder as he leaned over, the scent of his cologne filling the space between you. He reached it first, but the motion brought him close—too close. You were painfully aware of the way his body crowded yours, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the table for a moment.

“Got it,” Hyunjin said softly, his voice carrying an almost teasing edge as he passed the shaker to you. His fingers lingered just a second too long against yours, and when you looked up, you were met with his dark, unreadable gaze.

Chan cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced across the table to see him watching the exchange with an expression that was... difficult to place. There was no annoyance there, just something thoughtful, like he was curious.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, quickly adjusting in your seat and trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck.

As the meal continued, the little moments piled on. Hyunjin’s knee brushing yours under the table, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair when he leaned over to speak to Felix. Chan’s gaze, heavy and unwavering, each time you glanced up from your plate. Even Felix, with his sweet, innocent charm, seemed to sense the tension in the air, his eyes darting between the three of you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Finally, Felix leaned in closer, nudging your shoulder gently. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Do you still have that cream? The one for sore muscles? My neck’s been killing me.”

The request caught you off guard, but you nodded quickly, grateful for an excuse to escape. “Yeah, I think it’s in my room. Come on, I’ll grab it for you.”

You pushed your chair back, standing up and smoothing your skirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way Chan’s gaze followed you, lingering just a beat too long. Hyunjin’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to read something in your movements.

The moment you stepped into your room and closed the door, Felix turned to you with an expression you didn’t entirely expect. His usual warm smile was replaced with something sharper, something knowing.

“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Spill.”

You frowned, genuinely confused. “Spill what?”

Felix arched a brow, his lips quirking into a slight smirk. “Don’t play dumb. What’s going on with you three?”

Your stomach flipped, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “Nothing’s going on. What are you even talking about?”

Felix’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of gentle concern. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” you asked, pulling open a drawer to search for the cream.

Felix sighed, stepping closer. “The way they look at you. The way they act around you. It’s like... it’s so obvious. I don’t know how you’re so clueless.”

You froze, your hand hovering over the drawer’s contents. “Felix, they’re… you know. They’re gay.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Felix let out a low, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer. “you’re so far off.”

Your brow furrowed as you turned to face him fully. “What do you mean? They’re gay. I’ve known them for years, Lix. They’ve never once mentioned being into girls. Not once. And the way they are with each other…” You trailed off, your voice losing conviction under Felix’s knowing stare.

“They’re not gay,” Felix said gently, his tone almost pitying. “Bisexual? Yeah, sure. But gay? Not even close.”

The words felt like they didn’t compute, like Felix had just told you the sky was green. “No way,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not,” Felix said, his voice soft but firm. “Look, I’ve known them longer than you have. And trust me, if you paid even a little attention, you’d notice the way they look at you.”

“What are you even talking about?” you asked, your chest tightening. “They don’t look at me any differently than they look at anyone else.”

Felix’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? They’re constantly looking at you like you hung the moon. Hyunjin can’t go two seconds without finding some excuse to touch you, and Chan? The way he watches you when you’re not looking? It’s... intense.”

You felt heat rush to your face, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was saying. “That’s just how they are. They’re affectionate guys. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Felix tilted his head, giving you a look that was both skeptical and amused. “Affectionate, sure. But this? This is different you cant convince me otherwise. I’m not saying they’re in love with you or anything—” he paused, reconsidering. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you had to sit down on the edge of your bed. “Felix, this is insane. They’ve never said anything. Never even hinted at anything.”

Felix sighed and crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees. “They’re careful, okay? They don’t want to scare you off. But as someone who’s been watching this dynamic for years, I’m telling you—you’re not seeing the whole picture.”

You stared at him, your thoughts spinning. The years of friendship, the countless nights spent together, the laughter, the teasing touches, the moments you’d brushed off as nothing more than camaraderie. Could he be right? Had you really been that oblivious?

Felix straightened up, offering you a small, encouraging smile. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But maybe... don’t dismiss it so quickly. Pay attention. You might be surprised.”

After the guys left, I had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, Felix’s words looping endlessly in my head. They’re not gay. His voice echoed with conviction, and I felt ridiculous for letting it get to me. But I couldn’t stop replaying every touch, every look, every little thing that now felt heavier with meaning.

A soft knock on my door made me jump.

“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, quiet but warm. “We’re hanging out in the living room. You coming?”

I hesitated before swinging my legs off the bed. “Yeah, give me a sec.”

When I padded into the living room, both of them looked up, Chan holding a beer, Hyunjin sprawled out on the couch, his sweatpants riding low on his hips. He’d swapped his shirt for a tank top, and the sharp lines of his collarbone and shoulders caught my attention for a second too long.

“Finally decided to join us, huh?” Chan teased, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

I sank down between them, their bodies close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off them.

“Sorry, I wasn’t much help earlier,” I murmured, picking at the hem of my sweater.

Hyunjin waved it off, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. But... you okay? You seemed distracted.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, glancing between them. The weight of their gazes felt different tonight—intense and questioning, like they were trying to read me.

Chan leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind me, his fingertips brushing my shoulder as his thumb started absentmindedly tracing small circles against my sweater.

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Hyunjin added, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hair, still slightly damp from a shower, fell into his eyes as he tilted his head to look at me.

My cheeks burned. “I guess I’m just tired.”

“Tired, huh?” Chan’s voice was teasing, but his hand dropped lower, grazing my upper arm now. “Or did Felix say something?”

I froze, my pulse quickening. “Why would you think that?”

Hyunjin sat back, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “You tell us. He had you alone for a while, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t say anything,” I rushed out, but my voice betrayed me, shaky and uncertain.

Chan’s hand stilled against my arm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “Liar,” he said softly, but there was no malice in his tone—only curiosity.

Hyunjin leaned closer, his knee brushing against mine. “If something’s on your mind, you can tell us, you know.” His voice was low, smooth, and impossibly distracting.

I could feel the tension thickening in the room, their presence overwhelming. Chan’s touch lingered, Hyunjin’s closeness making it hard to think straight. They weren’t pushing, not exactly, but the way they looked at me—like they knew I was holding something back—made it impossible to escape the weight of Felix’s words.

They’re not gay. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, one I prayed they couldn’t see.

“I think…” I started, my voice quieter than I intended, “I think you two are… not what I thought you were.”

Hyunjin leaned in a little, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as it bore into me. “What do you mean?” His voice was still low, that calm authority I’d come to recognize from him.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet their eyes. My chest tightened, heart pounding in my ears. “I thought… I thought you guys were just… you know, gay.” The words rushed out before I could stop them, leaving me exposed.

The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating. Chan’s gaze flickered to Hyunjin for just a moment, his expression unreadable, before it landed back on me. He spoke, his voice low but steady. “Is that really what you think?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was searching for something.

“Yeah,” I blurted out, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I’ve seen the way you two act around each other, and… I figured I, or any girl, must’ve been the last thing on your mind.”

Hyunjin’s eyes softened, the intensity of his usual gaze replaced by something else. He glanced at Chan again, who responded with a slight twitch of his lips—barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like I’d just said something monumental.

“That’s what Felix told you, huh?” Hyunjin’s voice was calm, like he was probing for more. “What else did he say?”

I felt my voice tremble as I tried to process what was happening. “He said… you weren’t gay. And that… you were both into me”

The room was quiet for a moment, thick with anticipation. Hyunjin’s lips parted, and this time, he did speak. His voice was low, smooth, and tantalizingly close as he leaned in just enough for me to feel his breath ghosting across my skin, I had to let out a sharp exhale.

“Felix was right,” he said, his words slow, almost deliberate. “But I think he missed a few details.”

Chan didn’t move, his hand still resting on my arm. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a brief moment before meeting my eyes again, that made my breath catch.

“You’re not wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and deliberate. “But maybe you’re looking at us the wrong way.”

Before I could respond, Hyunjin’s hand brushed against my thigh, light but deliberate, sending a jolt of heat through me. “You think we don’t notice how you look at us?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. “How you press your pretty thighs together every time we get close?”

I couldn’t speak. The silence between us was thick with tension, the heat from their bodies so close to mine almost suffocating, but I couldn’t pull away. Not when their eyes were on me like that, not when their words were making everything inside me ache with anticipation.

Chan smiled, but it was different this time. There was no teasing, no joking. It was raw, and real, and it made my heart race even faster. “You thought we didn’t notice, didn’t you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “But we’ve just been waiting for you to say something.”

The silence stretched, heavy and electric. My breath caught in my throat as Chan's gaze dropped to my lips, his fingers still brushing against my cheek. I didn’t move, couldn’t move, pinned by the sheer intensity of his eyes.

“Can I?” Chan asked softly, his voice rougher now.

I nodded, barely able to form a coherent thought.

And then his lips were on mine—warm, soft, and so much gentler than I expected. The kiss sent a jolt through my entire body. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his touch firm but careful, as if testing the boundaries.

Before I could even process the sensation, I felt Hyunjin move. His hand left my thigh, but only so he could tilt my face toward him, his fingers light under my chin. My lips barely parted from Chan’s when Hyunjin leaned in, claiming my mouth with a kiss that was deeper, more urgent, but just as intoxicating.

My heart pounded against my ribcage, every nerve ending on fire. They moved with practiced ease, like this was something they’d thought about—planned, even. Chan’s hand stayed at the nape of my neck while Hyunjin’s fingers traced the curve of my jaw, grounding me in the surreal, overwhelming moment.

When they finally pulled back, I was left breathless, caught between them, my head spinning.

“You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for this,” Chan murmured, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting lightly against mine.

Hyunjin smirked, his thumb grazing the corner of my lips. “And we’re just getting started.”

The tension in the room was heavy, and then suddenly, it snapped. Hyunjin stood abruptly, his dark eyes flashing with something unreadable. Without a word, he walked out, heading toward his room.

Chan lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking back to me as I sat there, frozen and flustered. His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, the kind that made my stomach flip.

“feel free to join,” he said simply, his voice low and smooth, before turning to follow Hyunjin.

My breath hitched, my heart racing as I sat there for what felt like an eternity, debating whether or not to move. The warmth of their touches, their words, lingered on my skin, pulling me out of my daze.

I stood on shaky legs, hesitating for only a second before following them down the dimly lit hallway. The air felt charged with anticipation, every step amplifying the pounding in my chest.

When I reached Hyunjin’s room, the door was ajar, and the sight that greeted me knocked the air out of my lungs. Hyunjin was already sprawled on his bed, shirtless, the soft light casting shadows over the sharp lines of his chest and arms. His gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead.

Chan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not going to stand there all night, are you?” he teased, his voice a mixture of warmth and challenge.

I swallowed hard, stepping inside, my movements hesitant but drawn by a force I couldn’t fight.

Hyunjin shifted, patting the space beside him on the bed, his lips curving into a lazy grin. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, and I felt my legs move before I could think.

Chan shut the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the quiet room as he joined us.

As I crossed the room, my steps unsteady, Hyunjin’s gaze never left mine. When I reached the bed, his hand stretched out, fingers brushing lightly against mine before he tugged me closer.

“Sit,” he murmured, his voice deep and low, and I obeyed, settling on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his skin seemed to radiate toward me, and the proximity made my heart pound harder.

Chan moved to stand nearby, his presence commanding as always. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin that distracted me for just a moment too long. He noticed, of course, because Chan noticed everything, and the small smirk tugging at his lips told me he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Hyunjin,” Chan said casually, his tone laced with amusement, “I think you’re making her nervous.”

Hyunjin’s hand trailed deliberately under the hem of my skirt, the warm press of his fingertips against my thigh making my breath hitch. His touch wasn’t rushed; it was languid, teasing.

“Am I?” he murmured, his voice low and muffled as he buried his face into the curve of my neck. The warmth of his breath and the slight scrape of his nose against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch despite the overwhelming heat flooding my chest.

“Hyunjin,” Chan said again, though this time there was a warning in his tone, his amusement still evident. He stepped closer, standing beside the bed where I sat perched on the edge, barely holding myself together.

Hyunjin only chuckled against my neck, his lips grazing my skin briefly as his fingers traced small circles against my inner thigh. “What? She doesn’t seem to mind.” His voice was pure velvet, laced with mischief.

my eyes darted to Chan, his steady gaze locking with mine. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at me, something that made my stomach tighten. Without a word, he reached out, tilting my chin so I was forced to hold his gaze.

“Is that true?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “You don’t mind?”

“I…” My words faltered, a soft moan slipping out before I could stop it. Hyunjin’s lips had found the sensitive spot just below my ear, his teeth grazing the delicate skin in a way that sent a jolt of heat straight through me. The combination of his warm breath and the light nip made my head tilt involuntarily, giving him more access.

“Hmm,” Hyunjin hummed against my neck, the vibration of his voice making my breath hitch.

Chan’s hand on my face tightened slightly, drawing my attention back to him. His dark eyes searched mine, his thumb brushing over my cheek as if to steady me—or maybe to steady himself. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, and I obeyed, despite the chaos Hyunjin was causing on my neck.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I shook my head, though the flutter in my chest betrayed the truth.

Chan stepped closer, towering over me as he leaned down, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “use your words princess,” he said softly, his voice dropping an octave.

Uncomfortable? That was the last thing I felt.

“You’re not,” I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible, and Hyunjin’s fingers squeezed my thigh just slightly in response.

Chan chuckled, the sound low and rich as he took a seat beside me. Now I was between them, their warmth encasing me, their attention so focused that it felt like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“You’re shaking,” Hyunjin observed, his tone softer now, a stark contrast to the heat in his eyes.

“I’m not—” I started, but the slight quiver in my voice betrayed me again.

Chan leaned in closer, his hand joining Hyunjin’s on my other thigh. “really?,” he said gently, his touch steadying me even as it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

Hyunjin captured my lips in his with a fervor that made my breath hitch, his hand tightening on my waist as he pulled me flush against him. The kiss was hungry, every movement sending sparks through my body as his fingers trailed along my side.

Before I could process it, Chan was there too, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw as his lips found the curve of my neck. He moved slowly, deliberately, his breath hot against my skin as he kissed a path to my collarbone.

Hyunjin’s hands roamed, one gripping my thigh while the other cradled the back of my neck, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss. Chan’s hand brushed over Hyunjin’s on my leg, their touches overlapping, leaving me trembling under their attention.

“Perfect,” Chan murmured against my neck, his voice low and full of approval as he pulled back just enough to look at me. “You’re perfect.”

Hyunjin’s lips left mine, his dark eyes meeting Chan’s for a brief, heated exchange before he leaned in close; his teeth grazed the shell of my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

Chan’s lips were on mine then, softer but no less intense, his hand slipping beneath my sweater to rest on my breasts, his thumb brushing my nipples. Every touch, every kiss, felt like I was being unraveled piece by piece, leaving me entirely at their mercy.

Hyunjin’s hand slid further up my thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of my underwear as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. “Not like you at all.”

Chan chuckled softly against my lips, his hands steady as he lifted me effortlessly, setting me down in the middle of Hyunjin’s bed. The new position had my skirt riding up higher, and I could feel the intensity of their gazes as they both stood looking at me.

Hyunjin knelt in front of me, his hands spreading over my legs as he pushed them apart slightly, his gaze flicking to Chan before meeting mine. “You’re still holding back,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh, the gentleness of it making me shiver.

Chan moved behind me, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips found my neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my skin.

The heat between us was almost unbearable. Hyunjin’s fingers finally pushed aside my underwear and started stroking where I wanted him the most, and I let out a soft gasp as his lips followed.

Chan’s grip on my waist tightened, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Let go. Let us take care of you.”

My hands found their way into Hyunjin’s hair, tugging slightly as his mouth worked magic on me. The sound of his quiet chuckle against my skin sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt Chan’s lips curve into a smile against my shoulder; as he pushed hyunjin’s hand off my clit and replaced it with his own.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—the way their touches overlapped, how their breaths mingled with mine, left me utterly undone. Hyunjin glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

“Look at you,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice dripping with heat.

Chan’s free hand slid under my shirt, his fingers picking at my nipples. “She’s sensitive,” Chan murmured, almost to himself, his voice carrying a note of awe that made my heart race even faster.

My head tipped back against Chan’s shoulder, a soft moan escaping my lips as Hyunjin’s tongue and chan’s fingers were making me see heaven.

Chan’s lips pressed against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue, leaving a burning trail of sensation in his wake.

My body arched, every nerve igniting as waves of pleasure coursed through me, sharp and all-consuming. My nails dug into Hyunjin’s scalp, and his name left my lips in a breathless cry. His grip on my hips tightened, grounding me in the overwhelming sensation as his dark eyes bore into mine, filled with pride and hunger.

“That’s it,” chan murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “cum for us princess.”

And I did, my breath came in soft gasps, my body still trembling as the rush of pleasure faded into a warm hum.

Chan’s hand slid up to my cheek, turning my face toward him. His eyes were heavy-lidded but soft, his thumb brushing my jaw as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this.” He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his lips exploring mine as though he had all the time in the world.

Hyunjin pulled back finally, licking his lips like a hungry man. “Don’t think we’re done,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. His dark eyes roamed over me, taking in the sight of me flushed and breathless. “this was just the begining.”

“lie down, baby” chan demands, as he moved from behind me.

As I did, the guys started taking off their clothes urgently. And I couldn’t help but stare; they were gorgeous and they knew it.

Chan immediately layed on top of me, trapping me between his arms, his body hovering over me, and I realised just how big he actually was, from the corner of my eye I saw hyunjin get next to me in bed his grin was sharp, his fingers brushing over my calf with deliberate slowness as he settled beside me. “You’re in for it now,” he teased, his voice dripping with heat.

Chan didn’t waste a second. His lips were on mine, his cock pressing down on me, heavy and unyielding, I needed him so bad. His kiss was hungry, claiming, and I couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped my lips as he deepened it.

Beside me, Hyunjin’s hand roamed my body, his touch electrifying against my skin. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “You sound so sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.

Chan pulled back slightly, just enough for me to catch my breath before he entered me without a warning, as I let out a gasp. I felt utterly full of him.

Hyunjin’s mouth followed a slow, teasing path down my neck, his fingers now splayed possessively against my tits. His tongue darted out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and I couldn’t stop the arch of my back as the tension built between us.

Chan’s thrusts, were precise and passionate. “You drive us insane, you know that?” he growled against my lips before capturing them again.

Hyunjin chuckled low. “oh she knows exactly what she’s doing,” he murmured, his voice like silk, his touch anything but gentle as he made his intentions clear.

They weren’t taking their time anymore—they were claiming me, and I was powerless to resist.

each thrust was sending waves of pleasure through me, making my thoughts scatter. Chan’s breath was hot against my lips as he muttered, “You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Hyunjin’s hands were everywhere, his fingers tracing fire over my skin. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “You like this, don’t you? Both of us making you our own?” His voice was low, teasing, and it only heightened the ache pooling in my core.

I couldn’t respond, my voice caught in my throat as Chan’s pace quickened, his grip on my thighs firm and possessive. Hyunjin smirked at my lack of words, his hand cupping my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “we spent years thinking about fucking you like this, you’re ours now” he murmured before his lips captured mine in a kiss that was just as consuming as Chan’s touch.

The build was maddening, chan’s relentless rhythm pushing was me to the edge. My hands gripped his shoulders tightly, my nails digging into his skin as I felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in my core. “Chan,” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips like a plea, my body trembling beneath him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured against my ear, his voice rough with need. “I’ve got you.”

The release hit me like a tidal wave, my body arching as pleasure flooded every nerve. My cries filled the room, and Chan followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as his own climax overtook him. He pressed his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling, his weight grounding me as I came down from the high.

Before I could fully catch my breath, I felt Hyunjin’s hand slide up my leg, his touch firm yet tantalizing. “Don’t think I’m letting you off that easily,” he said with a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. He was on me in an instant, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss that reignited the fire in my veins.

“Turn over,” he commanded softly, his voice holding an edge of authority that made me shiver. Chan shifted, moving to the side to make space as Hyunjin positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my hips. The anticipation was electric, and when he finally pushed into me, it was slow and deliberate, drawing out a moan that left no question about how much I wanted this.

“You’re stunning like this,” Hyunjin rasped, his movements starting to quicken, each one sending fresh sparks through my body. “I’ve been dying to have you like this.”

Chan, still close, leaned down to kiss me, his hand brushing the hair from my face as Hyunjin took control. I’m drooling at this point, and my legs were shaking due to the overstimulation.

the room was filled with my moans and hyunjin’s grunts, who was trying his best to last as long as possible.

“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned, the pressure on his cock making him go completely insane.

Eventually, he gave up, letting himself cum at the same time as me.

"Fuck," he breathed out, pulling out of me. He layed between me and chan.

"You did well, love," hyunjin whispered, making me smile despite how tired I was.

#bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #kpop smut #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #hyunjin smut #hyunjin scenarios #kpop fic #bang chan hard hours #stray kids drabbles

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zepskies · 15 days ago

Text

10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader

Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

AN: Here’s a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but we’re still flirting with a gray area here lol.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)

The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.

To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.

This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave in…

You checked the time on your phone—ten minutes to midnight—and compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.

Shit! One minute?!

You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.

A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.

“Professor?” you said, breathless and shocked.

He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.

“Here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.

And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.

Professor Dean Winchester.

He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldn’t believe you ran right into him!

But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).

“Oh, you…you saw the play too?” you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. You’d told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.

He’d admitted that he’d never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said he’d look into it. You didn’t think he was actually taking you seriously though.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,” he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

You couldn’t help but smile too every time you noticed that…even though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.

Clearly he’d dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, you’d asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. He’d told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.

“So what’d you think?” you asked. “Weren’t the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the ‘forest,’ and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.”

He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.”

“Oh, incredible. That was the best Bottom I’ve ever seen.” You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. “Well, the character. Not the ass—donkey—whatever. You know what I mean.”

The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.

“Can’t argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,” he smirked.

Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. You’d heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one day—a full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.

“But really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,” you said. “Helena was my favorite.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?”

That was another thing. He didn’t really talk like any professor you’d met in your life. You let out a snort.

“I don’t want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,” you explained. “There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t even see you, you know?”

He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.

“In her mind, she’s probably thinking, ‘Well, even if he’s yelling at me, at least he’s acknowledging I exist,’” you said, “which is incredibly sad and isn’t giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but it’s a reality that some women go through.”

After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.

“That’s fair,” he said, arching a brow. “Though I gotta hope you don’t let any guy talk to you like that.”

You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.

“How about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,” he said. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.

“Ah, you know what, I’m good with just my phone…please.”

This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didn’t know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.

You held out your hand expectantly, but still, “Brady” didn’t take the hint.

“Aw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?” he asked.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?” You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.”

“Hmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,” he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.

“Hey,” a deep voice cut in.

You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Give her the damn phone,” said the professor. His tone boded no argument.

Still, Brady pushed his luck.

“What, you her boyfriend or something?”

The professor didn’t bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.

Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didn’t want this version of Midnight on the Orient Express—the kind that ended up on the 6 o’clock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professor’s hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.

“Walk away,” he said.

To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a “fuck you, bro,” and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Is this your stop?” he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Okay, come on,” the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.

“Thank you,” you said again. “Really, you didn’t have to miss your exit for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. “I’ll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.”

Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you weren’t that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasn’t a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.

He had no other motive than that, however…

He’d been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.

It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldn’t help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.

A deep, full-bodied red.

It was a familiar shade. You’d worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshifters—those long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much he’d actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.

He also knew you were getting a master’s degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. You’d actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.

“Sorry, sir, I know it’s early. I’ve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.”

He’d shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)

The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.

“You like mythology that much, huh?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yeah!” you said, as your eyes lit up. “I find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe it’s technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or it’s the same creature, different backstory. It’s like any novel I’ve ever read—similar tropes, but the style, the packaging. That’s what becomes new and creative.”

Amusement tugged at Dean’s lips.

“Same candy, different wrapper, right?” he offered. His reward was your bright smile.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He’d approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you weren’t just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuff…and it mirrored his own.

“So, uh, you liked that play, huh?” he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.

But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.

“Oh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeare’s sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.” All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.

Dean’s remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.

You didn’t disappoint.

“Well, there’s the famous Lysander line, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’” you said, “but that’s not even my favorite. That’s boring. That’s every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to He’s Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.”

Dean had to interject. “You watch a lot of chick-flicks, don’t you?”

Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.

“Like I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, she’s pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims he’s in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, he’s like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?” you said.

“Oh, very much agree. You want some coffee?” Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.

“Uh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,” you said. But you didn’t let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! I meant to pay for my part—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, take half,” Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.

Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.

“But then she says, ‘Love can transpose to form and dignity.’ It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriend’s essays for a whole year because I didn’t want him to fail English, and let’s face it, he could barely spell his own last name.”

“Yikes,” Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guy’s future.

“Right? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.” You rolled your eyes, accepting Dean’s sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all you’d given to that guy was your time.

"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you right," he said.

You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."

Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.

“So anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,” you said. “‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

In that moment, Dean’s eyes were a little too captivated.

But you broke the spell.

You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.

“And that’s why Cupid’s always painted like a blind baby…or something like that,” you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long you’d been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.

“Sorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I can’t really stop unless someone stops me and tells me I’m literally killing them with words that don’t make sense.”

“You’re making a whole lotta sense to me,” Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.”

Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.

“Well, did you like the play?” you asked, smiling in embarrassment. “Sorry, can’t remember if I even asked you that yet.”

He laughed softly. Even if you had, he didn’t mind answering again.

“I like it more now, hearing you talk about it,” he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. “It makes sense, since you’re an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. I’m really glad you decided to take my class this semester.”

You demured further at the praise. “Oh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, but…that’s because you’re the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.”

Dean smiled in amusement, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.

“Well, thank you. Glad to hear at least one person’s getting something out of it,” he said, his smile warming for once.

You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. “All right well, thanks again for walking me home. I’ll, um…see you on Monday-ayy!”

You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Dean—specifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.

He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.

Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, but…contemplating.

Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.

“God, I’m sorry!” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it.�� He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um…Take Two,” you said, laughing weakly.

You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just, um…you know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!”

Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didn’t leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldn’t leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like you’d been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonder…

Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?

But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.

Didn’t stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. She’s barely pushing fifty while he’s halfway into Senior Depends.

Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11—kind of a problem.

You were a student.

Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.

In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Hera’s garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.

As in, forbidden fruit.

What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?

Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.

But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.

He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.

You didn’t even see him that way…did you?

You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.

Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.

How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches and…

You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.

It didn’t matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was “age appropriate,” he was still your professor. You couldn’t think about him like that.

And he absolutely didn’t look at you like that…

Did he?

AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. 😂 I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! ❤️

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ghoulishhx · 1 month ago

Note

I was thinking about this last night, imagine like tipsy reader comes home from a night out whatever. her and frank had weird tension for as long as they've known eachother, but they're close enough to where he can come over whenever he needs. she walks in to find him sat beaten up and bloody on her couch, and frank is aghast as he's never really seen her in anything like what she's wearing(possibly some pretty dress, whatever fits the vibes the best) maybe a sweet lil moment or more happens🤭

sorry if this seems like blabbering, i tried to make is cohesive😭

this request is just toooo CUTE. and noo don't worry about blabbering, i understood completely and i hope i delivered for you!!

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Neighbour!Frank x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: fluff, a LOT of it, mutual pining, tipsy reader, injured frank, making out and sexual themes so MDNI please thank you, sweetheart frank, written with plus size reader in mind!, praise

Wordcount: 2k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ friday i'm in love

You and your neighbour Frank have gotten into a routine, one you’ve come to adore and hold close to your heart.

He comes over, you patch him up no questions asked, you feed him a home cooked meal and he helps where he can, fixing your appliances and building furniture for example. You truly love his presence, he grounds you from all the nonsense you go through when you’re not with him, always lending you an ear for your vents, offering advice (also offering to “sort out” the pricks at work giving you trouble.). There’s never really a moment you two are not together, the only things coming between you being your day jobs. You wouldn’t change this for the world.

It’s Friday night, and Frank is obviously beat up. Patrol on a Friday night was always a lot, compared to the rest of the weekdays. Drunk men causing havoc, committing crimes heavily under the influence always made the weekends more work for Frank.

Tonight was just like any other night, as he stumbles home late at night, bloodied and bruised. He doesn't think twice before letting himself into your apartment with the spare key you gifted him. Entering your home, he notices the lack of lights. Strange, he thought to himself, you’re a night owl and never sleep before 2am. He’s always greeted by you rushing to the door to give him a hug, ushering him into the warmth of your abode. The lack of your greeting rings alarm bells through his head, and he doesn’t hesitate, reaching to his belt to pull out his sidearm, mind racing with thoughts that you were in danger. Flickering on his torch, he silently paces through the open planned room, his eyes gaze to the table where he finds a note.

“Gone out with some friends Frankie, I’ll be home about midnight. Dinner and beer are in the fridge xo”

His shoulders instantly drop, tension washing away as his eyes scan over the note, his breathing settles knowing you were okay and you were gonna be home soon. He moves to your fridge, finding tupperware with leftovers from your dinner you had presumably before you left, next to an ice cold beer, Frank’s favourite. He practically groans at the sight, wondering what he did in his past lives to deserve you here and now. Within a flash, he’s converted the food to a bowl, slammed that sucker in the microwave as he cracks open his beer. He is so comfortable existing within your space, your home feeling like his even when you’re not there. It pains him knowing he will have to leave tonight, just like it does every night. If he could have it his way, you would be by his side 24/7, holding you while you slept soundly in his arms, kissing the top of your head as he plays with your hair…

The click of the front door’s lock being turned pulls him from his thoughts of you, his breath hitches in his throat as he catches a glimpse at you. Fuck do you look gorgeous. Your hair is loosely curled, having dropped throughout the night of dancing and drinking. The dress you’re wearing has Frank in a chokehold. He’s convinced you would look stunning in nothing but a trash bag, but there’s something about the way the soft silk of your dress hugging your curves just right, accentuating the dips in your hips and the plush skin of your stomach (something you were really self conscious about before leaving your house tonight, but it's one of Frank’s favourite things about you.”, he can’t help but stare at your chest like a teenage boy. You had no idea how perfect you looked, no idea about the effect you were having on your neighbour.

“My eyes are up here, Frankie.” you giggle, slurring your words as you stumble into the room.

Frank can’t help but look away, sensing the blush creep up his neck due to you clocking him. You continue to giggle to yourself as you toss your purse onto the console cabinet next to the door, peeling your heels off and cursing at the blisters already beginning to form. The action of taking your shoes off causes you to tumble, however Frank manages to catch you in time, wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, preventing you from falling on your ass.

“Mmm my hero.” you whisper in his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck, placing a hard kiss to the side of his face. He breathes in your smell, your vanilla perfume invades his nose, his favourite smell in the world, with a hint of liquor.

“Are you drunk, sweetheart?” he asks softly, such an obvious question but he couldn’t help from ask it.

“Maybee..” you laugh, grabbing his head with your hands and angling him to look at you. Your face twists with confusion as you notice all of the cuts and scrapes littered across his face.

“Frankie, you’re hurt. Why didn’t you say when I came in?”

“It’s not that bad darlin’, don't’ worry ‘m fine.” he says with his gruff tone, looking you dead in your eyes, the colour completely covered by your dilated pupils.

“Shush, c’mon let's get you cleared up.” you raise to your feet, smoothening your dress and reaching your hand out to help him up. Seeing him injured sobered you up a lot, however he raises an eyebrow at you, as if to say are you sure you’re not too drunk.

“Don’t give me that grumpy look Frankie, I’m not that drunk, just a little tipsy. I won’t stab you, swear.” you’re still holding his hand, the realisation makes you drop it instantly as you turn away to avoid showing him how flustered you were from such a simple touch.

“Ya better not doll, not lettin’ ya get rid of me that easily.” he chuckles darkly as he looks you up and down, making his way to the bathroom and pulling out the fold up chair you keep in there for this very situation. You join him in the cool tiled room, but before you did anything you had to take your makeup off, it had been on too long and it was borderline overstimulating. You pull your makeup remover wipes from the cabinet under the sink, pulling one out as you wipe it across your face, smearing makeup everywhere as you clean yourself.

Frank watched in awe as you did such a simple mundane task in front of him, surprised at how aroused he was just from watching you wipe your face. He can’t take your eyes off you, you were addicting. Frank would happily watch you do anything, being as enthralled with you as he was.

“What are you looking at Frank?” you question, feeling his eyes stare holes into the side of your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful sweetheart.” he whispers, surprised at his own admission. He was too transfixed on your movements to stop himself from thinking before he spoke. You giggle brings him back to earth as he clears his throat, as if to pass it off as a cough.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you softly speak, turning to fully face him now, makeup pretty much fully removed as you lean on the counter. Your eyes meet and the air in the room feels much thicker than before, electricity coursing through the space as you look intently into one another’s eyes.

“Think? I know darlin’, most damn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he mumbles, wetting his lips with his tongue as he takes your form in for the millionth time tonight.

Your breathing intensifies, your stomach flips from his compliment. You had secretly been harbouring feelings for your neighbour for a while, but never believed they were/could be reciprocated. You put the used wipe down, as you saunter over him and climb into his lap, wrapping your legs over his thighs. His hands shoot to your waist to keep you stable.

“Well I think you’re beautiful Frank.”

“Tsk, ya dunno what you’re sayin’ sweet girl, if you were sober you’d feel different.” he grumbles, a sly smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. Not once do his eyes move from your face, taking in every freckle, bump and ridge, the plumpness of your lips swooning him.

“I’m pretty much sobered up now Frank, stop worrying.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ve thought you were beautiful for a while, y’know..”

“Likewise angel.. You dunno what ya do t’me.” he whispers, his breath catches your face due to only being mere inches apart now, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity up your spine.

“Can I kiss you, pretty girl?”

“Please.”

He doesn’t wait a second longer, placing his lips upon your softer ones. The kiss begins tentatively, slow and explorative, but it’s not long before it grows hungrier, more desperate. Your mixed pent up emotions for one another finally escaping inside of each other’s mouths.

You wrap your fingers up in his hair, tugging slightly as his lips leave yours and land on your neck, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, eliciting moans from you.

“Fuck babydoll, I’ve waited too long to have you like this..” he mumbles into your neck, the vibrations of his words sending arousal straight to your panties.

“Need you.. Need you so bad Frankie.. Please touch me..” you beg, peppering kisses along the top of his head as you grind yourself down onto his rock hard bulge. He can’t help but buck his hips into yours.

“Eager aren’t we?” he teases, whispering in your ear. “As much as I wanna take ya up on that doll, wanna make sure you’ll fully remember our first time.” you go to argue this but he stops you “I know you’re pretty much sober baby, but I want it to be special for ya.. That okay with you?” you sigh in defeat, nodding your head. “Attagirl.” he places another kiss on your lips as he grabs the flesh of your ass, making you gasp as he grins, knowing damn well how much he’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes as you climb off of him, reaching under the sink to grab your first aid kit, having completely neglected the sole purpose of why you were both in the cramped en-suite bathroom. Patching Frank up takes no time at all, only minor injuries tonight that a good wipe with antiseptic and a bandage could fix. The entire time you were working on him, his hands never left your hips, rubbing comforting circles around the curve.

“All done Frankie.” you lean down and kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you babygirl, I’ll get out ya hair, let ya relax after your night out alright?” he stands from his seat, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“Stay.” you mumble into his chest, breathing him in, basking in the closeness.

“Please?” you tilt your head up to him, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your best puppy dog eyes to further convince him.

“Course I will doll, anythin’ for ya.” he kisses the top of your head, as you pull away and lead him out of the bathroom to your bedroom. You don’t bother making him turn around as you unsheath yourself from your dress, allowing the fabric to pool at your feet. Frank uses as much self control he can muster to not take you then and there, remembering his words he told you earlier on about waiting for the right time. He shudders a deep breath as he removes his shirt and jeans too, watching you climb into bed and hold out your arms for him to join you, and that he does.

He climbs beside you and pulls you snug into his chest, spooning you. Your eyelids begin to fall heavy, being completely at peace in his grasp. You hum appreciatively, after fantasizing about this moment for months now you finally have it, you finally have him.

“Sleep well sweet girl, I’ll be here in the mornin’, promise.” he whispers in your hair, as you mumble an incoherent response, drifting off to sleep. It’s not long until he joins you, feeling just as at ease tucked up in bed with you as you feel.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i know the gif is raunchy as shit, but i had to use it because #smash

my inbox is open!

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jungwnies · 3 months ago

Text

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (1/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 1140

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The apartment listing had sounded too good to be true.

"A modern two-bedroom in a great neighborhood! Affordable rent! Recently renovated!"

You had jumped on it. Places like this didn’t stay on the market long, and after what felt like a lifetime of apartment hunting, you were ready to sign a lease and never look at another rental website again.

So, you scheduled a tour, packed a mental list of negotiating tactics, and prayed to whatever higher power existed that this would finally be the one.

Across the city, Oscar Piastri was doing the exact same thing.

Unlike you, he hadn’t even bothered looking at multiple listings. He had sent his assistant a simple message: Find me an apartment. Quiet, good location, no crazy landlords. He wasn’t picky, he just needed a place to live between races. Simple.

At least, that’s what he thought.

One Hour Later – At the Apartment

The moment you walked into the leasing office, you knew something was off.

For one, the landlord, a middle-aged man named Greg who looked permanently stressed, was nervously shuffling through papers like he had forgotten how to read.

For two, there was already another person standing there, signing a stack of documents like he had just secured the place.

You blinked. “Uh, what is happening?”

Greg looked up, his face immediately twisting into an expression that screamed oh no.

The guy next to you, a very casually dressed guy in a McLaren hoodie and cap, barely glanced up. “I’m signing my lease,” he said simply, like this was his apartment and you were the intruder.

You frowned. “No, I’m signing my lease.”

Greg audibly gulped.

McLaren Hoodie Guy finally looked at you properly, his eyebrows pulling together. “That can’t be right.”

You turned to Greg, arms crossed. “Okay, Greg, what’s going on?”

Greg inhaled sharply through his nose. “So, funny story..."

You knew it was not going to be a funny story.

“...there was a bit of a mix-up, and it looks like I… um… may have accidentally leased the same apartment to both of you?”

Silence.

You blinked. "What?"

McLaren Guy squinted at Greg. “You may have?”

Greg winced. “Okay, did. I did lease it to both of you. But in my defense, I didn’t realize it until just now, and I already spent your security deposits, so I really can’t refund you until next month.”

Your jaw dropped. “You already spent...!?!? Are you kidding me?”

McLaren Guy let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what are you saying? That neither of us can live here?”

Greg let out a nervous chuckle. “Well… I could cancel the lease for one of you, but…” He glanced between you two. “Do either of you have another place lined up?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “No.”

McLaren Guy sighed. “No.”

Greg��s face paled. “Right.” He rubbed his hands together, clearly dying inside. “So, um… what if you two just… shared it?”

You and McLaren Guy turned to each other at the exact same time, both shaking your heads.

"Absolutely not."

"Not happening."

Greg held up his hands. “Okay, okay! Just hear me out.”

You shot him a look. “You literally just admitted to scamming us.”

“I didn’t scam you—"

McLaren Guy scoffed. “You spent our deposits.”

“Okay, I accidentally scammed you.” Greg sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, I’ll cut the rent in half if you both agree to stay. Just for the first few months, until I can sort this out.”

You turned back to McLaren Guy, fully expecting him to shut it down. Instead, he looked like he was considering it.

You frowned. “You cannot be thinking about this.”

He shrugged. “Do you have another option?”

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with some random—" You gestured at him vaguely. “—McLaren fanboy.”

McLaren Guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Fanboy?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, motioning to his hoodie and cap. “You’re decked out in McLaren gear. You look like you’re about to go meet Lando Norris.”

Greg made a strangled noise.

McLaren Guy just stared at you, something unreadable flickering across his face. His mouth opened for a second, then closed.

Then he exhaled, shaking his head. “You know what? Fine. Let’s do it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait—what?”

He grabbed the lease papers, signing his name at the bottom with zero hesitation. “I don’t have time to find a new place, and I’m not about to couch-surf across Australia.”

You turned to Greg. “You cannot expect me to live with a stranger.”

Greg gave you a deeply exhausted look. “I expected to lease this apartment to one person. Life is full of disappointments.”

McLaren Guy grinned. “You’re lucky I’m an excellent roommate.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

Two Days Later – Moving In

You were right.

Oscar Piastri was not an excellent roommate.

The first issue became apparent when you opened the fridge and found nothing inside except for a can of Monster Energy, a half-empty bottle of water, and two whole heads of lettuce.

You turned to him, arms crossed. "Do you… not eat real food?"

Oscar barely looked up from setting up his PlayStation. "I eat at the McLaren hospitality tent most of the time."

You squinted. "McLaren hospitality—" You let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh my god, you’re a team employee, aren’t you?"

Oscar blinked at you. "Huh?"

"You work for McLaren," you said, pointing at his hoodie, the McLaren duffel bag by the door, the literal McLaren keychain hanging off his keys. "That’s why you’re obsessed with the team."

Oscar stared at you for a long moment. Then, very carefully, he said, "Yes. That’s exactly it."

"Called it," you muttered, going back to unpacking.

Oscar smirked to himself but said nothing.

The second issue? He was too quiet.

You were used to some kind of background noise. Either it was music, TV, literally anything, but Oscar? He just moved around the apartment in silence, which somehow made you more on edge.

Then, later that night, you really reached your breaking point.

You had been winding down, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, scrolling through your phone when you suddenly heard a deep sigh behind you.

You turned your head slightly, only to see Oscar staring at you from the other side of the couch, arms crossed, looking very unimpressed.

You blinked. "What?"

Oscar sighed again, slower this time, louder. "You chew really loud."

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You’re, like, aggressively loud."

Your eyes narrowed. "I will throw this popcorn at you."

Oscar smirked. "You wouldn’t dare."

Without hesitation, you grabbed a handful of popcorn and launched it at him.

Oscar gasped, dodging the attack. "Greg was right! This was a terrible idea!"

You grinned, grabbing another handful. "Welcome to hell, roomie."

taglist : comment to be added

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #𐐪♡︎₊˚ ― jungwnies #jungwnies

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total-dxmure · 1 year ago

Text

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff.

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

“The fact that she’s military is the only thing saving her ass right now.”

Ellie kept her head bowed down low, her hands clasped in between her legs as she hunched over in the seat, making herself as small as possible. Her knuckles were bruised and scrapped to hell, the blood already dried and crusted. Most of the blood wasn’t hers, and if she thought about that fact for too long she’d probably have an episode. Either that or she’d throw up all over the sheriff’s office.

“Boss, I really appreciate you calling me instead of booking her. You have to understand that she’s in therapy and is on a shit ton of medications. Is the guy gonna press charges. . . ?” Hearing her best friend kiss up to his boss on her behalf had the vein in her forehead twitching.

“Technically the boy was shoplifting, so I doubt he’s gonna go forward with any sort’a legal action. I know she was trying to help, but she used excessive force. Beat the poor kid black and blue. . . I mean-” The officer lowered his voice, and Ellie could hear Jesse’s chair creak as he leaned forward. “His damn tooth was knocked out.” The sheriff whispered.

She closed her eyes tight, running a shaky hand over her face. She should own up to all of this and apologize. This was her fault, so why. . . why was she just sitting there? It was like she was glued to the chair, unable to move her head up. She couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. She was ashamed of herself.

Because she smelled like greasy, unwashed hair and cigarettes, was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn yesterday when he invited her over to his and Dina’s for dinner, and now he was having to pick her up at the police station for starting a fight.

A pack of beer. That’s what she’d pummeled the boy over.

He couldn’t have even been her age. He looked freshly legal, and something in her fucked up mind told her that it was okay to hurt him like that. The second that the nice elderly woman behind the counter had started screaming about a man stealing from her, some sort of switch had been flipped in her brain. Loud noises always made her feel anxious, but screaming like that? She couldn’t have stopped the meltdown even if she’d wanted to. So she dropped what she was holding and ran after him. What happened afterwards was. . . well, it was a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her temples, trying hard to remember.

Her therapist called them “PTSD episodes”. Random things triggered a breakdown: loud noises, gunshots, screams, flashes of light. . . they were unavoidable. She’d lose total track of time when it happened. One second the door to Ellie’s walk-in closet was closing behind her, plummeting her in darkness, and the next she’d be laying on her back in the middle of her room, balling her eyes out. Living like this was hell, but no matter how many mind-numbing pills she was prescribed, she still found it nearly impossible to function.

She didn’t want to scare her loved ones. When Joel called she just. . . lied. It made her feel dirty. It was wrong and she knew that, but it was better than the alternative. Being a liar was better than being a broken failure.

“Yeah, I’m doing great. My therapist is on to something, I think.”

“Come on, rambo. Let’s get you to bed.” Jesse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, knowing better than to pat her on the back like he used to.

Ellie knew it hurt him to see her flinch under his touch. She swallowed back bile and stood up, practically having to drag herself out of the officers office. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t thank him or- or anything.

But then he did that thing. . . he thanked Ellie.

Ellie didn’t give a shit about the military discounts or the cheaper car insurance- she got a nice cushy check from the military every month just for breathing. She didn’t want pity or thanks simply because she didn’t deserve it.

“Thank you for your service, Williams.” The sheriff’s voice reminded her of Joel’s. For some reason that made it hurt even worse.

Still, her muscles tightened, and she worked hard to straighten her posture.

“It was my privilege.” It was a well rehearsed response. It didn’t even sound like her voice when she had said it though, and it scared her.

As she followed Jesse out to his truck, she tried to ascertain whether she was just beginning to disassociate or whether or not this was all just another strange side effect from her meds.

She blinked and suddenly she was already situated in the car, Jesse on the main road to get the both of them back home. He had the radio turned down to just a hum, his sleepy eyes glued to the road in front of him. The clock on his dashboard told her that it wasn’t just “late” anymore, but “morning” now. Ellie sat up suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to map out exactly how many minutes she had just lost.

“Fuck.” She breathed, pressing her palms against her eyes.

She needed to call her therapist sometime today. She needed. . . She needed a lower dose of medication. There’s no way any of this was normal.

“Have you eaten?” Jesse asked, turning his head to finally look at her.

Ellie wished that he felt inconvenienced by her. Anger would be better than pity, but the look in his eyes was anything but annoyance. Jesse looked like he was close to tears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Ellie felt called to reach her hand out and place it on his shoulder. She wasn’t a very touchy person these days (and it’s not like she was to begin with), but he needed it.

“Not in a couple of hours.” Ellie answered him, letting her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He nodded and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. When Ellie dropped her hand and turned to look out the passenger side window, she could have sworn he lifted his arm to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. She couldn’t be sure though. . . seeing as she was now legally blind in her left eye. The wonky eye and the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and ended on her brow bone were the only physical reminders that she had of the explosion.

It seemed so miniscule compared to all of the shit that was going on in her head. She’d much rather have a destroyed body than a brain that didn’t work right anymore.

“How about you sleep in the guest bedroom? Dina’s probably worried sick about the both of us. Let’s. . . let’s spend the day together. Yeah?” It sounded like he was pleading with her.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence. No matter how much of a burden she saw herself as, the thought of going home right now frightened her. Ellie was terrified that she was going to end up all alone in this world, but she couldn’t stop pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if. . . she knew that she was bound to self-destruct at some point. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that.

“She’s going to kill me.” Ellie groaned out, dramatically banging her head against the headrest.

Jesse’s lips twitched up into a smile, but he was quick to try and mask it. “Nah. Dina? Mad at you for getting arrested at one thirty in the morning? No way.” His tone was sarcastic, and Ellie appreciated the fact that Jesse could still joke under circumstances like this. It made things feel almost normal. Almost.

Ellie winced, dragging a battered and bruised hand over her face. She had no idea why she’d been at the gas station picking up a bag of pretzels and a pack of ding-dongs that late at night. A documentary about the recently discovered Exo-planet was on the Discovery channel, and she’d actually worked up an appetite after it was over. She missed acting her age. Maybe that’s why she ended up getting into her Jeep. She was tired of feeling nostalgic and actually wanted to do something for herself. As minuscule as grabbing snacks from the gas station down the street was, it still felt out of the ordinary for her. Special.

Dina was sitting on the couch when the pair slunk into the house, walking on their tip toes in the hopes that the creaking wooden floors wouldn’t wake up JJ. Ellie froze in the entryway, green eyes wide as she took in the female’s crossed arms and death-glare. She was in trouble, which meant that Jesse was in trouble as well by association.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dina whisper-yelled, throwing her arm in the direction of the clock on the wall.

Ellie squinted her one good eye, noting that it was now four in the morning. She’d lost three hours. She should have been passed out on her prescribed sleeping pills by now, plagued by vivid nightmares. Instead she was intruding on her two best friends, and for what? ‘A pack of beer’, she reminded herself. A god damn pack of fuckin’ beer.

Ellie’s mouth went dry, her lips moving but no words escaping her. How many times had she apologized to Dina since she’d gotten home after the accident? Still, her best friend’s anger was better than Jesse’s pity. The sleeves of Ellie’s flannel tightened around her biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Dina’s posture as if to protect herself. She slipped a hand up, covering her neck anxiously.

“I’m getting better, D. I’ll schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist and-” Ellie sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

What she was doing couldn’t be called living. Ellie was simply existing and not doing a very good job at it either. She was tired of being tired. She blinked her misty eyes, turning to face the kitchen. She refused to cry. Once she started she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to stop.

Jesse and Dina’s shoes were all neatly laid out by the front door and JJ’s baby bag was sitting on the dining room table. This was a family that she had just burdened. Her eyes snagged on JJ’s highchair, and then the guilt was building right back up in her chest.

Guilt and jealousy.

Ellie had once had hopes of starting her own family eventually. When did she lose her grasp on that? On her lifelong dreams and aspirations? She wanted to help people- save people- so when had she become the one that needed saving? The marines hadn’t ruined Ellie. Ellie had ruined Ellie.

“No, you’re not.” Dina said simply, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “Ellie, look at me.” Her voice was commanding despite her sadness.

Ellie’s eyes fell to the floor, but she turned her head to face Dina, green eyes flickering up to her face. Bottom lip quivering, brown eyes misty- Dina looked miserable.

“You’re not getting better.” She whispered to Ellie, shaking her head to drive the point home. It looked like the words physically hurt for her to say.

Every excuse that she could have given dissipated. Suddenly she felt naked, utterly exposed. Every nasty, jagged scar was on full display. How many times had she said that to the people that cared about her?

“I’m getting better.” “I actually feel a bit better today.” “You don’t have to worry about me. The meds are really working this time.” Ellie wasn’t sure when it happened but she had become a liar. A damn good one too. Dina was looking at her now though, really looking at her, and Ellie’s face crumpled.

“Fuck.” Ellie whispered to herself, moving her hands to cover her face.

Jesse stepped behind Ellie, wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. A sob caught in Ellie’s chest and she strangled it before it could escape her. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t let her shoulders sag, couldn’t allow herself to feel everything in front of her best friends.

“I called Joel,” Dina finally said, leaning against the back of the couch, her knuckles going white with how hard she gripped the leather. “And he bought you a plane ticket. You’re flying out tomorrow.”

“No,” Ellie was already shaking her head before Dina had even finished her sentence. “How could you do this?” She felt the betrayal like a slap in the face. Her lips parted, eyes wide in silent desperation.

Please let this be a nightmare.

Her hand desperately flew to her arm, giving it a sharp pinch. The floor didn’t fall out from under her. She didn’t sit up sweating in her tangled sheets. This was actually happening. Actually real.

“You’re flailing, Ellie. We thought that eventually you’d level out,” Dina tried, taking a few steps towards Ellie and her husband. “But you’re only getting worse.”

“I’m getting better.” The well rehearsed line was the only thing she could think to utter. She prayed that eventually she could convince herself of that too. If she said the words enough times then maybe, eventually, they would become her reality. Perhaps she could somehow manifest her recovery.

“When was the last time you ate a solid meal? You barely touched your plate the other night. And I know you aren’t eating the food that Jesse drops off for you.” Dina was pointing out her flaws as if she didn’t see them all herself.

A full stomach meant nausea.

“When was the last time you showered?” The dark haired girl questioned.

Showering meant closing herself up into a tight space. It meant getting naked- seeing her scars. Remembering what happened to her and the rest of her unit.

“We know how this will end, Ellie. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of my life for calling Joel. I refuse to lose you like this.” Dina’s voice quivered as she spoke, but her eyes hardened. She was resolute about her decision.

Jesse’s arms tightened around Ellie and suddenly they no longer felt like a comfort but a prison. She needed air. Needed to call Joel and apologize. Needed to tell him that she was fine. She was fine. She would be just fine.

“I can’t breathe.” Ellie managed to whisper out, knees buckling from underneath her. It felt like the world was finally swallowing her up whole.

She was a failure. She’d failed Jesse, Dina, JJ and Joel. Why couldn’t she just be normal again? Why couldn’t she just fucking breathe.

Jesse let go of Ellie as she began gasping for air, helping to sit her down on the cold hardwood floor. It felt like everything around her had slowed down to a crawl, but her mind- it had sped up to a breakneck pace. She couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t turn off the thoughts and the images and the feelings.

She’d killed her unit. It was her fault that they all died. They had all been taken home in body bags, and what had Ellie gotten? A fucking government issued check every month that she blew on booze and a Purple Heart that collected dust.

“D, get the medication that’s in the cabinet and a glass of water.” Jesse called out to his wife. It sounded like they were underwater. She was drowning.

“She’s ripping her fucking hair out, Jesse.” Dina called out in panic, rifling through the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Her best friend gripped her wrists, forcing them back down to her sides. Strands of Auburn hair were tangled up between her clammy fingers.

JJ must have woken up because of the comotion. She could hear him crying from the other room. Screaming for his mother.

Blood. So much blood. It’s coming out of her mouth, what do I do? What do I do about internal bleeding again? Wasn’t I trained for this? Breathe. She’s not breathing. Are there other landmines? Can I drag her to safety? Where is everyone else? H-How. . . How can I help?

“Swallow, Ellie.” Dina was crouched in front of her, forcing her lips open to slide a pill onto her tongue.

“It was my fault. I-I fucking,” She choked out, gagging at the taste of the pill that was beginning to dissolve on her tongue. “I led them out there. Oh, fuck.”

Dina was beginning to panic, pushing the plastic cup up to Ellie’s mouth in the hopes that she would drink. She did, choking back the water in deep gulps. The water helped to fill the aching pit that was beginning to grow in her stomach. Water poured down the sides of Ellie’s lips, but she kept drinking. Deep, thoughtful gulps of ice cold water.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Dina finally asked, her eyes flickering between Ellie and her husband.

“No. No hospital. Just go sit with JJ, alright? I’ve got her.” Jesse told her, letting go of Ellie’s hands so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her against his chest so that she couldn’t stand up.

Ellie blinked and Dina was gone, the sound of her bare feet jogging down the hall was the only reminder of her presence.

“Joel isn’t going to judge you, Ellie. We all just want to help. So let us, alright?” She knew he was telling the truth, but the thought of Joel seeing her as lesser-than killed her. She would crumble completely if Joel looked at her with the same sorrowful eyes that Jesse did.

Joel was newly retired though, and the last thing he needed was to put up with his PTSD-ridden adopted daughter. She was tired of feeling like a burden, but where had standing on her own two feet gotten her? Arrested on multiple occasions? So she relented. She surrendered to the idea of sleeping in her old bedroom and taking up space in Joel’s too-big ranch home.

“Okay.” Ellie croaked, feeling the medication kicking in. Sleep. All Ellie wanted to do was sleep.

“Okay?” Jesse repeated back to her, needing to know that she was serious. The last thing he probably wanted to do was wrestle Ellie onto the plane. He wasn’t entirely sure he could overpower her when it came down to it.

“Okay.”

Grief was an uphill battle. One minute you’re laughing with your friends and then the next you’re laid up in bed, tossing and turning with the realization that what could have been was now an impossibility. You missed Abby. You missed the life that you could have had with her. All of the memories and milestones you missed out on were soul crushing the second that the sun went down.

You were left in your empty house, laid up in the bed that the two of you once shared. Her scent had long since washed out of her pillow. All that was left were pictures and a gravesite that you still couldn’t bring yourself to visit. Life doesn’t stop when you lose somebody though. People eventually become less forgiving as the months pass by.

So you squeezed your eyes closed and hoped that sleep would come sooner rather than later. You had an early start tomorrow for work, and the last thing you wanted was to show up with puffy eyes.

Life was getting better though. The pain wasn't as debilitating as it had been months ago, and for that you were thankful.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

You were still breathing, which was exactly what Abby would have wanted for you. The overwhelming grief hadn't killed you, no matter how many times you'd secretly prayed that it would. You were still here and that was good enough.

For now, at least.

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sunshineangel0 · 2 months ago

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beach trouble 𓆉 . ݁𓇼

pairing- Lee Felix x Reader summary- What starts as an innocent sunscreen application turns into a full-blown game of teasing and tension when Felix decides to test just how much you can handle. The problem? You refuse to lose. genre- fluff, friends to lovers word count- 1.2k warnings- Felix being a menace, pet names, thigh-grabbing, almost-kissing, mutual pining but so much denial, your heart rate skyrocketing because LEE FELIX IS TOO HOT FOR HIS OWN GOOD, jisung and changbin being cockblocks, felix saying one suggestive word a/n- i cant wait for summer to come!!! so happy that its finally WARM where i live and the sun is shining

The sun hung high in the sky, beating down relentlessly on the golden sand beneath your feet. The beach was alive with laughter, waves crashing in a steady rhythm, and the scent of salt filling the air. It was supposed to be a normal, chill day—just you, Felix, and your friends.

But, of course, Felix never makes things easy for you.

You sighed, setting down your towel before rummaging through your bag. Sunscreen, sunscreen… There. You pulled it out and flipped open the cap, only to feel a familiar presence settle beside you.

"You need help?" Felix’s voice was smooth, casual—but something about it sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked up at him. His skin was already glowing under the sun, damp from the ocean, tiny droplets of water rolling down his chest. His black swim trunks clung to his hips just right, and his freckles—God, his freckles—were scattered across his nose like a masterpiece.

You swallowed. "I—uh, yeah, sure. Just uh— my back."

The moment you said it, you immediately regretted it.

Felix grinned, taking the bottle from your hands. "No problem, sweetheart."

Oh, no. Not the pet names.

You turned around, exposing your back to him as you sat cross-legged on your soft beach towel. The sunscreen felt cool against your skin as he squirted some onto his palms. And then—

His hands touched you.

You were expecting something quick, efficient, platonic.

Instead? Slow. Deliberate. His hands glided over your shoulders first, fingers pressing in just enough to make you exhale a little too sharply.

"You’re tense," Felix murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, almost teasing.

You clenched your jaw. "It’s because you’re making this weird."

Felix chuckled, but he didn’t stop—his palms smoothed down your shoulder blades, thumbs pressing into the knots near your spine like he was giving you a massage instead of just applying sunscreen.

And then, his hands dipped lower.

Your breath hitched.

"Relax," he whispered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I gotta make sure you don’t burn, right?"

Right. Right. That’s why he was doing this.

Not because he was enjoying it. Not because he knew damn well what he was doing to you.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when his fingers skimmed over your sides, his touch lingering too long, moving too slow.

"Felix." Your voice came out as more of a warning than anything.

He hummed, still dragging this out, his fingertips barely brushing the curve of your waist.

"Problem?" he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned around so fast that he barely had time to pull his hands back. Your eyes locked onto his, and—yep. That little menace was definitely smirking.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" you accused.

Felix blinked, feigning innocence. "Enjoying what?"

You huffed. "The way you’re—ugh. Never mind."

Felix bit his lip like he was holding back a laugh. Then, he leaned in, so close you could see the golden flecks in his brown eyes.

"If you wanted me to keep going," he murmured, "all you had to do was ask, love."

Your brain short-circuited.

Okay. That’s it.

You grabbed the sunscreen bottle and squirted a generous amount into your palm before smacking it directly onto his chest. Felix yelped, jerking back as you rubbed it in way too aggressively.

You thought that would be the end of it—just a harmless bit of revenge for all the teasing.

But Felix? Oh. He had other ideas.

His expression shifted—still playful, but now something darker flickered behind his chocolate brown eyes eyes. His lips curled into a slow smirk, and before you could even react, he grabbed your wrist.

"Oh, so that’s how we’re playing?" he murmured.

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could pull away, Felix dragged his fingers along your arm, slow, warm, calculated. And then—

He pushed you down onto your towel.

Your breath hitched as he caged you in, one knee sliding between your legs, his hands planted on either side of your head.

"Felix—"

"You started this angel," he mused, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

Your pulse thundered. You could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin, his toned arms tensing slightly as he held himself above you. His chest hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm as he exhaled.

And the worst part? That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"You’re such a menace," you muttered, shifting beneath him.

Felix chuckled, his hips pressing just slightly into yours before he pulled back. "Hmm, you dont seem to mind," he murmured.

You tried to glare at him, but then—

His fingers ghosted along the inside of your thigh.

Oh, fuck.

"You good?" he asked, his voice too innocent for what he was doing. You clenched your jaw. "You’re ridiculous."

He just smiled. But instead of backing off, he dragged his fingers higher, his touch featherlight but so damn deliberate.

Too close. Too slow. Too much.

"Relax," he murmured, fingertips barely skimming over your bikini strap. "I gotta make sure you don’t burn, right?"

Your breath caught in your throat.

This wasn’t fair. This was not fucking fair.

Felix had always been a flirt—but this? This was an entirely different level of teasing.

Your thighs twitched, your body instinctively reacting to his touch. And you knew he noticed, because he let out the softest hum.

"You’re awfully quiet," he murmured, tilting his head. "What’s wrong?"

Your jaw clenched. "You know exactly what’s wrong, Felix." He grinned. "Do I?"

You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed his wrist, halting his slow, torturous movements. His eyes flickered with something unreadable—a challenge—as he stared down at you.

"You keep touching me like that," you said, voice low, "and people are gonna start talking."

Felix froze for a second. Then, his grin turned downright wicked.

"So?" His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh. "Let them talk."

Your breath hitched. Felix had been playing this game for weeks—teasing glances, lingering touches, flirty little comments that never went anywhere. But now?

Now, he was testing you. Your body burned, your mind racing as he leaned down, his freckles just inches from your lips.

His next words? Almost sent you into cardiac arrest. "You could just tell me to stop," he whispered. But you didn’t.

Instead, you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Felix inhaled sharply.

Oh. Oh.

"Something wrong?" you murmured, throwing his own game back at him. His jaw tightened. "Trouble," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

Felix suddenly dipped his head, lips grazing just below your ear. His voice was low, almost a growl. "You, angel," he whispered, "are fucking trouble."

Your stomach dropped.

And then—

"HEY, LOVE BIRDS! ARE YOU GONNA MAKE OUT OR WHAT?"

You jerked away from Felix so fast you nearly whacked your forehead into his.

Felix groaned, flopping onto his back beside you as Jisung and Changbin cackled from a few feet away.

"RUDE!" Felix shouted, throwing a handful of sand in their direction.

Your heart was still racing. Your thighs still tingled from where Felix’s hands had been. You turned your head toward him—he was already watching you.

He smirked.

"This isn’t over, angel."

And you knew—from the way his eyes darkened, from the way his fingers twitched at his sides—he was absolutely right.

You were so, so screwed.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella

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rowdydevs · 5 months ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, mutual pining, kissing, friends to lovers, fluffy, unprotected p in v, fingering, praise, teasing, soft!rafe, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership (“you're mine”; said sweetly).

📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that you and Rafe have been best friends for a while, and your relationship has become more romantic, blurring the lines between.

Reader’s POV:

Vanilla and cinnamon waft through the kitchen, mixing with the string lights' warm, cozy glow. Christmas music softly plays from the living room TV, drowned out by the sounds of his laughter and yours.

Rafe was entirely too distracting and far too charming. “You sure you know what you’re doin’, sweetheart?” He teases as he leans back into the counter with that frat boy smile. His blue eyes sparkle mischievously— tousled chestnut hair falling along his forehead, so perfectly undone it’s almost unfair.

“Stop,” you laugh as you shoot him a look. “‘Course I know what I’m doing… Unlike you, Mr. ‘How does the microwave work, again? Can’t get this fuckin’ thing to start.’”

His mouth falls open in disgust as he pushes off the counter, walking to your side, bumping you with his elbow playfully. He stays close, the brush of his skin against yours sending electricity through you.

“That was one time,” he whispers playfully.

You shake your head and bite your lip as you feel the warmth of his words so close. It's closer than he usually gets, making your heart flutter. “You’re hopeless-”

”Hopelessly handsome. M’fuckin’ sexy,” he rasps as his fingers find your sides, tickling you. You scurry away, but he grabs you, pulling you back in. “Admit it,” he grins. Your cheeks burn hot from your smile, crumbling under his beautiful gaze.

The two of you have been dancing around this for weeks: flirty texts, late-night drunk phone calls that stretched out until the sun came up, lingering touches just like this. It was intoxicating and maddening.

"You’re alright," you whisper, watching the corners of his lips curl into a smile.

“Yeah?” He breathes as he moves in closer. “Could say the same about you.”

Beep.

The timer goes off, shattering the tension for the moment. You pull away reluctantly, grabbing the oven mit as your racing heart starts to slow. “Umm…” You giggle nervously. “Can you roll that out for me?”

You gesture toward the rolling pin, and Rafe nods, hanging his head slightly to conceal his smile. "Yes, ma'am," he drawls with that rich southern charm.

He walks past you, a large hand brushing against the small of your back as he makes his way to the sugar cookie dough and pin. You inhale slightly at the contact between you, making him look back with a smile.

The two of you work beside each other for a little longer—silence fills the space for the first time all night. But his heavy gaze speaks volumes as you catch him stealing glances out of the corner of your eye.

“All done,” he beams, looking down at his work proudly, the cream-colored dough spread out on the counter perfectly. You step away from your place, setting down the frosting knife before looking up at him. “Good?”

“Look at you,” you coo.

His eyes fall to your lips; mouth tugging into a quick, sly smile.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, baby,” your stomach falls as that name leaves his lips so easily that he doesn’t even notice it himself. Rafe lifts his hand, brushing his thumb against your mouth. “Got a little somethin’ on your lip. You’ve been lickin’ the spoon or what?” He hums, his voice thick and sweet like honey. He draws his thumb between his lips, sucking down as your heart thuds in your chest.

You step closer, your body drawing to Rafe like a magnet. “You’re makin’ this really hard,” he mumbles as his baby blue eyes rest on yours. “You know that, right?”

You swallow hard—your mind, a mix of emotions. “You aren’t exactly making this easy either,” you whisper.

He smiles at your words, making your knees feel weak. “What if I don’t want easy,” he asks as he cups your soft cheek in his big hand, and you tilt into his touch. "You're beautiful, princess," he mumbles, his voice reverent. "Just perfect." You turn your cheek slightly, feeling slightly nervous, but he uses his finger to draw you back in, guiding your eyes to his. “You are."

“Thank you.”

“I don't know how long I've wanted to tell you that—it's been a while. So long… too long. I just didn't wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper, and he looks down at you, his smile falling slightly.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he assures.

“I don't want easy either-” Before you can say anymore, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, soft and sweet, ramping up fast. A deep groan rumbles in Rafe’s throat— kiss deepening, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into his muscular chest, hearts banging against each other, the taste of sugar lingering on his soft lips.

He pulls back for a moment, your airy laugh mingling with his as your excitement bubbles up in your chest.

“Fuck, princess,” he sighs blissfully, cupping your cheeks in his ringed hands, pressing his forehead against yours.

Beep.

The timer breaks you up, and he sighs, letting you go for the moment. You step toward the oven, your head dizzy with thoughts of Rafe and what had just happened as you replace a sheet of cookies with the next item, carefully selecting the brownies to give yourself a little more time in between. You reach up, pushing the numbers, selecting thirty minutes.

Rafe bites his lips to hinder his smile, catching the boost in time from the last, watching you divert from your cooking schedule to get a little more time with him, or so he hopes.

"Should we… Umm. Should we do something while we wait?” You ask as you nod toward the living room.

“Yeah, baby,” he responds quickly, racing against the clock. He clears his throat, catching himself acting too hurriedly. “… You wanna watch a movie or somethin’ while we wait?”

The two of you walk over to the couch, crashing down on the top before pulling up Netflix. Your body feels awkward after what happened, knowing you could get away with more, trying not to go too far, just in case. You replay the kiss in your mind again and again as you look through the movie titles, not concentrating as you should, but between those thoughts and Rafe’s glances, it’s hard to focus.

”That one?” He asks gently, not looking at the screen but at you, just wanting you to pick something.

You smile and nod, selecting the movie, but it instantly fades to the background.

You inch closer, your arm touching his, the heat of your skin brushing gently. Rafe turns toward you slightly. Your head finds his shoulder; Rafe’s muscular arm stretching wide before wrapping it around your body.

He pulls you nearer, needing you close—his soft breaths syncing with yours. You reach your hand out, resting it on his thigh. Time starts to blur as the touches become bolder: tracing skin, wandering fingers, soft hums at deeper pressure, desperate touches dipping under clothes.

Beep.

You draw a resounding breath, pushing it out slowly; the air between the two of you, charged with sexual tension.

Moving quicker than usual, you pull the brownies out of the oven, carefully selecting the next: the cinnamon bread, giving you even more time.

A smile slips your lips as you look back into the living room, catching Rafe peering over the couch— caught in a moment of excitement, seeing the time himself.

You walk into the living room, feeling the anticipation rise as you get closer. Rafe sits up on the couch, and right when you get close enough, he grabs for you, pulling you on top. He wastes no time pressing his lips against yours, unwilling to take that risk again.

The kiss is divine—deeper than before, more urgent than ever. You rest your hands on his chest, moving lower and lower as your pulse quickens. Rafe moans against your lips, sending a surge of need straight through you.

Your fingers curl under the bottom of his shirt, tugging at it slightly, and he takes his cue, pulling it off between passionate kisses. His big fingers reach up, thumbing at the buttons of your blouse, popping them open as his lips move with yours.

Reaching your hands behind your back, you unclasp your bra before he can even ask, making him moan hungrily against your lips. He buries his face in his chest, nuzzling into your sensitive skin.

Rafe takes your nipple between his plump lips, swirling and sucking as your head falls back.

He pulls away; his eyes half-lidded, pupils blown with lust. “Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice hoarse and needy.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he hums as he wraps you a little tighter in his arms, kissing along your neck. Your head falls to the side, giving him better access to you skin.

“I want you…” You whisper. “All of you. Please,” you plead.

”Right here?” He asks. You feel Rafe smile against your neck before his hand drifts under your skirt, fingers brushing against the soaked lace of your panties.

“Right here,” you whisper as you rest your hand against his pants, cupping his big, hard bulge in your hand, whimpering against his lips at his size alone.

“And what do you want right here?” He asks with a teasing edge, making you smile dreamily, thinking back to how many times you yearned for this moment, imagining this is exactly how he would act. He wants to hear it…

”I want you to fuck me, Rafe… I need you,” you slip your hand into his pants as he pushes your panties to the side.

You capture his tongue between your lips, sucking as you wrap your fingers around his thick dick. Rafe groans deeply—the pads of his rough fingers start circling your aching clit. “I wanna fuck you, princess,” he smiles as his fingers trace your soaked slit too, teasing your entrance. “I wanna push my cock deep,” he mimics his word with a thrust of his hand, fucking two long fingers in your tight hole, making you gasp. “I want you to cream all over my cock, princess. I wanna make you feel so, so good,” he hums between kisses as he curls his fingers inside you, making your toes do the same.

“Shit,” you pant as he drags his fingers across you g-spot again and again. You tug on his long cock, pulling to the tip, making him bite down on your lip as you smudge his precum over his swollen head.

"Rafe, please,” you whimper, craving more.

”You don’t wanna cum on my fingers, pretty?” He rasps, his smirk heard in his low, deep tone.

“I wanna cum on your cock… Please. I haven't…”

Rafe slows his movements slightly, tilting his forehead against yours, breathing quickly. “You’ve never cum before?” He asks, his voice laced with lust and curiosity.

“Not like that-”

“I’d be the first?” He asks hastily, and you nod your head ‘yes.’ "Fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, his voice raw with desire and need.

Before you can think, he rolls you to your back, pushing your skirt around your waist and your panties down your thighs. Rafe rises on his knees, tugging his pants down, releasing his long, hard cock.

Precum drips off his throbbing tip, landing your soft skin; rolling warmly down your inner thigh making goosebumps flair across your bare skin.

He looks down at you desperately, but you already know what he wants to ask. “I wanna feel you, Rafe,” you whisper as your fingers swirl, circling your puffy clit, making your thighs draw in, as you keep yourself on edge.

“Yeah?” He asks as he tilts down, spreading your thighs again, stroking his fat cock as he lowers himself to your lips. “You want me to fill up this perfect pussy, princess?” Your heart races as his filthy words fall from his lips—just like you guessed they would.

“… Please, baby,” you whimper, lips brushing against his as he rubs his fat tip along your slit, bumping your fingers, making you move your hand away—a look in his eyes letting you know he was going to take care of you. “I want to feel you dripping out of me.”

He moans at your words, and you gasp as he circles his head around your clit, eyes rolling back in your head. “You’re gonna, baby… All night. Alright?”

Rafe grabs your wrist, slipping your slight fingers in his mouth, tasting your pussy on his tongue for the first time. He sucks down, eyes rolling back, groaning around your digits. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he pants. “I’m gonna get you off with my mouth later… You ever done that before?”

“No…” You pant.

“Holy shit… I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? I'm gonna be all you need, I promise,” Rafe whispers as he presses his big cock against your entrance, your lips falling open from the stretch already. "Are we doing this, baby?”

“Yes-” You whisper, pulling his lips to yours as he thrusts inside. You moan against his mouth, never feeling so full.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as he bottoms you out; your warm, wet cunt wrapping around him tight.

He tips his hips upward, stretching you out even more, making you cry pitifully against his mouth. “Shit,” you whine as tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

”Baby, mpfhhh…” He grunts as he pulls back, looking at you. “Feels good?”

You nod quickly as tears of pleasure and happiness tumble down your cheek, lip tucked between your teeth. “So fucking good… More, baby. Please…”

”Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks as he drags out, letting you feel every curve and vein, brushing your tears off your face with his thumbs. “How do you want it?”

“Fast…” You whisper. “… Deep. Fuck me deep, Rafe.”

“Yeah, princess?” He asks as he starts to move, picking up the pace. “That’s how you like it?”

“Mhmm,” you respire, barely pressing the words past your lips before they get caught up in a moan. Rafe ramps up the pace, pounding you into the couch, burying you to the hilt.

Your arms wrap around him tight, nails clawing into his tanned skin, scratching down his back as his skin claps against yours.

He grunts with each thrust, the muscles in his jaw strained, trying his best to hold back his finish as you get closer to yours, wanting desperately to cum with you.

“Rafe…” You whine as you look at the slight space between your bodies, watching your sloppy cunt take every inch—Rafe’s dick pulls out each time, slicked with your wetness. “M’gonna cum.” He angles his hip, just like he had at the start, making your eyes cross slightly before fluttering shut.

”Look at me, baby. Come on,” he whispers lovingly, letting his thumb brush along your bottom lip just like it had in the kitchen earlier, that soft touch contrasting the slamming of his body against yours.

“I’m gonna-“

“Holy shit…” He moans as your pussy tightens around him, your body cumming harder than it ever has before, taking him with it. Rafe moans your name as his hips stutter, muscles flexing as he floods you with his sticky release.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you underneath him— his soft lips claiming yours tenderly as your bodies soften against eachother.

You breathe a deep sigh of relief as he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, working to your neck before tucking himself close.

Rafe’s rich cologne mixes with the warm smell of sex and the sugary sweetness around you. The sharp beep of the timer startles you both, breaking you out of your spell.

He doesn’t let go—helping you back into your clothes before walking to the kitchen. Rafe leans back into the counter as you walk toward the oven, your heart racing still.

“Not quite yet,” you giggle, pushing the three words past your lips through nerves, giving the bread a little more time.

You turn toward Rafe, and he smiles down at you. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, your words you’re both dying to say on the tips of your tongues, makes the tension and excitement between you even sweeter.

“Co’mere,” he whispers as he reaches out his hand, pulling you toward him. Your body relaxes in his— the pounding of your heart in your head slows and softens, leaving behind the gentle melody of the music playing.

You lay your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fall as you sway to the music together. The lights are low—just a twinkle above. Rafe rests his chin on your head, taking a deep, needed breath. “Are you okay, princess?” He asks sweetly.

“I am,” you smile. “That was amazing.”

Rafe’s muscles soften; his uncertainty melting away at your words. "You’re amazing," he hums, just over a whisper. You lift your eyes to Rafe’s, watching them glimmer as he looks down at you in adoration and disbelief like he still can’t believe that this happened himself. “I need to ask you somethin’…”

”Okay,” you whisper as your pounding heart muddles the sound of the music again.

"Everything I said before… I meant that. I don’t wanna keep pretending like we’re just friends. I’m done fakin’ it,” his voice lulls with emotion as he tries his best to control his feelings before speaking again. “Especially after that…”

“That was perfect,” you smile, giving him a little more assurance.

“Be mine. Officially. I want this— You and me. Alright? Just… Fuck— Just say ‘yes’.” Rafe’s vulnerability almost brings you to tears; his confidence shattered completely as he waits for you to speak, hoping for your heart.

You look up at him, pulling him a little closer, letting your soft lips brush against his, breathing a sigh of solace as you whisper the words you've always wanted to say.

"I’m yours.”

#rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe kinkmas #obx kinkmas #rafe x female reader #rafe x me #rafe x reader smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #frat bro rafe #frat rafe #frat!rafe #rafe cameron x reader

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- kissing, fingering, masturbation, lots of jealousyy, they're idiots in love lol, teasing, TENSION, oral (f recieving) Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 7.6k

Songs for this - Birds of a Feather // Nonsense // Suffocate

Ty for all the love on part one!?!? I hope you all enjoy this part as well! We got one more after this <3 Comments and reblogs so appreciated always!

<<<Part One - Masterlist - Final Part>>>

Part Two

One month of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend.

“I’m nervous about this meeting, Satoru. Are you sure I’ll do alright?” You ask softly, as you both head to the elevator, a meeting that you know Satoru has been dreading himself, with the higher ups his dad usually deals with.

“You’ll do just fine, let me do the talking, you can just look all pretty.” He takes your hand as you all get into the elevator, squeezing it warmly, and you’re dying at how good that hand feels, and how good he feels, his strong arm brushing against you as you both watch the elevator doors shut.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never. You’ve been a perfect wife this month, I promise.” His sweet grin, just a little crooked melts you, as you exhale in relief. “I’m getting a lot done with this, I swear… I know you probably wanna get back to normal life.”

The hurt in his words immediately makes you pull back, and Satoru curses himself, taking your hand again, as you two ride up the floors, but you pull away, shaking your head. “Are you so eager for me to go?” Your voice is quiet, trying not to reveal what that makes you feel like fully.

“What!? No, not at all. I meant… if you wanted to.” Satoru’s heart breaks when he sees your dewy eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way, I meant it may not take a year, if you wanted to…”

“I’m glad it’s helping, really.” You give him a small little smile, and Satoru can barely concentrate on what he’s here for, when he wants to wrap you in his arms, to kiss you fully, not just pecks for appearances.

And god those kisses to prove you’re together make the lines blur, makes everything so confusing and jumbled for him. He’s having so much trouble remembering that it’s for show, when you all watch movies at night still, when you both have dinner together, when you’re washing dishes side by side. When you’re having coffee on his balcony in the morning.

The one thing that keeps it ‘fake’ is the separate rooms, but the amount of times Satoru has played with himself in the room next to yours has gotten insane, the number of showers he has to take so he hopes you won’t hear him. Lately, he’s backed off just a bit, for his own sanity, so it hurts less when this is over.

“Toru, wanna watch the show tonight?” You ask, wearing one of his big tee shirts, it swamps you completely, tempting him to no end, thinking of slipping it up just so…

Shit.

“Nah, sorry not tonight. I’ve got work to do.” He says, hating the little down turn of your lips.

“How late, I can wait!”

“Um… yeah I wouldn’t wait up.” You blink then, wondering have you gotten too comfortable with him? Have you been acting too much like a wife at home? You can’t help but enjoy him, enjoy your time together, are you overwhelming him with it all?

“Oh. Um, okay. Good night, then.” You smile sadly, aching to kiss him good night, knowing you shouldn’t want it, knowing you shouldn’t be desiring him right next to you, snuggling on that couch. God you’d love him in your bed even, holding you so close against him.

“Good night, sweets.” He murmurs, softly, not wanting you to think that you were the problem, no the problem is him.

He can’t stop picturing how every corner and nook in his huge home will be so very empty when you’re gone.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, not one thing, I swear you’re playing this perfectly. And I really appreciate you, yeah?” He says, but it’s not what you want to hear, because you’re not playing, not really, it’s just too fucking easy.

“Yeah, we got this.” You kiss his cheek softly, the friendly way you used to, as you all walk through the sliding doors where everyone is, all old men aside from a couple younger people scattered in seats in a row.

You tense, so he squeezes your hand, smiling at you, an upturn to pink lips as a room full of old money assesses you both, trying to reassure you. “Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, please have a seat.”

You nervously sit next to Satoru across from them now, your legs crossing as he casually leans back, one arm around the back of your seat, an ankle crossed over his knee, sunglasses right on his face. He’s so at ease, or so it seems, you are certainly learning more and more that Satoru tends to hide much of his anxiety with cracking jokes and sarcasm.

“Ah, the oldies, how goes it?”

“Ahem, oldies?” A blonde man raises a brow, and Satoru scoffs.

“You might as well be, Zenin. Old ass mentality.”

“Satoru, how is your father?” Asks an older man from another high company that works with the Gojos, Mr. Gakuganji.

“Ya really hoping he pulls through hmm? Even if so, he’s already appointed me, so don’t get too excited.” Satoru has an easy grin, fingertips brushing against your bare arm, leaning closer to you. “You’ve all met the wife?”

“Not all of us.” A pretty woman with long blue braids smiles at you. “Heard of her though, hello Mrs. Gojo. Mei Mei. Apparently so old.”

“Hello Mei Mei.” You greet with a small smile, looking at them all. “It’s going to be a pleasure to work with you all, I am sure.”

“Isn’t she just charming?” Mr. Naoya Zenin says, you feel Gojo’s fingers tighten in response.

“She is lovely.” Mei agrees, predatory smiles on both of their lips.

“Enough with the greetings, Gojo, you've made a lot of changes to this company in a quick manner.” Now Yaga, a tall imposing man that owns much of the shares of the company, speaks.

“Sure have, Yaga. Aw, mad you all got pay cuts? Poor things. Don’t worry, gave your extra to the employees.” Gojo says with a big white grin, earning the glares of everyone in the room.

“You’re not some Robin Hood.” An older man of the Kamo family says, raising a brow at Gojo, who chuckles.

“No, sure am not, I’m still rich and so are you all, just a little more evened out, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?” He looks to you, tilting down his glasses, and you take a breath, putting a hand on his thigh, silently supporting him.

“Employees are going to work harder and stay longer with better pay and better conditions, and cutting just a bit off the top accomplishes that.” You say, voice strong and clear as a bell, making Satoru so proud he can’t stand it, smiling big at you as the room collectively grumbles.

“You’re not the only one with interest in this company. What does your father think of this?” One of the older men asks.

“It’s my company already, it’s about to be official soon. So don’t worry.” Satoru says with ease. “Also, my wife was talking.”

“Your wife is certainly… hmm, very pretty, but a commoner.” Naoya says, earning Gojo standing up, chair screeching back.

“The fuck you say!?”

“Satoru…” You lean forward, touching his arm, looking at his furious stance as the room shifts.

“How is she a commoner? You’d be lucky to lick the ground she fucking walks on ya know that?”

“She’s clearly not a commoner, but… she’s not “rich" is what he means. She has no concept of wealth.” Mei says, and Naoya stands now as well, glaring right over at Satoru.

“She’s rich now, she’s my fucking wife.” The words feel so real from his infuriated voice that you can’t even separate it anymore, if this is some act you will just play right into it, even if it hurts. Him defending you is raw, you feel his fury next to him, trying to calm him and failing.

“It’s fine, baby.” You murmur, and hearing it, this little pet name from you? He immediately looks down, seeing your eyes wide with worry, he sighs now, sitting next to you, exhaling when you brush a hand up and down his back, then you look at the room. “I was not rich, no.”

“Your family was cut off for this sort of behavior. Is that what you want again, want for your children?” Mr. Gakuganji asks, a tired voice breaking through.

“I know better than anyone in this room what it’s like to live on a normal, even low income. Would you not welcome the insight, or are you so above caring about the people who line your pockets?” You demand softly, raising a brow, Satoru watches now as you proceed to wreck them.

He watches you debate them, raising each of them this point and that, and watches them all falter under a pretty little thing like you, usually soft spoken and sweet, but you have no problem decimating a room of them like it’s nothing. You smile so pretty at them all, bat your lashes and they land argument after argument, bouncing off what Gojo says.

Gojo is chuckling after about twenty minutes, as they seem to really think he couldn’t fuck them all if he felt like it. “What you’re forgetting, is I’m the highest up there is here.”

“Your father-”

“My father trusts me to take over. Plain and simple, are there going to be any problems? Millions not enough for you all, need golden toilets for your asses?” You barely hold in the snort of laughter, eyes bright as you watch him continue to disgruntle the room, until they finally let up.

Naoya walks up to you, eyeing you up and down as Satoru is talking to Yaga, who seems to be one of the more laid back of them all, his hands in his pockets, light brown eyes lit up. You tense at his gaze, feeling it like a slimy, disgusting touch, making you almost sick. You’re trembling as his eyes dissect you.

“Conveniently, he gets a bride the moment everyone pushes him.” He says with a nasty smirk, brushing a tendril of your hair back. “Don’t buy it.”

“Well, we’ve been in love forever, I assure you.” You say quietly, he hums to himself, when Mei walks over, and damn this woman just saunters, truly, hands on her curved hips.

“It’s so odd indeed, out of a list of so many eligible ladies. Was it true love, I wonder?” She taps her chin curiously, Satoru sees you then, coming by your side immediately, and arm around your waist.

Is he being a protective best friend or…

More.

Is this all just for show, as he pulls you to his side so possessively, making your pulse race, your body reacting as you look up at his face, and he’s scowling at the both of them. “Everything alright, sweets?”

“Yes, they were wishing us the best, weren’t you both?” You say, earning Naoya’s glare and Mei’s smirk.

“Indeed we were, we’ll see you at the auction I imagine?” Mei says, eyeing Satoru now.

“We’ll be there, of course. But for now, hmm…” He tilts your chin up, kissing you in a room full of people who want to hurt him, and hurt you, a protectiveness he’s always had for you becoming so intense it’s hard for him to function, he’d literally take down anyone and everyone that would dare say one thing to you even.

Your lips are sweet, so sweet, as you lean up and kiss him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and that same electricity sparks, even with all their seedy eyes on the two of you. He pulls back, looking at your lips, as you look into his eyes, already dilated and dark, when he clears his throat, smirking up at the shocked gazes.

“Are we all done here?” He asks, and then proceeds to take you out of that room, you finally catch a breath in the elevator, and Satoru grins at you, cupping your face with his big hands, bending down.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, earning his chuckle.

“You were amazing! How dumb am I telling you - look pretty and let me talk- shit I think it was the opposite?”

“No way…”

“Yes way. That was sexy.” He hums, you’re both giggling a bit, but you’re close, too close, and his thumb is brushing your lower lip, sending desire straight through to your tummy.

“I thought you were mad at me.” You whisper then, earning his smile turning down at the corners, his eyes a little distant and hazy.

“I could never be.”

The elevator doors open, the two of you walk out of the sliding glass doors of the enormous building, and you are trying not to touch the lips he just had, trying not to think of just how good they felt. The driver pulls up and you get into the car, Satoru slides in next to you, far too close, you inhale his cologne, you still taste him on your lips, like torture.

“I’m not mad at you.” He says again, you blink a bit, taking a breath, before looking up at him as the car drives onto the highway, gently moving underneath you both.

“You turned down movies for days. You won’t eat dinner with me. I get you’re busy, I really do, but I enjoy it, spending time. I’m… lonely without you? I know that sounds so silly, I’m sorry. Shit.” You cover your face, hating the pathetic words spilling from your lips. “You’re probably sick of all this time, even as a best friend.”

That’s not it.

God that’s not it.

It’s just when he’s next to you all he can think of is fucking you, or making you cum all over his mouth, his fingers. He can’t stand how good you smell, how good you feel, he melts over your pretty smiles and giggles, he can’t stand how deeply he is starting to feel. The three times you all have kissed for publicity it took everything in him not to drag you home.

How does he just shut it off, the ability to kiss you when he wants? And now you’re lonely, you’re hurting, not even able to look at him when he gently pulls down your hands by your wrists. “Look at me.” He murmurs softly.

You do then, and he sees it, tears swimming. “Sorry I’m too emotional.” You whisper then, embarrassed.

“No, I’m being an ass.”

You let out a little laugh. “No, Satoru just distant, and I didn’t know if I fucked something up, the day in your office?”

“No, no. Please, I swear it’s not that… I’ve been in my head.” He mutters, unable to express it truly.

“I get it, you have a lot going on. I want to be here for you.”

“You are.” He’s brushing your hair back softly, leaning down, resting his head against yours, it’s too intimate then, the words on the tip of your tongue, that you feel more than you should, but you try to swallow them. “You’re amazing, you made them all look so stupid.”

“No…”

“Yes. You surprised me, I never have seen you like that.”

“Sexy, you said hmm.” You tease, but he’s serious then, as your breaths mingle, and he’s leaning even closer, wreaking havoc on your every sense.

“God yes, you’re sexy like that.”

“Satoru… it’s too much.” You whisper, as his hand rests on your thigh, and he feels it, how hot you are, earning his eyes shutting, trying to not let it affect him and failing. “I haven’t… I’m really…”

“Been a while, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck you.” You don’t move his hand when he slips it up higher, in fact your thighs spread just a bit, his little moan making more wetness start to drool from your aching pussy.

“I take up all your time, you can’t date, why not let me take care of you?” He acts as if he can handle anyone ever touching you, the thought alone makes him feral, want to fucking claim you as his own, to devour you senseless. He tries to be teasing, casual, watching your breath catch, your pupils dilate.

“Wh-what!?” Your lips part, and his desperate blue gaze is so intense it’s hard to look at.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart, hmm? It’s the least I can do, I’m taking up all of you, I am sure it’s been a bit.” You gulp nervously. “You’re not a…”

“No, no, not a virgin Toru, just I didn’t like it.” You admit softly.

“At all?” He whispers, frowning just a bit, before he feels your inner thigh with his thumb, finding you hot and sticky, making you gasp. “Who sucked that bad?”

“You don’t know him. But I didn’t like getting…”

“Fingered?”

“That, not at all, um the times it happened were uncomfortable. So don’t try, it won't work.” Satoru laughs then softly, shaking his head.

“I’ve never had that problem. And I would never hurt you.” His words are serious then, you gulp nervously.

“I know you wouldn’t. But it’s intimate, and it’s not for show.” Your hand clutches his blazer now, thick material in your palm when he finally touches you over your panties, making you cry out at the contact, his cock throbs in response.

“Let me just take care of you, make you feel s’good, hmm? Don’t think too much about it, just feel.” He presses kisses down the side of your neck, your free hand wraps the back of his neck, brushing over his undercut, the soft hair under your fingers like silk, when he presses his fingers over your clothed clit. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-yes.” You manage, his lips kiss and then suck at the base of your throat, when his finger slips under your panties, finding you bare, soaked, your cry is louder, when he finds your engorged little clit, feels you slippery against his long fingers.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He huffs, free hand slipping up the side of your breast while he rolls his finger in little circles, and your hips jerk, your head falling back. “She’s begging f’me to put one in.”

“You c-can try, but- ah!” Satoru sinks a long finger in you, pressing up, and you’re blinded when he finds your spot so effortlessly, leaning back to look down at your face, as it scrunches up in pleasure. “Ngh!”

“There it is, some loser couldn’t find it hmm? I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He’s pressing up again and again, the spongy spot in your gummy walls, gripping him so fucking tight. You hear it, the lewd sound of your squishing cunt, your eyes rolling back in your skull as he works you. “Let go, trust me.”

“It’s too much I… T-Toru…” You whisper his name, while moaning, your mouth open in this perfect O, it makes him leak precum, sticking to his boxers as your thighs spread for him, as you trust him, your eyes lidded. “More.”

“More?” He repeats, speechless for a moment as you’re leaning forward, your lips just a breath away.

“Please, it’s s’good Toru.” Your little plea destroys the last fighting brain cell he has, he’s slipping one more in you, making you pulse around the thick invasion, curling them up and sinking them inside you, to the knuckle, while you moan against his lips. “F-fuck… oh my god what…”

“That’s it, fuckin’ feel her, grippin’ me.” He’s fucking his fingers into you, wishing they were his cock, and you’re soaking his hand, your cunt drooling when he shoves them in deep, thumb pression on your clit, making you shatter. “There you go, sweetheart, that’s it, s’pretty like this.”

You’re cumming all over your best friend/fake husband’s talented fingers, nearly crying at how good the release feels, pulsing all around him, hands clinging to his jacket, hopelessly wrinkling the material, all while he watches you. Your mind goes blank, pleasure is the only thing you can focus on, as he eases his strokes, and you both are panting in the quiet car.

Satoru eases his fingers out, putting them to his lips and sucking now, moaning when he tastes you, and your mouth drops in shock. “T-Toru…”

“Fuck.” He’s kissing you then, your slick all over his lips as he presses your back against the seat, and your thighs shake, sensitive from cumming so hard, you can barely focus on anything but your throbbing pussy.

“Please.” You whisper again, as he yanks his cock out, right in the back of the car, and you reach down, stroking it, his eyes shut as he whimpers, Satoru Gojo whimpers, over you touching his pretty pink tip, swirling that precum.

“Wanna taste you first.” He huffs, kissing down your throat when the car comes to a halt, yanking at your dress, pressing hungry kisses on your breasts.

“What are we… Toru what’re we d-doing, fuck!” You’re whining out when he’s biting at your nipple over your bra, your hands yank on his hair, hips arching, feeling his length on your inner thigh.

“M’gonna-”

“Mr. Gojo, we’re here.” His driver infuriates him now, Satoru leans up, breaths heavy as he’s leaned over you, looking at your already fucked out eyes.

“We almost… we… y-you…” You are stuttering, suddenly so nervous, so overwhelmed. “Is this just you helping me out? Is it-”

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Ijichi, I’ll fucking kill you.” He mutters angrily, quieting his driver quickly, as he adjusts himself and then you, and you’re sitting up, blushing as he fixes your panties, fingers covered still in your slick. He sucks them again further making your tummy flutter, tighten, your heart pounding out of your chest. “God you taste yummy, the fuck, how does someone taste this good.”

“You tasted me? Twice!?” He smirks now, easing you to sit, tilting up your chin now.

“Not fully.”

“Fully!? Is this what friends do?”

“Well I sure don’t want you doing this with anyone else.” He glares now, jaw locking, making you gasp.

“What now?”

“No one else can do that to you.” His lips gently kiss yours, you taste yourself on them again, but you shove at him now, glaring.

“What do you even mean, no one else? You think you have some freakish claim on me now?”

“I know you came so hard you soaked my fucking backseats, hmm?” He whispers, you roll your eyes now, eagerly getting out of the car.

“You’re insane, Satoru.”

“You clearly like it.” You scoff, body shaking, legs literally wobbly, you try to ignore them as you stride up to the front of Satoru’s fancy doors, and walk in quickly, as he follows you with long strides, calling your name.

“That was fingering as a friend!?”

“No… it was…” He wants to say it then, you’re literally his fucking wife, even if it’s pretend, he can’t think of anything he wants more than you, to be inside you.

“Almost fucked me as a friend? Satoru, I can't do that.”

“I know, I didn’t… I just…” You’re turning away, if you look into those blue eyes too long you won’t be able to breathe, to exist, every inch of your body dying for more. “You loved it.”

You scowl as he smirks. “You’re a conceited little shit, just like when we met! Swear to god.”

“You’re still shaking.” He says, eyes raking over you, you gasp.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“If you want to, say the word.” He murmurs, leaning against your doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“No way, I’m going to bed early. Good night.” You shut the door right in his face, sliding down it, head in your hands.

What the heck even was that.

Five weeks of being ‘fake married’ to your best friend, Satoru Gojo

Satoru and you were barely talking this entire week, you’re so furious with his cocky, conceited attitude, and the fact that he’s entirely right. Nothing felt that good, no one felt like just his fingers had, how he found you, how he looked at you. Now for the past week every night you’ve done the one thing you said you wouldn’t do.

Touch yourself to the memory.

You’re rolling your fingers on your clit, whining his name in a breathy whisper the morning of the charity auction, covering your mouth with your free hand as you realize that you’ve done it, that you’ve said his name, all while cumming all over your little fingers, which don’t even come close to his, lengthy and thick, the rough pads of his thumbs.

And you could fuck him, you know you could, but you also know what it will mean, there is no friends after that, kissing alone has made things impossible for you both. And Satoru is doing the most amazing things, you’re so proud of him already, and don’t ever want to lose him. But now he’s in your head, making you absolutely insane with want, with need, with desire.

Now you can’t even think of him without picturing his cheeks hollowing as he sucked your wetness off, picturing his head between your thighs, things you shouldn’t, and it’s like he knows. He smirks at you just so, lazy lidded eyes draping down your frame every morning, every night, making sure to constantly have a hand on you in public.

He was making you lose it, and he knew it.

Your stupid little fingers can’t do shit, in fact they frustrate you more, but it’d be a cold day in hell before you ask him for any help. In fact you realize the game he plays when he walks around in his boxers, when he does push ups in the middle of the living room with one arm, like he’s showing off, smirking when he catches you watching him, in your moments of weakness.

It would be so easy to fall into his bed, but to think of ruining your friendship terrified you, to think of the feelings you know would be unleashed like some fucking flood gate was too much. You never have been able to be casual, you’re not even interested in someone without feelings, and you’re slowly realizing that those feelings when you were younger never went away.

They’re just more intense now, living with him, with this unspoken tension in the air, every breath you take you can practically taste him, every time you watch his fingers slipping around the rim of his cup you remember them in you. As you see the clear bulge in his boxers you remember touching him, remember wanting to taste that precum on his tip.

The worst part is he looks so knowingly at you, so sure you’d probably beg for him, you’re sure many, many women do. But despite knowing Satoru to be a bit of a ladies man, you’ve not seen a single one here since you’ve lived here, not seen him go on a single date. You’re not sure if you could handle it, despite acting so very nonchalant about it.

But you have no claim over him, this was just convenience, every bit of the arrangement. Your new car, no more debt, helping Satoru do what he needed to, you all are a perfect team even with the added tension of your pussy constantly throbbing around said best friend. Surely it wasn’t worth ruining, complicating, just to feel that pleasure he brings.

As you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you nervously step out of the room, into Gojo’s spacious foyer, where he’s turned around, a dark blue suit adorning his body like a glove. He hears your heels click on the marble floor below and turns, his lips parting as he studies you.

The red dress hugs every line and curve of your pretty body, the bold shade making your skin pop so pretty, it looks so smooth he aches to caress you, every bit of you. You are biting your lower lip nervously, looking up at him from across the room as you stand there, looking so beautiful his pulse races.

This week has been torture for Satoru, he wants to tell you then, that he feels so much more than he even knows how to convey, that it wasn’t just ‘getting a friend off’ it was such a joke, he can’t even understand how you believe that. He can’t get the sweetness of your pussy off his goddamn mind, he’d do just about anything to taste it again.

He’s even eyed your panties in the hamper. He's so pathetic and desperate for you, but he’s tried to keep some semblance of composure, to act unbothered, so scared to ruin your relationship. He knows how much you sacrificed just coming here, sure he’s helping you, but you uprooted everything, you acted perfect at every function, you stood up for him at every meeting.

You are the perfect wife.

Pretend wife.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

He keeps repeating it like a mantra in his head, brushing off the moment in the back of the car as maybe you just needed to cum, maybe it was just that for you, but something about how your eyes met his, has him desperately pumping his cock, hearing your soft whimpers at night. He knows you’re touching yourself, he wishes he could see it, watch it, take over.

Instead he’s stuck endlessly jerking it to his best friend/fake wife, ignoring any girl that even texts him because they just aren’t you. They could care less he’s ‘married’ everyone just wants a piece of him, everyone but you. You just are there for him, with him, by his side, you’d have done this for nothing in return. You’re becoming everything to him so fast it’s terrifying.

The magnification of feelings he’s had for you over so many years is overwhelming, being near you, smelling your sweet scent, hearing you hum as you cook with your earbuds in, your nervous habits. How you twirl your hair, how you tilt your head, how you tremble just a bit when he holds you for the cameras, how you sigh sweetly as he kisses you for show.

You can’t fake that, he knows you’re affected too.

But he doesn’t know if it’s what he feels for you.

He’s stammering like a teenager at prom, but prom pales in comparison to seeing you now, how the diamonds glitter off your neck and delicate wrists, how he can picture fucking you with just that on. Your cheeks are decorated with that pretty color as you handle his wordless scrutiny, teeth releasing your lip when he comes closer, he brushes a thumb across the indentations left.

You gasp, eyes shooting up to his, as the electric current of his touch rocks through you. “You always bite it, stop. Gonna hurt it.” He says, voice husky, eyes hungry as he looms over you in the quiet, elegant room.

“Do I always?” You whisper, and he nods, brushing his thumb over it again, as if to soothe it.

“Mmhmm, gonna cut up such pretty lips.” His voice drops another octave as one of your hand grips his wrist, and you ache for him to kiss you, to press you against one of these cream colored walls and pound into you.

Stop that!?

You clear your throat, taking a breath and then plastering on a little smile. “You look handsome tonight, blue is your color.”

“Red is yours, clearly.” He brushes a bit of hair back off your bare shoulders, two fingers gently running down the strap, watching the network of goosebumps spread, your heart is racing at the contact. Your urge to yank him by his skinny black tie and slam his lips to yours tempts you to no end.

“Thank you for this dress, and the jewelry. Stop getting me more.” Your little glare just makes him grin.

“At the auction you can get whatever you want, so you know.”

“No way, it’ll all be overpriced.”

“It’s charity, baby. Hmm, should we practice kissing more?” He asks, and you smack his hand away, glaring as he chuckles.

“We’ve had lots of practice, let’s go.”

You all are arm in arm as the cameras flash so brightly later that night when you both step out of the car, so much so they hurt your head, but you hold onto Gojo’s arm, as he guides you through, grinning and answering every question effortlessly. “Why the shades at night, Mr. Gojo?”

“Your bright ass cameras hurt my pretty baby blues.” He teases with a pout, earning the laughter there.

“And what’s this talk of major changes in the Gojo corporation?” Another reporter asks, Satoru chuckles then.

“Ah, well these old geezers needed some revamping is all. Right, pookie?” He asks you, and you smile up at him, then at the cameras.

“Satoru knows what’s best for the company and his employees, his changes are going to only make everyone more profitable.” Satoru watches you answer their questions left and right, enamored more and more by you.

“Are you trying for a baby, Mrs. Gojo?” Someone asks then, and you heat up at the question, at the image that flashes in your head.

Gojo breeding you.

So vivid you feel like you’re there, him murmuring a ‘let me fill you, sweetheart, have you so full of my babies’ and pumping over you. You almost faint it’s so real, and you have no clue what has come over you. You don’t think like that!? You’ve never done shit like that… you…

“We’re enjoying each other a lot right now, but it’ll happen I’m sure, when we’re ready. We’re a little consumed with each other.” Satoru answers now, breaking through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you look up at him, lips parted, as he completely saves you, you’ve frozen on the spot. “Right sweetheart?”

“Right.” You clear your throat, shaking your head then. “We are very much in love, and enjoying our alone time, but we’d both love a baby.” You say, and you hate how real it is.

He hates how he can picture you now, full mating press, as he fucks one load of cum into your pussy, and then another, watching it all pool out. Fuck he’d watch your tummy get so full of him. The thoughts of getting you pregnant make him feral then, he can hardly stand there as he just stares at you, and you at him.

You don’t get your best friend/fake wife pregnant.

Do you?

The auction continues, fancy and expensive items for filthy rich people, Gojo detests it more than even you do, though you’d never know with how he plays the room. You see Mei and Naoya again, laughing about something in this creepy way that makes you shiver. When Gojo is mingling while you're having a seat, you see a pretty brunette girl talking to him closely.

Why does it make you feel so sick to see him, you don’t know. You’ve watched him date, and he’s watched you, but something about living with him, about this enormous glinting rock on your finger really messes with you. His grin glinting under glittering chandeliers of this enormous auction room, another woman coming up, surely he runs in their circles.

You try not to focus on that, it’s not as if you have given Gojo a hint that you want more, and do you? Do you want to cross that line? If something doesn’t work, it’s not a fight between friends, it’s the end of everything, and isn’t having Gojo with you somewhat better than not at all?

“You look like you hate this, huh doll?” You hear then, looking up to see a dark haired man, grinning down at you, he’s handsome in a rugged way, not pretty like Satoru, but something appealing. A scar on his lip as he chuckles, gesturing around you both. “Bunch of rich assholes, huh?”

“Shh!” You giggle though, looking around, nodding.

“Knew it.”

“So what’re you doing here?” You ask quietly, he grimaces, running a hand through inky locks.

“Got a fuckin job to do, what about you?” You gesture to Satoru then, who’s glaring right at you both.

“I’m married to Gojo.”

“Ah shit, I’m too late.” You blush a bit at the attention, Satoru has a girl who’s far too close, whispering in his ear, her hand on his shoulder, making you sick.

“Hmm.” Is all you manage, looking back up at the man. “What is your name?”

“Toji Zenin. Yeah, I know, the name… but fuck them.”

“You are different.” You murmur softly, tilting your head to the side, he brushes his fingers then across your thigh subtly, your jaw clenches a bit.

“If I was with you I sure wouldn’t be over there with snobby bitches.” He says, and you don’t like it then, the jealousy in your heart as Gojo walks up suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Zenin.” He mutters, and he grins up at Gojo.

“Talking to your wife, Gojo, keeping her company y’know? Shouldn’t leave such a pretty thing so lonely.”

“You’re. In. My. Seat.” Satoru mutters, teeth clenched together, and Toji laughs with ease, taking your hand, planting a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

“See ya around, doll.” He says, patting Gojo on the shoulder, and Satoru wants to rip his fucking arm off then, as he glares down at you, sitting in the seat, but you cross your arms, looking away.

“Did he touch you?” He demands quietly, you frown then.

“He was nice, I mean he-”

“Nice!? Looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“What do you care, looks like they were all over you. Oh look, they miss you, go say hi.” You say, as three girls giggle and point over at Satoru, his blue eyes narrow, leaning over you then, cupping your face with his hand.

“Think I wanted to be bombarded by flirty ass drunk women?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you care if I do?”

“No! What do you care about me then?” You demand, whispering amongst the loud crowd of auctioneers, as they start lining pieces up for sale.

“Because he… you…” Satoru trails off, mouth opening and closing. “You are my wife right now, you know.”

“Fake wife.” You correct, seeing a vein throb in his temple.

“It doesn’t matter, how does it look when-”

“That’s what you care about, appearances? Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your precious appearance any.” You whisper, as the crowd settles, and a brilliant sapphire necklace is now on display.

“You act like you don’t care at all, I saw you.”

“So what!?”

“So why don’t you just tell me how -”

“Ten thousand, do I hear…”

“Shh.” You scowl at him, as he scowls back at you. “Maybe you should go sit with your girlfriends.”

He laughs softly, without humor. “You’re jealous.”

“Nope, you’ve always been that way. What’s surprising is not having seen a girl at the house.”

“You think I want-”

“Twenty Thousand, going once, going…”

“Want someone more your speed? Sure, I know this is just convenience, I'm not stupid.” You say, he scowls even deeper, his hand suddenly on your thigh in the darkened room, making your heart pound as it squeezes bruisingly.

“I’ll not have anyone touch you.” His words make no sense, they don’t even compute in your brain then.

“What do you care, hmm? If I did. If I was discrete. Remember?” You ask, bitingly and full of shit, and you watch the hurt in his eyes, hating yourself for a moment before his eyes turn insane, dilating until they’re almost black.

“You wanna fuck him, huh?” He demands, you scoff, shaking your head.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“Me stupid!?”

“If you think that I want anyone but…” You pause then, gulping as people are starting to look, hearing your hushed arguments then, and you stand angrily, stomping off until you hit the bathroom, splashing water on your neck, trying to pull yourself together.

You almost said it.

You’ll never want anyone but Satoru, your best friend, and you never have, fuck you probably never will, and it’s terrifying you. When the door shuts and he’s there, chest heaving, you turn away, tears pricking your eyes. “Just go away, fuck it’s the ladies room.”

“You’re mad at me for talking to women at an event?”

“You’re mad at me for talking to someone at an event?”

Yes, fuck yes he’s furious that man got near you.

That maybe you’d want someone else, more than him.

He steps closer, hands on your shoulders now. ““You gonna be mad when I fuck someone in my room, huh?”

You freeze, turning and glaring up at him then. “I hear you jerk off every night, so what’s the difference?”

Satoru looms even closer, you feel his breath hit your lips, making your tummy clench at the thoughts of him. “And I hear you moan as you play with your little clit, ya frustrated your tiny fingers don’t hit?”

“Oh fuck you!” You turn now, shoving at him, chest heaving, but he pulls you to him, pressing you against the bathroom counter, glittering and ridiculously opulent, hands shaking when they’re on your waist.

“You should just ask for help, sounds like you can’t cum.” Satoru whispers, earning a smack on the face that makes him smirk.

“Maybe you should ask me, how many times do you need to jerk off a night, huh Toru?” Satoru’s laughing then, insanity, his cheek decorated with red from your little hand print.

“At least I make myself cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m over this. I’ll take the opposite side of the house, won’t have to hear your moans.”

“Good, won’t hear your pathetic whimpers.”

“Good!”

“Good!” You both stand there, him bent over, barring you with his arms. “Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“Nope, just annoyed with you. Over you, Mr. never has on a fucking shirt!”

“Good, I’m done, Miss walks around in slutty panties!”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, until he’s slamming his lips on yours, and then you’re lifted like you’re nothing, when his tongue slips in your mouth, and you’re clinging to him eagerly, as he sits you on the sink, hungrily shoving up your red dress. “You’re gonna rip it, shit!”

“I’ll buy you twenty more, just shut up.” You go to retort when he’s kissing you again, deeper now, and you’re crying out right in a bathroom, knowing anyone could walk in, only serving to make your cunt dripping wet, when he finds it he moans, pulling back and staring at you. “Why are you so beautiful?”

You can’t speak then, you’re lost in him, in his blue eyes and his pink lips, in his big hands all over you, his whispering words crushing any resolve you try to have. You lose all reason then, as your head falls back as he kisses up your throat, and you’re gushing down his fingers, remembering their shape and feel as they tease your entrance.

“Please, Satoru…”

“Why are you so sweet now, huh? Where’s your attitude?” He murmurs, but you’re arching up, whining as he stares at you so hungry. “Should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Please…” You whisper again, when Satoru bends down, his head between your thighs, and stares right at your glittering pussy.

“Oh my god, she’s s’fuckin pretty…” He murmurs then, licking a stripe up your slit that has you crying out into your hand, thighs shaking as he groans at finally being able to taste you. “S’yummy mmm…”

“Toru…what’re you-ah!” You’re covering your mouth again as he laps at your cunt, his nose bumping your sensitive clit, and you’re dripping down his face, hand finding purchase in his silken white hair, gripping it.

“Gonna lick this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as your sweet nectar pours down his mouth, his hands spreading your plump lips, fucking you with his tongue then, your head smacks the wall, nearly sobbing it feels so good. “No one’s licked it, have they, baby?” You shake your head. “Good, s’all mine, huh?”

“All… y-you… Toru what are- mnh!” He’s yanking you to him by your hips, devouring you now, unlike anything you’ve ever felt, having you close so fast it’s embarrassing, tongue dancing and delving between your folds, drinking you up loud and wanton in this bathroom.

“F-fuck….” He’s achingly hard now, cock throbbing, tip of his tongue circling your little clit as he spreads you wide, looking at your perfect pretty pussy.

“You’re just… looking at it…” You manage to whisper, and he’s chuckling now, leaning over you, sinking two fingers inside, making your eyes roll back, so sensitive you’re about to cum right then and there. “Imagining it dripping out cum, sweetheart, that’s all.”

Your brain short circuits. “With cum!?”

“Mmm.” He’s not using words anymore, not when he’s picking you up, planting your heeled feet back on the bathroom floor, turning you to face the mirror. He’s lifting that dress up higher and bending down, pressing against you, finally he’s lost it, so drunk off your pussy, he can’t take it anymore.

“Satoru, you’re insane, what are you…”His cock springs out, heavy and aching with need, as he bends you over, one hand on his cock, the other, wrapping your pretty little throat, as your eyes catch his in the mirror, glassy and dilated.

“Next time he or anyone talks to you, it’ll be with my cum dripping out of your pretty little pussy.”

Final Part

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Rest in the reblog <3

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #divider by cafekitsune #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x f!reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x yn

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penvisions · 5 months ago

Text

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 2 months ago

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13: ONE STEP CLOSER

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Summary: Bucky shows up unexpectedly with takeout, proving once again that he knows you… too well. As wedding season approaches, you prepare for the inevitable— dancing. When Bucky resists, you push him to practice, only to discover that he’s more graceful than he lets on. But when a spin catches you off guard, you find yourself in his arms, and suddenly, the dance feels like something much more dangerous.

Warnings: Mild language, mutual pining, unresolved tension, fake dating, Bucky being secretly smooth, reader being stubborn, and some accidental close proximity.

Word Count: 2487

It was late evening and you were absorbed in your work, your stylus spinning idly between your fingers, when a soft knock at the door broke your concentration.

You frowned, glancing at your watch. It was past ten.

Setting down your stylus, you padded to the door, taking a quick peek through the peephole before opening the door. Bucky was standing there, his hair slightly mussed, as though he had just run his hand through it moments before. He held up a paper bag which was exuding the most tantalizing aroma of takeout from it.

“Bucky?” you said, looking baffled. “What’re you doing here? Get lost on your way home?” you joked.

“You never have anything in your fridge,” he said, stepping past you and into your apartment. “And I know you haven’t eaten.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but your rumbling stomach answered for you. The half empty mug of coffee on your desk wasn’t exactly what anyone would define as ‘dinner.’ “You… brought me food?”

He shrugged and toed off his shoes. He set the doggy bag on your coffee table and sat down. “You’re welcome.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you smiled. You followed him into the living room as he began unpacking cartons of noodles, stir fry, dumplings, and your favorite, sweet and sour chicken. “Thank you, Bucky. That’s… incredibly thoughtful.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He gave you a small grin before pushing one last carton over to you. “Save me at least one spring roll, will ya?”

You settled onto the couch beside him and grabbed a carton of chow mein, twirling the noodles around a pair of chopsticks.

“So,” you began, filling the comfortable silence that had settled between you. “Almost show time.”

“Show time?”

“The weddings.”

“Oh… right,” he acknowledged, a hint of panic crossing his face.

“Hanna and Aditi’s wedding is shaping up to be quite the affair. The mehndi ceremony alone is going to be stunning. Have you ever been to one?”

Bucky shook his head, chewing thoughtfully. “Can’t say I have. What is it?”

You crossed your legs on the couch and leaned back. “Okay, so it’s a celebration where the bride— brides in this case— and their family and friends get henna designs done on their hands and feet. It’s beautiful! I can’t wait! And there’ll be music, dancing, food— it’s essentially a huge party.”

“Sounds fancy,” he remarked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“It is,” you agreed. “But it’s also really personal. Aditi’s mom has gone all out and hired some really talented artists for the bridal party. Aditi is really stoked, but Hanna… she’s kinda nervous about having to sit still for hours!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Hours?”

“Give or take,” you laughed, indicating that you might have exaggerated the time scale a little. You gestured with your hands, mimicking the delicate patterns. “The designs are really detailed, so it takes a long time, but the results are worth it! It’s like getting a tattoo, but it’s not ink and it’s temporary.”

“That’s… different,” he said, though there was a hint of intrigue in his tone. “What about you? Are you getting one of those designs?”

“Oh, yes! Nothing quite like what the brides will get. Theirs will be different. It’s supposed to be a symbol of good luck and prosperity for the marriage.”

“I see,” he said softly, taking in all the new information.

“I’m glad that mine won’t be so intricate; I don’t think I could still sit for so long!”

“You? Not sitting still?” he teased, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“Ha, ha,” you deadpanned, nudging him with your elbow. “Anyway, I’m excited for them. They deserve all of it.”

Bucky nodded, his gaze softening as he listened. “They’re lucky to have a friend like you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the unexpected compliment and quickly steered the conversation back to the wedding. “So, yeah, there’ll be plenty of dancing too. It’s a huge part of the celebrations. But as excited as I am about Hanna and Aditi’s big day, Sarah’s wedding is going to be a whole other challenge.”

His chopsticks paused mid-air as stared at you with raised brows. “What d’ya mean?”

“I mean, we’ll have to dance at that one. It’s kinda expected, you know, couples dancing with the bride and groom to celebrate. And—” you put down your food container and motioned between the two of you, “you and I will have to dance, you know, as part of this whole… fake couple thing.”

Bucky’s expression turned into a scowl. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t dance.”

“What?” you asked, your tone rising slightly in disbelief. “Not at all?”

“Not really my thing,” he muttered.

“Oh, come on, Bucky.” You leaned towards him, studying his grumpy features. “It’s not like I’m asking you to audition for Dancing with the Stars. It’s just a slow dance where you stand and sway in time to the music. Do you want to draw attention to our faux-mance?”

You could see his jaw working as he thought about your words, before he looked away, casting you a furtive glance before speaking. “I’m not… good at that kind of stuff.”

“Bucky, are you seriously telling me that fighting aliens is less intimidating than a little two-step?”

“It’s different,” he said defensively, flexing his vibranium fist. “I don’t like drawing attention… not like that.”

“So… what happens if Sam drags you out onto the dance floor?”

“Well, then I’ll just stand there looking like a complete idiot,” he shrugged. “You want your fake boyfriend to embarrass you? Or are you gonna help him out with a rescue?”

“Yeah, I could swoop in and rescue you like the damsel in distress that you’ll come off as. Spin you around and round the dance floor. Have all the boys and girls swooning.”

“Or maybe I’ll scare everyone off with this thing,” he said quietly, looking down at his vibranium arm.

You frowned, catching the hint of unease in his tone. You reached out and took his vibranium hand. “Bucky, no one’s gonna be scared of you. They’ll just think you’re shy.”

He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Yeah, because shy is the first thing people think when they see me.”

“I thought you knew these people. Sam made it sound like you’d met everyone.”

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered.

“Did they seem scared of you then?”

Bucky didn’t answer, not wanting to give you traction for your argument.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said gently, your gaze lingering on his elegant prosthetic. “They’re not going to be looking at this. They might think you’re a guy who’s a little shy. Everyone’s there to have a good time.”

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of a cushion. “I don’t know, doll. Dancing’s just… not my thing now.”

“You don’t want to let Sam show you up, do you?” you asked with a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood.

His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Sam’s not dragging me into anything.”

“Then practice with me,” you urged, stepping closer. “So if the time comes, you’re not completely caught off guard.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re persistent, you know that?”

“It’s one of my best qualities,” you shot back, smiling. Then you leaned towards him, adding softly, “I promise, no one will judge you. Least of all me. Let’s just… be prepared.”

Bucky took a moment to contemplate your words before conceding with a long exhale. “Fine. But if I step on your toes, that’s on you.”

“Deal,” you replied, flashing a triumphant smile. “But don’t blame me if you end up having fun.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he muttered, but the tiniest trace of a smile broke through his usual stoic facade.

In preparation, you’d pushed your coffee tablet to one side, the couch shoved to the other, leaving your apartment looking like a makeshift dance studio. Your phone was balanced precariously on a pile of books, casting a YouTube tutorial onto your TV screen. The instructor’s false cheery voice echoed around the room as you hesitantly followed her instructions over the steps involved in a waltz.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a skeptical look on his face. He had made several attempts to postpone your practice session but you had finally pinned him down. He had knocked on your door begrudgingly and now he was criticizing your every movement. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you take another unsteady step as though your clumsiness was fueling his disdain.

“Really?” he muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. “You think this is helping?”

You shot him an irritated glance, adjusting your stance. “It’s not exactly ideal, but it’s the best I can do, Bucky. Now, are you gonna do this with me or stand there and criticize me?”

“Why would I willingly come over and make a fool of myself when you’re doing such a great job all on your own?” he smirked, his eyes giving you a one-over.

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep your temper in check. You reminded yourself that his hostility was coming from a place of deep discomfort and that you should be happy that he showed up at all. He didn’t strike you as the type of man who enjoyed being pushed outside his comfort zone.

“You might wanna start by fixing your posture. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you straightened up. “Yeah, I’m aware. Thanks for the tip,” you grumbled.

To your surprise, Bucky pushed himself off the doorframe and strode towards you, his eyes looking over your moves with a critical expression. His movements were deliberate and graceful, even though they were currently hidden by a layer of reluctance.

“No, no. You’re supposed to—” He grabbed your hands without warning, adjusting their position, “—hold your arms like this.”

“Like this?” you asked, trying to hide the annoyance you felt at his unsolicited advice.

“Yeah,” he said with a small smirk. “But don’t lean so far back. You look like you’re going to fall off the edge of a cliff. It’s not that hard.”

You rolled your eyes in response, trying not to show how much his jabs were actually affecting you. “I’m doing the best I can here, Bucky. You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

His mouth twitched, as if he was trying to hide a smile, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, Princess. Just thought someone with royal blood would be better at this.”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, I skipped ballroom dancing at the royal academy,” you retorted sarcastically.

He let out a low chuckle. “Clearly.”

You exhaled sharply, frustrated but unwilling to give up. “Fine, if you think you’ve got this all figured out, then show me how it’s done.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, dropping his smirk. He stepped forward, his hand now resting firmly at your waist. “Like this,” he said, taking your hand.

He guided you through each step with surprising precision, each movement smooth and controlled. Your mouth fell open as you realized that Bucky knew exactly what he was doing. His grip was firm but not overbearing, his movements deliberate as he led you seamlessly through the sequence.

You felt a flutter of surprise as you realized that he knew exactly what he was doing. Where the hell had he learned to dance like this?

“Not bad,” you said, after you’d successfully repeated the steps twice. “For a guy who said he doesn’t dance.”

“I said I don’t dance, not that I don’t know how to,” he shrugged.

“What? They teach you this at the super soldier academy?” you snarked.

“They don’t brainwash you for waltzing, Princess,” he shot back facetiously.

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the flippancy of his words. “Right,” you said, fumbling for the right words of response. “Guess that wouldn’t be a top priority skill, huh?” you said lightly, following up with a strained laugh.

Bucky’s expression softened just enough to ease the tension. “Not unless HYDRA was planning a charity ball,” he muttered. He didn’t smile but you could tell he was joking.

You hesitated, then let out a quiet laugh. The tension eased as his lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

“What? Are you saying the bad guys have philanthropic funding?” you teased.

His chuckle was low and reluctant, but it felt like a small victory.

The silence that followed was less strained as he pulled you back into the rhythm of the dance.

“You’re doing fine. Just keep your eyes up, not on your feet.”

Following his advice, you let your gaze lift to meet his. The room felt quieter somehow, the YouTube instructor’s voice fading into the background as you focused on the rhythm of his movements and the steady grip of his hands. For a moment, the frustration melted away, leaving only the simple act of dancing. You were starting to feel less awkward, Bucky’s presence was steadying as you got lost in the rhythm.

Then, without warning, he spun you.

“Bucky!” you gasped, the action catching you completely off guard. You stumbled, your balance faltering, and you found yourself pressed against his chest.

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Bucky’s arm tightened instinctively around your waist to catch you, and your hands landed splayed across his chest, his steady heart beating beneath your palms. You looked up at him, startled but grateful, only to find his eyes locked on yours, softer than you had seen them all evening.

“Careful,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched and you swallowed to try to push away the lump in your throat. Your mind flashed back to the last time you had been this close to him. And you wondered if he was thinking the same as you noticed the way his hand lingered on your back. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, as if realizing the closeness, Bucky released you and took a small step back, clearing his throat.

“You could’ve warned me,” you said, far quieter than you intended.

His lips curved into a faint, almost mischievous smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You laughed, the tension breaking, though your cheeks still felt warm.

“You’re… not bad,” he said, scratching his beard. “For a beginner.”

“And you’re not bad for someone who claims they don’t dance.”

His grin widened a fraction, but he didn’t reply. His hands slid into his pockets as he took a small step back, leaving you wondering just how much of that moment had been real… and how much had been an accident.

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ilovemarvel97 · 5 days ago

Text

Craving What We Shouldn’t - Part 2

Wanda Maximoff x G!P Reader

Summary: Senior year. What could happen? School troubles? Suspended? Or becoming step-sisters with the girl you are in love with?

Word Count: 6,022

Warnings: High school AU, Fluff, forbidden romance, step-siblings, reader has a penis, mutual pining, secret relationship, emotionally charged

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

Wanda stiffened at the sound of footsteps outside the hallway.

They both froze, breath tangled, lips parted but no longer touching, their foreheads pressed together like that small point of contact could hold back the storm of reality knocking just outside her bedroom door.

The footsteps passed. Neither of them moved.

Y/N finally exhaled. “We should stop.”

“Yeah,” Wanda whispered, though she didn’t let go. Her fingers were still tangled in Y/N’s shirt, her thumb absently rubbing against the soft fabric like she couldn’t help it. “We should.”

But neither of them did.

Instead, Y/N slowly lifted her head, just enough to look her in the eyes. “I meant what I said.”

Wanda swallowed hard. “About being in love with me?”

Y/N nodded. “I didn’t want to be. I tried not to be. God, Wanda, I tried.”

A flicker of pain crossed her face. “Me too.”

There was a long pause. Wanda’s eyes shone in the low light, vulnerable and aching. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

Y/N hesitated. Then, carefully, she brought her hand up and brushed a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. “Me neither.”

“But I can’t go back to pretending this is nothing,” Wanda whispered.

“You think I can?” Y/N’s voice cracked, bitter and soft. “Every morning I wake up and you’re there in the kitchen, in your stupid cheer uniform, and I can’t even look at you without wanting things I’m not supposed to want.”

Wanda’s lips twitched, but there was no humor in her smile. “I hate how right this feels.”

Y/N nodded, silent. Her fingers brushed Wanda’s cheek again, tracing the skin she wasn’t supposed to know this well.

“I should go,” Wanda said after a moment. Her voice didn’t sound like she meant it.

Y/N nodded slowly, like it hurt. “Okay.”

Wanda turn toward the door, hand on the knob.

But before she opened it, she turned, and in two quick steps, Wanda was there again, her hands cupping Y/N’s face as she pulled Y/N down into one more kiss—slow, aching, full of everything they still couldn’t say.

This time, Y/N kissed her back like she couldn’t live without it.

Like she didn’t care what it meant, or what it would cost.

Because in that moment, nothing mattered except that Wanda wanted her too.

And for tonight, that was enough.

---

The next morning was filled with the scent of coffee and tension.

Y/N’s mom had left early for her shift, and Wanda’s dad had scribbled a quick note about a morning meeting, stuck haphazardly on the fridge with a magnet. The house was quiet, too quiet, and breakfast was painfully awkward.

Y/N sat at the kitchen table, barely chewing her toast. Wanda stood near the counter with a cup of tea cradled in her hands, eyes on everything but Y/N.

Pietro strolled in, grabbed a granola bar, and flashed them both a cheeky grin.

“I’m picking up my girl for school,” he announced, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Y/N, be a gem and drive Wanda, yeah?”

Y/N just nodded once, not looking up. Wanda gave Pietro a tight smile.

“Cool,” he said, already halfway out the door. “Don’t kill each other!”

The front door slammed shut.

The silence returned immediately, heavier now. The clock ticked. Wanda sipped her tea. Y/N stared at the last bite of toast, her mind racing with all the things she wanted to say and all the ways she’d already messed this up.

She waited five more minutes, heart pounding louder than the ticking clock.

Then she turned her head slightly, looking at Wanda for the first time that morning.

Gently, she said, “Come here.”

Her hand lifted from her lap, reaching out toward Wanda, fingers open, palm up.

Wanda froze for a moment, still holding her cup like a shield. Then, slowly, like she couldn’t help herself, she set the mug down and took a hesitant step closer.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she watched her. “Please,” she whispered, hand still raised. “Just for a second.”

Wanda finally closed the distance, placing her hand in Y/N’s. It fit too perfectly. Her fingers trembled slightly.

Y/N pulled her gently, guiding Wanda to sit beside her on the bench, closer than necessary. Neither said anything for a long moment. Y/N just kept holding her hand, her thumb brushing softly over Wanda’s knuckles.

“I missed you,” Y/N admitted, voice low, like a secret she wasn’t supposed to tell.

Wanda looked down at their joined hands, then up at Y/N. “Then don’t ignore me anymore.”

Y/N looked into her eyes, visibly torn, visibly aching. “I don’t want to.”

Wanda swallowed. “Then don’t.”

Y/N didn’t reply with words. She just leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Wanda’s, breathing her in like she hadn’t been able to for days.

Wanda didn’t move away when Y/N pressed their foreheads together. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed, and she breathed out slowly, as if she’d been holding it all in for too long.

“I’m tired of pretending with you,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Me too,” Wanda replied, and for the first time in days, it didn’t feel like either of them was lying.

They didn’t kiss. Not this time.

But they sat there in silence, forehead to forehead, hands intertwined, letting themselves feel what they’d been trying so hard to bury. It wasn’t a confession, or a promise, or a solution—but it was real. It was them.

Eventually, Wanda leaned back just enough to see Y/N’s face.

“We should go,” she said quietly. “Don’t want to be late.”

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t let go of Wanda’s hand right away. When she finally did, it was with a lingering touch, like she didn’t want to lose the warmth.

The car ride to school was different. Quiet, but not cold. Wanda leaned against the window, hiding her small smile behind her hair. Y/N glanced at her every now and then when she thought Wanda wasn’t looking—but she was.

At school, the moment they stepped out of the car, it changed again.

They didn’t touch. They didn’t look at each other too long. Wanda walked ahead to meet her friends, and Y/N stayed behind to grab her bag from the backseat. They didn’t say goodbye.

But in the hallways, they glanced at each other when no one was looking.

In class, Wanda passed Y/N a note instead of a text.

“I liked today.”

Y/N wrote back.

“Me too. You looked beautiful this morning.”

There was a new understanding between them. At home, their eyes lingered longer, their hands brushed a little more, and they no longer pretended it wasn’t happening—at least not with each other.

But at school, around others, they still wore the masks. Pretending to be just two step-siblings getting along better for their parents.

Even if every look they shared said otherwise.

---

Classes dragged on, but the weight between them didn’t.

It was lighter now. Still complicated, still full of glances and unsaid things, but lighter.

At lunch, Wanda sat with her usual group. Monica was showing her something on her phone, and Pepper was gossiping about someone’s disastrous weekend party—but Wanda wasn’t really listening.

Her eyes kept drifting across the quad.

Y/N sat with Nat and Clint, half-heartedly picking at her sandwich. Wanda watched as Nat leaned closer to Y/N, whispering something in her ear. Y/N let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at whatever Nat had said.

Wanda’s stomach tightened.

She knew Nat was one of Y/N’s closest friends. She knew there was nothing to worry about.

And yet—she hated how close Nat leaned in. How comfortably Y/N smiled at her. How she didn’t flinch away from Nat’s hand briefly brushing her arm.

“Wanda,” Pepper said sharply, dragging her back. “You good?”

Wanda blinked. “Yeah. Just spaced out.”

Monica narrowed her eyes a little, following her gaze. “Staring at the emo trio again?”

Wanda forced a light laugh. “What? No.”

But she didn’t look back again.

---

Later, in the car on the drive home, Wanda was unusually quiet. Y/N noticed it right away.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

Wanda shrugged. “Fine.”

“You’ve said a total of five words since lunch.”

Y/N glanced at her. Wanda was staring out the window.

“Is this about something I did?”

Wanda hesitated before saying, “What was she whispering to you?”

Y/N looked surprised. “Who?”

“Nat,” Wanda said, her tone sharper than intended.

Y/N blinked. “She was making fun of Clint’s broken shoelace. Why?”

Wanda didn’t answer. She just kept looking out the window.

Y/N gave a short laugh under her breath. “Were you… jealous?”

Silence.

Then Wanda turned her head slowly to meet Y/N’s gaze. “Would it be that crazy if I was?”

Y/N pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and turned to face her.

“No,” she said quietly. “Not crazy at all.”

---

The house was quiet when they stepped inside. Their parents wouldn’t be home for hours.

Wanda dropped her bag by the stairs while Y/N toed off her shoes. Neither of them said anything at first. There was a quiet tension still lingering in the air—charged but no longer sharp.

Y/N headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing two sodas. She held one out to Wanda without a word. Wanda took it, brushing her fingers against Y/N’s hand a little longer than necessary.

They sat side by side on the couch, a few inches apart, the silence between them humming with unspoken things.

After a moment, Y/N exhaled. “You really were jealous.”

Wanda looked down at the soda in her hands. “I didn’t like how close she was to you.”

“She’s just my friend,” Y/N said gently, turning her body more toward Wanda. “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”

Wanda’s lips parted slightly, and she finally looked at her. “Like what?”

“Like I’m burning from the inside out,” Y/N whispered.

Wanda didn’t say anything—just leaned in, slowly. Y/N met her halfway.

The kiss was soft this time. Not rushed or heated. It lingered. Wanda’s hand found Y/N’s cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over her skin. Y/N’s fingers slid into Wanda’s hair.

They kissed again, slower. Like they had all the time in the world.

When they finally pulled apart, Wanda rested her forehead against Y/N’s and murmured, “We really suck at pretending, don’t we?”

Y/N smiled. “Only when it’s just us.”

They sat like that for a while, fingers laced, breathing the same quiet air, no longer needing to hide—at least not from each other.

Wanda was still close, their foreheads touching, breaths mingling. Then Y/N slipped her arms around Wanda’s waist, pulling her gently, but firmly, into her lap. Wanda let out the softest breath, eyes fluttering as her hands settled on Y/N’s shoulders for balance.

Y/N held her there, arms wrapped fully around Wanda’s waist now, like she couldn’t stand the thought of letting go. Wanda’s knees were on either side of her, and for a moment, neither of them moved—they just stayed wrapped up in each other, feeling the way their bodies fit together.

“You’re dangerous,” Y/N said softly, eyes lifting to meet Wanda’s.

Wanda’s lips curled into a small smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “You make it impossible not to want more.”

Y/N’s thumbs moved in slow, absent circles against Wanda’s back. “I want it all,” she said. “Even if we have to pretend around everyone else.”

Wanda leaned in again, her lips brushing lightly over Y/N’s. “We won’t have to forever.”

Y/N kissed her again, deeper this time, as if to seal that promise.

And for the rest of the afternoon, they stayed like that—wrapped up in quiet touches, in soft kisses and whispered promises they didn’t dare say too loud. Because for now, this was their world. Just them. Just love.

---

The next morning, Y/N drove them both to school like the day before. The silence in the car was warm, charged with glances that lingered, soft smiles neither of them could help. Wanda’s pinky brushed against Y/N’s on the gear shift, and Y/N took her hand, bringing to Wanda’s lap.

They didn’t speak much, but they didn’t need to.

The parking lot came into view too quickly, and Y/N slowed the car to a stop, but neither made a move to get out right away. Wanda kept their hands intertwined on her lap, her thumb stroking gently over Y/N’s knuckles.

“I hate pretending,” she murmured after a beat, eyes still on their joined hands.

Y/N turned her head, studying her. “I know.”

Wanda finally looked up. “But I’ll do it. For you. For us.”

That made something ache in Y/N’s chest—both a painful twist and a swell of affection so deep it nearly took her breath. She leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to Wanda’s forehead, lingering there.

“We’ll figure it out,” she whispered. “I promise.”

They stepped out of the car after a few seconds, the school day already buzzing around them. By the time they reached the front doors, their hands had slipped apart. Y/N put a little space between them, the practiced ease of two people with something to hide.

But Wanda still glanced sideways at her as they walked, a secret tucked behind her smile. Y/N returned it, heart lighter despite everything.

They didn’t speak much.

But they didn’t need to.

---

At the end of the day, Y/N waits for Wanda at her car and when Wanda join after saying good bye to Pepper and Monica, they get in the car in silence, pretending.

The engine hummed softly as Y/N pulled away from the school parking lot, her jaw set in calm concentration. Wanda glanced at the familiar streets slipping by, expecting the usual route—but it became clear after a few turns that they weren’t heading home.

She turned toward Y/N, puzzled. “Where are we going?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached across the center console and gently took Wanda’s hand. Her thumb ran softly along Wanda’s skin, and when she glanced over, she gave her the kind of smile that made Wanda’s heart trip over itself—sweet, a little shy, but full of intent.

“Trust me,” Y/N said softly.

Wanda’s breath caught. She didn’t ask again. Just nodded, eyes fixed on their joined hands, her chest fluttering with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

Y/N drove them to a quiet overlook on the edge of town. The sky was turning gold with the sunset, casting everything in a warm, hazy glow. There were no houses, no people—just the open view, the sound of wind through the trees, and the charged silence between them.

Y/N killed the engine but didn’t move to get out. She kept holding Wanda’s hand, now resting on the gear shift, both of them bathed in amber light.

“I wanted to be somewhere we didn’t have to pretend,” Y/N said, barely above a whisper.

Wanda looked at her then, really looked—her profile soft in the dying sun, her lashes low, lips slightly parted. Her heart was beating so fast it almost hurt.

Y/N pushes her seat back “come here” she takes Wanda’s hand.

Wanda hesitated only a second before unclipping her seatbelt, heart thudding in her chest as she shifted across the console. Y/N pulled her gently into her lap, and Wanda straddled her without a word, knees on either side of Y/N’s thighs, their faces inches apart.

The air between them was thick with everything unsaid, every look that lingered too long, every touch they’d stolen beneath dinner tables and in quiet hallways. Y/N’s hands settled on Wanda’s hips, grounding them both.

Wanda brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N’s face, her touch feather-light. “You scare me,” she whispered.

Y/N looked up at her, something aching behind her eyes. “I know. You scare me too.”

For a moment, they just breathed each other in—quiet, nervous, full of want. And then Wanda leaned in slowly, giving Y/N time to pull away if she needed to—but Y/N didn’t move. Their lips met again, soft at first, careful. But it didn’t stay that way.

The kiss deepened, hungry with all the restraint they’d carried through stolen glances and silent car rides. Y/N’s hands slid up Wanda’s back, pulling her closer, and Wanda kissed her harder in return, fingers curling into Y/N’s hair.

They kissed like they had time, like the world beyond the car didn’t exist—because here, in this moment, it didn’t.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths were shallow, lips barely a breath away. Wanda’s eyes were still closed, her forehead resting lightly against Y/N’s, like if she moved too fast, the moment might vanish.

Y/N’s thumb grazed her cheek, her voice low and warm against Wanda’s lips. “What would you say… if I brought you to a date?”

Wanda’s breath hitched, and a slow smile curved her lips, eyes fluttering open to meet Y/N’s.

Y/N’s heart clenched a little at the way Wanda looked at her—like she was something fragile and precious all at once.

Wanda’s fingers rose to caress her cheek, soft and slow, her touch full of affection. She brushed Y/N’s hair back from her face, once, twice, as if memorizing the way it fell, the way it felt beneath her fingertips.

Her smile was small but real, tinged with a hint of nerves and something heavier—truth.

“We might get caught…” Wanda murmured, her thumb grazing just below Y/N’s eye, a flicker of fear beneath her warmth.

Y/N leaned into the touch, her eyes never leaving Wanda’s. “Not where I’m taking you.”

Wanda blinked. “What?”

Y/N smiled then, that sweet, almost smug kind of smile that made Wanda’s stomach flip. “Next town over. No one we know. Just us.”

Wanda’s lips parted slightly, surprise softening into something deeper, something aching.

“You really thought this through…” she whispered.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Y/N said, brushing her nose lightly against Wanda’s. “A place where we don’t have to look over our shoulders. Where I can hold your hand. Kiss you. Be yours—and let the world see.”

Wanda’s breath caught again, her hands sliding around Y/N’s shoulders as she leaned in, resting her forehead against hers once more.

“I want that,” she whispered. “I want that so much.”

“Friday,” Y/N promised, her voice full of something tender and electric. “After school”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so terrifying. Just full of possibility—burning bright between them.

Wanda nodded softly, her arms still wrapped around Y/N, her face tucked close like she didn’t want to let go. Her eyes shimmered when she looked at her again—not with tears, but with something just as fragile. Hope.

“Friday,” she echoed, and then a soft laugh slipped from her lips, almost breathless. “I don’t think I’ll survive the week.”

Y/N grinned, resting her hand on Wanda’s thigh, squeezing gently. “I’ll keep you distracted until then.”

They sat like that for a while longer, the sun dipping lower, casting the sky in streaks of purple and gold. The quiet wasn’t awkward—it was full. Full of everything they hadn’t said out loud, full of everything they were still discovering between them.

Eventually, Y/N started the car again, neither of them ready to let go, but knowing they had to return before anyone noticed.

As they drove back, Wanda didn’t let go of Y/N’s hand the whole ride home—and Y/N didn’t stop smiling.

Friday was only a few days away. But now they had something to count down to. Something just for them.

Something real.

---

The rest of the week passed slowly, but with a quiet kind of intensity that neither of them could fully hide anymore.

Tuesday, they moved around each other like magnets in the house—close, always aware. When Wanda passed behind Y/N at the counter, her fingers brushed her back just slightly. When Y/N reached for a mug, Wanda’s hand came up at the same time, and their fingers touched—both girls pausing in place, breath catching, eyes locking for a single charged heartbeat before Pietro’s voice from upstairs broke it. They pulled away with quiet smiles, hearts racing.

At school, they wore the mask well. They laughed with friends, nodded during class, made it look easy. But in those brief hallway moments—when Y/N passed Wanda a folded note instead of a glance, or when Wanda purposely walked a little slower so their arms brushed—it all felt louder than words.

Wednesday, they sat together at the kitchen table late at night, both pretending to study. Y/N doodled in the corner of her notebook—a tiny sketch of Wanda’s necklace—while Wanda watched her with a crooked smile, twirling her pen but not turning a single page. Y/N finally glanced up and muttered, “You’re staring.” Wanda shrugged, smug. “You like it.” She wasn’t wrong.

Thursday was the hardest. Every look lingered longer. Every touch meant more. After school, they sat on the couch watching a movie Pietro had left on, but neither paid attention. Y/N’s hand slipped beneath the throw blanket, finding Wanda’s and holding it tight. Wanda rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder. The world felt quiet there.

That night, as they passed in the hallway toward their rooms, Wanda paused at Y/N’s door. “Are you nervous?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Y/N leaned against the frame, half-smiling. “A little.”

Wanda stepped closer, so close they shared the same breath. “Me too.”

And then—nothing more. No kiss, no touch. Just that quiet confession exchanged in the dark, charged and sweet.

Friday morning, they met at the car in silence. The sky was soft with clouds, the day already heavy with promise. Wanda looked radiant, her makeup just a little more careful, her outfit chosen with thought. Y/N’s breath caught when she saw her.

Y/N was wearing usual clothes for school.

She opened the car door without a word and waited.

Wanda smiled as she got in. Her hand reached for Y/N’s without hesitation this time. Fingers entwined, they drove to school.

“You look stunning” Y/N says with a hint of pink on her cheeks.

Wanda glanced over, a slow smile curling her lips as their fingers tightened together. “You’re one to talk,” she murmured, eyes shining. “You look handsome.”

Y/N huffed a soft laugh, glancing at her quickly before returning her focus to the road. “Yeah, well… I wasn’t even trying today.”

“You never have to,” Wanda whispered, more to herself than to Y/N—but Y/N heard it.

Their hands stayed linked all the way to school. They didn’t speak much more—there wasn’t time, and the parking lot was already filling up. But when Y/N parked, neither of them made a move to get out right away.

Wanda looked down at their hands. “After school… how should I meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up like always,” Y/N said, voice soft. “Just… don’t make plans with Pepper or Monica, okay?”

Wanda nodded, heart racing again like it had been all week. “Okay.”

Y/N finally let go of her hand, but not before brushing her knuckles with her thumb once more. “We’ll be okay,” she said quietly.

Wanda gave her a quick, brave smile before opening the door. “See you after school.”

And with that, they slipped back into the world—pretending again, just for a little longer.

Wanda hadn’t expected the extra attention—but she should have known. The moment she stepped into school that morning with her soft curls tucked behind one ear, her eyeliner sharp, and her lips tinted rose, eyes started turning.

By lunch, at least three different boys had complimented her, asking if she was going to the game that night, if she was free after school, if she’d like to study together sometime. Wanda smiled politely, brushing it off. She wasn’t interested. Not in them. Not when her thoughts were wrapped around someone else the entire time.

But Y/N noticed. Every passing glance. Every boy leaning just a little too close.

She watched from her usual spot with Natasha and Clint, a dark look in her eyes she tried to mask with her usual calm, but it gnawed at her. Every time a guy made Wanda laugh—even politely—Y/N’s stomach twisted.

Then came Vision.

He leaned down at Wanda’s table in the courtyard, polite as ever, but just a bit too hopeful in his voice. “Are you doing anything after school?”

Wanda’s smile dropped slightly. “Yeah,” she said coolly. “I’ve got plans.”

“Oh.” Vision looked surprised. “With Pepper?”

“No. And I’m not available.” She didn't even try to sugarcoat it.

Y/N had been watching from a distance, pretending to sip her soda. But when Wanda shut Vision down, Y/N pulled out her phone and typed without thinking.

\[1:27 PM – Y/N]: Science room. Now.

Wanda’s brows lifted at the text. Her heart skipped. She didn’t reply—just stood up, grabbed her bag, and quietly slipped away from Monica and Pepper, who barely noticed with their own conversation going.

The science room was dim and empty when Wanda entered. Y/N was already there, sitting on the edge of a lab table, arms crossed, her gaze soft but intense. She watched Wanda enter, a small sigh escaping her lips.

Wanda closed the door behind her, still unsure of the tension that had grown between them, but her heart beat faster when she saw Y/N’s expression.

“You okay?” Wanda asked, stepping closer.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood and pulled Wanda gently toward her, guiding her to stand between her legs as she sat on the table. The sudden proximity made Wanda’s pulse quicken. Y/N wrapped her arms around Wanda’s waist, pulling her close.

“I want to punch all the boys who talked to you today,” Y/N pouted, her voice low but playful, her lips curling into a small, almost jealous grin.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her fingers lightly brushing through Y/N’s hair. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Y/N leaned her forehead against Wanda’s, closing her eyes. “Maybe a little,” she admitted softly, but there was no bite in her tone, just a hint of affection.

Wanda smiled, leaning in just enough to brush her lips against Y/N’s in a soft kiss. “You have nothing to worry about,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled back, pulling Wanda in just a little tighter. “I know. But I still want to punch them.”

Wanda chuckled softly at Y/N’s words, brushing her thumb over Y/N’s cheek. “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she teased, her voice light but warm, as if she couldn’t help but smile at the softness of Y/N’s feelings.

Y/N pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Wanda’s eyes. “I know I’m being ridiculous,” she admitted, her tone a little sheepish, “but I can’t help it when I see other people looking at you like that.”

Wanda’s heart softened at the vulnerability in Y/N’s voice. She gently cupped Y/N’s face, bringing her in for a soft, lingering kiss, reassuring and tender.

“You don’t need to worry,” Wanda whispered against her lips, pulling back just enough to catch her breath. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N smiled at her words, her hands sliding down Wanda’s back to rest at her waist. She leaned her forehead against Wanda’s once again, eyes closing in contentment. “Good,” Y/N murmured, her voice a little hoarse.

For a long moment, the world outside the science room didn’t matter. There was only the quiet hum of their shared connection, the warmth of their closeness, the trust that had been growing between them over the past weeks.

Wanda rested her chin on Y/N’s shoulder, her breath evening out. “So, when does this date of yours start?” she asked, her words playful but full of anticipation.

Y/N grinned, her hands slipping lower on Wanda’s waist, pulling her even closer. “Right after school. I wait for you at the back of school.”

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of their plans. She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N’s, the anticipation growing between them. “The back of the school?” she asked, her voice a little breathless. “That sounds... mysterious.”

Y/N smirked, her fingers tracing small circles on Wanda’s waist. “You’ll love it, I promise. Just trust me,” she said, her voice low and full of warmth. “I’ve got everything planned.”

Wanda smiled, the spark of excitement in her chest growing stronger. “I’m looking forward to it,” she whispered, then leaned in to press a quick kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “But until then, we should probably get to class, right?”

Y/N nodded, reluctantly pulling away but still holding onto Wanda’s waist, not ready to let go just yet. “Yeah,” she said with a soft sigh, and she leans forward to peck her lips “see you later”

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the soft kiss, the sweetness of it lingering on her lips even after Y/N pulled away. She met Y/N’s eyes, her own smile bright and warm, full of promise.

“See you later,” Wanda echoed, her voice low but full of affection. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment as she turned to walk toward the door. But before she left, she glanced back one more time.

Y/N was standing there, her expression soft, her eyes watching her intently, and Wanda knew, in that moment, how much she meant to Y/N. How much they meant to each other.

With one last smile, Wanda stepped out of the science room and into the bustling hallway, the anticipation of their date filling her with energy.

---

The rest of the day dragged on, each minute slipping by slower than the last. Wanda found it hard to focus on anything other than the fact that later that evening, it would be just the two of them—no masks, no hiding, just them, in a place where they could be free.

Y/N sat in her car, tapping her fingers nervously against the steering wheel as she glanced at the time. The minutes seemed to stretch on, each one a little longer than the last. She had changed into something more casual, a simple outfit that made her feel comfortable, but still special enough for their date. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

She kept glancing at the rearview mirror, hoping to catch sight of Wanda. She couldn’t wait to see her. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spotted Wanda in the distance, walking toward the back of the school, her eyes scanning the area. As she got closer, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

Wanda was dressed in a simple, yet effortlessly stunning outfit, her hair loose around her shoulders, a soft glow in her face that made Y/N’s breath hitch. She was everything Y/N had been thinking about all day.

Y/N quickly opened the passenger door, leaning against the frame with a playful smile. “Hey there, beautiful,” she called out, her voice soft, but full of warmth.

Wanda’s lips lifted into a smile at the sound of Y/N’s voice, her steps quickening as she approached. She climbed into the car, their eyes locking for just a moment before Y/N leaned in to give her a quick, soft kiss on the lips, just enough to make Wanda’s heart race.

She slaps Y/N arm, “Someone might see us!” But the smile on her face said everything.

Y/N give her a grin and ask, “Ready for our date?” her voice full of excitement and affection.

Wanda nodded, her smile growing as she settled into the seat beside Y/N. “More than ready,” she replied, her voice low and soft. She glanced at Y/N, feeling her pulse quicken as their fingers brushed together, and she squeezed Y/N’s hand.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Let’s go then."

Y/N drove with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely holding Wanda’s fingers, their hands resting between them on the seat. The road stretched out ahead, leading them away from everything familiar—away from school halls full of eyes, away from whispered rumors and watchful friends.

Wanda talked happily the whole way there.

The next town wasn’t far, but it felt like another world. It was quieter, a little older, with cobblestone sidewalks and twinkling lights strung between quaint buildings. Y/N parked on a quiet street near a small cinema with a glowing marquee.

Wanda’s eyes lit up as she took it in. “You brought me to the movies?” she asked, smiling.

Y/N shrugged, grinning. “You always said you liked the idea of holding hands during a cheesy film. Thought I’d give you that.”

They walked in side by side, and for once, they didn’t have to think twice before letting their hands stay linked. The movie was something light—a romantic comedy with ridiculous dialogue and a happy ending—but neither of them really paid attention. Wanda rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder halfway through, and Y/N pressed a soft kiss to her temple. The world around them faded.

After the film, they walked down the street to a little diner with red booths and a jukebox in the corner. They sat across from each other, sharing milkshakes and fries, giggling over nothing and stealing glances that lingered.

At one point, Wanda leaned across the table, her voice low. “This feels amazing.”

Y/N’s hand found hers instantly. “You make it amazing.”

When they left the diner, the sky was a rich violet, stars just beginning to peek through. Y/N pulled Wanda close as they walked slowly back to the car, their steps unhurried, like neither wanted the night to end.

“Want to go sit somewhere before heading back?” Y/N asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear.

Wanda nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.”

They found a quiet hill just outside of town, overlooking the lights. Y/N pulled out a blanket from the backseat and spread it out. They laid back side by side, gazing at the stars.

Wanda turned her head toward Y/N. “This might be my favorite night ever.”

Y/N smiled softly, reaching over to intertwine their fingers again. “Mine too.”

The night was theirs. For once, there was no pretending—just the soft sound of wind, quiet laughter, and the kind of peace that only came from being exactly where they wanted to be—with each other.

---

That night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, Y/N stood in front of her mirror, brushing her teeth with sleep already tugging at her limbs. The glow from her bedside lamp was soft, casting a warm light across her room as she slipped into a worn t-shirt and shorts, ready to crawl under the covers.

She had just turned off the light and was about to pull the blankets up when her door creaked open—so soft she almost thought she imagined it.

But then she saw her.

Wanda, barefoot and glowing faintly in the hallway light, stepped in with that unmistakable grin—mischievous, sweet, and just a little wicked. Her hair was a mess of soft waves from the night, and she wore a hoodie over her pajama shorts, looking both innocent and guilty.

Y/N barely had time to sit up before Wanda crossed the room and climbed onto the bed on her knees.

“You’re sneaky,” Y/N whispered, her heart already pounding.

“I know,” Wanda whispered back, grinning wider.

Then—without hesitation—she leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, slow, full of something unspoken but loud. Her lips moved gently with Y/N’s, her hands on either side of her face, like she’d been waiting all day to do exactly this.

When she pulled back, Wanda giggled quietly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good night,” she said, her voice barely above a breath.

Then she slipped off the bed and padded out of the room just as quickly as she came, glancing back once like a little kid who’d stolen candy.

Y/N lay frozen in place for a second, then flopped back against her pillows, covering her face with both hands, a stupidly huge smile spreading across her lips.

Her heart was still thudding like a drum.

She was completely gone for her.

---

To be continued...😁

#wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #g!p reader

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sweetiechichi · 7 days ago

Text

something softer

pairing: mattheo riddle x f!reader

summary: you’re not really friends with mattheo riddle. more like acquaintances who share a few mutuals and the occasional eye contact. he’s known for breaking rules and hearts, not for being helpful. so when he offers to teach you guitar after a passing comment, you don’t question it. but sitting on his bed, fingers tangled in frets and tension, you realize this might not be the casual hang you thought it’d be.

warnings: mild language, suggestive tension, soft!mattheo, slowburn/mutual pining, not proofread

wc: 2.8k

it wasn’t really meant to become a thing.

you weren’t friends with mattheo riddle. not exactly.

you knew the same people--theo, pansy, enzo here and there. enough overlap that your worlds brushed up against each other sometimes. same parties. same corners of the common room. you’d sit nearby in group conversations, trade the occasional glance when someone said something ridiculous. but that was it.

you’d never really talked. not just the two of you.

mattheo’s reputation had a way of preceding him--known for breaking noses, breaking curfew, and breaking hearts, all while being unfairly attractive about it.

he wasn’t exactly known for being approachable. or friendly. or even tolerable, depending on who you asked.

but he’d never been anything but decent to you.

he held the door open when you were behind him. he never interrupted you when you talked. he didn’t flirt either--which, honestly, made him more suspicious. mysterious. annoyingly intriguing.

there wasn’t much to go on. no late-night conversations. only a few long stares across a crowded room. just a quiet, consistent sort of awareness. like you were on his radar for reasons he never bothered to explain.

you didn’t know what to do with that. so you didn’t do anything at all.

until last week.

it started, as most things did, with theo being a nuisance.

he was halfway through declaring that every attractive person must know how to play guitar--"scientifically proven," apparently--as the group wandered back from dinner, voices echoing down the corridor.

"there is no one hotter," he said, gesturing dramatically, "than someone strumming a sad chord while pretending they don’t care if you’re watching."

"you literally don’t play guitar," pansy deadpanned.

"i could," theo argued. "if i tried."

"you did try," enzo said. "you broke a string and blamed mercury retrograde."

you laughed, tucking your hands into your sleeves.

"to be fair," you added, "mercury retrograde does ruin lives."

pansy turned toward you then, smirking.

"honestly, i could see you in a band, y/n. like... moody bassist energy. black boots, tragic past--"

you rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself.

"okay, rude--but not entirely inaccurate."

then, a little more honestly--

"i’ve always kind of had this fantasy, actually. of being, like… the mysterious girl in a band. eyeliner smudged, guitar slung over my shoulder, never speaking to anyone unless it’s during soundcheck."

that earned a round of snorts and knowing nods.

"you’d eat that up," pansy laughed.

"i would," you giggled. "i just never learned. not the eyeliner part. the guitar."

and maybe you would’ve left it there, just a throwaway comment, one of a thousand.

but then mattheo, who hadn’t said a word since leaving the great hall, spoke for the first time.

"i’ve got a guitar in my room."

you blinked.

he didn’t look at you when he said it. just kept walking, hands in his pockets, like it wasn’t even a big deal.

"come by sometime." "i’ll show you."

simple. offhand. like he was offering a spare quill.

like he hadn’t just casually invited himself into the fantasy you barely meant to say out loud.

but--god--he was so unfairly attractive about it you wanted to throw yourself into a vanishing cabinet.

maybe it was how casual he was. like it didn’t even matter to him if you said yes.

just an open door.

and now here you were, sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with your sleeves, the sound of the fireplace crackling softly behind you.

his room was surprisingly clean, but not in a showy way. a stack of worn books sat haphazardly on the desk. his boots were tucked beneath it, scuffed and unlaced. the window was cracked slightly, letting in the sharp scent of rain on stone. there was a coffee mug on the windowsill, mostly empty. the walls were plain except for a few old posters--one band you recognized, the others faded with corners curled.

it looked like him. careless, but not thoughtless.

he was crouched near the bed, pulling the guitar from its case with one hand and grabbing a couple of picks off the floor with the other. he didn’t seem rushed; just focused, humming quietly under his breath like you weren’t watching him.

you cleared your throat, barely loud enough to cut through the quiet.

"thanks for offering by the way," you said, voice softer than you meant. "you didn’t have to."

as soon as the words were out, you regretted them.

he glanced up, giving a small smile, a pick balanced between his wet lips.

"didn’t seem like a big deal."

you smiled a little, swinging your feet.

"still. it was nice."

he looked over his shoulder, eyebrows slightly raised, and smirked.

"what, you didn’t think i could be nice?"

the way he said it made your stomach flip--light, teasing, but with just enough weight to catch you off guard.

your laugh came out softer this time.

"i mean--no, i just..."

he shook his head gently, that boyish look in his eyes.

"relax, doll. i’m messing with you."

you looked down, heat crawling up your neck.

"sorry. i don’t know why i’m so nervous."

he didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you. not judging--just watching. like he didn’t expect that answer and didn’t want to miss any part of it.

you kept talking, voice lower now.

"it’s just...it’s been a while since i tried something new in front of someone."

he leaned forward, grabbed a few more picks off the floor. then he looked up, face scrunched slightly like that thought almost offended him. it didn't.

"nah. don’t be nervous. you’ve got it. i’ll show you."

he leaned over, starting to actually pull the guitar from its case, handling it with casual ease. his bicep stretched, briefly straining the hem of his sleeve. kill me now.

"so," you said, clearing your throat halfway through the word, "how long have you been playing?"

you weren’t dying for the answer--you just needed something to fill the silence, which was starting to feel weirdly loud. the kind of quiet where every creak in the floorboards echoed louder than it should.

he glanced over his shoulder again, brows lifting slightly at the question.

"shit...probably like..."

he turned back to the guitar, one hand brushing up to tug at the curls at the nape of his neck.

"fuck, i don't know."

a quiet, breathy laugh slipped out of him.

"a few years. picked it up when i was bored one summer."

he strummed a lazy chord, the sound low and slightly uneven in the best way.

"didn't have anyone to teach me, so i just...figured it out."

there was a beat of silence as he adjusted one of the tuning pegs. then he spoke--calm, a little cocky.

"why? you want a lesson or something?"

you raised an eyebrow at his teasing.

"no, i just really needed to see your half-empty coffee mug and three posters falling off the wall."

he laughed, a real one this time.

"okay here, i'll show you something easy."

he walked over holding the guitar by the neck, the thick wooden piece looking small in his large hand.

though your eyes fell to your fingers picking at each other, his dark eyes subtly observed your anxious state.

though he'd never admit it, he thought your nervous posture was quite cute. maybe even instructing in a way, challenging him to take advantage of your vulnerability.

the weight of him atop the bed shifted your body into him, making you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. the neck of the guitar hung loosely in his grip, fingers tapping absently along the frets like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

he smirked, shifted a little closer on the bed, and patted the space next to him.

thigh brushing yours, he didn’t move away.

you gave a small shrug, still twisting your fingers. his gaze flicked to them. then to your face. then back to the guitar, like none of it meant anything.

the guitar looked almost small against him, but in his hands, it somehow looked like it belonged there.

he glanced at you, eyes falling to your hands again.

"you've got soft, little fingers," he hummed simply.

you choked on your breath.

your brain immediately short-circuited, catching the weight of those five words and spinning them into something they probably weren’t meant to be. your cheeks went red hot.

he looked over, mildly confused--then gave a crooked smile, catching on.

"not like that," he said, a little laugh under his breath. "just--guitar strings hurt. they’ll rough up your hands a bit. see mine?"

he put out his hands, casually rotating them to reveal calloused, scarred skin. you nodded quickly, still trying to remember how breathing worked.

"right. yeah. obviously."

smooth.

he turned back to the guitar, still smiling to himself like he’d won something you didn’t know you were playing.

"you alright?" he asked, voice low, amused but not unkind.

you nodded quickly.

he smiled, the kind of smile that barely showed, just curled at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to hide it.

"you're acting like i’m about to throw you on stage," he teased, shifting the guitar slightly. "it’s just me."

you gave him a look.

"you’re kind of intimidating, mattheo."

he let out a short breath, glancing at you with a half-smile.

"funny," he said, fingers idly brushing a string, "most people say that about you."

you tilted your head, surprised.

"me?"

he shrugged, eyes briefly falling on your legs.

"you’re quiet. always watching. people don’t know what you’re thinking."

then, after a beat—his voice low, a little more sure—

"that sort of thing gets to people."

your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. he caught it, of course. smirked, just barely.

"not me though."

your cheeks flushed despite yourself.

"thanks," you muttered, half hiding behind your hair as you tucked it back again.

he leaned a little closer, just enough that your arms brushed.

"here--" he said gently, "let's get you started."

he guided your hand toward the neck of the guitar, fingers skimming yours as he helped you find the right frets. his touch was light but purposeful, and when you looked at him again, he was already watching you--not with amusement this time, but with something quieter. something softer.

"hold it like this," he said, his voice warm. "yeah... just like that."

you smiled without meaning to, a little stunned into silence. he didn’t push it.

instead, mattheo shifted the guitar slightly, angling it toward you again.

"alright," he said, fingers brushing yours, "press here yeah?"

he guided your hand, his touch light but sure. his fingertips brushed the inside of your palm as he moved your fingers into place--slow, almost lazy, like he had nowhere else to be.

"good," he said quietly. "just like that."

you pressed down on the string, uncertain.

"you weren’t kidding when you said it’d hurt," you muttered, wincing slightly.

he chuckled under his breath.

"that’s how you know you’re doing it right, y/n"

you glanced up. he was already watching you again, but when your eyes met, he didn’t look away.

"play it."

you did--badly. the chord came out uneven and muted. you cringed.

"that was..."

you looked at him and fell into a fit of giggles.

"...fuck—that was so bad."

he gave a soft laugh, head tilting.

"no," he said, amused. "it was cute."

you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. he leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice like it was just for you.

"try again. i'll help."

and this time, he didn’t take his hand off yours.

his hand stayed on yours, steady and warm, and you felt everything in you shift.

you weren’t focused on the chord. you weren’t even hearing the guitar anymore. just the pressure of his palm, the rough glide of his fingertips across the back of your hand as he adjusted your grip again.

"your thumb," he murmured.

and then he reached for it--slowly, deliberately--brushing against your skin to guide it gently into place. the touch was light, but it sent a jolt up your arm, sharp and warm all at once. like static under your skin. like he knew exactly what he was doing.

your breath caught.

he must’ve felt it--how still you went, how your hand trembled slightly under his. but he didn’t say anything. he just paused there, his fingers lightly curled over yours, not moving, not letting go.

the room felt impossibly quiet. the fire cracked in the distance, but even that sounded muted under the weight of his closeness.

and then--so softly you might’ve imagined it--

"better."

his voice was low, and it hummed through your bones.

you couldn’t look at him. not yet. you knew if you did, you’d find him already observing you--and you weren’t sure what your face would give away. the way your pulse quickened. the heat blooming just beneath your skin. the way one small, guiding touch had unraveled you.

he didn’t pull back.

you stayed like that--his hand over yours, the guitar almost forgotten between you.

neither of you spoke.

he adjusted the guitar on your lap, then reached for your hand--slowly, like he wasn’t in a rush.

"here," he murmured, voice low. "let me."

his fingers wrapped around yours, guiding them gently across the frets. he moved your hand under his, shaping your fingers, steadying your wrist.

you weren’t sure which chords he was playing. you weren’t really listening.

and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, his thumb moved--just once--brushing slowly across your knuckle. barely there. but it lit every nerve in your body.

it was hard to focus on the music when his hand was on yours, steadying and careful, like he’d done this before--but never quite like this.

once your fingers were in place, he nodded toward the strings.

"alright," he said. "you strum, i’ll play, yeah?"

you looked at him. he was setting up the chords.

you dragged the pick across the strings, hesitant at first, but the sound came out smooth--soft and right. he shifted behind you slightly, adjusting his grip on the neck of the guitar, his knuckles brushing yours as he changed chords.

the rhythm was simple, but something about it made your chest feel full.

you kept going. strumming. letting him lead.

you finally looked at him.

he was already watching you.

not smirking. not teasing.

just... looking. like he’d been waiting for you to meet him here at this exact moment. quiet, close, no pretenses between you.

your lips parted, something unspoken caught in your throat--but you didn’t have to say it.

there was something different in his expression--something quieter. the usual sharpness in his eyes had softened, like he’d just realized this wasn’t just some random moment. like maybe you weren’t just anyone to him anymore.

then--knock knock.

the sound made you both flinch.

you jumped slightly, eyes flicking to the door. mattheo blinked, like he was waking up from something.

"dude!" theo called from the hallway. "we're gonna be late!"

mattheo exhaled slowly, like the interruption had pulled him out of somewhere he hadn’t meant to go. his fingers slipped from yours, lingering for a second longer than they needed to.

you stood, smoothing your shirt as you stepped toward the door, heart fluttering somewhere near your throat.

"quidditch," he said quietly, almost apologetic.

you nodded, hand on the doorknob.

"i’ll see you. thanks again," you offered softly, already feeling the warmth bloom in your chest when he didn’t hesitate.

"come by tomorrow," he said, voice just above a whisper. "if you want."

you turned to look at him. his hair was a mess, his hand resting on the neck of the guitar still on the bed. and his smile—barely there, but real--was enough to make your heart flutter.

"i want to," you nod. "i will."

and for a second, he just stood there, like he didn’t know what to do with that feeling. then he gave you the tiniest nod, and his eyes dropped to the floor in that rare moment of boyish bashfulness.

you opened the door--and stepped right into theo.

he froze. his eyes flicked to yours, then quickly took in the entire situation: you, leaving mattheo’s room, the faint smile still on your face, the faint blush in your cheeks. he didn’t say a word.

just raised his brows a little, as if to say damn...

then looked past you toward mattheo, who stood just inside the door like he was already bracing for whatever theo wasn’t saying.

you gave theo a quiet, polite smile as you passed. he nodded once, still silent, still watching.

and when you disappeared down the corridor, theo turned back to mattheo with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"what the fu--,"

mattheo just ran a hand through his hair, already walking past him.

"shut up."

A/N: eeekk thank you so much for reading! pls check out my other stuff, as i cannot wait to put more full fics out for u guys.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ also, divider creds to: @dollywons (im obsessed)

#🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀sweetiechichi #★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆mattheoriddle #♡‧₊˚slytherinboys #sweetiechichi #drabble #harrypotter ୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #harry potter

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raekensluver · 10 months ago

Text

dangerous attractions (3)

PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE

description: your mysterious new neighbor, spencer reid, turns out to be an agent for the fbi, and you get tangled up in his dangerous life.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: 18+, Minors DNI, mutual pining, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, r is implied as being shorter than spencer.

song rec: reflections by the nbhd- "i never knew somebody like you, somebody."

w.c: 3.1k

an: thank you so much for the love on my recent publishings!!

over the next few weeks, spencer became a constant presence in your life. he would come over every time he got off work, his eyes searching yours for any signs of fear or trauma. his visits grew longer, his smiles more genuine, and the quiet chess games evolved into deep, late-night conversations about everything and nothing at all.

you found yourself drawn to his world—the complex puzzles of human behavior that he solved every day, the quiet strength that allowed him to face such horrors and still come home to a quiet apartment. he spoke rarely of his cases, but the few details he shared painted a picture of a man who cared deeply for the people he was sworn to protect.

his visits grew more frequent, and with each one, the tension between you grew stronger. it was as if the danger had drawn you closer together, the shared experience of fear and adrenaline forging a bond that neither of you could ignore. you began to crave the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, the gentle knock on your door that signaled his arrival.

spencer noticed the change in you, the way you leaned into him when he spoke, the way your eyes searched his for reassurance. he offered comfort without words, his presence a silent promise that you weren't alone. he would sit with you, not saying much, just being there—a steady anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

one evening, as you sat side by side on your couch, the air grew thick with something unspoken. the tension was palpable, a live wire connecting you both. spencer reached for your hand, his touch sending a jolt through your body. your eyes met, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his job, the toll it took on him, the loneliness he carried like an invisible shield.

you leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. "thank you," you murmured, the words feeling inadequate for the comfort he brought.

spencer squeezed your hand gently. "for what?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.

you tilted your head to look at him, his eyes searching yours. "for being here," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "for… everything."

his gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of his job, the intensity of his world, seemed to fade away. "you don't have to thank me," he said, his voice gentle. "i just want to make sure you're okay."

you felt a warmth spread through you, his simple words resonating deep within. "i know," you whispered. "but i do. i don't know what i would have done without you."

spencer's eyes searched yours, and you could see the conflict within him—his desire to keep you safe at arm's length and the growing bond that was drawing him closer. "you're strong," he murmured. "you're much stronger than you think."

his words were like a warm embrace, and you found yourself leaning into him, craving the connection that had been building between you. "i'm scared," you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you.

spencer's gaze never wavered. "i know," he said softly. "but you're not alone."

his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. his touch was tender, a stark contrast to the world he lived in. you leaned into his palm, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his presence. without thinking, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his.

for a moment, time stood still. then, with a groan, spencer deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you. you melted into him, the fear and confusion of the past weeks coalescing into something warm and comforting. his kiss was urgent, hungry, as if he had been holding back for so long, afraid to let himself feel.

you responded in kind, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. the world outside the apartment faded away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of passion and relief. his touch was gentle but firm, his body heat seeping into yours, chasing away the chill that had taken up residence in your bones.

the kiss grew more intense, your breaths mingling as you explored each other's mouths with a desperation that was both thrilling and terrifying. the line between friend and protector had been crossed, and you weren't sure if there was any going back. but in that moment, you didn't care. all that mattered was the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace.

spencer's hands roamed your body, his touch sending waves of heat through you. you felt his need, his desire, and it matched your own. you had never been so alive, so present in the moment. the chaos of the recent past faded away, replaced by the rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

his hands found the hem of your shirt, and with trembling fingers, he began to lift it. you helped him, eager to feel his skin against yours. as the fabric was peeled away, you felt a sense of exposure, but also of liberation. there was no room for fear in the face of such raw passion.

his touch was gentle yet firm as he traced the lines of your body, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, his lips following the path of his fingers. a soft moan escaped your lips, and you knew that you were lost to this feeling, to him.

you straddled him on the couch, your legs wrapping around his waist. your bodies fit together perfectly, as if you had been made for this moment. his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, the heat between you building. the fabric of your clothes seemed to be the only thing separating you, a barrier that was quickly becoming unbearable.

his kisses grew more urgent, his teeth grazing your neck, sending shivers down your spine. your own hands explored his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours, a symphony of need and want.

his fingers deftly unhooked your bra, and with a sigh, you let it fall away. his eyes searched yours for permission, and with a nod, you gave it. he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing the sensitive peaks. a gasp escaped your lips, and you leaned into his touch, feeling more alive than you had in months.

spencer's mouth found yours again, his kisses deepening as his hands continued to explore. you could feel the tension in his body, the coiled energy of a man who held the weight of the world on his shoulders finally letting go. you mirrored his urgency, needing to feel him, to connect in the most primal way possible.

you reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly with trembling hands. he took over, his movements swift and sure as he undid the last button and shrugged the shirt off, revealing the expanse of his chest. your eyes took in the sight of him, the muscles honed from years of training, the scars that told a silent story of battles won and lost.

spencer flipped you around so that your back was pressed to his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. you gasped as his skin met yours, the heat of his body searing into you, his chest a wall of warmth and strength at your back. his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending delicious shivers down your spine.

his hands roamed over your body, his fingers deftly sliding under the waistband of your panties. with a gentle tug, he removed the last barrier between you, tossing the fabric aside. you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings, praising your beauty, your strength. his words were a gentle caress, a balm to your frayed nerves.

his fingers found their way to your cunt, the softness of his touch making you gasp. you were wet, slick with desire, and he took note of it with a soft groan, his praise turning into a murmur of wonder. "you're so beautiful," he whispered, his fingertips tracing your folds with a feather-light touch. "so wet for me."

his words sent a shiver through you, and you arched your back, pushing your ass against his hardening cock. he took the hint, sliding a single digit inside you with a gentle pressure that had you moaning his name. "yes," you breathed.

spencer's hand moved with the rhythm of your hips, his finger curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back in your head. you could feel your walls tightening around him, desperate for release. "you're so wet," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in your ear. "you want me, don't you?"

you nodded, unable to form words as he added another finger, stretching you deliciously. "yes," you gasped, the sound barely audible. "more."

his strokes grew more deliberate, his thumb finding your clit and beginning to circle it with a firm pressure that had you panting. "you're so perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "so responsive."

your hips began to rock in time with his hand, the tension inside you building. "spencer," you moaned, his name a plea for more. "yes," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "let me make you feel good."

his fingers worked you with a skill that left you trembling, his touch both gentle and insistent. your body responded to his every command, your slickness dripping down your thighs. "you're so wet for me," he said, his voice thick with lust. "so fucking perfect."

his words were a catalyst, sending you hurtling towards climax. your eyes squeezed shut, your head thrown back, your mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over you. your muscles tightened around his fingers, pulsing with the intensity of your release.

spencer held you through it, his arms tight around your waist, his mouth moving from your neck to your ear, whispering sweet nothings that only served to prolong the pleasure. when the tremors finally subsided, you collapsed against him, your breaths coming in gasps.

his hands remained gentle on your body, the urgency of the moment giving way to a tender care. he turned you in his arms, so you faced him, and kissed you softly, the passion of moments ago now a gentle warmth that wrapped around you like a blanket. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "yes," you whispered, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "more than okay."

spencer's smile grew, his eyes filled with warmth. "good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "because i've wanted to do this for a long time."

his kiss was gentle, a stark contrast to the passionate maelstrom of moments before. it was as if he was memorizing the taste of you, savoring every second. your hands slid up his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingertips. you felt cherished, protected—like he was trying to erase the fear that had taken up residence in your soul.

spencer laid you back on the couch, his body hovering over yours. the cushions sank beneath your weight, the fabric warm and welcoming. his eyes searched yours, making sure you were ready, that you wanted this as much as he did. your nod was all the invitation he needed.

his hands moved to the button of his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. with a slow, deliberate movement, he unzipped them, the sound of his zipper echoing in the quiet room. he slid the fabric down his legs, revealing his erection, straining against the fabric of his boxers. your eyes widened, taking in the sight of him.

his cock was thick and hard, a testament to his desire for you. you felt a thrill of power, knowing that you had elicited such a response from this man who faced horrors on a daily basis. "spencer," you murmured, your voice thick with want.

his boxers followed the path of his pants, and he positioned himself between your legs. his cock nudged against your entrance, the heat of him making you ache for more. you reached down, wrapping your hand around him, feeling the pulse of his desire. "you're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

you guided him inside you, his thickness stretching you deliciously. he pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust, his eyes never leaving yours. when he was fully seated, he stilled, his chest heaving with the effort to hold back. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "yes," you whispered, the single word a declaration of trust. spencer's gaze searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and desire. with a gentle nod, he began to move, his strokes long and slow, as if he was savoring every moment.

you gripped the couch cushions, your body responding to his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his. the friction was exquisite, the fullness of him inside you filling you in a way nothing else ever had. his eyes remained locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

his strokes grew deeper, his pace increasing, as if he couldn't get enough of you. you felt your second orgasm building, a slow burn that started in your core and spread through your body like wildfire. "spencer," you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips.

his eyes searched yours, the concern in them morphing into something more primal, something that told you he needed this just as much as you did. he leaned down, capturing your mouth with his, his tongue delving deep as he thrust harder, faster. you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed with each stroke, the way his breathing grew ragged.

his hand slid down your body, finding your clit once more, his thumb circling it with just the right amount of pressure. the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more.

spencer's movements grew more urgent, his hips driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. your moans grew louder, filling the room, echoing off the walls. his own breathing grew ragged, his eyes never leaving yours as he claimed you, as if he was trying to memorize every line of your face in the throes of passion.

his thumb circled your clit, the pressure increasing, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. "spencer," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "I'm going to—"

"come for me," he murmured, his voice a command that sent you spiraling over the edge. your body arched off the couch, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you trembling. he watched you intently, his eyes dark with desire as he felt your cunt pulse around him.

spencer's own release followed quickly, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his warmth filling you completely. his eyes never left yours, the connection between you unbroken even as the world around you spun away. your bodies remained joined, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through you both.

for a moment, you simply lay there, panting, your hearts racing in sync. the quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions inside you. spencer's weight was a comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone in this. that despite the chaos that had entered your life, there was still warmth, still passion.

but reality had a way of intruding, and the sudden buzz of his phone on the coffee table was like a cold shower. he pulled away with a groan, his eyes filled with regret. "i have to go," he murmured, his voice thick with reluctance. "work."

you nodded, understanding all too well the demands of his job. "be safe," you whispered, the words carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air.

spencer kissed you gently, his hand lingering on your cheek before he reluctantly pulled away. with a sigh, he began to gather his clothes, his movements efficient and methodical. you watched him dress, the sight of his muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he buttoned it up. his eyes met yours, the warmth of the moment before replaced by the cool detachment of a man preparing to face the world.

you sat up, feeling the ache of his absence as he stepped away. your own clothes lay scattered around the room, a testament to the passion that had consumed you both. with trembling hands, you began to dress, the fabric of your clothes feeling almost foreign against your sensitive skin. the cotton of your shirt was rough against your nipples, still sensitive from his touch.

spencer watched you, his eyes lingering on your body before he turned away, focusing on his own clothes. you could see the struggle in his movements—the desire to stay, to hold you close, warring with the duty that called him away. it was a dance you were both too familiar with, the push and pull of your newfound intimacy and the cold reality of his work.

once dressed, he turned back to you, his expression one of deep apology. "i'm sorry," he said, his voice low and filled with regret.

you took a deep breath, trying to still the racing of your heart. "it's okay," you assured him, knowing he had no control over the demands of his job. "you have to go."

spencer nodded, his eyes searching yours one last time before he bent down to kiss you—a kiss that was at once gentle and filled with the promise of more to come. it was a kiss that said 'i'll be back' without uttering the words. his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. "i'll check on you later," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

you watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him like a final punctuation on the intensity of the past few minutes. your body still hummed with the aftermath of pleasure, but your mind was a whirlwind of confusion. what had just happened between you? was this a one-time thing, a product of the fear and tension of the past weeks? or was it the beginning of something more?

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