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verstappenverse · 15 days ago

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Just Another Valentine

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Every year you and Lando spend Valentine’s Day together as part of an unspoken tradition, but this year something feels different, something that is impossible for you to ignore.

1.8k words / Masterlist

Valentine’s Day always had a way of making you feel like a spectator in your own life.

The smell of chocolate and overpriced roses was thick in the air, reminding you of the one day of the year you could always count on to make you feel at least a little pathetic.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It was cute in theory, love, grand gestures, all of that. But when you were single, the whole thing felt a bit like a slap in the face. And unfortunately, this year was no different.

But at least you had one constant.

Lando had a habit of making sure neither of you ever spent this day alone. Every year, if you were both single (which, more often than not, you were), he’d take you out, making sure the day didn’t pass unnoticed. It started as a joke years ago and then, it happened again. And again. Until it was basically tradition.

So when your phone lit up that morning with a text from him saying, Pick you up at seven. Wear something nice 😉 you knew exactly what it meant.

And for some reason, you spent the whole day trying not to overthink it.

By the time 7:00 p.m. rolled around you had already changed twice, first into something dressy, then into something a little more casual, only to second-guess yourself and switch again. Which was ridiculous because it was just Lando.

The same Lando who raided your fridge without asking, who stole your blankets during movie nights without a hint of remorse, who had seen you half-asleep and drooling on the couch more times than you cared to admit. The Lando who teased you endlessly, who could read your mood with a single glance. Lando who had seen you at your absolute worst, stressed over exams, hungover from nights you barely remembered, even the times when you’d just been a mess of emotions, and he never once flinched.

So why were your hands shaking a little when you opened the door?

Lando leaned against the frame, dressed in something a little nicer than his usual hoodie and joggers, a fitted black sweater and dark tailored trousers, smelling like something expensive. His signature grin was in place, dimples and all, as his gaze ran over you slowly, eyes darkening slightly, though he covered it with a smirk.

“Damn,” he said, cocking his head. “You really listened to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You said ‘wear something nice.’ I figured you’d complain if I showed up in pyjamas.”

He put a hand over his heart in mock offense “I would never complain about anything you wore,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your coat. “Yeah, yeah. You want a gold star or something?”

“I’ll take a kiss on the cheek.”

You snorted. “In your dreams Norris.”

“You have no idea.”

You lightly smacked his arm as he led you out. The cool February air nipped at your skin as you got into his car, but it was warm inside, the radio playing quietly.

“So,” you said, glancing over. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, you were standing in front of a little restaurant you’d never been to before. Intimate, dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet part of town. Fairy lights lined the outdoor seating area, and through the windows, you could see tables set with candles, couples leaning in close over their meals.

The hostess led you to a table by the window, and Lando pulled out your chair, waiting until you sat before taking his own seat across from you. You raised an eyebrow at his oddly formal behavior, but he just smiled, picking up the menu like this was all completely normal.

“You really planned this?” you asked.

Lando leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

You eyed him, tapping the menu. “I don’t know. It’s suspicious.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Remind me how you’re single again?”

You exhaled a laugh, running a finger along the edge of your glass. “Probably the same reason you are.”

HIs expression flickered, something unreadable passing over his face before he leaned back, exhaling through his nose with a laugh.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you asked, “that we’ve spent more Valentine’s Days with each other than with people we’ve actually dated?”

Lando looked up. “Huh. Now that you mention it… yeah.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Kinda sad, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Or maybe we just have shit taste in partners.”

You hummed, swirling the wine in your glass. “Speak for yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it just means we have good taste.”

“In each other?”

“Obviously.” He grinned. “C’mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you.”

You paused for a second, something warm settling in your stomach.

The two of you had always been like this, flirting without thinking, teasing each other like it was second nature. But tonight, something felt different. The way his eyes lingered longer on you when you spoke. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a drink. The way your knees touched under the table, neither of you moving away.

Then, as the waiter cleared the table, Lando reached under his seat and pulled out an elegantly wrapped box, sliding it across to you.

You blinked at it. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a Lego Bouquet set, a build-your-own floral arrangement, colorful and intricate.

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You got me Lego flowers?”

“They won’t die,” he said, “and we could you know…build them together, it could be fun.”

You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said, softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

You ran your fingers over the box, heart pounding a little harder than it should’ve been.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Is it weird?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s… really sweet.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why your voice was so quiet.

You let yourself relax as the evening passed, enjoying the food, the conversation, the way Lando somehow always knew how to make you laugh, and by the time dinner was over, the restaurant was starting to empty.

Lando leaned back in his chair, watching you. “So, did I do a good job?”

You smirked. “It was okay.”

He gasped dramatically. “Just okay?”

“Always fishing,” you laughed, nudging his foot under the table. “Fine. It was great. Thanks for making today a little less depressing.”

He scoffed with a laugh. “Wow. That’s the gratitude I get?”

You rolled your eyes but softened. “Alright, alright. You really didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

Lando tilted his head. “Yeah, I did.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your breath catch for a second. But before you could process it, he was standing up and paying the bill.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out a hand. “One more stop.”

You recognised where you were the second he parked up.

“The beach?”

He shrugged, killing the engine. “Yeah.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “In February? You hate the cold.”

He shot you a sideways glance, “I also hate traffic, but that would never stop me from picking you up.”

It was quiet this time of night, the sound of the waves filling the space between you as you walked along the sand. The air was cool, but Lando had given you his jacket somewhere along the way, and you pulled it tighter around yourself.

After a while, he stopped, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked out at the water.

You stood next to him, stealing a glance at his profile. The soft glow of the city lights reflecting from the water caught the edges of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow.

After a moment, he sighed. “You okay?”

You blinked, glancing over. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

You shrugged, toeing at the sand. “Just thinking.”

Lando hummed. “About?”

And then, without thinking, you said it. “I can’t help but think that this is a little more effort than someone would normally put in for their friend.”

Lando turned to you, eyes searching yours.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then—

“Guess I’m not as subtle as as I thought.”

You swallowed. “Lando—”

“I know,” he cut in, running a hand through his hair. “Bad timing, right? But I just… I don’t know how to keep pretending that I only do things like this because we’re friends.”

Your heart was hammering. “So, all of this—”

“Was me trying to tell you without actually telling you.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost shy.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling over you.

And then, suddenly, it all made sense.

The way he always put you first. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he showed up, year after year, on this day of all days. The way you never questioned it, because, well, deep down, you had always wanted it.

You took a step closer. “Lando.”

His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “You really didn’t need all this effort.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you—”

You kissed him before he could finish.

For a second, he froze. Then, his hands found your waist, pulling you in as he kissed you back.

You pulled back. “Say it.”

Lando swallowed, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“Say it,” you repeated, voice softer this time.

His fingers twitched around your waist.

Then, low and rough, “I want you.”

Your stomach flipped.

When you finally pulled back you were both breathing hard, the air between you charged. Lando's hands lingered on your waist, his thumb tracing absent circles against your hip, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

He let out a shaky laugh, exhaling slowly. “Fuck.”

You swallowed, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his sweater. “Yeah.”

His eyes flickered between yours, searching, like he was making sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Then, his lips curved into a smirk, soft, almost disbelieving.

“So… that wasn’t just a ‘thanks for dinner’ kind of kiss, was it?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, Lando. It wasn’t.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Cause I was really gonna struggle pretending otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He nudged your chin up with a knuckle. “You’re sure about this?”

You looked at him, really looked at him, the way his eyes held yours, the way his grip on you hadn’t loosened, the way this had always been inevitable.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m sure.”

Lando grinned, eyes bright with something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

“Finally,” he muttered, pulling you in again.

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stevesherdaddynowlover · 8 months ago

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pet names and looped pinkies [s.h.] 18+

hiiiii so i've never written for steve but just did a stranger things rewatch and have felt...inspired. i hope you enjoy! pls feel free to send suggestions or concepts or anything :) thanks for reading!

masterlist

summary: steve is your best friend and you have a crush on him and that's fine until one day it's not and the next thing you know you can't think or speak or breathe around him. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: loooots of pet names, fluff, pining,cursing, kissing, m masturbation, dirty talk, handjob, spitting, tiny bit of cum eating :))) 18+ ONLY!! MDNI

wc: 6.4k

part 2 here!!!!

You and Steve had been friends for quite some time now.

Going from quietly watching him throughout high school, maybe quietly crushing on him too, to fighting monsters and trying to survive could do that to people. Make them friends, that is.

The crush you’d been harboring on Steve didn’t go away, oh no if anything it had gotten about ten times worse in the time you’d spent growing close. That Steve you knew in high school was long gone. The, for lack of a better word, asshat you had come to blush over had turned into a protector. A funny, endearing, unnervingly hot protector that made your tummy flutter and your palms sweat.

It didn’t help that he seemed completely unaware of your feelings, or that the things he did made your heart race and your cheeks turn pink. Linking his pinky with yours while you strolled around town, letting his thumb mindlessly rub circles on the little sliver of your stomach that was visible during movie night, giving a little tug on your hair when you said something cheeky, letting his dimple pop out when you teased him.

And the pet names. God, the pet names! Maybe he did know! Maybe he wanted to torture you and make you squirm. They slipped from those perfect pink lips so effortlessly it kind of pissed you off.

“Hey honey, how was work today?”

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be late for the movie and I will not be blamed when we don’t have time to grab your snacks.”

“Any chance you wanna pick up an extra shift and spend some time with me? What do you say, pretty?”

He had the hair, the smile, the charm. You imagined it would be hard for anyone not to fall madly in love with him. It was surely hard for you! Steve did a good job of turning you to mush. It was hard to think around him, even harder to not think about him.

Which is why you’re really struggling now, smushed on a far too little couch with 3 other people, your thigh pressed so tightly against Steve’s it’s making your head spin. It’s movie night, a tradition you’ve picked up and held onto tightly amidst all the craziness that happens in your small town. Steve is on your left, stuck between the arm of the couch and you. Robin is on your right with Eddie next to her and Jonathon next to him. A couch meant for 2, maybe 3, but all 4 of you packed on while the rest of your friends lounge on the floor or a chair, eyes all focused on the screen.

Almost everyone’s eyes are focused on the screen.

You’re staring straight ahead, sure! But while a movie that you now can’t even remember the name of is droning on, all you can think of is how your hip is touching Steve’s. Or how his pinky has somehow found yours again and they’re looped together on his lap. Or even worse, how he’s got his head resting on your shoulder and you can feel little puffs of his breath hitting your neck everytime he laughs.

It’s driving you crazy, your hand not in his twitching by your side and your chest rising and falling a little faster than it should be while watching a comedy with your friends. You’re so distracted it takes you a few minutes to realize that Steve is no longer watching the movie, but is now focused on you and how uncomfortable you seem to be. He gives a small tug to your pinky, drawing your eyes to meet his and you’re so overwhelmed with him right now you could cry at the furrow in his brow and the small pout he’s wearing looking at you.

“Y’alright, baby?” You can see his genuine concern at the state of you but all you can focus on is trying not to let a small whimper through your lips as you hear him call you baby. Not being able to look at him for more than a few seconds you drag your eyes away from him, a small huff leaving you while you shake your head, mainly at yourself. “I, uh m’fine. I’m fine.” Neither of you are convinced, you know that, but you can’t find it in you to care at the moment when all you can think about is taking his bottom lip between your teeth.

He studies you once more, eyes taking you in quickly as he reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers around your neck a second longer, two fingers giving you a little pinch before he’s drawing his hand back to his lap. You find yourself staring far too long at his hand, wondering what it would feel like if he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Or if it would be as good as you imagined to have him slip that same thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, wearing that same smirk you’ve seen a thousand times.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re so fucked.

As soon as the thoughts come, they’re gone because the next thing you know you’re using his and Robin’s thighs as leverage to jump up from the couch, turning to face everyone with red cheeks and a forced smile.

“So I, uh, I gotta go! Just remembered mom wanted me home early tonight, some, uh, some family thing going on. Yeah that’s it. Family thing!” Everyone is staring, eyes wide with confusion written all over their faces. You love movie night, never miss it let alone leave early.

You don’t give anyone the chance to question you before you’re bouncing up the stairs trying to pull your shoes on as quickly as possible. You know he’ll be right behind you, asking you what’s wrong or offering a ride home. You both know you’re full of shit but you can’t find it in you to care right now, too focused on getting away from him before you do something crazy like kiss him.

Steps away from the front door you think you’ve made it. Can almost feel the relief of the cool breeze cooling down your skin that seems to be burning up from where Steve was touching you. You're so close, less than a foot away when you realize you weren’t quick enough.

A hand wraps around your forearm, a large calloused hand that you’d know anywhere. Shoulders slumped in defeat and you turn to face him, not all the way because you don’t think you could handle it, but enough to acknowledge his presence. “Harrington, I gotta go. You know how my mom is, this’ll be held over my head for weeks if I’m late.” Lies. All lies. Your mom fully expects you to sleep at Robins tonight. He’s quiet for what feels like hours but is really only seconds before he speaks, “Let me give you a ride then. You’ll be home in less than 5.”

Now you know that cannot happen. You cannot be in his car that smells like him. You cannot watch the way his hands grip the wheel, and you know you won’t be able to look away. You cannot be locked in a car with him where you know he’ll try and figure out why you’ve been acting so weird tonight. And honestly you just cannot be around him right now without feeling like you’re going to faint.

“No, no, don't worry about it, it’s a quick walk and I could use the fresh air! I’m feeling a little…off right now anyways so I wouldn’t mind being alone. Go finish the movie! Love you, see you, have fun!” And before he can react or try to argue with you, reaching up on your tiptoes you plant a quick kiss to his cheek, lips tingling as you turn and run out the door, hoping to god or whoever is listening that Steve doesn’t come after you.

What you don’t see as you’re running down the sidewalk is your best friend standing in the doorway with his hand hovering over his cheek where you just kissed him and a blush crawling up his neck as those quick seconds play on a loop in his head for the rest of the movie.

****************************************

It’s been a few days since movie night. The night you’re refusing to think about but also the one you can’t seem to get out of your head. More specifically the sound of Steve calling you baby and the feel of his fingers brushing against your throat.

Well you’ve tried not to think about it.

You’re not sure why this is happening now. You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember so why all of a sudden do you feel like panting when your skin touches his? Why now are his little smirks and pet names enough to bring you to your knees? Over the years you’ve done good, so good, at keeping yourself together in front of him, letting his comments and flirting roll off your back. But now…now you can’t be in the same room without wanting to tug on his hair or leave marks on his chest or feel so desperate to taste him that it drives you insane.

You don’t know what caused this switch to flip but it fucking sucks. It sucks because besides all of that, he’s still your best friend. Yeah, it’s ungodly how hot he is but he’s also still the guy who buys you your favorite ice cream when you’ve had a rough day, who goes to see scary movies with you when no one else will because you’re the only one that likes them. He’s saved you, cared for you, loved you for a few years now and honestly that just makes it worse!

He’s mouthwatering AND a good guy. Fuck him for that.

In the few days since you’ve seen him he’s called. 11 times? Maybe more. And you’ve been conveniently in the shower or asleep or anything else your mother can make up while you try and figure out what you’re going to say to him. The problem with this is that the longer you avoid him, the more awkward and hard this is going to be.

So when you wake up today, 4 days after movie night, you decide it’s time to be a big girl and talk to him. Not about your feelings, god no! But it is time to at least try to be normal around him and to stop avoiding him. You already know he’s gonna look like a kicked puppy, big brown eyes staring down at you while you try and justify not talking to him for days. You’re fucked. So fucked.

Walking downstairs you hear the phone ringing and your heart drops. Maybe you’re not ready for this. Maybe your family can just move! That should work. You’ll miss everyone but honestly this seems like your best option at this point.

Your dad is gone for the day, your mom is standing at the counter with her purse on her shoulder like she’s about to walk out the door with her mouth open, ready to give Steve yet another excuse to why you can’t talk to him. But you’re brave. You’re a big girl who can handle a phone call with your best friend. Your hot best friend you're madly in love with and want to climb like a tree.

Your hand is out and reaching for the phone before you can talk yourself out of it, a sigh of relief leaving your mother as she practically throws it at you, running for the door before you change your mind. It’s by your ear for a good few seconds before you hear him, his voice raspy and deep so you know he’s just woken up and it makes your whole body buzz.

“Hello?”

It’s now or never. Never sounds nice. “Hey! How ya been? How’s it going? How was the movie?” The questions pour out of you so quickly you’re not sure he can even understand what you’re saying but you hold your breath and wait anyway.

“How’s it going? Are you kidding me? Fuckin’ Christ! You’ve taken about 12 showers in 4 days and couldn’t be bothered to talk to me, why don’t you tell me how it’s going.” So he was upset. Totally fair.

“Don’t be mad at me, please.” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth and you knew it was stupid but you couldn’t help it. He deserved to be mad at you, to yell and cuss and whatever else he deemed fit. But now that you had heard his voice again for the first time in days, the thought of him being upset with you made you want to cry, even though you had done this!

You heard him take a deep breath and knew he was running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends the way he always did when he was stressed. “M‘not mad, sweetheart. I mean, maybe a little but I was more worried! That something had happened or I had done something or…I don’t know. Was just worried sick and…god I just fuckin’ missed you.”

Had you mentioned that you were fucked? His words hit you a ton of bricks, any thoughts you had about moving on or maybe distancing yourself gone in an instant. Because he was worried. And he missed you. He fuckin’ missed you. And god you loved him so much it hurt, so much you could feel it in your fingertips and toes like little zaps of electricity when you thought of him or heard his voice.

You were gone for Steve Harrington.

“I..m’so sorry, Stevie. I missed you too, so much and I’m so sorry and I’m just…I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, you never do! I’ve just been a mess and my minds been a mess and I thought some time to myself would help me but really it's just..it doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m sorry and I missed you.”

“S’okay, bunny. You alright? Can talk to me about anything, you know. I’m not…I know I’m not always the best at this stuff but I’d be good for you. I’ll listen to ya all day, do whatever I can to help you. Wanna come over? Movie night just the two of us? I’ll order you pizza and get you extra buttery popcorn and some ice cream, promise.”

The thought of being alone with Steve sends red lights flashing through your brain but when he sounds so…god when he’s saying all the right things in a voice you’d dare describe as whiny you can’t help but to want to drop everything and all but crawl to him.

So at the expense of your sanity you agree quickly, promising you’ll be there by 8 o’clock and hang up the phone before he can call you sweetheart or bunny again running up the stairs to take the coldest shower you’ve ever taken that does nothing to erase the thoughts of Steve from your mind.

*****************************************

The walk to Steve’s was surprisingly calm. You weren’t freaking out completely, just a little nervous but that was nothing new to you when it came to spending time with Steve, especially alone.

Unfortunately for you, that calm lasted for all of about 10 minutes.

In theory it was a good idea to spend some time with Steve after ignoring him for days. It was an okay idea to agree to a movie night with your best friend. Was.

But now that you’re standing on his porch and his door was just thrown open to reveal a freshly showered Steve, it seems like all of this was a horrible idea.

An awful, terrible, horribly bad idea.

Awful because you can see little beads of water from his freshly washed hair dropping and running down his throat. Awful because the urge to lean forward and run your tongue over them is so strong you swear your mouth waters a little bit.

Terrible because he’s wearing that goddamn white t-shirt that is hugging his arms so tight and since when did his arms start to look like that? Awful because that same damn shirt is tight over his chest too. It fits him so well you can see it snug against his tummy and waist. It fits him like a glove and your hands clench at your sides to keep from touching him.

And this is bad. So horribly bad because he’s wearing his favorite pair of light wash denim jeans that cling to his thighs so nicely you feel your knees wobble. One of your hands comes up to your mouth to run over your chin, subconsciously making sure you’re not actually drooling despite the way you wish you could drop to your knees and spend hours leaving marks on those thighs. You can’t see his ass and you’re praying to god he doesn’t turn around so you don’t have to suffer through seeing how his jeans hug him just right.

While your mind is running a million miles a minute with thoughts of Steve, you realize you actually haven’t said anything. Haven’t made a move to greet him or walk in, instead just standing there with what you imagine is a slack jaw and wide eyes. Willing yourself to meet his gaze, you somehow manage to drag your eyes off his thighs and bring them up, up, up until you meet his.

He definitely does not look like a kicked puppy right now. Those brown eyes are darker and he’s wearing a smirk that would make you do anything he asked. He cocks his eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his face as you try and collect yourself.

“You look starved, honey. Wanna come in?”

*********************************

After the initial embarrassment wears off, you feel a little better. Somehow managing to brush off his teasing as if you weren’t just devouring him with your eyes, you follow Steve to the kitchen, laughing as he tries to balance all the snacks he’d bought for you in arms. He shot you a glare full of playfulness when you tried to help, insisting that he “was a big boy and could handle the snacks.”

Now you find yourself on that same couch from last week, much more space between the two of you than there had been then, a good foot and half extra in fact. Steve laughed when he saw you practically throw yourself to the other end of the couch, hand reaching out for you with a little pout on his lips. “Think I’m gonna bite you or something?” God I wish. Please please please bite me!

But instead you held out your hand reluctantly, fingers twisting with his as he tugged you toward him. Movie night flashed in your head. His clothed thigh just inches away from yours, arm thrown over your shoulders and a cheeky grin on his face as he pulled you into his side. A satisfied hum was heard and you could have sworn you heard him mumble under his breath, sounding a lot like “much better” but it was hard to hear anything with the smell of him clouding your senses.

Trying to get your thoughts off of him you reach forward to grab the dvd case laying on the table, a small smile gracing your lips as you see what he had picked. “John Carpenter's Halloween. I thought you said you’d never watch this?” This time when you turned to him, he was the one with red cheeks and shy smile as he glanced between the movie and you. A small shrug and wink was thrown your way, “S’one of your favorites. You should know you’re the exception to my rules.”

You’re fucked.

Heart pounding in your chest all you could manage was a smile and a small “thank you” before turning away, hoping he’d get up and start the movie so you’d have something to distract you from how sweet he was, watching a scary movie you know he doesn’t want to watch just because it’ll make you happy.

It was about halfway through the movie when it happened.

Everything was going well! You were snuggled into his side, actually paying attention to the movie and not sitting there distraught over being so close to him. You were so invested you hadn’t noticed your hand slip to his thigh during a scene that had made you jump.

But Steve noticed.

Too engrossed in your movie to see how your hand was holding his upper thigh and it definitely would have been too high if you’d been paying attention. You didn’t notice this or the way Steve was now on red alert, whole body tense with his hand gripping the couch cushion and his eyes trained on your hand as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

He could do this, he could ignore your hand and let you watch your movie. It would be fine. He’ll just slip into the bathroom when it’s over or wait till you go home to take care of his now aching cock. And god was he aching. He didn’t dare move, too nervous that you’d get all weird and fidgety like you’d been. This was the closest you’d been to him without seeming freaked out in weeks and he was not about to ruin that.

The smell of your lavender shampoo overwhelmed him, a groan threatening to spill out while you sat there so unaware of how beautiful you looked just existing. He noticed everything about you. The slope of your little button nose and the way your lips, your perfect pink lips, parted just so when you were lost in thought. He noticed how your cheeks would turn the prettiest shade of red when he called you baby or honey or sweetheart. And he loved it, craved it even. He couldn’t tell if it was because of him or if you were just a sensitive little thing in general. He’d take what he could get with you, even if he had to live off your rosy cheeks and holding your pinky for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, honey, m’sorry but you have got to move your hand, please.” Steve’s voice in your ear so suddenly made you jump, a small yelp leaving your lips as you turned to see what he was talking about. You didn’t even realize you were touching him! But one look down at this thigh and you gasped, cheeks burning as your eyes moved from your hand clinging to his thigh over to now very noticeable bulge straining against those light wash jeans. Ripping your hand away as if he’d burned you, a string of curses and apologies flew out as you scrambled to move as far away as possible.

If he looked pained with your hand on his thigh then he looked downright miserable now that you’d taken it away. “Don’t have to run away from me, honey. M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you I just…fuck I couldn’t sit still with you holding onto me like that.” He did his best to tug you back and you let him. “Sorry, Stevie. I wasn’t…I didn’t, I was just watching the movie I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He looked at you with furrowed brows, eyes jumping all over your face like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew something you should know. Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other for some time before he sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch before coming back to look at you again.

Hand cradling your cheek he gave you a small, tired small like he couldn’t believe you could possibly make him uncomfortable. That is not the word he would use. “Silly girl, I’m not uncomfortable because your hand was on me. I’m uncomfortable because your hand on me is making me wanna pin you down and fuck you so hard you can’t think straight.”

Oh. Oh.

Lips parted you just stared at him, not sure you’d be able to form a coherent thought let alone words right now. He wanted to fuck you? Since when? Why hasn’t he ever brought this up? Doesn’t he know you’d do anything he asked of you?

Steve let you process, could see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours and your eyes switching from looking at him to looking at where his cock was pressing up against the zipper of his pants. Maybe he’d said too much, gone too far. He was almost certain now that you liked him, wanted him, but maybe it was too overwhelming to be so blunt with you.

“Y’know what baby? I can see you freaking out and I didn’t mean to make you nervous so I’m gonna go to the bathroom, alright? Gonna take care of this real quick and then we can finish the movie, can start another one if you want. I’ll be right back and we can figure this out later.” It was him getting off the couch that broke you out of whatever spell you were under, hand wrapping around his arm and if you weren’t so desperate for this, for him, you’d be embarrassed by the look of panic in your eyes at the thought of not getting to see this, to make him feel good.

“Please stay. Just…fuck just stay, okay?”

Both of you paused, staring at each other and waiting for someone to move or to breathe or just do something. A soft “okay” was murmured between you, Steve settling back into the couch as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck was this really happening?

“Whatever you want to happen can happen, baby.”

You definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that you had, a little burst of courage hit you and you just let it pour out. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud I just..I didn’t…I’m nervous. You make me nervous. I want this. I want this so bad you have no idea but I didn’t know you wanted this so now my head is fucked and I’m rambling and kinda freaking out but you can stay. You can stay and I can watch or I can help or whatever you want just..stay. Ok?” You dared a glance up at Steve, his eyes wide and a grin broke out on his face. He looked as if you’d just handed him the moon not offered to watch him get off.

Taking your hand in his he gave you a squeeze, “We’ll go slow. I can start and you can watch and if you wanna do more, feel fucking free, honey. But if you don’t, that’s fine. If you want me to stop, say the word. You’re in charge here,” he paused, lifting his hand to take my chin between his fingers so I’d be forced to meet his eyes, “and for the record, there hasn’t been I second I've known you where I haven’t wanted this. I’ll take anything you give me, swear it. Whatever you want, any way you want.”

“Kiss me, please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, moving his hand to cup your cheek and pulling you toward him, his lips pressing against yours soft at first, testing the waters and trying to keep you calm. His lips were just as soft as you’d imagined, sweet like the candy he’d been eating earlier. You groaned against him, pushing closer and opening your mouth to invite him in, the thought of his tongue on yours enough to have you reaching your hands into his hair to tug him closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you.

He pulled back first, a string of spit connecting the two of you and he cursed at the sight, “Jesus, fuck I can’t believe you’ve kept this sweet, pretty mouth away from me. S’not nice, baby. So mean to me, yeah?” If you thought you were desperate before it was nothing compared to now, now that you’d had a taste of him.

“M’sorry Stevie, so sorry, not gonna keep em from you anymore. Promise, promise, promise.” You’re barely making sense, your head spinning and your body on fire. Foreheads pressed together you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t think or breathe or function when he was this close to you with his swollen, spit kissed lips just inches away from yours.

Coming out of your post-kiss haze you move back beside Steve, eager and desperate to finally see him, all of him. His eyes widen as your hands go to the button of his jeans, tugging relentlessly and you're just so cute he has to laugh. Eager too and fuck how did he get so lucky?

“Take em off, please. Want them off, Stevie.” You’re full on pouting now and it takes everything in you not to cry. You’d do it if he wanted, you’d do anything. But he doesnt let it get that far, taking your hands off his jeans and cooing at you and it makes you feel a little pathetic but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he’s about to finally pull down his pants.

He does so wordlessly, eyes bouncing from his lap to your face every few seconds like he’s checking in on you, making sure he’s not missing anything and that you still want this. It makes your tummy flutter and your heart race, his caring for you. His pants pushed down to his knees is all he can manage, head too fuzzy thinking about you and how he’s so hard it hurts worse than it ever has.

As soon as his jeans were out of your way you were staring, gawking really, at the white boxers sitting so prettily on his hips that were doing nothing to hide how hard, how big he was. A small wet patch forming where you know his tip is resting and it makes your mouth water. He’s just so hot. So hot and it makes it even better that this is because of you. Fuck.

A beg was on the tip of your tongue but before you could he put you out of your misery. Lifting his hips up you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep still while he pulled his boxers down, pretty, messy, cock slapping against his stomach. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! You’re so…I’m…fuck.” He breathed out a laugh which quickly turned to a wince when we saw how you were looking at him, at his cock. He felt himself twitch under your stare and you swear your mouth just fell open as if it was meant to be.

His hand drifted towards his cock, eyes still on you to make sure you were okay. You gave him a nod and the sigh of relief you both had when he finally wrapped his hand around himself would have made you laugh if you weren’t throbbing. His head fell back against the couch and you were torn between watching him touch himself or watching his face while he did it. The former won, your eyes trailing the way his hand moved slowly, teasing the both of you.

“S’pretty, you’re so pretty…” You’re not even sure you were talking to him, more just to yourself but he heard you nonetheless. His hips jerked at that, a small moan slipping past his swollen lips as he turned his head toward you, watching you with hooded eyes. I could watch this forever, you thought.

You couldn’t believe it. A few days ago you were thinking of ways to never speak to Steve again and now here you were, watching him stroke his cock in front of you and looking at him as if he was your last meal. He held his hand out, a silent plea for something but you didn’t know what, not until he spoke.

“So good, baby, so pretty. Can you ju-just spit on my hand for me, honey? Lick it, spit on it, anything you want, I just need you please.” His words were slurred and if you hadn’t spent the last few hours together you would think he was drunk. He seemed so out of it, but in the best way. Like he didn’t just want you but needed you. It made you feel good, better than you ever had and it gave you a spark of bravery you were missing before.

Knocking his hand out of your way you leaned forward with cautious eyes, watching as he tried to figure out what you were doing until it dawned on him and his cock twitched in his hand. You leaned forward, face hovering inches above him and spit, both of you watching as it dropped from your mouth to his tip, covering the top of his hand as he began to stroke himself again. His lips parted in an “o”, eyes squeezed shut and his tummy clenching as he let out the loudest moan you had heard, so loud and strong you felt yourself clenching around nothing.

You were wet but with Steve looking and sounding like that you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how bad you were aching right now, far too focused on Steve and how his thighs were starting to shake a little and his hips were starting to move faster and more uneven.

“C-can I?”

His eyes shot open, head shaking furiously before he had even fully understood what you were asking. He knew he wouldn't last more than ten seconds if you touched him but he couldn’t care less. All he could think about was how pretty you were, how good he was feeling, how you had just fucking spit on his cock. He would take whatever you gave him.

With a whine that you would replay in your mind for the rest of your life he took his hand off, tugging yours closer to take his place. Both of you moaned at the contact and you were almost convinced you could cum just from touching him. “Help me, I want you to feel good, please.” He looked like a bobblehead as he nodded, putting his much larger hand over yours and giving it a squeeze, helping you to stroke him just how he liked, though anything from you would feel a million times better than his own hand.

Addicted would be the word to describe it. Now that you had touched him, felt how hot and smooth his cock was in your hand, how pretty it looked all pink and wet and coated in your spit. Steve liked it messy and apparently so did you. You thought you were addicted to his cock, and you were, but nothing prepared you for the absolute filth that started spilling from him once he finally had your hand on him. It made you dizzy and out of breath and goddamn you would have to throw these panties in the trash after this. Absolutely ruined, just like you were.

“Fuckin’ dreamed about this, ‘bout your hand on my cock, s’good, baby.”

“Don’t think I don’t see you squirming, honey. My pretty girl all wet ‘n needy and I haven’t even touched you. Bet you’re drenched and achy, huh?”

“Gonna make me cum, gonna make a mess of us but I bet you’ll be good and clean it up for me, won’t ya, bunny?”

He was babbling now and you could barely make sense of what he was saying but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t and you didn’t want to. His cock was slick with precum and your spit one of his hands guiding yours in quick strokes while his other was gripping the couch so hard his knuckles were white.

“M’close, honey…so so close.”

“Please, Stevie…want it, I need it, please.” And that was all it took. No warning, your words taking him by surprise and hitting him like a punch to the gut. He took his hand off, bringing it to your hair and tugging you to him. It was a messy kiss, lips pressed together while he moaned against you, just breathing each other in while he cursed and whined, his hips stilling and you slowed, looking down just in time to see him cum. Your hand and his lower stomach was covered, his hand that was gripping the couch now thrown over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.

Chest and neck covered in sweat, he looked good. When he finally had gathered himself enough to look at you, he instantly regretted it. Instead of his innocent best friend, his sweet little bunny, he was looking at a little devil lapping at his cum on her hand like she hadn’t eaten in days. His softening cock twitched against his thighs and he stifled a groan when you hummed happily at the taste.

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” You shrugged half heartedly, not even a little bit of you was sorry.

“Can we finish the movie now, Stevie? I’ll probably pass out soon you wore me out, but I’m too tired to move.”

He looked down at you a little confused, your cheeks still pink and thighs still clenched together tightly. “You don’t…I can…I wanna take care of you too, sweetheart. Been dying to get a taste of you, know you’re sweet.”

You giggled and even though you were a mess, in every sense of the word, you didn’t think you could handle anymore and told him as such, eyes already feeling droopy and your body sagging against him. “Next time? Promise you can do anything you want to me next time but watching you cum was enough for me.” Your cheeks flamed as if you hadn’t just licked your best friend’s cum off your hand.

“Alright, honey. Let’s finish your movie, you little vixen. Didn’t even take me out to dinner before you were drooling over my cock. A crime!” His smile was bright as you smacked at his chest and cursed him for teasing you.

You were sure that what had just happened would hit you soon and the panic would set in but for now you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you pressed a kiss to Steve’s bare chest and felt his grin against the top of your head.

Did I mention I was fucked?

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you

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wlwxreader · 2 months ago

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Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker.

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“You…” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackie—”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’s—” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.

#yellowjackets #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #ella purnell #x reader #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio #van palmer #taissa turner #misty quigley #lesbian #wlw #yellowjackets fanfic #Ella purnell x reader

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artsninspo · 10 months ago

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"JEALOUS TYPE" - Rio X Reader

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「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

Summary: The restaurant your date picked to take you out to is owned by Rio, and he’s there sitting at a table when you walk in. Just your luck. This ones a little steamy 🌶️.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Word-Count: 1.6K

Biting the inside of your lip you stifle a smile looking into your date's brown eyes. His animated expression is feeding off of yours as he tells an arguably hilarious story. Honestly, you wouldn’t know. Your eyes sparkle at his and by some strange miracle you seem to break into a laugh at the right moment. Although handsome, well put together, kind and funny, your date doesn’t have your undivided attention. Three tables away Rio sits with a scowl staring daggers into your side profile. He was having dinner with an older woman when you arrived with your date. Rio’s eyes met yours then looked down to see your hand in your dates and frowned. Since the woman left you’ve been subject to his displeased looks. He hates the sight of you with another man. Especially after resisting his advances. He’s furious really that your pretty ass didn't spend time getting ready to look good for him. Having had enough he calls over a waiter, it's his restaurant after all.

“You’re gorgeous” your date tells you, picking up your hand to kiss it from across the table. He’s a charmer for sure. His dimples and smile are to die for but he’s not the one making your heart race.

“You’re not so bad yourself” you smile, taking a sip of your wine. The waiter comes over with a bottle in a bucket.

“Vintage Cabernet” the waiter says, putting the bucket on the table.

“We didn’t order that” your date says as the waiter slips you a table card.

Wine by the glass your man’s a cheapskate huh?

Is written in excellent penmanship. You thought he was signing the bill when he started writing. It takes everything in you not to smile as you fold the card. The waiter looks amused. The use of a Drake lyric in such a petty exchange is all the more amusing. Casting a look over to his table Rio sits seemingly unbothered.

“On the house” the waiter says and your date shrugs allowing the waiter to top him off first. You don’t like that. A man that doesn’t put the woman he’s with first is a slippery slope. Sitting back you taste the wine as the waiter pours yours. It’s excellent, you raise a glass to Rio and your date is too self absorbed to notice your eyes aren’t on him. After a few minutes you take your leave heading into the ladies room. Your heels click on the floor and you take out your compact to powder the shininess of your forehead and top up your gloss. That’s how Rio finds you. He strolls in wearing all black, which seems to be his signature.

“This is the ladies room” you say mirroring his nonchalance.

“Don’t make any smart comments. I have a dick and it works” he warns casually. It’s crass but you’re amused so you smile anyways fixing your gloss in the mirror. The look he gives you tells you exactly where his head is. The physical attraction is a ten out of ten. “Get all dressed up for a guy who can’t even buy you the bottle but you won’t get in a car with me” Rio says, offended by your rejection. You turn to face him and he stands there unimpressed with his hands in his pocket.

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type” you tease.

“You can do better” he swallows, stepping forward.

“I appreciate you looking out for my well being. I’m sure you have more important things to do, places to be '' you dismiss, and he nods a little irritated with your flagrance. It's been awhile since Rio had to put in any effort to bag the woman that had his attention for the moment. You pass him to get to the door and he takes your hand. You should be terrified but you aren’t. The energy in the restroom is electric. Your chemistry is undeniable. You feel your heart racing as his eyes look down at your lips, he wets his bottom lip before casting a look back into your eyes. You want it just as much as he does. Your entire body hates the riskiness of your current predicament.

Reaching around you Rio locks the door Rio closing the remainder of the distance between. Leaning in his lips connected to yours, he purses his lips tight against yours chastely before pressing his body against yours in a dominant gesture, pressing you between himself and the door. Pulling back he comes in for a second time, this time parting your lips, goading you into a slow, sloppy and seductive make out session. His kiss is teasing and claiming, you feel your temperature rise as you indulge in forbidden fruit. His hands slip under the hem of your dress gripping your thighs, snapping you out of it. Pushing him away your chest heaves. You want him so much but it’s not right. You're on a date, Stan warned you about him and he carries weapons.

“No no no no no” you snap to yourself as you hear a knock on the door.

“Y/N” your date calls from the other side and you feel your heart racing in your ears.

“I got a call I’ll be right out, go back to the table” you say through the closed door and Rio smiles. He reaches for the lock and your eyes tell him not to. He smiles absolutely thrilled at the prospect of blowing up your spot.

“Are you sure?!” Your date asks.

“Yep, just give me 5” you say and there’s a long pause.

“Ok” he says and you breathe finally. It’s your turn to scowl Rio comes in for another kiss but you push him away annoyed with him and yourself. Rio laughs to himself completely unbothered by your predicament.

All trouble. You think to yourself about Rio as you touch your make up again and Rio smiles looking at his phone. He puts a finger to his lip signalling you should hush and when you walk over you see your date still waiting for you outside the bathroom from the security feed on his phone.

“Give me your number or I walk out,” Rio says, playing dirty. You put your number in and he calls making your phone ring. He looks satisfied.

“Pick up, own the lie” he whispers, coaching you in your deception. His eyes are full of mischief and amusement. You just may be in love.

“I swear I care but I’m on a date sis, please call mom” you say loud enough for your date to hear. Rio unlocks the door letting you out. You smile at your date and he takes your hand.

“I didn’t notice your perfume smells slightly like cologne” he says and you hope he really has no inclination Rio was all over you. His cologne is more sweet than masculine and musky.

“Hmm” you raise a brow.

“Who was calling?” He asks.

“Sister” you lie and he nods suddenly more attentively. Your phone goes off again, you know it's Rio without checking it.

“Family emergency?”

“Sister stuff” you dismiss getting another message and you put your phone on silent feeling terrible. Sitting in front of your date you can still feel Rio’s kiss on your lips, his body against yours, his big hands on your thighs. The rest of the night is more of the same. RIo keeps texting the entire ride back to your house and you end up at square one as your date stands outside of your condo door with you. You dodge his kiss, letting him kiss your cheek. He takes it like a champ and you sigh frustrated. Unlocking your phone you see a flurry of messages of Rio talking shit about you being a bad girl, worse than him, a player. Warnings not to lay up with your ‘lame ass date’ and more. The final tells you to call once you get in.

Smiling, you set his name to Crazy Christopher in your phone. After a steamy shower you head into bed alone. You're far too excited to be sleepy in spite of the time. Your phone rings and Crazy Christopher flashes across the screen.

“Hello?” you pick up.

“Are you home safe?” he asks like he cares.

“Yes, Christopher”

“Yes, Christopher,” he mocks, making you smile.

The phone line goes silent for a few moments and your smile never fades, you haven't felt this giddy about a situation in years.

“You tired? I was hoping to come and wear you out” Rio says, making you laugh. Honestly you want the same thing.

“That isn't how you speak to a woman” you correct him.

“Nahh, you don’t want me to pretend I have manners. That’s not you” he says, reading you right.

“Some other night Rio” you cave, deciding you won't deny yourself a good time.

“Alright, well you tell me when” he responds in his usual tone. It’s an odd relief he doesn't promise forever’s or any other ridiculous niceties.

“Why don't we make it interesting, the next time I run into you - you can take me to your place” you shrug, lying in bed looking up at the ceiling.

“Bet” he agrees. “Goodnight baby-girl” he says.

“Night Rio” you respond.

“Christopher” he corrects. “We’re on a first name basis” he says and you laugh.

“Goodnight” you respond, hanging up in a final act of defiance.

You smile looking up at the ceiling heart racing at the risk. Sitting in his car Rio smiles hoping you stay true to your word before heading into the warehouse to check on his operations. He has plans for you.

Big plans.

_________

Let me know what you think of this update and Rio's bad behaviour 😉😘

Authors note: TYSM 💖 to everyone who's read, liked, commented or reblogged any of my work and more particularly this 'series'. It's been a fun palate cleanser. If you're a writer and need a sign to purge your drafts you think no one will enjoy here it is.

xoxo

#rio good girls #rio x you #good girls rio #rio x reader #manny montana x reader #manny montana fanfiction #rio x black!reader #rio good girls imagine

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mochiwonz · 3 months ago

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─── SMILEY EYES ୨୧

PAIRING. fem!reader x jake sim CONTENT. strangers to lovers , fluff <3 , cursing , vv cute :3 NOTE. jake's smile is so so beautiful but what always stands out to me is the way his eyes also smile when he is really smiling > < so ofc, i had to make thisss !!

[ 💬 ] ... ️ when you're in love with the stranger that always comes to the cafe !

7:45 am. Monday. The start of another long, tiring, and boring week.

Yes, you hung out with your friends sometimes, but you spent most of your time working at the cafe. Working at the cafe has always been unpleasant, however there was one amazing benefit.

You always got to see him, that cute smiley guy with his even cuter smiley eyes.

lt may seem silly to say this, but he was the sole reason you hadn't quit yet. Your manager sucked, your co-workers did basically nothing, and you had to do most of the work.

You memorized everything that you could about this cute smiley guy. He always arrives 10am and orders an iced americano or a vanilla latte with half sweetness. He had an accent, one that you would assume was an australian accent. He also has a habit of biting his lip and tends to smile with his eyes a lot. That was something that you adored about him.

One problem though, you didn't know his name.

Whenever you ask for the name for his order, he always says "J". Like, literally just "J".

You secretly hoped that one day he would give you his name, or even his number. You definitely wouldn't complain.

Today the weather was gloomy and cold, 69 degrees. What a great start to the day!

On the way to work, you spotted a couple sitting on a bench with their dog. They were just cuddling. They looked so full of warmth on this cold day.

Finally, you arrive at the cafe. Your shift starts at around 8:30am, so you have some time to kill. But instead of doing something useful, you ended up daydreaming about all the possible scenarios with him, cute smiley guy.

The sound of bells is what wakes you up from your daydreaming and oh shit. It's already 8:32.

The first customer arrives and then the second, and then the third. You're really just waiting for him to arrive.

Luckily, you hadn't had a grumpy customer yet- thank god.

You don't know exactly why you feel so attracted to him. It's like he has this energy that literally makes you feel so much happier, especially when he smiles.

You feel your heart literally melt into mush every time you catch a glimpse of him smiling. The way his eyes also smile makes you want to sob. You've truly never seen such a beautiful and radiant smile.

9:50am, ten more minutes until he would usually be arriving. You could already feel your excitement.

He came every single day of the week, and this made getting through work so much easier for you. Of course he didn't know that but you're very very thankful.

"okay, your order will be out shortly! feel free to take a seat anywhere you'd like" you tell a customer while looking at the time.

9:58, two more minutes.

In those two minutes, you spend your time making a matcha latte for a customer and excitedly daydreaming about him.

"order 56 for ____!" you call out, and hand the drink to the customer.

You quickly drink some water and nervously wipe the sweat off of your hands.

*Ding!*

He's here.

You look over at the front door and not to your surprise, it's smiley guy. Sometimes he'd come with his friends, but today he was alone. He looked so good today, his hair was fluffy and he was wearing a navy blue hoodie with a white shirt underneath and some baggy jeans. God, you could already feel the hearts forming in your eyes.

pull yourself together.

"goodmorning! please take your time and let me know when you're ready to order" you say, trying not to sound awkward or nervous.

He nods and smiles at you in response, still looking at the menu.

No, why did he have to smile?

You felt your heart melt and your palms start to get sweaty. You were definitely going to embarrass yourself now, fuck.

"can i get an iced americano, large, with matcha cold foam on top?" he asks while looking at you, holding eye contact.

Of course, there was no way you could hold eye contact with him. You'd probably shit yourself.

So, you just nod and put his order in the tablet.

He giggles and fuck, he definitely noticed that you couldn't hold eye contact with him. You were so fucked.

"anything else for you today?" you ask while nervously smiling, still not looking up at him.

"yeah, just one more thing" he says.

"okay, what would that be?" you respond.

"your number perhaps..?"

Was the daydreaming taking a toll on you or did smiley guy just ask you for your number?

"wait- what, huh? you want my number???" you say, obviously sounding a bit confused.

"mhm!" he says while nodding and flashing you his cute smile.

You can't help but just stand there and stare at him. You might just vomit due to how confused, nervous, and overwhelmed you are right now.

This beautiful man that looked like he was a model, was asking you- an average cafe worker, for your number?

"uhm yeah of course, here-" you finally say in response while writing down your number on his receipt. "here's my number and oh, i need your name for your order?"

"the name's jake" he says while smiling, but this time with his cute smiley eyes, too.

You can't tell if you're red or glistening from your sweat, but you nod and write down his name.

"what's yours? i've just been calling you pretty girl in my head but uh, yeah, what's your name?" he asks, and yeah- you're definitely red now. he found you pretty?

"i'm y/n" you tell him shyly while grabbing his drink and handing it to him.

"okay well then y/n, i'll text you soon!" he says happily while walking away, and you're still in shock.

Maybe deciding to work at the cafe was the best decision you'd ever made.

pls reblog if you enjoyed :D my other works here if you want to check them out <3

#jake sim #jake imagines #sim jaeyun #sim jake #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #jake enha #jake enhypen #fluff #enhypen fluff #enha scenarios #jake x reader #jaeyun #enhypen jake #── mochiwonz ୨୧

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witherby · 1 month ago

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Blood and Teeth

Jason Todd x Reader

You just wanted to get home before dark.

⚠️ Content warning: stalking, attempted mugging, gunshots, non-consensual feeding ⚠️

God, you'd been doing so well.

The job you work is daylight shift, you're always polite and cordial, you mind your own business, and, most importantly, you don't take anybody else's bullshit.

You go to work, you do your tasks, then you go home. You're always in before the sun sets, and if you aren't, you're cozying into the closest hotel you can find and parking your ass there for the night. Then it's rinse and repeat. Little to no deviation from the routine. It's fine.

You don't look for trouble, is the point.

But it sure did find you.

"No! Nonono — WAIT, STOP! WAIT!"

You sprint as fast as your legs will take you, but it's no use. The bus pulls away from the stop and keeps on going, ten minutes earlier than it should've, and leaves you behind. You groan and resist the urge to throw your bag to the ground.

"God dammit." The next one wouldn't be around for at least an hour and a half, and it would be long dark by then. You didn't have the cash on hand for a cab all the way to downtown Gotham, either. You pull your phone out and check how far the closest hotel is, but that's also downtown.

As far as options go, you can either call your brother and ask him to come get you, or walk as fast as your legs will take you and hope you make it back home unscathed.

You start walking.

"It's fine," you tell yourself, white-knuckling the strap of your messenger bag. "You've made it home after dark before and been completely fine. Nothing's going to happen to you. Everything is great. You could use the exercise, actually. A little leg work does a body good, and you spend most of your time sitting at a desk. Yeah. Yeah! It's like walking on the treadmill..."

The small pep talk helps. Taking large strides, you estimate that you'll make it back home in 45 minutes. That's fine! It's all fine!

Except it isn't fine, because twenty minutes in, you become acutely aware of someone following you about half a block back. You test that by crossing streets at odd places and walking around the perimeter of a liquor store, and he remains on the edge of your periphery the whole time. It's absolutely not fine.

You pull your phone out and dial 9-1-1, picking up the pace. Your heart feels like it's leapt into your throat and you hope against hope he changes his mind and fucks off somewhere else.

"Gotham City Police. Where is the address of the emergency?"

"Uh...I'm currently off the intersection of Cherry and Roman," you explain, looking at the street sign, and give the dispatcher your name. "I'm walking South along Cherry. There's a man following me, about...uh, sixty feet back? I think I'm gonna get jumped, and I missed my bus, and I just wanna get home before dark —"

"Okay, alright," the dispatcher says, voice gentle. "It'll be okay. I've alerted units in your area to come by. The closest one is five minutes out. Stay on the line with me."

"Okay," you mutter. "Thank you. I'm just really scared."

"It'll be okay," the dispatcher repeats. "What does the man look like? Are you able to describe him safely?"

"He's kind of short," you explain. "He's got jeans on and a black coat. I think he's blonde, but I don't wanna look behind me and piss him off..."

"That's fine. You're doing great. They're four minutes out. Just keep walking and talking to me."

"Okay. I'm crossing the street now, still on Cherry... There's a book store that's closed on my right. It's called...um..." You squint. You're not quite close enough to see the sign yet, and before you get the chance to better read the lettering, a hand clasps around your arm and yanks you backwards. You scream, cellphone dropping to the sidewalk, and the man is trying to drag you into an alleyway.

"No!" You cry, beating a fist against his chest. "Stop!! GET OFF ME!"

"Shut the fuck up!" The man snarls. You yank a taser out of your tote bag and press it against his side, shocking him. He shouts in pain and spasms, letting go. You stumble back, scoop up your phone, and take off in a sprint. "Get back here!!"

"Hello!?" You yell into the receiver. "He's chasing me! I'm running but he's chasing me! I need help right now, please!!"

"A unit is two minutes out," the dispatcher replies, sounding tense. "Do you have any means of defending yourself? A weapon? Pepper spray?"

"My taser didn't do shit! I don't have anything else!"

"Keep running. They're hurrying as fast as they can, I promise."

"I'm running! I'm going!!"

You pump your legs as fast as they can possibly carry you, then push them to go even faster than that. You're gasping noisily for breath and there's a stitch developing in your side. Your heart feels like it's going to burst from your chest. But you can't stop, because you can hear him running after you, and if you stop you'll most certainly die.

"Please!" You wheeze into the phone. "I can't — please!"

The sound of sirens reaches your ears and you feel almost weep with relief. You start shouting that you're here, you're right here, hurry the fuck up and get here, but you're grabbed again right as the patrol car rounds the corner.

The stalker hooks an arm around your throat and yanks you to his chest. He presses a gun to your temple and you freeze, ice crawling up and down your spine.

"Drop the weapon!" A cop shouts. Two of them hop out of the vehicle and aim their own guns at the two of you. "Put the gun down and step away from them right now!"

"This doesn't have to go down with anybody getting hurt tonight!" The second officer yells. "Surrender peacefully!"

"Fuck your peace!!" The man that has you screams. The hand holding the gun is shaking as badly as you are, and you hope and pray his finger isn't twitching against that trigger. "Back up or I blow their brains all over the street!"

"Don't!" You choke out. "Don't do that! Please don't do that, I'm just trying to go home please don't —"

"SHUT UP!" He snaps. "EVERYBODY SHUT UP OR I SWEAR I'M GONNA —"

Two gunshots sound. You flinch hard, hands flying up to your head to feel for any bullet wounds, but there's nothing there. The responding officers are sheet-white, looking at you like they've seen a ghost.

No, not at you. Past you.

You don't wanna look. You've lived this long not having to see a dead body and don't intend on breaking that streak. Maybe they hadn't intended to shoot to kill? Is that why they seem to scared? But — no, that doesn't make sense. Because if they shot him, the body is on the ground. Their eyes should be on the ground. Not up as high as they currently are.

They're looking at something else.

"Aw, what's the matter?" Chimes a voice behind you, and you turn just as pale as them.

You don't dare turn around. You don't move. You don't breathe. The exact reason why you're so diligent about getting home before sundown every night is standing about two feet behind you, and you suddenly feel like your odds of survival were better with the stalker.

"Why don't you two go on back to the precinct? I've got it from here."

The police continue to stare behind you for several, long moments. They share a look between each other. They look at you. They step towards their car.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Cold sweat forms on the back of your neck and your eyes start to water.

"Don't go," you stammer, shaking your head. "Don't. Don't leave me here. Please don't go —"

"Shhhh..." What feels like a block of ice lands heavily on your shoulder and squeezes tight. So painfully tight. You can't breathe. "Don't listen to 'im. Go on, boys. Get."

The first officer climbs back into the car. The second one hesitates just a moment longer.

"I don't like repeating myself. Go, before I run out of fucking patience."

The second cop disappears back into the car, shutting off the lights, and drives away.

You feel like you're going to throw up. There's nothing protecting you anymore. No one around. Just your ragged breathing to fill the silence and the Red Hood practically pressed against your back.

"You know what's coming next."

The voice is low and distorted by a modulator in the helmet. Every word makes your heart race faster and your vision gets spotty at the edges.

"Hey, hey, hey...easy," he teases, the icey hand on your shoulder moving to cup your jaw. Pressure starts to be applied, urging you to tip your head back and expose your throat to the open air. You sob.

"M'just try-trying t'go ho-home."

"Yeah?" The Red Hood coos. You swear it sounds like he's grinning under that fucking helmet.

"I just wanna go home," you repeat, nearly whispering.

"Heard ya the first time. Quiet, now."

He tips your head back until it won't go any further. Through tears, you blink up at a blood-red helmet, reflecting your terror back at you. The hand at your jaw moves up and covers your eyes, eliminating even the small solace of the street lamps and leaving you in total darkness.

"You don't move. You don't run. You don't pull away from me. You keep these pretty eyes shut nice and tight. Do all that and maybe. Maybe. I let you go home. Say yes if you understand."

Your bottom lip wobbles, teeth practically chattering.

"Y-yes," you whisper.

"Good."

You hear the click of latches coming undone and hear him take the helmet off. You feel his other arm come around your waist, pulling your bodies flush together. You feel his breath against your throat.

Getting bitten by a vampire is a terrible experience. It's nothing like the movies and books tell you at all; no little pinch followed by numbness, no erotic tingling coming from the point of contact, no gentle suction like getting a hickey.

It feels like somebody is stabbing you with a fucking fork and then subsequently trying to suck the skin off your bones. It hurts like nothing else you've ever experienced.

You scream, because he didn't say you weren't allowed to do that, and you cling to the arm around your waist as tight as you possibly can, like it's the only thing grounding you to what's happening because it is. It is.

This is why most of Gotham's businesses are closed by sundown, why most people have shut themselves into their homes and settled in for the evening by now, why you were trying to do the exact same thing before you missed that stupid bus. Because ever since the Red Hood started prowling the streets at night, nobody has wanted to be caught outside with him.

He emerged four years ago with a mission and two rules:

1. If he catches you out at night doing some shit you shouldn't, pray you've gotten your affairs in order before he kills you.

2. If he saves you from someone who was out at night doing some shit they shouldn't, he will take payment from you whether you give it willingly or not.

He does not accept money. He does not accept bribes. He does not leave a debt unpaid.

Gotham's resident vampire takes your blood.

#jason todd x reader #vampire jason au #jason todd #red hood x reader

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auroralwriting · 9 months ago

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need a hand?

bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n)

bucky fails at being romantic on your first date.. kind of

word count: 738 | warnings: bucky being a goofball

lowkey this is the funniest fic i've ever written, enjoy silly bucky!

James Buchanan Barnes considered himself a true, old-fashioned romantic. So, when you said yes to your first date after a long friendship, Bucky knew he had to make everything perfect for you.

Being two Avengers (or whatever superheros were now called), your lives were filled with action. Bucky wanted to do something laidback, fun, relaxed. After a few Google searches, Bucky decided he'd take you to Dave and Busters for your first date.

Of course, he planned on absolutely winning you over. Sure, it was the first date, but Bucky wanted to show you how romantic he could be. Casual flirting and small touches were already established; he wanted you to swoon.

So, the day finally came for your first date. Bucky had told you to dress casually, so he did the same. He definitely tried to look his best, even if it was a casual look. By the looks of your outfit, you thought the same.

You were definitely surprised when Bucky walked you out to his motorcycle. You didn't know he rode one, so that was great news. The ride there was fun, Bucky sang loudly as you laughed. It was enjoyable.

Once you arrived to Dave and Busters, Bucky made sure to get as many tokens as he could so you both could spend all the time in the world having fun. You played games, competed for who could get the best high score, and casually made fun of each other while you played. So far, things were going great!

Then, your eye caught onto a small stuffed animal in a claw machine you just adored. It took Bucky less than five seconds to decide he was getting you that stuffed animal. So, ten whole minutes were spent in anticipation as Bucky repeatedly tried to win it for you. Of course, as all claw machines are, it was clearly rigged, dropping the toy before it hardly lifted in the air.

"I'm gonna get it," Bucky promised, swiping his card once more in the machine.

You laughed, "I'm gonna go get a drink, you keep trying, okay?"

Even after you left, another turn went wasted as Bucky failed to get the toy. So, he made a new plan, he was going to reach in and grab it.

With his metal arm stuffed up the machine, Bucky quickly realized there was no way he could reach it. So, he went to withdraw his arm when he realized it was stuck. After a few more tugs, panic settled in his core. Shit, this was bad.

"Uhm, Buck?" Shit!

Bucky turned his head to see you standing behind him, stifling a laugh. "Hey, doll,"

"Are you stuck?" You asked slowly, lips pressing together tightly in the strongest attempt to keep yourself from bursting into tears right then and there from the humor of it all.

With an awkward look, Bucky muttered, "No.."

You giggled and knelt down next to him, "Can I?" Bucky nodded with a sigh as your hands found the small buttons on his metal arm that detached it. It fell right off his body and thankfully out of the machine. Bucky stood up and reattached it, doing a full three-sixty with his arm to set it back in place.

"Were you trying to get me that stuffed animal?" You asked softly.

"I didn't wanna waste our tokens..." Bucky trailed off. You could've sworn in that moment, you had hearts for eyes.

You grabbed Bucky and lead him back to the machine, "Watch and learn, Barnes," You said smoothly as the game started up. With just one try, the toy was now in the claws grasp, falling down into the compartment for you to grab. It was safe to say Bucky was floored.

"How did you do that?" He asked as you laughed.

"It's my special talent," You answered with a confident look.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, "You know mine?" With a shake of your head, Bucky smirked slyly at you, "Do you wanna know?" Before you could answer, Bucky grabbed your waist with both hands, pulling you flesh against him as he placed a strong kiss on your lips. It was so soft, yet so smooth and passionate.

Once he pulled back, you stared at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. "That's a good talent." Bucky let out a loud laugh at your response as he kissed your knuckles.

"C'mon, doll. Show me what other games you can win for us."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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slasherscream · 1 year ago

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Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

#crazy ass girls gang #tiffany valentine x reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #tiffany valentine imagine #jennifer check x reader #jennifer check imagine #ginger fitzgerald x reader #carrie white x reader #nancy downs x reader #thank you ty and oak for helping me place these guys i was in the trenches #im still in the trenches right now because im down BAD i want them all in a way that #MUST be studied by scientists this shit ain't normal #sorry if this makes me look gay it's because i am #got a little lost in the sauce with ginger HELLO???

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marauroon · 6 months ago

Note

Hellooo! Marauders are taking over my heart my body and my life as well so could I maybe request a fic with James (or poly!marauders whatever you like) with a reader who is avoidant of relationships so once they realize they are loved they try to run away but James wont let her go and patiently convinces her to give them a chance? Thank you so much!

S E L F - S A B O T A G E — POLY MARAUDERS!

poly!marauders x fem!reader | h/c | 4.0k | masterlist!!

the marauders had thrown their hearts at you like it was effortless. and you just couldn’t return the gesture.

cw— relationship avoidant reader, mild miscommunication, mini argument, reader gets anxious and overwhelmed

a/n— thanks for the request ml, this one may require a part two <3

When exactly did it start? All four of you could give a different answer.

Sirius wagers it was the first potions class of fifth year, where you’d been unceremoniously wedged in between him and James as a part of a stupid boy-girl seating plan to stop ‘distractions’.

It didn’t work evidently, and James had managed to talk your ear off almost every lesson since, a familiar glint in his eye that Sirius knew all too well.

Remus would say it was closer to the end of that same year, when they’d somehow managed to invade your table in the library to study for their OWLs and Sirius had managed to get distracted—and distract you—within ten minutes of sitting down, spending almost a whole hour talking at you before Remus had to step in to make sure you both got an ample amount of revision done.

James would probably argue it was the first time the three actually spoke to you, finalised in the way that Remus looked at you as you slid a healing balm across the desk for his increasingly scarred hands with only a mutter that they “looked like they hurt,”.

And you? Well…

You’re not exactly sure.

It was so gradual yet so sudden and now you’re walking down the hallways with three borderline guard dogs at your tail like they’ve collectively decided you were a part of their pack.

And you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

It was endearing to a point, a genuine, unconditional affection shared between the three boys and spread onto you with no request for yours in return, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel almost suffocating.

You were almost constantly in the presence of at least one of the boys, languidly smothering you in unbridled affection like it was second nature to them.

Whether it was Remus slipping you notes for classes you weren’t paying attention in, Sirius insisting on carrying your bag down the hallways, or James sneaking compliments into every sentence he spoke to you, the casual fondness they showed you was never-ending.

And if you were being honest, it was beginning to be a bit too much.

“Here, love,” James passes you a pitcher over Sirius’ breakfast. “You’ll dry out your throat, we need that pretty voice in tact ready for the match later,”

You take the pitcher from him with a raised eyebrow, hoping your fluster isn’t too apparent in your tone. “the… match?”

“The Quidditch match doll,” Sirius takes it upon himself to pour your drink for you, taking the pitcher from your hands like you’ll shatter if he’s not careful enough. “We’re versing Slytherin, it’ll be a sight for sure,”

Oh.

Right.

“Damn right, I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when we take the cup for the fifth year in a row,” James hits Sirius’ arm lightly in his enthusiasm, stealing a slice of toast from his plate. “You are coming right?” James blinks at you slowly, honey-brown eyes big and round, like he’s silently trying to hypnotise you into agreeing with him.

“I- yeah,” You give him a half-stunted nod, letting your words speak before you can make up your mind and ultimately pull out of it. “yeah…”

“Excellent,” James clasps his hands together with a satisfied nod. “I’ll dig out a spare jersey for you,”

“Who said she was wearing your name?” Sirius turns to him with a raised eyebrow, and it starts a lighthearted debate that you quickly tune out in favour of the dull ringing in your ears.

The way they were talking made everything sound so final, so… concrete. Like you’d just completely melded into their routine through no input of your own.

“You don’t have to,” There’s a soft nudge against your left side, joined by what’s almost a whisper from Remus. “I don’t go to all of them,”

He’s giving you an out. Or at least trying to. You know that if you suddenly pull out of wanting to go that James and Sirius’d be disappointed, even if they pretend that they’re not.

“It’s alright..” You shake your head with a small smile, attempting to reassure both Remus—and yourself—that you really do want to watch the boys play.

James wins his and Sirius’ debate apparently, and a few hours before the match is due to start he hands you a folded up Quidditch jersey with a smile etched onto his face.

“Here you are m’love, look forward to seeing you in it later,” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, winking as he pulls away. “Gotta run for some last minute practice, wish me luck,”

“Good luck…” your hands curl in around the jumper almost instinctually as you stand stationary watching James run out of the common room waving in your direction, and once he’s out of sight your eyes drop to the clothing in your arms.

You hold it up to let it unfold, signature red and gold stripes adorning the fabric and a large embroidered ‘POTTER’ covering the back where it’d meet your shoulder blades.

Well, James’ shoulder blades. It would probably cover most of your upper back.

You spend the next hour staring at it in your dorm room, left draped over the end of your bed as you internally fought with yourself over whether you should actually put it on.

It was taunting you the way the gold embroidery thread caught the overheard lighting, forcing your focus towards the surname like an ultimatum.

If you put on that jumper, you were committing yourself to whatever you’d been thrust into.

And the thought made you almost physically nauseous.

It was like the boys had handed you their hearts on a silver platter, expecting you to shield them inside your ribcage, nestled against your own until they stop beating.

Like they were giving themselves to you wholely, nothing left behind until it was piled up so high that you couldn’t dig yourself out of the iron hold they’d captured you in no matter how much you tried, slowly asphyxiating yourself under the ever constricting grasp of the cage they’d trapped you in until you turned blue.

It terrified you.

You didn’t go to the Quidditch game.

God knows if you did it would end in nothing less than tears, if not you literally collapsing from hyperventilating at the first sight of any of the three of them.

Instead, you burrowed yourself underneath your satin sheets to seek a dull solace, no comfort found in the way you curled in on yourself, but no growing anxiety either.

You knew you’d have to leave it eventually, face the three boys and force out an excuse whilst desperately hoping they didn’t see just how horrifically anxious they made you.

It was horrible really, they’d done nothing but extend their kindest hands to you, treat you like you painted the stars in the sky and gifted them the oxygen they breathed.

And here you were, dreading the thought of so much as glancing at their blissfully oblivious faces.

“Sweetheart,” Marlene enters the dorm almost cautiously as she edges the door open, still clad in her full quidditch gear, sweat glistening against her forehead. “The boys are outside for you,”

“I’m not here,” You muffle your words into your duvet as you pull it up and over your head, and you can’t faintly hear Marlene sigh as she treads over and pulls you from your cocoon of self pity through dragging the quilt out of your hands.

She raises her eyebrow down at you questioning it, but you can see the concern swirling in her irises.

“Just tell them I’m asleep?” You furrow your eyebrows in silent pleading, echoed through your words as you exhale heavily. “Please?”

Shes clearly not very happy with your request, but she bites her tongue and gives you a small nod anyway, brushing stray hairs from your forehead with a sigh. “Whatever this is about, you should talk to them,”

“Yes mum,” You roll your eyes with a feigned sigh of indignation, pulling the duvet back up underneath your chin.

As she turns to leave, expression a mix of exasperation and amusement, you catch the jersey draped against your bed-post in the corner of your eye.

“Marls,” You point to it almost pathetically. “I really don’t want to face them right now,”

She practically snatches the jumper from the end of your bed with an almost scolding expression, and you flash her a guilty but grateful smile.

“I love you,”

“My love for you is dwindling,” She throws the jumper over her arm with an over-dramatised exhale, but she shoots you a flying kiss across the room nonetheless, and it leaves you with a small smile as the door clicks shut.

Although it doesn’t last very long.

You’d given her the jumper to return for you because you didn’t even want to consider what James’ face would look like when he got it back.

But of course your mind pictured it anyway.

The way his hazel eyes would pool first in disappointment before slowly turning to worry, a small, almost imperceptible frown pulling at the corners of his lips and his eyebrows furrowed just enough that it caused a line to form above the bridge of his nose.

You honestly didn’t know if you seeing it in real life or the picture your brain had unceremoniously forced onto you was worse, but what you did know was that you could not face him now.

The minute that boy saw you—any of them really—you knew that the impending conversation that followed was going to be one you didn’t want to have.

You jinxed yourself pretty hard with that prediction.

You’d managed to avoid the three at breakfast the next morning to no credit of your own, slept in so late after running your mind into the ground the night before you’d basically missed the whole thing, but you didn’t even make it down the hallway towards your first lesson before a pair of running feet crescendo’d in your direction.

“Hey—”

Shit.

“Sirius, morning,” You stop dead in the middle of the hallway, most definitely to the begrudgement of the rest of the students trying to get to class; And whilst you regret it almost immediately, Sirius doesn’t have a care in the world for diverting the foot traffic, concern written in the way his eyebrows knit together as his attention stays devoted to you.

“Are you okay? You didn’t make it to the match yesterday, we were worried about you,” His tone conveys less disappointment that you didn’t go and more genuine concern that something might’ve happened or gone wrong.

“Yeah, sorry,” You reply half awkwardly, fiddling absentmindedly with the cuffs of your sleeves. “I’m alright though,” You echo the end of your sentence with a nod, lips pressed together in a line, a mimicry of a smile.

“You’re sure?” He reaches out his hand to press the back of it against your forehead. “Because if you’re ill Moony’s got a bunch of stuff from Madame Pomfrey, I’m sure something’ll—”

“I’m fine, Sirius,” You don’t let him finish his sentence before you’re gently pulling his hand away from your face and back down to his side. “You really don’t have to worry, I just fell asleep,”

“Alright,” He most definitely picks up on the traces of defensiveness in your tone as he takes a step backwards to give you a little more personal space, and you’d have half the mind to feel guilty if you weren’t so constantly overwhelmed by him and the others.

“I’ll uh,” He presses his lips together half-awkwardly. “Let you get to class then,”

“Don’t you have potions?” It’s genuine curiosity, edged with a small amount of concern that Sirius’ll be late for his own class now that he’s followed you half way to yours. On the opposite side of the castle.

“Yeah, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first,” Sirius gives you a small smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Let me walk you?”

You shake your head slowly, gently pushing on his shoulder. “Go to your own class, Sirius,”

He lingers for a moment before turning to head back in the direction he came from, leaving you with a mix of relief and lingering guilt.

Your day is largely uneventful until lunch, the smell of parchment still lingering in your nose as you wander out towards the courtyard instead of joining your friends in the great hall.

You knew they’d be there. Of course they’d be there.

And after this morning with Sirius, which he’d definitely told the other two about, you were finding yourself wanting to be in their presence even less.

So you take your lunch to the courtyard instead, settling on a bench farthest from the entrance to avoid any potential encounter. The peace is short-lived, however, as you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

“Thought you might be out here,” James' voice is gentle, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he takes a seat next to you.

You tense up, trying to muster a smile but failing. “Hey, James.”

“Hey,” he echoes, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “You missed breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, I—“ You search for an excuse, but nothing comes to mind. “I wasn't really hungry.”

James nods slowly, as if he's trying to decode the underlying meaning behind your words. “Is everything alright? You seemed a bit off yesterday.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the anxiety bubble up in your chest. “I'm fine, really. Just needed some time to myself.”

“Time to yourself?” James repeats, his tone soft but probing. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

You wanted to curse James Potter sometimes.

How could he be so confident in himself that he could throw his heart at you with no fear of it shattering in your palms?

How could he be so sweet yet so painfully ignorant?

“If this is about you missing the quidditch match yesterday, Sirius and I aren’t—”

“It’s not about the quidditch match James,” You cut him off with a sigh. “Or— It is, but it’s not just about that—”

You stand to release yourself from James’ proximity.

“James, it's everything.” you finally admit, unable to hold back any longer. “I cant so much as breathe without one of you attached to my hip and I can’t do it anymore—”

James' face falls, the concern in his eyes deepening. “We're just trying to show you we care, but if it's too much, we can give you space.”

“It's not just space,” you say, your voice trembling. “It's... even thinking about you three is suffocating me...”

James's face contorts in confusion and a touch of hurt, but he quickly masks it with a forced understanding. "I... didn't realize it was that bad," he says quietly, his usual confident demeanor faltering for the first time in your memory.

You swallow hard, guilt gnawing at your insides, but you can’t take back what you’ve said. You don’t want to. It’s been building inside you for too long—the overwhelming presence of James, Sirius, and Remus in your life. They were everywhere, all the time, and while their company had almost become a comfort, it quickly spiralled into a cage.

“I’m sorry, James. I know you all mean well, but it’s just… too much,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, though the motion seems more for his benefit than yours, as if he’s trying to force himself to understand. “I get it,” he says, though you can tell he really doesn’t. “I guess I never thought about how it might feel from your side. We just… we wanted to make sure you really felt like one of us,”

The way he says "one of us" stings, a reminder of how you were a part of their tight-knit group—no, how they had made you a part of it, pulling you in whether you liked it or not.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t really been given a choice. You had been absorbed into their world, expected to fit perfectly into the space they had carved out for you, without ever considering whether you wanted to be there in the first place.

“I know you didn’t mean any harm,” you say, trying to soften the blow. “But I need to figure out how I feel without… without you all hovering over me all the time.”

James winces at that, and you can see the pain in his eyes. “We never meant to make you feel like that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… We— thought, you… We were trying to prove how much we care…”

The tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, but you blink them away. “I don’t need you to prove anything, James. I need to breathe.”

He looks down at his hands, clasped tightly together in his lap. “If that’s what you need, then we’ll give it to you,” he says finally, though his voice is tinged with reluctance. “We can give you space, we can— leave you alone if that’s what you need. We can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

James doesn’t really know how to respond to that.

“I— Why wouldn’t you ever be ready..?”

“I don’t know if I can do this, James,” It hurts, coming out of your mouth, echoing back into your ears. But it’s true.

“I— I know being with three people at once can be overwhelming but—”

“It’s not that James,” You shake your head with an almost imperceptible sigh. “I don’t think I’d even be able to date one of you without being overwhelmed,”

James’s eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from hurt to confusion. “Are you saying... you don’t want to be with any of us?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and regrets. You glance away, struggling to find the right words to convey the complexity of your feelings.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” you say slowly, trying to articulate the intricate emotions swirling inside you. “But I can’t… give myself to you, I can’t— hand you three my heart on a silver platter like you did to me. I just can’t.”

James's expression shifts from confusion to a mixture of frustration and sadness. He clearly hadn’t expected this level of honesty.

“I get that you’re overwhelmed,” he says, his voice quiet but determined. “But can you give us a chance to show you that we can handle it? That we can adjust and give you what you need without pushing too hard?”

You meet his gaze, seeing the earnestness and vulnerability in his eyes. It’s clear he’s invested in making this work, not just for himself but for all three of them. You can see him struggling to reconcile his own desires with your need for space and clarity.

“It’s not just about trying, James,” you reply, feeling the weight of your words. “It’s about whether or not I’m ready to be a part of this—whatever this is. And right now, I don’t even know what I want, let alone if I can handle being part of something with all three of you.”

James nods, absorbing your words. “I understand that you need time. But maybe instead of pushing you away entirely, we could find a middle ground. We could— take things slower, give you room to breathe while still being here for you in a less overwhelming way. If you don’t want us all together then… maybe it’s just one of us you’d be open to starting with? Even if it’s just as friends—”

Your heart softens a bit at his suggestion. The idea of easing into something less intense seems more manageable, though it still doesn’t completely resolve your concerns.

“You can get to know us properly— as people, and let us show you why we care about you.” There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, one that’s mirrored in his irises, swirling in his gaze amidst the sunlight reflecting off of his pupils. “Just… give us a chance,”

You take in James’s earnest plea, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. The desperation and hope in his gaze pull at something within you, a flicker of longing for a connection that feels genuine and real, even amidst the confusion and overwhelming anxiety.

“I... I can try,” you say slowly, the words feeling both heavy and hopeful as they leave your lips. “I can try to get to know you better, as individuals, and see where it goes. But I need you to understand that this isn’t going to be easy, and it might take longer than any of us expect.”

James’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. “That’s all I’m asking for,” he says, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips. “We’ll take it slow, no pressure. Just... let us show you that we can be what you need, one step at a time.”

You nod, feeling a tentative sense of hope as you look at him. “Alright. We’ll start with that. But if at any point it becomes too much, I need you to promise me that you’ll respect that.”

James’s smile widens, his eyes reflecting a mix of joy and determination. “I promise. We’ll be patient and understanding. And if you need space, we’ll give it to you. Just... let us try and convince you...”

There’s a moment of silence between you, the tension easing slightly as you both come to a mutual understanding. The path forward is still uncertain, but the willingness to try and the promise of patience create a small but significant shift in the dynamic between you.

You give him a soft nod. “Thank you, James,” you breathe out shortly, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

James gives you a warm, encouraging nod. “Anytime. We care about you, and we want you to be happy. Just remember, we’re here for you.”

And so, the next chapter of your ‘relationship’ began. Starting in a place that preceded even the beginning.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black x reader #sirius black #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #marauders x reader #poly!marauders x reader #asks 🪶

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chishiyaisasnack · 1 year ago

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It’s under my skirt, Doctor

Hello everyone! It’s been a while. I finally got this little thing together, and I hope you all like it.

Disclaimer! This is smut. Stay away if you aren’t of agw or if you’re uncomfortable with the topic. Remember to use protection in real life!

Written and posted on mobile, I apologize for any wierd formatting.

Chishiyas life was work. Long hours, sometimes so long that he didn’t leave the hospital before his next shift. The couch in his office had become soft from where he slept, countless days and nights spent there alone. Not that it mattered, not to him. He liked his job. Kind of. There was nothing else he wanted to do anyway, so filling his life with something that kept his brain occupied and evolving was good enough. Once he stopped caring about all the injustice he focused solely on performing surgeries. The heart was an interresting thing, so small, so powerful. One wrong move and a life could end. Sometimes he wondered what that would feel like. He would never play with a life like that, he wasn’t completely insane, but the thought had showed up once or twice.

This particular shift got his mood turning all over the place. Everyone was whiny, rude and just hard to deal with. Twelve hours of pretending to be respectful was hard enough on the good days.

When he got back to his office he sank down into the couch, contemplating buying new cushions soon because they were starting to get uncomfortable. He needed to get his mind cleared out, to stop thinking about work and kids and parents who he wanted to toss in the trashcan.

A vibration went off in his pocket, making his head hurt just thinking about what they would need him for now. He just wanted to rest. So, when he picked it up and saw the notification on his screen he got pleasently suprised.

Y/N: Hey, sorry to disturb your work but I have a medical issue that I wondered if you could take a look at? I can come over in 10 minutes if that works for you.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Normal people didn’t use the words ”medical issue” as a synonym for ”I want to fuck” but it worked very well for the two of them. Chishiya had met her at a work gathering and that turned out to be the best stress reliever he could wish for, and he knew that she used him for that exact same reason. Some might say that they were dating, but the only times they really met in person was just for sex and maybe some lunch afterwards. Chishiya did spend occasional nights at her place since she lived closer to the hospital than he did, and getting his dick wet then sleep in a bed instead of his office couch was a nice change.

Ten minutes later the telltale three knocks on his office door woke him up from his thoughts. Trying not to run to the door in excitement, he stood up, took a deep breath and changed into his normal ’I don’t care about anything’-face before opening it. The ’not caring about anything’-face changed as soon as he saw what was on the other end of the doorframe. He was not prepared for her standing there, panties hanging from slender fingers on one of her hands and her head cocked to the side. The skirt she was wearing was short and flowy, almost revealing what was, or rather what wasn’t underneath it.

”Eager are we?” Chishiya welcomed her in a smug voice, trying to hide the mess his head was already in. She winked at him in response.

”You usually don’t have very long so I thought I’d be prepared.” She walked straight to him, put the underwear in the chest pocket of his white doctors coat and kicked the door closed behind her. Chishiya could hear the click from the lock but was more interrested in the cleavage that her ”too tight to be comfortable”-top was showing. He didn’t even try to hide that he liked what he saw. He knew she liked it. A finger under his chin woke him up from his thoughts and when he looked up he was met with sparkling eyes full of excitement when she gazed back into his.

”Hmm.. I like how professional you look in this outfit” she purred as she smoothed her hands up his chest until she reached his neck, hands tangling in the blonde strands in the back until his hair tie fell to the floor, one thumb tracing his ear. ”I’d let you examine me any day.”

Chishiya rolled his eyes at her attempt at flirting, but rather than giving her a comeback he reached in and put his hands on her bare thighs, inching further up while he kissed that lovely space between her neck and shoulder that made her whimper every time.

”So, what did you want me to take a look at?” Chishiya murmered teasingly into her ear. She hummed and moved her hands back down to his shoulders, gripping onto the neck of his coat.

”It’s under my skirt, Doctor.”

In one swift move she grabbed the stethoscope still hanging around his neck and pulled him with her until they both hit the wall behind her, before crashing her lips into his with urgency, and Chishiya returned it with just as much desire as he was given. It was intoxicating, her soft lips, the sweet smell of her perfume, her hands tugging at his hair trying to coax him closer.

His hands went from her thighs to her waist, with just a quick squeeze at her ass first, clenching his fingers in the fabric of her shirt, pulling her even closer so that she could feel that this was affecting him too. His cock was already getting hard, pushing uncomfortably against his pants, but her soft stomach gave great friction whenever she moaned and rubbed herself against him.

Trying to deepen the kiss, she slid her tounge against his lips, making him smile against her whine when he didn’t answer her attempt. He was the one calling the shots and he wanted her to remember that. Instead of giving her what she wanted he pried his lips away from hers and targeted her neck.

The sweet sounds she made whenever his lips caressed her made his head spin. He couldn’t keep his hands still any longer and torturously slow started to inch them up the skin under her top, feeling the way she moved under them, how she was shivering against his touch and how her lungs moved with every heated breath that left her. He knew that undressing her probably wasn’t the best idea in case someone managed to interrupt them, but when he felt her breast under his palms, so soft and squeazable and utterly wonderful to nibble at, his desire to put his face between them took over his rationality. So, after he sucked down on the skin on her shoulder - and grinned at the sour moan she made - he pulled her top off and started his descent down her body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the thump that her head made when she threw it back against the wall but he was far more interrested in the goosebumps that spread under the line he licked down her collarbone. When he finally moved his mouth over her nipple he felt a hand grip his shoulder with a strenght that was sure to leave a mark.

The noises she made went straight to Chishiyas cock. His mind was so clouded by the need to be inside her that he was having trouble keeping his teasing facade in check. Nestling his face in her chest did ground him a bit though, it was the whines that followed it that made him throb in his pants.

”Fuck, Chishiya… lower please” she begged, shivering when he swept his tounge over her other nipple. The gentle squeeze from his other hand earned him another whimper - and a fist in his hair trying to push him further down. He complied with a quiet laugh, loving how aroused she was from just this. Not that he had anything to say about that, he was aching just as bad as she was.

He didn’t bother to take her skirt off, he just held it up with one hand while running the other up her inner thigh, slow and steady so that he could hear her quiet complaints that he took too long.

”Hold it” he commanded, looking at her and then the skirt, nodding towards it to make his point. A shaky hand took a hold of the hem of the skirt and he shifted his focus back to her soft thighs, leading up to her glistening center that he couldn’t wait to be inside. He couldn’t help himself and squeezed the inside of her thigh, thinking about how great it would feel to have them wrapped around him - then laughed at her impatient grunt before giving in and giving her what she asked for.

With one hand he hiked her leg over his shoulder and then he dove in and let his tounge spread her open, loving the wetness he was met with. A cascade of ’yes’-es fell from her mouth as she rolled her hips in time with his tounges movements. A long lick between the folds, flicking over the clit, sucking, kissing, circling… he knew exactly what she liked and he gave it to her. Every time her moans got a little louder he slowed down, dragging out the sensation (and pissing her off just a little just because he could). It was his favourite leisure activity and he could go for hours if he had the time. Unfortunately he didn’t and with a last lick he stopped, her disappointed groan chiming like music in his ears.

He rose to his feet, one hand still lingering on her thigh, the other moving a strand of hair from her face that was so lovely and flushed from desire. There was a hint of irritation from the way her eyebrows scrunched together, but it disappeared when he used the same hand that he just caressed her cheek with to draw a line along her pussy, wet and warm, and so inviting, making her squirm under his touch.

”I want to take my time with you but we’re in a bit of a hurry,” he reminded her. ”Come here.”

Chishiya started walking towards the couch, sat down and patted his lap as an invitation for her to sit.

”I’m tired and have been working all day,” Chishiya playfully told her, watching her eyes roll as she walked towards him, which made him chuckle. He enjoyed how obvious she was with everything and that she didn’t take any of his shit. She was strong and powerful and he wouldn’t have a chance against her wits if she wanted to ruin him. And he didn’t want it any other way.

”You need a new couch” she complained while straddling his lap, knees sinking down too far and throwing off her balance before she put her hands on his shoulder and shuffled her way forward to hover over his length.

”But I really like my couch” he lied, lazily putting his hands on her waist to pretend to help her.

”Sure you do. Take off your pants, or are you too tired to do that to, Doctor?”

For once he hurried, mostly because his dick was aching and he couldn’t wait for it to be inside her. So he moved his pants and boxers out of the way, enough to release his cock. She didn’t waste a second and sank down onto it right away.

Both of them moaned, her from finally being filled and him from finally being hugged by her warm, wet walls. When she started to move, riding him nice and deep, he couldn’t help himself and let his head fall back so he could watch her face as she fucked herself on him.

”Fuck, I’ve been needing this” he groaned as she took him in, Chishiya pushing as far in as he could to savour that warm and tight feeling that her insides gave him. ”You feel so good.”

”Fuck…” was the only answer he got, but it sounded perfect. Breathless and broken, turning into another moan when his cock hit her sweet spot again.

She rode him deep and fast, her wet walls stroking his cock in rhythm with her movements. Desperate to feel more of it, he bucked up into her to bury himself as deep as he could. Her hands was on his shoulders, nails digging deep into his white coat.

Chishiyas hands were everywhere, grabbing her ass hard as she bounced on his lap, sliding up her waist when he went back to rolling her hips, cupping her breasts when he took over and fucked her from below. The bliss on her face drove him on, making him thrust harder and angling his hips so that he hit that spongy spot inside her with every thrust. He could feel her getting close, her insides tightening and clamping down around his cock, stroking the life out of him with it. He wouldn’t last much longer either - he needed her to come so that he could join her. So he slid a hand down to her center, putting two fingers on her clit and started to circle it in time with his thrusts. The loud groan she let out at the sensation made the fire in his stomach grow even more and, fuck, he needed her to orgasm.

”Y/N, come for me,” he hissed and pressed down harder on her clit. ”Fuck, come on my cock.”

And so she did. With a rough moan into his neck he felt her walls clamping down on his cock, so fucking tight, before convulsing around him. Maybe he should have stopped and let her catch her breath but his hips moved at their own will now. He fucked her with desperation, each thrust bringing him closer, until he emptied himself deep inside her. She moaned as he did, rocking her hips to stimulate him more until his cock had stopped twitching.

Chishiyas hands landed on her waist again, this time drawing soft circles on her skin, making her shiver under his touch. Her breath was warm against his neck when she nuzzled her face there. He let her rest on him, he was too satisfied to move anyway. They sat like that until both their breathing had calmed down, and until he had gone soft enough to slip out of - although he didn’t want to. She felt too good. But even he wasn’t able to control his body that much. He had tried.

When she moved it was with shaky legs, tired from overworking them on that dumb couch. He smirked as he helped her up onto her feet, casting a glance on the clock hanging on the wall above his desk. There were still time to have some more fun, and even if his dick was tired, his tounge wasn’t. Standing up next to her he bent in, moved a strand of her hair away from her face, and softly spoke into her ear.

”So, is there anything else you want me to examine?”

#chishiya #my writing #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya x y/n #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya smut #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya shuntaro smut #chishiya imagine #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader

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magical-reid · 2 months ago

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Only if You Hold My Hand

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: Nervously, you ask Spencer to join you at a pop-up art exhibit, only to have him unexpectedly request that you hold his hand to help him navigate the crowds. As the evening unfolds, the simple gesture sparks the beginning of something more between the two of you.

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening, the soft hum of computers and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds breaking the stillness. A low murmur of voices drifted from the break room, but it did little to disrupt the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. You were seated at your desk, nervously twirling a pen between your fingers, your mind circling around the task you’d set for yourself. Spencer sat a few desks away, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a stack of case files, his posture so focused it was almost as if the world had shrunk down to the papers in front of him.

You had been staring at him for the better part of ten minutes, your thoughts racing but never quite finding the words you needed. The sensation of nerves bubbled in your stomach, leaving you restless. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, a constant reminder of the request you were about to make. Your palms, damp with anxiety, clung to the cool surface of your desk. It was a simple request, really—asking Spencer to go somewhere with you. Yet the mere thought of asking him, someone who had quietly captured your heart over the last year, left you on edge.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been planning for this moment all day. The art exhibit was an easy excuse—something you’d found out about earlier in the week. But it was never really about the exhibit. You just wanted to spend time with him, in a way that felt normal and unforced. Still, as you watched him read the case files, you couldn’t shake the fear of being rejected.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you walked toward him. The clack of your shoes against the hard floor seemed loud in the otherwise quiet bullpen, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice a little too high, betraying the nervousness you were trying so hard to keep in check. You swallowed, your throat tight as you tried again, this time forcing a casual tone. “I was wondering if you’d come with me to something.”

He looked up from his case files, his honey-brown eyes soft behind his glasses, taking in the sudden shift in your demeanor. He blinked, setting the file down carefully as he adjusted his position in his chair. “Oh, hey,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Did you need help with something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, but not with a case.” You paused, taking a steadying breath as you clasped your hands together, trying to keep them from fidgeting. “I just… There’s this thing happening downtown tonight. A pop-up art exhibit. I thought it might be fun, but I didn’t want to go alone.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. He tilted his head in that familiar way that made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d overstepped. Spencer, after all, was rarely the first to say yes to an invitation that took him outside his comfort zone.

“Go with you?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful, but not dismissive.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip, and your words rushed out, almost a breathless confession. “Yeah. It’s no big deal, just something I thought would be fun. But, you know, I didn’t want to go alone. I thought maybe you’d want to join me?”

Spencer’s gaze flickered over your face, lingering there in a way that made your cheeks flush with heat. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he hesitated, brow furrowing in that way that made you wonder if you’d misjudged the situation. A few long seconds stretched on between you, your stomach tightening with each passing moment. But then, to your surprise, he gave you a small, shy smile—one you had come to cherish over the last few months, even if he didn’t always realize how much it meant.

“I’d love to go,” he said, his voice tentative but warm. “But… I have to admit, I’m not great with crowds.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a gesture that mirrored the anxious energy you were feeling. “I think I’d feel better if, uh… if we held hands while we were there.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected sweetness of his request throwing you off balance. It was almost too much for a moment—Spencer, the man who was brilliant and awkward in equal measure, asking for something so simple, yet so intimate.

“What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to fully grasp what he had just said.

He ducked his head slightly, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks as he stammered. “I mean… I just—I think I’d feel a lot better if you, you know… held my hand. Would that be okay?”

Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his voice. The quiet, tentative way he asked was so very Spencer, and it softened you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I’d be happy to,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile that felt more genuine than you’d expected.

A visible wave of relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to find solid ground again. You caught him fidgeting with the edge of the file he had been holding, his fingers nervously drumming the paper as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let me just grab my coat.”

You smiled as he stood and moved to his desk, gathering his things. The tension in the air between you had shifted, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable. The nerves that had gripped you both seemed to fade as Spencer slipped on his jacket, and the two of you stepped out of the bullpen together.

As you made your way toward the elevator, the crisp evening air welcoming you outside, your hand brushed against his. The contact, so brief yet electric, sent a jolt through you, and you hesitated for only a second. Then, with a little more confidence than you felt, you slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them in a way that felt so natural, so right, that it made your heart beat faster.

Spencer glanced down at your joined hands, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened told you everything you needed to know.

“Thanks for asking me,” he said quietly, his voice so tender that it made your chest feel full.

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart racing but in a different way now. “Thanks for saying yes.”

In that simple moment, walking side by side toward the evening ahead, you knew that tonight wouldn’t just be the start of something new—it would be the beginning of a journey neither of you had fully anticipated, but both were more than ready to embrace.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fic #magical-Reid #self insert #reader insert #fluff #requested #prompted #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months ago

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Brighter, Sweeter Days

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!baker!reader

Summary: Tim comes to your bakery daily, and you try to brighten his day to get him to notice you. When he finally shows you he has noticed you, there's a lot you have to tell him.

Warnings: minor injuries, fluff!!!

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

A wave of hot air greets you as you open the oven. Pulling the cookie sheet from the left side and a muffin pan from the right, you smell the intermingled brown sugar, maple, and orange. After the hot pans have been safely placed on one of your bakery’s tables, you close the oven and remove your heatproof gloves.

“I really hope you have more maple biscotti because there’s a really cute firefighter and I can’t slip him my number if we can’t fulfill his order,” your employee, Melanie, rambles as she enters the heart of the bakery.

“Just pulled some out of the oven,” you answer. “It’ll be about ten minutes before we can box them, though. Offer to throw in a dozen free cookies or a coffee traveler.”

“Yes, chef!” she calls over her shoulder.

“And stop watching The Bear before work every day,” you murmur as you check the consistency of a new whipped buttercream.

Several years ago, you opened your bakery in Mid-Wilshire, Los Angeles, and remain shocked at how well it has done. There have been celebrities who travel hours just to try your creations based on the good word of a few locals, you’ve had to close at lunch more than once because you ran out of food, and yet you’ve only been in the front of the bakery a dozen times since opening.

You’re shy, passionate about baking, and less of a people person than most business owners, so you spend your days in the back as your dedicated employees create a friendly and welcoming environment for your customers to come in, enjoy the atmosphere, and try a delicious baked good or slow-roasted coffee.

After the morning rush, during which you make three cakes, drizzle white chocolate on your newest biscotti, and decorate sugar cookies, Melanie returns to the back of the bakery. She sighs and leans on a table.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

“Good. Seemed busier than usual, lots of law enforcement,” she explains, peeking into a mixing bowl.

“Those are scraps from cake pops,” you tell her. “Help yourself.”

“You’re an angel,” she sighs. “A walking, shy so not much into talking, angel.”

You roll your eyes and begin folding chocolate swirls into croissant dough. “And the firefighter?”

“He thought they’d love some coffee but refused to accept it without paying. So, I slipped an angel food cake and my number into his bag.”

You nod and continue working on the croissants, but when Melanie continues to watch you, you know there’s more she isn’t saying. Turning, you set aside the spatula and raise your brows.

“My psych professor moved our exam up and I can’t come in tomorrow,” she explains quickly. “I know it’s your busiest day and I’m so so sorry. I can ask around and see if Cass or somebody can cover me.”

You wave your hand and assure, “It’s okay. I’ll cover you. Good luck on your exam, okay? If you want to leave early today to study or get some rest, do that, too.”

“Now I feel worse for leaving you.”

Tim turns his alarm off and sighs. It’s his birthday, and he’s alone. Lucy insisted on bringing cupcakes, and Angela offered to take him to lunch. Tim appreciates their kindness, but it’s not quite the same as having someone to truly celebrate with, besides Kojo, who he wouldn’t trade for the world, of course.

As Tim gets ready, he asks himself what he’d want if he was in a relationship. What would they do that would make today so different? Breakfast in bed is one of the first ideas that pops into his head. So, Tim searches for bakeries that aren’t far out of his way. One five-star option appears on the list, and Tim reads the directions as he walks to his truck.

As Tim walks in, he notices how nice the bakery is. There’s a line, but it moves quickly. He scans the menu on the large chalkboard over the counter as he waits, but he knows what he wants when his eyes drop to the display case.

An employee places another plate in the case, a birthday cake-flavored mini souffle that makes Tim smile. When he reaches the register, he forgets about the cookie that caught his attention.

You take another order and glance at the line. There are two times when you’re so busy it’s hard to remember to breathe, and you’re currently between those. Though you don’t love working here with customers, you do enjoy seeing the smiles on people’s faces when they find their new favorite.

Someone in the line catches your eye. He’s wearing an LAPD shirt, and you assume he’s a higher-ranking officer. He smiles as Mitch places a birthday cake souffle in the display case, and you wonder if it’s his birthday.

“Good morning,” you greet when he reaches the register. “What can I get you today?”

He hesitates for a moment, then asks for one of your jumbo cookies and two dozen chocolate chip cookies. Glancing at the menu, he also adds coffee to his order. You press the buttons for the two dozen cookies and the coffee, but make a note to include the jumbo cookie for free.

“Mitch,” you call when he passes again. “Take over for a minute?”

“Sure thing,” he tells you.

“I’ll grab that for you now,” you tell the attractive cop, whose name you now know is Tim.

“Thanks,” he replies before stepping to the side with his coffee.

You use clean plastic tongs to place thirty chocolate chip cookies in a branded box, then pull a jumbo cookie from the warmer. It’s already boxed, so you take a marker out of a nearby drawer and write Happy Birthday with a little candle drawn beside it. If it’s not his birthday, he’ll think it was the wrong box, but either way, you hope it’ll brighten his day. With the cookies placed in a bag, you hand it over the counter and thank Tim for coming in. You hope you’ll see him again. With your tendency to work in the back and the high number of one-time customers you get, you try not to get your hopes up.

The drive to the station is spent in silence. The radio is off as Tim enjoys what he considers the best cup of coffee. His mind continues to return to you, the cute girl at the bakery, who he could tell was a little shy. Your service was great, but you didn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes or engage in small talk.

After parking in the station lot, Tim pulls his jumbo cookie from the bag. The birthday wishes make him smile, and he shakes his head as he wonders how you knew. Granted, it could have been the wrong box or something, but Tim prefers the idea that you did it special for him. The receipt is on the bottom of the box, and he pulls it away only to see that you gave him the cookie for free. Maybe it will be a good birthday, after all, he thinks.

Tim enjoys half of his cookie, then returns it to the box to save for later. Tim will most certainly be returning to the bakery because your smile and the taste of the coffee and the cookies together are pretty close to perfection.

Tim sets the cookies on a central table in the bullpen and opens the box. He can immediately tell that there are more than 24 cookies, and he shakes his head at your kindness.

“Happy birthday!” Lucy calls as she runs to his side.

“Thanks,” Tim replies, in a better mood than the last decade of birthdays combined.

“You’re back!” you cheer when Tim returns the following morning. Melanie called to tell you her exam went well, but she had to wait for the essay portion to be graded, and you invited her to rest at home one more day while she waited. So, you’re at the front again.

“I am. Thank you for the birthday note yesterday,” Tim replies, smiling. He has a gorgeous smile, you think. “How did you know?”

“I noticed you smile when the birthday cake souffle came out,” you explain softly, shrugging rather than providing more explanation.

“I really appreciate it. My coworkers loved the cookies, too.”

“I’m glad. You want to try something else today?”

Tim smiles, and you unconsciously move your fingers to the side of the register where you can include discounts and freebies.

“What do you recommend?” he inquires.

“Our maple pumpkin biscotti cupcakes are pretty well-loved. I like the chocolate swirl croissant,” you answer. “It’s new, but..”

“Then I’ll take thirty-six of those cupcakes and two of the croissants. On one condition.”

“Yes?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“Let me pay for it this time.”

You nod once and type in the order. As Tim steps to the side, you begin helping the next customer and whisper to Mitch to give the officer a small coffee with the excuse of preparing it too soon for a pickup order.

“I’m paying for it,” Tim insists after it’s left on the counter.

You ignore him, smiling as you take another order, and Mitch gives him the bag of cupcakes.

“See you,” Tim calls as he leaves.

“Have a good day!” you call after him.

When you return to the kitchen around 10 a.m., you sigh and set out to make something you think Tim will love.

Over the next two weeks, Tim comes in daily. He gets something for the officers at this station or just a treat for himself, and on one busy morning, he says hello and orders a coffee. You look forward to seeing him each morning, finding an excuse to be at the front during his usual time. He is the kindest customer you have ever had, and you want to ask him out. Each morning, you give yourself a pep talk and get encouragement from Melanie or Mitch, then get shy and fail to tell him how you feel. So, you find a way to brighten his day and remind him you’re there and you see him. You slip him a freebie, give him a free coffee, charge him for a smaller size than what you give him, or ask him to test a new item and get back to you. If it’s not on the menu, I can’t charge you was your excuse for the last one.

As far as you can tell, he has noticed you. He comes in and immediately finds you or keeps his eyes on the kitchen door until you exit. Yet, he hasn’t said any more than you have. Eventually, one of you will say something… or so you hope.

You’ve slowly opened up but can’t speak more than a few sentences before you remember who you’re talking to and get shy again. Tim asks about you, how you’re doing, what your favorite menu item is, what you’ve baked recently, and you gladly listen when he tells you about himself in return. It seems like you're getting to know him, but you still want so much more.

One morning, nearly three weeks after meeting Tim, you glance at the clock again. He’s late. Or he isn’t coming. As you leave the counter and return to the kitchen, you make red velvet cupcakes for a large order and try not to think about Tim. You didn’t say anything for three weeks, there is no reason to assume that he had any real reason to come back.

Melanie enters the kitchen, and you look up hopefully, but she shakes her head.

“I’m sure he was just running late or had to go in early. He’ll be back tomorrow,” she says softly.

You shake your head and begin portioning the cake batter into muffin tins. Getting your mind off Tim will be hard; he’s consumed every one of your thoughts for nearly a month, but you have a business to focus on and more customers than the handsome sergeant who was your favorite daily customer until today.

Several hours later, Mitch is on the phone when the chime over the door rings. You wave to him and walk out of the kitchen, then stop behind the register.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tim says.

You remain silent as you look at him. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest beneath his shirt, there’s a scrape over his eyebrow that looks recent, and the knuckles on his left hand are darkening. Based on his appearance alone, you assume he was late for a good reason.

“What can I get you?” you ask, breathless, as you move to stand behind the register. “It’s on the house.”

Tim smiles, and you have to remind yourself to listen. He orders your favorite, then places his hands on the counter and leans closer to you. You nod, then blink and ask him to repeat himself.

“Your favorite,” he says.

“How do you…”

“You told me. I remembered.”

You lick your lips before whispering, “Why?”

“The same reason I know that you hate working at the register because you’re shy and it drains your energy. You’d rather be in the back with your recipes and music than up here with customers. The reason I know you own this place but don’t advertise it because you don’t want the attention. All of that, all of you, is why I keep coming back. And I’m really hoping that those things will be why you say yes when I ask if you’ll go out with me.”

You swallow but can’t form words yet. Your answer is yes, of course, it is. When you open your mouth, though, you ask, “Are you okay?”

Tim smiles again and says, “I worked all night and could really use some of your amazing coffee.”

“You missed breakfast?”

Tim extends his arms so his hands are closer to yours and corrects, “I missed you.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I really want to go out with you.”

Tim nods, then thanks Melanie when she sets a coffee cup on the counter beside him. He sees your number on the side and smiles, but you drop your head momentarily to avoid the embarrassment Melanie provides.

“I promise we’ll do something you’ll like,” Tim assures as his fingers brush yours.

I’ll find the courage to do anything with you, you want to say. Deciding that is more of a second date statement, you merely nod and ask Tim, “Do you actually want my favorite or is there something else you’d prefer?”

#tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #the rookie #the rookie x reader #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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damiansgoodgirll · 5 months ago

Note

Hi there!!

So I really don't have a specific request for Damian, I'm just wanting to read some raunchy naughty smut with him in it!! 😈😈😈😈

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️smut, soft!damian, dom!damian, degradation and praise, overstimulation, jealous!damian, sweet and gentle damian, fluff, aftercare‼️

what did i tell you?

damian’s fingers teasing your clit for the second time that night after making you cum twice in less than ten minutes was something you weren’t expecting. sure, you knew that he would have found a way to make you pay for your bratty behaviour but teasing you like that didn’t even cross your mind.

“what did i tell you? uh? what did i tell you?” his voice dark, teasing your earlobe as he whispered, sending shivers down your spine “do you remember what i told you? no one messes with me, not my colleagues and definitely not you” - he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having you naked and panting under his body.

“i’m sorry…” you whispered while his fingers moved fast over your clit.

you weren’t sorry. not at all.

damian has been neglecting you for days. you thought that it would be over once his feud with finn balor was completed at bad blood. you were so happy that damian won, you were there to celebrate with him and he asked you if you wanted to follow him and rhea along his tour before his break.

you agreed, taking the opportunity of spending time with your boyfriend but you definitely weren’t expecting that you would be travelling with a ghost. damian was always in the gym, training, and when he was not, he was probably sleeping in your shared hotel room.

one night he caught you getting too friendly with jey uso and he didn’t like that at all.

you didn’t like jey but he was a nice companion. he would make you laugh and forget about damian for a moment.

damian saw how happy and smiley you were around him, letting him move closer to you on the sofa backstage. gently squeezing your cheeks and making fun of you. he didn’t want to show it but he was mad, jealous and probably too insecure. he never felt like he deserved you and seeing you messing around with another man - even if it was just in a friendly way - made his heart ache and blood boil.

he didn’t speak with you until you both got back home after travelling together for weeks. when you reached for your bedroom and unpacked your bag, you tried to initiate a conversation he roughly grabbed you and threw you on the bed.

that’s how you found yourself naked and overstimulated by your own boyfriend.

“you’re not sorry hermosa and i can see it in your eyes…you liked being all touchy with jey uso uh?” damian kept speaking while his lips travelled from your ear to your collarbone.

his gentle touch mixed with his rough one was making it hard for you to concentrate on what he was saying.

“acting like a slut in front of other men…you like being a slut? i’ll treat you like one…” he said taking one good look at your face. your mascara was all smudging under your eyes. tears stained your face. your eyes too fucked up to even understand what he was saying. how he loved you “get on your hands and knees…i’ll treat you like the slut you are…” - he usually wasn’t this rough with you. you always set boundaries, having rules and a safe word. so damian made sure you were still into what he was doing.

you positioned as he said. hands and knees - making your legs shaking from the two orgasms you already had.

damian pushed your head over the comfy pillows and grabbed your hips, making them slam against his covered shaft “feel what you do to me? i bet jey uso can only imagine what a good slut you are” his words making you whimper.

taking his boxers off in a swift move, damian pumped his dick a couple of time before collecting juices from your already wet pussy, before teasing his tip against your entrance.

“tell me to stop” he whispered against your back, leaving tender kisses upon your skin “tell me to stop and i will” - a completely different damian from the rough one he was two minutes ago.

“fuck me damian…fuck me like you mean it” your raspy voice said, making him chuckle before he slammed his hard dick inside of you.

this time he didn’t give you time to adjust. he sped up, setting the rhythm. his hands both pressed against your hips while your hands gave up on you so half of your body now was laying over the pillows.

the only sounds filling the room where your pantings.

“fuck damian…just like that…” your voice almost broken for how you screamed earlier. damian’s voice moaning into your ear, his rough grunts making you shiver.

“what a pretty little girl, all naked and tight for me” he kissed your neck while one of his hands moved from your hips to your nipples, teasing and playing with them “i bet you’re not thinking of jey uso, are you?”

of course you weren’t.

you shook no with your head but damian wasn’t having any of it “say it…i need to hear you say it” he squeezed your nipple a little too hard making you yelp.

“fuck - no, i don’t think of him…i don’t want him, i only want you papi…” moaning into the bed, as damian kept his pace strong and fast. his balls slapping against your swollen clit, making you tremble a little.

“yeah…good girl mi amor, that’s right…remember who gave you the ring on your finger, remember who you’re going to marry in a few months” he grunted in your ear, sign that he was close.

“oh shit damian…just like that…please…mh, fuck” your words now incoherent. taking all the pleasure damian was giving you.

“cum with me hermosa, cum around my dick” he moaned as he sped up his movements, feeling how hard you were squeezing him “you coming amor?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

you frantically nodded your head - this third orgasm washing all over you, making you let out a silent cry as your hands grabbed the sheets under you. tears fell from your eyes as you felt damian coming and releasing inside of you. his movements slowed down and before you could collapse on the bed, damian’s hands gently grabbed your hips and lowered down on the bed, so now you were laying down - him still inside of you, watching your blissful face as you were still high on pleasure.

both trying to catch your breath, damian’s dick soften as he slowly slid out of you, making you whimper a little “i know i know baby…i’m proud of you amor, you did so good for me” his hands moved to your cheeks as he wiped some of your tears.

a feeling of comfort washed over you as damian told you how good you were for him.

he softly kissed your head “you’re my everything mi amor, you were so good for me…”

“thanks…” you slowly opened your eyes only to be met with damian’s loving ones. he looked at you with such tender and love “i never meant to make you jealous damian, im so sorry” you whispered.

he smiled, shaking his head “it’s okay baby, i know…let me take care of you” he looked at you, trying to see if he left any bruises but when he saw none, he took his sweet time cleaning you up, showering you with kisses and soft bites, giving you snacks and water if you asked them, letting you fall asleep on his chest.

“i love you damian, so much…” you whispered laying on his chest, finding the rhythm of his heart almost like a lullaby.

“te amo mi amor…te amo” he smiled before closing his eyes, hugging you and feeling the warm of your naked body pressed against him.

he loved you and he was going to show it to anyone if necessary.

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