#store pulse reading

[medugo]

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐀𝐩𝐩: Your Comprehensive Health Tracker

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞: Easily store all your health records, blood test reports, doctor prescriptions, and scan reports.

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬: Track your BP, blood sugar, fever, and pulse levels effortlessly.

𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 Now to take control of your health!

Play Store: https://shorturl.at/afgxP

App Store: https://shorturl.at/foyX2

[keeps-ache]

hmmm. the vibes. they are strange

[luveline]

Hey Jade!!! I was just wondering if you could do a soulmate au with Spencer please? Maybe something along the lines of those cheesy ones like the first words are tattooed on or they have the same tattoo idk, whatever you u feel like 😊

—Spencer meets his soulmate. You’re as lovely as he’s always pictured. fem, 1.3k

Someone will love me one day.

Spencer must think it a thousand times. When he has to put his mom in the sanitarium and he feels more alone than he ever has in his life, he knows one day someone will love him anyways. When he gets called ugly, too skinny, nerd, dork, and a handful of words that are even worse, he knows one day someone will say the opposite. He won’t be alone forever.

He was two when they appeared, dark black cursive words tucked against his pulse. Spencer felt ugly nearly every day of his life, wrong and weird, but the words on his wrist have never changed, ‘You’re so handsome I can’t believe it’s you.’

One day someone’s gonna look at him and see handsome.

Today, he feels pretty good. He’s back home in Washington, D.C., the grocery store he loves is open again after a long reconstruction, and they had a bunch of fruit from South America that he’s never tried before. He carries a white plastic bag full of fruit, bread and cheese back to his apartment, each step in the sunshine, the kiss of it warming his cheeks. A busker plays music near the mouth of the subway station. Nobody has yet to scowl at him for being in the way.

He’s wondering what he forgot when he sees you. You’re smiling, the sun on your face and arms, which are strangely full. Books slide against your chest, but besides a little huff and a shift of your elbow, you don’t seem to notice the slim paperback working its way through the crowd in your arms. It drops down onto the sidewalk but you keep walking. You must be in a hurry.

Spencer darts forward to your dropped book, thumb under the title. Charlotte’s Web by E. B White. The spine is flaking and soft from use.

He should call out for you. You’re already getting too far away.

Spencer crosses the road and dives deeper into the city with you. Washington, D.C. isn’t without grandeur —it’s the capital of the USA— and so he finds himself surrounded by potted trees and stretches of well tended grass. School’s broken for the day, children weaving around on bikes and scooters or holding hands with their parents taking up altogether too much space. He loses you in the crowd.

Spencer stops in defeat.

Maybe if he puts the book back in your path you’ll see it on the way back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t. Spencer keeps your book and starts to walk home. This isn’t how he’d usually get there, but he can manoeuvre around the park.

He keeps an eye out for you. Ridiculously, he’d thought about giving the book back to you and making you smile. He hasn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t a cashier in two days.

“Hi.”

Spencer looks down. “Hi,” he says, spooked by the little girl in front of him.

“Is that for the library?”

He shakes his head regretfully. “No, I– I found it. I’m trying to give it back.”

“Okie dokie. I never read that one before.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not my book to give away… Where’s your mom?”

The little girl points at a mom and a younger child playing on the grass near a circle of benches. There’s a huge dark cabinet with its doors skewed open in the middle, and when he squints he realises it’s full of books. “Oh, is that the library?” he asks.

“Yes!” the little girl insists.

“Okay, well, here’s what we’ll do,” he says, looking desperately for you, disappointed when he can’t see a sign of your nice blue shirt or your sunny smile, “let me go see if I can find the lady who dropped this book, and if she says it’s okay, I’ll keep it for you to have. But you can’t run off from your mom again. Deal?”

The girl grins, thick hair shiny in the sun. “Deal!” she says, running in a burst toward her mother, who startles when she realises she’d left in the first place.

Spencer creeps toward the library. He can’t leave the book here now, he’s promised he’ll try to find you.

You come around the back of the library cabinet with a smile. Free Library, the sign says. Take one if you want, leave one if you can.

You stop in your path when you see him. You smile again, you’re prettier for it, lovely with the sun on half your face, your slight squint. You open your mouth to speak.

Spencer beats you to it. “Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you,” he says, raising your copy of Charlotte’s Web to his chest. “You dropped one of your books.”

You take a half step back.

Spencer grimaces. “I promised a little girl I’d ask if she can have it, I’m so sorry. I get stuck and I don’t know how to say no.”

Your eyes flash down to your hands. “You’re so handsome,” you say, and Spencer’s heart stops dead in his chest, your lips shaping each word without measure and somehow the prettiest anyone’s ever looked as they move, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

His shoulders sag with a deep breath.

You raise your arm to show him the contrasting font laid against your pulse. Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you.

Spencer shows you his. You’re so handsome, I can’t believe it’s you.

“It’s you,” he says.

You press your hand to your mouth. “I was walking too fast, right? When I was a kid I thought if I made everybody chase me that eventually somebody would have to say it, but then it stuck, and I rush everywhere I go.” Your voice turns breathless. “But you’re the person who was supposed to catch up to me.”

He smiles softly. “I think so.”

“And I just told you you’re handsome. I’m sorry, I bet that was embarrassing to… carry around, all this time.”

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he says honestly.

“I didn’t think you’d be so pretty,” you explain.

“I knew you would be.”

You hold your hand out. He’s about to tell you he doesn’t shake but he finds he really wants to, and you’re not shaking his hand anyways, you’re holding it, looking at the cursive on his arm with a disbelief he echoes in his own smile. You rub the tip of your thumb over the word handsome.

“Do you like books?” he asks.

You nod distractedly. “I love them,” you murmur, looking up.

His entire arm is alive with tingles.

“Do you read much?” you ask.

Every word you trade with one another has this shy longing he’s never felt, like you’re desperate to know about one another but worried you aren’t allowed to ask. Spencer’s about to tell you all about it, how he’s always reading, how books have been with him through everything, but there’s a tug on his shirt that stops him.

“Hi,” the little girl says.

Spencer laughs. “Hi.”

“What did she say?” the little girl whispers.

Spencer looks to you for guidance.

“Of course you can have it. It’s an amazing book,” you say.

“Thank you!” she says, holding out her hands.

Spencer doesn’t mind handing it over. If she didn’t ask him for it earlier, he might’ve never had the courage to look for you. He could’ve left the book in the cabinet and turned around, but he didn’t. And now he’s met you.

You step into his side. “Did you– do you want to get coffee?” You peer down at the bag now slipped from his elbow down to his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Do you want to have a picnic with me?” he asks.

You nod for so long he has to laugh. “I’d love to,” you say, offering your open hand.

Spencer threads your fingers together. That one day he always dreamed of seems a lot closer than it did before.

[lqveharrington]

Golden Snitch | R.L.

summary: you convince remus to dress up together and everyone LOVES the costumes

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: underage drinking, cursing, kissing, Sirius and reader behaving like siblings, overall fluff

a/n: poll is releasing tmr to vote for this or the draco one!

Although Remus wasn’t big on dressing up for Halloween, you absolutely adored it. Since your childhood, you always looked forward to the holiday and the tacky outfits from the spirit store down the street. Since Remus’ childhood, the holiday only reminded him that everyone found werewolves terrifying as death itself.

But you made sure to change all his horrid memories to good ones the second you met.

Over the years, you slowly coaxed Remus into dressing up and having fun on Halloween, especially when his best friends threw the Gryffindor party every year. When you began dating, the costumes you made him wear became couple costumes. Some of your favorites being Phantom of the Opera, Beauty and the Beast, and The Great Gatsby.

This year — your final year at Hogwarts — you wanted to wear something that would be talked about for years. You wanted something so spectacular that it would be remembered. Luckily, you had just the couples costume in mind.

“Remind me again, why do you need a quidditch uniform?” James threw a curious look to Remus who was currently reading Little Women, a book you made him read for entertainment purposes. “If you’re telling me you’re joining the quidditch team during your last year, I’ll go bloody mad.”

“I’m not.” Remus flicked the page and sipped on his tea beside him, glancing at James from the corner of his eye. “Just need to borrow one.”

Remus, James, and Sirius have gone through this dance about ten times. Each one ending in the talk of the latest play before James sobered up and asked about the uniform again. It was a never ending cycle of bickering.

Sirius threw a crumpled piece of plastic at Remus’ head as the painting opened up, earning a loud sigh from the boy himself. “Yeah, but why do you need to borrow one?”

“Don’t throw stuff at Remus, Black.” You huff and make your way over to the trio, flashing your loving boyfriend a smile as his hand made their way to your hip. “What did they do this time?”

“Why are you assuming we did something?”

“Yeah, we’re saints!” Sirius dropped down on the couch beside Remus, sending you an oh-so innocent smile.

You roll your eyes at him and flash him your favorite finger, “Says the devil himself.”

“Hey—!”

“They were asking why I needed a quidditch uniform.” Remus cut Sirius off before you two could argue for the nth time.

It was like you two were always fighting over him — which he had to admit — was funny to see unfold each time. Remus laced his other hand with yours and returned your attention back to him, thumb rubbing your pulse point.

“How’s your thing going?” He murmured when you sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, shifting his body to block Sirius from your sight.

You shrug, “Lily and I have been working on it. We’ll be done even before the holiday.”

“You two are so ominous, I don’t like it.” James shuddered, which earned a glare from you and an eye roll from Remus. “What? It’s obvious you two are planning something and not telling us.”

“Okay, well, I’m done with this conversation.” You sighed and pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ lips, looking like the love sick fool that you were. “I love you, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

You made quick steps up the girls’ dorm after Remus reciprocated the notion and left the three boys back to their dwelling.

“Why does she hate us and love you?” Sirius grumbled and popped a jelly bean into his mouth, grimacing at the flavor and spitting it out.

“Maybe because she’s dating him and not us?” James threw him an annoyed look.

Remus blocked out their bickering and went back to reading. He loved you and you loved him, and that’s all he needed to know. Besides, it was the boys who practically begged him to ask you out since first year. They knew he was smitten with you the second you both met on the train.

Eventually, James did lend Remus an unused quidditch uniform while you and Lily finished your costume for Halloween. The only thing left to do was perfect the actual look and win the couples contest.

“Hell, are you dressing up as one of our quidditch players for Halloween?” Sirius raised his brows in surprise as Remus shuffled out of the bathroom with said uniform on. “Which Gryffindor did you dress up as?”

“No one.” Remus replied in a bored manner and adjusted the leather gloves he had on. “I’m just a quidditch player.”

“Uh-huh. So you definitely didn’t dress as Prongs or I?”

“No.”

Sirius gave him an unimpressed look and shrugged on his vest for his Indiana Jones costume. “Whatever you say… Anyway, Prongs and the rest of them are already down there and I’m not waiting for you any longer if you’re going to gel your hair back.”

“Yeah, I’m going.” He grumbled and adjusted his uniform before following Sirius down the stairs and into the ongoing Halloween party.

The red lights flickered about as the music practically shook the entire room. Remus scanned the vicinity for you, struggling until Sirius almost dropped dead at the sight of you. It was the same reaction everyone had to seeing you dressed in… That.

“Holy fuck. Your girlfriend is wearing the shortest dress in existence.” Sirius gaped and earned a smack to the head from Remus.

Remus watched you dance and jump with Lily, eyes shining bright with joy when they met his. You beamed so bright and almost elbowed everyone in your way to make it to him. He caught you in his arms as you kissed him senseless, hands coming to rest on his cheeks.

“Hey, dovey.” He finally spoke when you both parted for air, thumbing your jaw softly. “You look absolutely stunning in gold.”

“Of course, I do, Rem! I’m a Gryffindor!” You laugh and eyes his outfit like he was a three course meal. “It’s interesting seeing you dressed in quidditch robes for the first time.”

“Yeah?” He continued to thumb your jaw in a doting manner. “Well if I did play, I plan on you being the snitch every game. I wouldn’t play otherwise.”

You tilt your head and meet his eyes with so much love. Now that you and Remus were standing together, your costumes made so much sense. It wasn’t just a quidditch player and a golden fairy, it was a seeker and the golden snitch. Sirius looked between the both of you before gasping and clapping his hands in realization, those around you looking over as well.

“Aren’t you two the cutest pair!” He gushed and pinched Remus’ cheek at the revelation.

Smacking Sirius’ hand away, you rested your chin on Remus’s shoulder to prevent him from doing such thing again. Remus laughed at you two and rubbed your back.

“You know, Marlene is looking for you, Siri.” You practically shout over the loud music.

“Is she?” He perked up at the mention of the girl he had been talking to recently. “Well then… I will catch up with you two later.”

You waited a little longer before laughing loudly at your own doing. Was Marlene really looking for him? No, but Sirius was always there whenever you wanted to be alone with Remus. Before you could stop laughing, Remus swatted your ass playfully in response to the poor prank.

“Hey—!” You pout jokingly, laughing again when Remus shook his head at you with an upturned smile.

As the night carried on, the crowd grew bigger, the music louder, and the drinks more alcoholic. It got to the point where you and Remus were too drunk to be the responsible ones in the group. Oddly enough, you both drank more than anyone else in the group.

However, you both won the couples costume contest and — for some reason no one could explain the next day — you decided to give a speech to the mass of Gryffindors in the common room about winning the contest. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but it was your last year.

Clambering on top of the wooden tables, you stumbled over your own legs as Remus tried to stabilize you. Lily, who was the responsible one for the night, rubbed her forehead in exasperation. She didn’t want to necessarily stop you. You were a whiny drunk, and it would be impossible to stop you from something you wanted to do.

“Wait wait — hiccup — I would like to thank the committee,” You hold your red cup close to your chest, your cheeks almost as bright as the cup. “Lily Evans — hiccup — the quidditch team, and my ever so loving boyfriend — hiccup — for making this all possible!” You throw your arms in the air, earning cheers from the crowd.

“What committee?” Sirius looked at Lily with a confused look, pointing between him and James. “Us?”

She shrugged and watched you jump down from the table, snickering when Remus nearly had a heart attack from your way of getting down. She made sure you both were okay before returning to James’ side, pointing you both out to him.

“You’re gonna be the — hiccup — death of me.” Remus tucked his head in between your neck and shoulder, nudging his nose on your exposed skin. “Don’t do that.”

“M’sorry.” You giggle and stumble slightly at the weight being put on you. “You baby.”

He kissed your cheek, “No.”

“Yeah.”

“No.” He dragged you over to the dormitory stairs. “Hi.”

You giggle and trace the scars on his face, “Hey.”

“You’re cute.” He melted into your hands and pecked your palm. “Really really cute.”

“You wanna know a secret, Rem?” You murmur and hiccup when he tugged you impossibly closer. “I promise it’s really cool.”

“What is it?” He pressed kisses everywhere he could, putting more attention to your lips.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips and fully kiss him, the taste of firewhisky strong. “So much.”

He smiled into the kiss and parted briefly, thumbing your lip. “You want to know my secret, dovey?”

“What?” You look up and meet the hazel eyes you’ve come to love.

“I love you more.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[kingkatsuki]

— patrol

This is very self-indulgent I’m sorry in advance💕

Bakugou hates night patrol, and you hate sleeping alone.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, Bakugou has dirty thoughts about you, sleepy sex, creampies, cockwarming. Not proof-read as always.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Bakugou hates overnight patrols.

Not only because they mess with his body clock, ensuring his usual nightly routine is out the window as he falls into bed in the early hours of the morning. But the worst Musutafu has to offer seem to come out at night.

The most depraved creeps seem to come out as the sun goes down, crime never sleeps and apparently neither does Dynamight. And night shifts manage to turn the number two Pro into a social worker— just last week he had to deal with a lost woman who had just broke up with her boyfriend, and a drunk that was trying to fall asleep in the grimy booth of a hostess club.

But the worst thing about overnight patrols? Is knowing that you’re at home sleeping soundly in your shared bed, probably wearing one of his oversized shirts as it rides up your thighs— fuck.

He shouldn’t have thought about it.

Groaning at the stiffening erection between his thighs as he run a gloved hand down the length of his face. That was definitely the worst part about these shifts, often trying to swap with one of his sidekicks so he wouldn’t have to endure them.

It was too late for him now, his cock pulsing with want as he tried to ignore the sensation. Trying to stop himself from thinking about slipping into bed behind you and resting it between the supple swell of your ass, feeling the heat radiating from between your plush thighs as he buried himself inside you.

Bakugou was half tempted to call you, even though it was almost three in the morning— the excuse of missing your voice enough to justify the means. But he knew how tired you were from work when you arrived home this evening, the fatigue evident on your features as you gave him a soft smile, practically falling into his arms as he relaxed before his night patrol.

He palmed himself through thick gloves, thankful his huge gauntlets were big enough to conceal the movement if anyone were to catch him they’d think he was just adjusting them. Stifling a groan as he imagined your smaller hands wrapping around his length to give him a teasing pump.

A shrill scream sounded along the bustling street as he caught sight of a scuffle forming outside a nightclub in his peripheral as Bakugou groaned low and deep in his throat, furrowing his brows as he tried to ignore the throb between his thighs.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

It’s hours later when Bakugou is finally making his way home to you, his underwear sticky with pre as he spent the rest of his patrol thinking about this moment. Tired limbs dropping his gauntlets at the door before shrugging off his boots, already hearing you chastising him for leaving them in the way as his lips curl into a soft smile.

God, he missed you.

He’s just grateful the shift didn’t run over, as it often does if a fight breaks out or he has to try and get someone who’s just covered his boots in vomit on the correct train home. Meaning that by the time he’s finally finished and on his way back to you, you’ve already left for work.

Bakugou’s sock clad feet padded through your home as he made his way towards your shared bedroom, tugging his vest up and over his head as he discarded it to the floor. The sight of you exactly how he imagined earlier as you lay asleep in one of his shirts, the fabric bunched around your hips as you lay on your stomach. A leg bent at the knee as he saw the pretty lace panties that you wore, cursing beneath his breath.

If he’d known you were wearing those he probably would’ve called in sick in favour of burying himself inside you to the hilt, storing this scene away in the depths of his mind for the next time he’s needy and you’re not around. Moving his hands to unbuckle his utility belt as he held the lax weight of it, dropping it to the floor gently so’s not to wake you.

He cursed the sight of the time on his phone as he lay it on top of his wireless charger. Barely an hour until you were going to be getting up for work again to leave him alone in your shared bed, wondering whether he should disable your alarm so you miss work and spend the day with him instead.

Pulling the neatly made sheets back on his side of the bed as he climbed in beside you, immediately pressing his back against your side as strong arms pulled you into him. The saccharine scent of you invading his senses as he pressed the cold tip of his nose into the curve of your neck.

He’d almost felt guilty about waking you up, almost— if you didn’t sound so adorable at the sensation. Your breath hitching in your throat as he gave you a grin, his semi-hard cock presses against your hip as he nuzzles your skin gently.

“Mmmm, missed you Katsuki.” You coo, voice laced with sleep as you turn in his grip.

Your arms wrap around his middle as his warm palm moves to the back of your thigh, hoisting it up onto his hip so he could slot himself comfortably between them. His desire pressed flush against your clothed heat as a groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Missed you too.”

“I can tell.” You murmur, fingertips stroking the scars littered along his muscular back, “You didn’t even shower, smelly.”

“No time,” He shrugs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You gotta get up for work soon.”

“Don’t say that,” You whined, “I like to imagine I’ve got at least another four hours.”

Bakugou smooths a large palm along your upper thigh as he cups the curve of your ass, pressing you against his hard bulge with more urgency. Your pouty lips part in a gasp as you keep your tired eyes shut, his thick fingers slip between your thighs to feel along your slit.

“Did ya touch yourself without me?” He groans when he found your panties damp, fingers disappearing beneath the fabric to trace a line through your slick.

“No,” You mumble as heat licks at your cheeks, “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What were you dreamin’ about hah, dirty girl?”

“You.” You reply earnestly, rolling your hips into his touch as a silent plea for him to touch where you need it most. Your neglected clit throbs with want as the tips of his fingers brush against it.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He groans, a deep timbery rumble to his tone as he moves the same hand to tug down his boxers, “Cause I’ve been thinkin’ about you all damn night.”

“Yeah?” You gasped as you felt the leaking tip of his cock glide through your messy folds, nudging your puffy clit before catching your fluttering hole.

“Why don’t I show you?” Bakugou grunts as he pushes forward, feeling your walls begin to suck him in as he sinks deep into your wet cunt. Stealing the air from your lungs as your nails dig crescent shaped moons into his back, not that Bakugou cared. Those were the few marks he didn’t mind receiving, a constant reminder of how much he looks after you and a trophy to display proudly in the locker rooms at his agency.

“Oh, fuck. Kats—” You trailed off into a moan as he bottoms out, the length of his cock curving towards that sweet spot inside you as he began to give soft, shallow thrusts into your tight heat.

The salacious thoughts he’d had all night were nothing compared to the feeling of you clinging to him so perfectly, as though you were made for him as he set a languid pace. Calloused fingers dipping into the fat of your ass as he moves you along his thick cock, his warm breath fans against your skin as the stench of sweat laced with smoke and ash invaded your senses. The scent was intoxicating as you found yourself disappearing in it, burying your nose into Bakugou’s chest as you inhale deeply.

“Fuck, baby.” He grunts, feeling your walls pulse around his cock in response as he continued the pace.

Creamy rings of your slick circled the base of his cock and matted into his trimmed pubic hair as Bakugou worked you towards your release. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last long, especially after all the thoughts he’d had of you tonight.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He rasps, tilting his head back slightly to try and see your face in the early morning glow, “Can feel ya squeezin’ me.”

Bakugou didn’t give you a moment to respond before he was pushing your back onto the mattress as he settles between your thighs, not once pulling out of you as the new position had him even deeper. His blonde hair pushed back with his mask as his forehead presses against yours, fucking into you with long, deep thrusts. Stealing the air from your lungs with each precise forward motion, reveling in the pretty sounds you made that were reserved all for him.

When did he get so lucky?

“I’m— oh, fuck.” You manage to choke out from between shaky breaths as he hit that spot inside you.

“Yeah? Is that right?” Bakugou grins as he presses a sultry kiss to your lips, his tongue disappearing between them as he swallows your moans.

Everything was far too intense, as you found yourself slipping from conciousness. The pleasure swirling around your mind as your thick lashes flutter, feeling the familiar sensation swirling inside you as the cog begun to tighten.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know?” He grunts, “Got the best fuckin’ pussy.”

Bakugou shifts his weight, pressing some of it on top of you comfortably as he moves his hand to where your bodies are connected. Drawing messy figure of eights against your puffy clit as he worked you towards your release, guiding you towards the edge.

“Come on, sweet girl,” He coos, teeth nipping at your cheek as he gave a particularly harsh thrust against that sweet spot inside you, “Give it to me.”

“Katsuki.” Your walls begin to pulse around his cock as you lose yourself in a toe-curling climax. Your heart rattles your ribcage as you cling to his back, certain you’re leaving deep red lines along the surface as you come undone.

“That’s my good girl,” He groans, continuing to give a few more messy thrusts into your warmth, feeling your walls clenching around him to milk him of his own release, “Good, fuckin’, girl.”

Bakugou enunciates each word with a sharp thrust as his balls tighten, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a grunt. The heavy weight of him drops onto your chest as he spills white, hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

“Feel so good.” He mumbles against your skin, his stubble tickling your neck as he stayed buried inside you. Cherishing the final few throbs of your cunt around him as he felt his eyes begin to get heavy, slowly drifting into slumber, “All mine.”

This. This is exactly what he’d been waiting for all damn night, thinking about the moment that he’d get to come home to you.

Your fingers began to stroke through his hair, your nails scratching at his damp scalp as a guttural groan reverberates from deep in his chest.

“You need to shower, baby.” You mumble tiredly, already feeling sleep begin to consume you as your breathing began to lull.

“Later.” Bakugou rasps, fully intent of falling asleep like this— with his cock still buried snug inside you.

Until your loud alarm begins to blare around the room, causing Bakugou’s grip on you to tighten as he tries to bury his face in your chest. Holding you still as you futilely try to reach for your phone.

“I gotta turn it off, Kats— please.” You blindly feel for the device as you attempt to follow the sound. Bakugou’s heavy weight on top of you made it so you could barely move as he seemed content to fall asleep with the offensive noise. Although it was probably because Bakugou was used to annoying alarms— his current choice was a clip of All Might repeatedly saying ‘I am here’ which alone was arguably worse (a fact he would contest to the death), “Katsuki, please. My alarm is so annoying.”

He grumbles as he turns his head to face it, his cheek pressed against your breast as he pulls it off the wireless charger. Blindly stabbing at the phone screen until the noise stops, before dropping the phone to the floor as though this would somehow stop you from getting ready for work.

“Baby, I need to get up,” Your attempt to wriggle beneath his weight was in vain as he tightens his grip around your waist in retaliation, “I have work in an hour and I need to shower now.”

“Call in sick.” Bakugou replied simply.

[liiixsturniolos]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ angel ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings!: smut, p in v, sex in a changing room..

~ chris, let's you have his card, and spend what you want at the mall, in victorias Secret, he likes the look of certain red underwear and can't keep his hands off of you in the changing room.

You and your boyfriend chris are walking hand in hand across the mall, and you hold onto his credit card contentedly. It was his 'treat' today, and he'd told you to spend whatever you like.

The last stop of the list was victorias secret. As you skip in to the blindingly pink store, Chris trudges behind you tiredly.

You shuffle through a rack of bras, looking for a new pink one, and some matching lace underwear.

Chris' eyes shift over to a red lacey thong, "You should get this." He smirks,

"Hm. Yeah, it's cute." You say throwing it into your basket.

His eyes widen, "You should try it on." He suggests.

You look up at him, "Kay." You respond smugly, grasping his arm and leading him over to the changing room, pushing him in and closing the door on you two.

You take off your underwear, putting on the red ones Chris wanted, twirling around for him.

"So, what'cha think of em?" You ask, already knowing the answer by his facial expression. His jaw dropped open as his eyes roamed up and down your body.

"Uh-yeah. Definitely, you should get 'em." He mumbles, preoccupied gawking at you.

Noticing the way he's glaring at you, taking in every inch of your body with his eyes, you stroke his face, leaning in and kissing him passionately.

His hands immediately start to cling to you, rapidly searching your body and grappling onto your hips firmly.

"So pretty angel, but lemme' take 'em off now?" He asks. Snapping his fingers along the band of the underwear.

"Mmm.. yeah." You whine, as he rips them off.

"So wet for me, huh?" He groans, unbuttoning his jeans.

He drags his finger gently over your clit, pushing it inside your walls,your eyebrows furrowing in your face, as you moan quietly.

He strokes his cock a few times and rubbing his pre-cum all over his head, with no hesitation, he slides his cock into you with ease, filling you up.

You and him both let out a simultaneous moan, trying to stay quiet, incase anyone could hear.

He instantly starts ramming you, desperate and searching for release, he couldn't take the teasing anymore.

He grunts, pushing you up against the changing room wall.

You let out a strangled moan. "Yeah? Come on my cock angel," he groans.

"Chris! m' gonna...f-finish! you stutter out.

He shoves a hand over your mouth. "Quiet baby." He whispers in your ear, still pumping into you.

"Fuck!" You yelp. As continues to ruthlessly fuck you. You were coming closer to finishing.

His words push you over the edge. You twitch engulfed by him, allowing a flow of whines and whimpers to escape your lips as he helps you ride out your high,

I feel his hands grip your hips in desperation, as and his warm cum paints your insides His movements begin to slow, and you let out satisfied sigh.

Feeling him pull his limp cock out of your pulsing pussy.

interacting is insanely appreciated, likes, comments, re-blogs I love! thanks for reading darlingsss ♡

taglist; @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @1-d0nt-w4nn4-b3-m3-4nym0r3 @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy

[messenger-of-babel]

Always Late

Summary: Batman was late when you needed him the most, but he refused to let it happen again. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 4.5K (This was supposed to be a quick fic 💀)

Notes: BIG AUTHOR NOTE INCOMING Before anyone comes for me- I know this was supposed to be a day for Chris. I'm just feeling a touch sick but still want to get a fic out, and I'm currently not able to churn out and go through his, so I'll write some Chris later! Instead I wanted something else, consider it a change up to shake some life back into the theme. I also rambled hella long on this one, so strap in, it's long and the plot got lost in the maze of my mind. I had to shuffle things around and it just kept growing and growing, oh my god so I hope it makes sense to everyone still. Clark caemo, some (very??) OOC villain work cause I forgot some of my original plot and villains so begging on my knees for forgiveness fr. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ TORTURE DESCRPTION FOR SOME AREAS. I should have made this two parts but I messed up and made just one massive fic. Was supposed to be batfam x reader but it started feeling more like bruce x reader hahaha. RIP my sleep schedule please reap the benefits of my labour. 😭

Again I was originally here to be a resi blog but I can't help writing for DC after a day of reading comics. On that topic I actually finished collecting Tom Taylor's run at #118, my store held #119 for me so I get to read that as a reward after the hell that will be my Monday.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you were taken, it caused a widespread panic among Gotham.

Tabloids across the city wrote about the latest missing person, this time none other than the latest member of billionaire Bruce Wayne's family. The Gotham Gazette had been running articles about you for months already, including the scandal that had come with it. Your dirty laundry and past had been aired for the entire city to read and speculate upon. Whether Bruce had just adopted you out of pity, sympathising with the way that you had lost your parents the same way he had. Gossip about it could all be a ploy for him to expand his influence in Gotham, after the riches and estate that your family had left you behind in their untimely death. The city was thrown into chaos from the death of your parents, both of them from founding Gotham families and well-established lawyers. It was shaken more once the Wayne had taken you into his household, and now it was all but alight as you vanished.

Fingers pointed in every which way, your disappearance marking the fourth among affluent families in Gotham. Accusations had even been hurled at Bruce, claiming that he had killed you in order to gain your assets and the other missing people were to establish an alibi. After all, Bruce Wayne had no alibi for the night that you went missing.

But he had an alibi.

Bruce reflected upon that fact for three days already, while he tore his hair out trying to find you. He had been out in the city, patrolling as usual. The disappearances were the latest case, and he was determined to stop them before they continued. He had been so involved in the case, standing so close to the evidence that he didn't even consider the option that he himself would be affected, or consider the perpetrator might targe the Waynes. he hadn't expected to get a call from Alfred a little past midnight, the butler wheezing painfully into the receiver.

Blood freezing in his veins he had come home to an empty house, windows on the third story smashed in. Alfred was slumped by the phone, its sleek body hanging off the hook. Bruce had pulled the cowl off without a second thought, cradling the older man's head in his lap with shaky hands. He had relaxed slightly when there was a steady pulse under his fingers, and the tension eased further when the older man had opened his eyes.

"Alfred," Bruce had sighed out, moving the old man from his lap to against the wall, hand keeping him upright. "Are you okay-"

"They took them." came the old man's mumbled reply, and for a second Bruce's jaw just hung there.

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart thudding painfully against his ribs, panic rising once more.

"They came through the window, cut the lights. I pretended to be unconscious to use the phone line, but they came back. Cut it shortly after I rang you." the older man said, looking up with remorseful eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Wayne." he said forlornly. "I couldn't stop them."

Bruce looked down; jaw tensed. "It wasn't your fault." he said firmly, trying to quell the despair radiating off the old man.

"They took them kicking and screaming. I could hear them the entire time, but I couldn't do anything I-"

"Alfred." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred it's okay. Let me handle it, you go make some tea." he said, helping the old man stand up.

"Tea, yes, yes that's right..." the butler murmured to himself, hand to his head. "It's been a while since you asked me for tea, sir."

"It's not for me." Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on. "It's for you. make yourself some tea and we'll patch you up. Take it easy tonight, wait for the shock to wear off."

Alfred looks at him, hesitating, but eventually nods. "We, sir?"

Bruce hums, fists at his side. "Yes. This case has escalated. It's time to request help."

He keeps his voice level as he walks away, but Alfred notes the way that he turns the corner, and the anger put into his stride.

When he gets to the cave he wastes no time, calling in everyone he can think of. His chest feels tight, breath short as his vision swims. Every signal he can send he does, the blurring in his eyes seeping into his mind too. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to calm it but to no avail. It's only when the ringing of the Batcomputer cuts through the fog that he is able to look up, shaking fingers hitting the accept call button.

"Batman?" comes the crackly voice of Nightwing, and the fog begins to clear slightly.

"Nightwing." he says back gruffly, voice hoarse.

"About time, you were making people pretty worried, you know." Dick chides, and there's the sound of yapping in the background. "What's the brief? What's happened?"

"Kidnapping." he says, voice thick. "Broke into the manor. Alfred is likely to be concussed, but it shouldn't be too serious. He's making tea, Robin is out on the other side of the city tonight. Red Robin is with you, isn't he?"

There's more shuffling on the other end before Dick responds. "Yeah, he's been helping in Bludhaven, he came last night."

"Bring him. Bring Oracle too. Everyone...come home." he murmurs, hands shaking as he tries to think clearly.

"Bruce, is everything okay with you?" Dick comes in, concern evident.

"Fine. I need people back immediately. Why?" he huffs back, rubbing the spots from his eyes with his fingers.

"Because we've all been trying to call you for the last few minutes. This is the first time you've picked up."

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hadn’t realised how badly he had spaced out. "It's an emergency. They...they’re gone. They need to come home."

"The new kid?" Dick breathes. "Wait, you mean-"

Bruce nods even though he knows his eldest cannot see him. "Gone. Now come back and come back tonight." he ends the call before Dick can say anything else, and his tired eyes scan the monitor filled with a string of outgoing distress calls and an equally large number of missed ones. In his haze he had pressed every com line he had. He had pinged Jason, he had pinged Dick. Hell, he had even pinged the League and Clark, who hadn't even bothered to call for clarity, his response status just reading, 'On my way'.

He held his head in his hands, breaths laboured.

Bruce had held his own reservations when adopting you. He knew about the media uprising that it would cause, the rumours that were sure to fly. He had known what kind of mental state that would put you in, how it would angle you in a whole new world of cameras, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen you while in the suit, and maybe he had taken you in to make himself feel better. For not catching the person who had killed your parents, arriving too late. He had been training for this his entire life, it was his entire mission in Gotham, yet he couldn't stop the very crimes that had put him on this path.

If he had been faster maybe he could have saved your parents, disarming the man with the knife before it plunged into the chest of your father. Maybe he could have arrived faster so that he could have caught the offender that robbed your mother before giving her the same treatment and fleeing into the night. Instead, he was only there fast enough for him to hear you scream as your parents collapsed to the floor. He was there as you cried and shook them and tried to stop the blood spilling through your fingers, but you were unsure where to start. After all, how can someone make a decision between stopping the flow seeping from their father’s chest and the one from their mother’s throat?

He had been there to pull you away, was there to catch the last dying light of your father as he stroked your cheek before making eye contact with Bruce. "Look after my kid." he had whispered, something Bruce had nearly missed under all your screaming. Bruce pulled you away while he called for the GCPD, and from one father to another, he made sure to keep that promise.

Your relationship had been rough, clearly distraught at the way you lost your parents. You were older than he was when the same had happened, but you were still young. You had clung to Bruce the day he said he was going to take you in, and he had managed to soothe you with a soft hand up and down your back. Yet as the tabloids got worse and the gossip began to grow, you began pulling away from him and seeking the comfort of your room instead. He had done his best to protect you from the media, paying money to have articles removed and when that didn't work, he threatened to sue. It made the Gazette pull their head in a bit, but it still failed to be enough. Evidently, as there was now an empty bedroom on the third floor of the east wing.

All he could do was sigh and blink away the images of the children he had hurt, in the name of Robin or otherwise. He had to rub away the death of Jason that he reflected on in sombre moments when he thought no one was looking. He had gotten you into this mess, attached you with his name and all of its subsequent burdens. So, it was his duty to get you back and get you back safe.

Yet three days later, he had nothing.

The cave had been a buzz of activity for all three days, and Bruce, no, Batman, was acting close to a slave driver. Tim and Barbara hadn't left the caves computers in days, Damian and Steph constantly scouring the rooftops. Dick was concerned, hell, everyone was. Even the gruff Jason had been called in, and reluctantly he had answered.

"You find anything?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall with his younger brother. Jason was still suited up, coming back from the patrol around Bristol area. He removes the mask and shakes his hair free, sighing.

"Nothing. Areas come up empty. No sign of 'em."

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. "God, there's nothing on my end either. The Docks and all Southside of Gotham are clean, no traces. Any signs pointing to who it could be?"

Jason shrugs, helmet tucked under his arm. "No idea, as it stands, the kid's just gone missing. If Bruce isn't able to scrounge up a lead, I doubt I will. Not my forte. He should give Tim a break and send him out."

"Yeah, like he'll do that. He's got him tied to cave duty." Dick scoffs back. He feels bad, talking like your kidnapping was a causal affair. He didn't treat it like one, his heart stuttering when Bruce had called him in a haze and all shaken. It didn't a genius to see how attached Bruce had gotten to you in such a short amount of time, but sometimes Dick worried that Bruce was projecting his own trauma onto you. But still you were his younger sibling, a part of the family now. He had met you with a warm smile and a gentle hand the day that you moved in, coming in from Bludhaven to make the house a bit more lively while you got settled in. God, he knew what it was like moving in alone into that empty house, with only Bruce and Alfred to warm the halls. He had eaten dinner with you, took you out for walks in the garden when your grief allowed you move more than a few paces. He did his absolute best, and he knew that with time he could be a big brother to you.

Yet you hadn't been given the time, snatched away before Christmas even hit. He doubted you knew that Bruce was the Batman, or that the rest of the family had an interesting array of night lives.

Jason was the same in the way that he hadn't interacted with you much.

Honestly, he was awkward with kids, since the last kid of Bruce's he had met was the devil spawn who spat at him like an angry cat every chance he got. You were thankfully much older and easier to understand, but that still didn’t mean smooth sailing. Jason hated even coming back to the manor, and he and Bruce had been having one of their ongoing fights during the time he took you in, meaning he missed seeing you often. Yet he still talked to Dick (more so that Dick called him to make sure that he was okay) and the older man had seen you plenty. He felt like he knew you from Dick alone, but he wasn't oblivious to your story printed in the newspapers shoved under his apartment door. He pitied you, understood the grief that you must have been going through at the sudden violence that tossed your little world upside down. Sure, you had gone from luxury to luxury, but Gotham was unkind to everyone. it was the same violence that Jason strode to clean off the street, and his heart ached deep down that someone like you had managed to get caught in its claws.

"Do you think it could be the clown?" Dick asks quietly. "He'd do something as ballsy as this."

Jason tenses, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not likely. That bastard likes to make a spectacle of things. No doubt he would have contacted the Bat the second he took the first victim or aired it like some twisted game show. It's not like him to lay quiet."

"So, it's someone else. It's unnatural for Gotham's villains to do something in the dark like this. I mean, it's been three days since they were abducted, and they're the fourth kidnap victim. There hasn't been a ransom note, a demand, a body. Not a peep for any of the captives. It's unnatural."

Jason hums in agreement, but they both jump as Bruce storms through grandfather clock entrance.

Everyone present turns, watching how Clark trails after him. Five sets of eyes watch the livid way the Bat cuts a path through the cave and gets into the batmobile, breaths too anxious to be released. Without a word the car screams out of the cave, and they all turn to Clark. Barbara casts a glance to Tim and then to Dick, who just shrugs, worry deepening on his face.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason growls, pushing off from the wall. Clark turns to face him, dressed in his Superman suit.

"We’ve found them." Clark says, face grim, and Dick shares a look with Jason. However, when Dick meets the eyes of Superman, he can see the flicker of worry in the Kryptonian. "Well let's get going then. Why did he leave alone?" Dick asked, slipping the domino mask back onto his face. Clark opens his mouth to speak but is cut off as Damian steps out behind his broad figure.

"Because it's the League." the younger boy says, green eyes boring in Dick's. "It's grandfather."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Bruce drove like his life depended on it, which wasn't fair when it was yours on the line instead. He could see the dots on his monitor indicating that the others were following him, and he had assumed that Clark had proceeded to fill them in. He had asked his old friend to look after the city while he sped towards the outskirts, just in case the League decided to do something while he had his guard on the city lowered. His com crackled to life, radio filling the otherwise silent car.

"Oi." snapped the voice of Red Hood, modulated and grainy. "Don't leave without telling us what's going on. Aren't you the one always spewing that 'feel-no-emotion' bullshit? To not let it cloud your judgement? Cause from the way I see it, you're acting kinda hazy."

"I trusted Clark would fill you in." he says back, voice tense. Red Hood scoffs.

"Yeah, and he did. You called us. You tell us what the hell you want us to help with, otherwise don't bother calling at all. Don't drag us out, get us invested then not let us help when it comes to it. What was your plan, beat the shit out of Ras and taken them back by yourself?"

Bruce falls silent, and there's a slight huff from Jason on the other end.

"Honestly? not the worst plan you've had, and I respect the enthusiasm, but you still should have looped us in. I want to get a hit in too."

Bruce turns his head to the direction of the radio, snapped from his concentration on the road momentarily and it's like Jason can feel his confusion through the commlink.

"Don't give me that silence." he groans. "They're family, aren't they? I'm not opposed to a younger sibling, you know." he huffs irritably. "But do me a favour and control Nightwing, hey? He's looking as coiled as you. You might have to fight him for the first hit."

Bruce doesn’t say anything before the comm cuts off, leaving him in the silence once more and eyes going straight back onto the red dot mapped onto his GPS. You.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

When you awoke the first time, you couldn’t feel anything. Your hands were tied to your ankles behind you, black cloth wrapped around your eyes. what you did know was that you were lying somewhere concrete, face pressed into the dusty cement. You knew that on the day that you woke and they had brough you were, that there were other people thrown in the same cell as you. You also knew that those other people were dead.

You had heard them scream, heard the way that they begged for their lives when they were dragged from the pen you were in. One a day, until you were left alone with no one to talk to. They had all been kidnapped like you, affluent people that you recognised the names and voices of. You had heard some of them at events you parents had hosted and attended, and when you traded names, they had remembered you immediately. You weren't dumb, you knew that you had all been taken here because you were rich. That was the only thing that you had in common with the heiresses and finance brokers that had shared the cells with you, huddled up against the cool metal.

Now the only thing left was you and the stickiness that crept under the bars of your cage, grateful that the blindfold was on so you didn't have to see what it was. At first you thought that you were alone, that your captors had left, but you knew better. You could sense them all around you, quiet and watching. They were like an uncomfortable prickling on your neck, the ghost of fingertips across your skin. Yet the hours and minutes had bled into days, and now you didn’t care if they were there or not.

You knew that they wanted to kill you. They had killed the rest. You had been given small amounts of food and water the first day or two, but today there had been none. Your mouth was dry as you lay on your side, lips cracking with the desire to drink. Your throat felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, and the silence that you were met with when you called out only made your panic and helplessness rise. You had lost the ability to cry, body sluggish. It felt like everything was shutting down, the pain in your stomach unbearable and tongue heavy in your mouth. As the heat crept in and pulled sweat from your unwilling skin, you began wishing that they would kill you.

You supposed that your wish was answered when the creak of your cell signalled one of your silent observers had come for you, and the tug on the ropes binding your limbs together made you lurch forward. You kept your face pressed down, too weak to struggle against them as they dragged you out and gripped your hair, making you shift onto your knees at an awkward angle. For the first time in days, you heard someone speak.

" So, this is Bruce's new...child." Your captor hummed. You could hear the way that their boots scuffed as they walked, coming to stand in front of you. You could faintly feel the swish of fabric, long and tickling the floor. "I wonder if he was planning to hand the title of Robin over so soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your barely functioning brain fails to process what he's saying.

"Are you aware of your family's lineage?" comes the voice from above you, commanding and deep with a hint of something malicious in the undertone, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. “Your real family, the ones who claimed to practice a just and fair law. Not Wayne.”

 You manage to shake your head weakly, grimacing as the image of your parents covered in blood flickered into your mind.

The voice above you tuts. "The sins of the father shall be bestowed upon the son," he recites softly. "And you are to pay the penance. Gotham will be purged, and the bloodlines of the corrupt shall be the first to burn, aware of their sins or not."

You don't even get a chance to ask what he's saying, the words sounding like biblical rambling. A scream is ripped through your throat instead as a sharp hot pain erupts through your shoulder, the sound of your own skin bubbling making you sick. You wail, body aching to thrash but the fatigue and weakness preventing you from doing such. The hands on your shoulders hold you still as the sensation is repeated across your body, stray tears leaking from your eyes despite your dehydrated state. It's only when you feel like you’re about to cross over, embrace the light spilling behind your eyes that you realise that the hands have left your body and that you're lying face down, discarded on the concrete floor.

You can feel the ache all over your body, a stinging and writhing pain that makes your whimper involuntarily. You can now make out that there is sound around you, echoing off the empty walls and causing your head to throb after days of silence.

For Bruce however, the world was silent despite being in the thick of the fight. They had pulled up the abandoned building on the edge of Gotham and Bludhaven, thankfully located by Clark and his x-ray vision after days of searching. He had stormed into the building with Dick, Jason, and Tim on his heels, his hands filled with a shake only the trained eye could determine as rage. The world had dripped into the pulsing cadence of his heartbeat as soon as he saw you, kneeling at Ra’s feet and being held by league assassins. He had hardly any time to process the way that you curled up and into yourself when you were dropped so carelessly, head thudding lifelessly against the floor. Forlorn, he eyed the way your body was covered with cuts and stabs, burns from the red-hot sword still held in the hands of a soldier. He hadn't known when the league had decided to dabble in torture, but Bruce felt like joining that night.

Jason and Tim were dealing with the assassins, the younger male finally freed from desk duty. He didn't know you as well as he would have liked considering that you lived under the same roof as him, but you had been warming up. He had really hoped that you could get along, but now he feared that this was going to push your back into the shell you had just started to crack, and that frustration was evident in the whistling of his bow staff as it cut through the air.

Dick had gone after Ra’s immediately while Batman raced for you, Dicks escrima sticks going for the head. Dick was fast and agile, muscles more tensed than usual as he sent well placed blow after blow. Yet Bruce wasn’t an idiot, he knew the limits of him and his team, and he knew the limits of Ra’s. That's why in what limited time that Dick bought for him he dropped to your side, slicing through your bonds with a batarang and letting your arms and legs fall free from their cramped position behind you. You groan lightly as he cradles you to his chest, weakly crying out as he justles the many wounds. He loosens the blindfold from your eyes, and your blink up at him a few seconds later, squinting against the light.

Your skin is sticky with blood both your own and not, flecked across the apple of your cheeks. He eyes the burns, the warped and rippled skin that blistered angrily and would surely get infected if not treated soon. He observes the many cages set up in the corner, the one he presumes was yours wide open and empty. He feels sick seeing the dead bodies in the other ones, imagining that it could have been you in there, dead like some caged animal for slaughter.

You make a weak whimper when he stands, and he has half a mind to join Nightwing in beating Ras so badly he'd need to use the pit again.

But he doesn’t.

He rises to his feet with you in his arms, and he calls for a retreat. You cry and moan as he hurries out, Jason and Tim covering your exit while Dick flips into the rafters and out of range of the Demon Head. He wants to fight; he wants to put them in their place for hurting his family. But the moment he had met your eyes again, it was like that day in the alleyway. You had seen him as Batman too that day, but as he laid you hurriedly in the back of the batmobile and patched Oracle in to prep the med bay, he knew that something was different from that night.

Because unlike the day you lost your parents, he had made it in time.

[cevansbrat0007]

Regrets Only.

Summary: Ari reaches his limit with your latest TikTok prank...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, TikTok Pranks, Shenanigans, Angry!Ari, Brat!Reade, Small Chase Kink, Light Manhandling. Biting, Spanking, Bondage, Handcuffs, Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @jamneuromain. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

In all the times you’ve tried, you’ve never once regretted pranking your man with something you’d seen on TikTok – until today. Yes. Believe it or not, this time you might’ve gone a bit too far. 

Which is why you’re currently holed up in Ari’s fairly spacious closet, sipping on a bottle of water and munching on a granola bar while you wait for the bounty hunter to calm down. You lean back with a sigh, only to wince when you feel a shoe digging into your side. 

You make quick work of tossing it to the other side of the room before returning to the treat in your hand. But just as you go to take another bite, you hear something that makes your stomach sink - even as your pulse spikes. 

And it lets you know that you are well and truly fucked.

Earlier That Day (Roughly Twenty-Seven Minutes Ago)

After a solid ten minutes of vigorous stretching, you bend down to check the laces on your tennis shoes. Once they’re secure, you quietly make your way to the kitchen to retrieve the items you needed for your latest prank. The one you planned to play on your favorite unsuspecting bounty hunter, who was blissfully snoring away on a couch in the living room. 

Now, this particular one just so happened to be a little…bolder than either of your previous stunts. It required more courage, coupled with a dash of bravery, and a well thought out Plan B in the event things went south.��

You open the refrigerator and pull out the pack of hot dogs you’d bought during your last trip from the grocery store. While you’d originally told Ari that you wanted him to put them on the grill, he had no way of knowing that they would also be used to torture him. Common sense told you that you’d be better off keeping that tiny piece of information to yourself. 

Stifling a mischievous giggle, you extract one singular frankfurter from the package before resealing it and putting it away. Next, you move to your utility drawer to gleefully swipe a pair of scissors. 

This was the entire plan. You were going to quietly tuck a hot dog in your man’s zipper, and then wake him up so he could watch you snip it in half with a pair of scissors. In all the videos you watched – and you’d watched a number of them – every bleary eyed victim panicked as if you’d just cut off their actual dick. 

And therein lay the prank. 

The clips had left you in stitches for hours. So much so that Ari had noticed how much fun you were having, only to roll his eyes when you revealed that you were scrolling through his least favorite app on your phone.

Fucking TikTok.

He hated it. You loved it. Frankly, the only reason he even tolerated you telling him about the things you’d seen is because he could tell it brought you joy. 

Excitement buzzes through you as you tiptoe into the living room. You’re grateful to see that Ari is still sleeping, snoring soundly with one impressively muscled arm tucked behind his head. 

With gentle hands, you dutifully undo the zipper of his Levi’s before carefully inserting the hot dog. Since you don’t want to mess this up, you make sure to go slow, taking your time. You just knew this prank was going to be epic. 

Once that’s done, you briefly take a second to wipe your hands on your leggings before taking a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Go big or go home, as they say. 

Leaning down, you grab Ari by the shoulder, attempting to jostle him awake. It takes a couple tries, but he does eventually open his eyes.

“Whaa–?” A grin breaks out across his handsome features as he emerges from his sleepy haze. “Hey, baby.”

“Hiya, Beast.” You offer him what you hope looks like your most unhinged smile and the reveal the pair of scissors that, up until now, you’d kept hidden behind your back. “How’s about I take a little off the top?” You sing, brandishing the shears. 

“The hell?” His confused blue eyes go wide as they follow the path of the scissors. Shock overcomes him as he watches, in what feels like slow motion, as you cut off a sizable portion of the frank. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He roars, grabbing himself as he scrambles off the couch and onto the floor before proceeding to do the funniest, most awkward backwards crab walk you’ve ever seen in your life. 

You double over with laughter as Ari struggles to come to grips with the fact that you definitely did not just make him the next John Bobbitt your Lorena. He’s breathing hard as he rips the hot dog out of his zipper, holding it up to the light. 

“Oh my God, that was amazing!” You wheeze.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” He tosses the damned thing across the room before covering his face with his hands as he wills himself to calm down. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

Wiping tears from your eyes, you decide to put the bounty hunter out of his misery by whispering his least favorite phrase: “It was a prank!” A renewed wave of laughter hits you when you recall just how gobsmacked he’d been by the whole ordeal. God, your sides hurt something fierce. 

“Just what in the ever loving fuck would make you think that was funny?” Ari growls low in his throat as he finally sits up. And the look he’s giving you now…

It’s hot enough to burn right through you. And not in a sexy way.

“That’s just the magic of TikTok, I guess.” Your smile wanes as you watch your severely irritated boyfriend slowly climb to his feet. “I mean, you should’ve seen your face when–”

“When what?” Comes his quiet rumble, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. “When I thought you cut my dick off just now? Is that–is that what you’re laughing about?” The smile he offers you looks a little less than friendly.

“Um yeah. I’d say so.”

Instinct, as well as the need for self-preservation, has you taking a cautious step backwards. You were prepared to run if you had to. It was the whole reason why you’d stretched in the first place.

“Oh yeah?” Ari scrubs a palm over his ticking jaw. “Is that so?”

Instead of responding you decide to simply nod. Oh, and take another step backwards, of course.

“I’m sure that if you’d maybe stop and think about it –”

“Why don’t you c’mere so I can show you just how much I appreciate your so-called sense of humor?” He motions you forward, opening up his waiting arms. 

But you know better. 

“I, uh…” You hedge, bracing your hands in front of you. “Can see you might need some more time to appreciate the joke. So I’m just gonna…um…” You blow out a breath. “Give you some space so you can – eeeep!”

An incensed Ari picks that moment to strike - lunging at you with a speed that belies his size. Thank goodness you’re prepared. Ducking under his arms, you spin around and make a mad dash for the stairs. Squealing, you take them two at a time, hoping to make it to your sanctuary before he can get his hands on you. 

“Get your ass back here, Bird!” 

No way, pal!

Heart pumping, you grab the doorframe and all but slingshot yourself into Ari’s bedroom, slamming the door behind you. While it would only buy you a couple of seconds, that was really all you needed. 

You dive headlong into a nearby closet before swiftly closing the door and hitting the lock. As your chest heaves, you decide to take a seat on the floor before reaching for the bottle of water you’d previously planted in your hiding spot.

After guzzling almost half, you replace the cap. You knew you ought to conserve your rations. Just in case you were stuck here for a while. 

“I’m not on your shit today, baby. Okay? Today your man’s got time!” Ari bellows seconds later. “So, if I were you, I’d come on out now!”

Shaking your head, you vow to stay silent. So you say nothing, even when he tries the knob on the door that separates him from you. 

“Open up, sweetheart!”

Again you say nothing, in favor of unwrapping one of your favorite granola bars. They were the chewy kind, the ones that tasted more like dessert than they did something healthy.  

“I’ll come out when you calm down!” You finally yell back after you chew and swallow. “Fucking Beast.” You grumble under your breath.

“Oh, I’m more than calm.” The weight of his sardonic chuckle is not lost on you. “Why don’t you come on out and see?” You can’t help but jump when one of his fists pounds on the door. “I swear…I just wanna talk.”

“I don’t believe you!” 

“You’re gonna open this door, darlin’.”

“No, I’m not!” You hiss, throwing one of his shoes at the wall for good measure.

“Yes, you are.” Ari hits back. “Now, you can either come out on your own, or…”

“Or else what?” 

“Or, I’ll come in there and get you. And trust me, little Bird…that’s the last thing you want.”

“Yeah?” You spit, meanwhile inwardly lamenting your man’s lack of a sense of humor for the umpteenth time. “Well…” You take another bite of your granola bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

Famous last words.

Ari whistles low, making you shiver. “Wait right there, baby. I’ll see you in a minute.”

You let out a sigh of relief once you get the sense that you’re finally alone. As funny as it all had seemed initially, you were quickly coming to regret this particular prank. The longer you sat in this closet, the more you began to honestly examine – and then reexamine – your life choices.

Perhaps it was time to give your newfound love of pranking your bounty hunter a break. Lips pursed in thought, you allow yourself another bite of your chewy bar. Only to frown when you hear a very familiar sound that fills you with instant regret.  

Apparently Ari had returned. And he’d brought his power drill. Fuck!

Your mouth goes dry as the sound grows louder. And then you’re forced to watch in horror as your man makes fast work of literally removing the closet door from its hinges. It was the last thing you ever expected your normally rather patient and understanding boyfriend to do. 

“There’s my girl.” Ari’s dangerous purr comes as he picks up the now useless slab or wood and sets it aside like it weighs almost nothing. “C’mon out of there so we can talk.” 

When you don’t move, your bounty hunter decides to come get you. He hauls you out by your wrist, making sure not to bruise you in the process.

“Beast, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I mean – ooh!” You scoff, only to rise on your toes when his free hand comes down on your vulnerable ass. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Let me make something very clear here, darlin’.” He leads you over to the bed before sitting down and then pulling you over his knee. “You want to waste time messin’ around on that stupid app you love so much? Fine.” Ari slaps your rump again, forcing you to bury your face in the covers to keep from crying out. 

“But where I’m gonna draw the line right now is you testin’ ‘em out on me. Unless you’re in that kitchen whipping up a new recipe I am not to be your guinea pig. You get me?”

His heavy palm comes down hard again when you don’t respond. This time he takes a moment to massage your cotton covered backside. “Do. You. Get. Me.” Each word is peppered by a solid smack.

“Yes!” You wail, although it comes out slightly muffled. 

Still not satisfied, Ari goes to grip the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down to your ankles, complete with your simple, white cotton panties. “This could’ve been a relaxing Sunday for us, little Bird. Just mindin’ our own business.” You can’t help but shiver when you feel him fondle your upturned ass, molding and massaging your burning cheeks. “But you just had to go and be a brat, didn’t you?”

“I–I’m sorry!”

It was too little, too late. And you both knew it.

“Oh now, you’re sorry.” He mocks before raining down a fury of perfectly-timed smacks. “I love you, baby. I do. But I also know you. You’re not really sorry – at least not yet.” 

Ari eases out from beneath you, all the while demanding that you remain face down with your reddened ass pushed up in the air so that he can enjoy the view while he prepares the next part of your punishment. And you had best believe you feel his sharp teeth sink into the left globe of your ass before he goes.

Consider it a parting gift.

One Hour Later…

And that’s how you found yourself handcuffed to the bed, courtesy of the signature purple, butter leather cuffs he’d had made for you. Unfortunately for you, you’d learned that he’d recently purchased another set…

For your ankles.

Your bounty hunter smiles as he picks up one of your vibrators – the one you’d purchased together – before applying it to your already oversensitive clit. Bucking your hips, you try to escape the torture.

With no such luck.

You desperately tug at your restraints, even as your cries fall on deaf ears. No matter how many times you promised to never play another prank on him ever again, it still wasn’t enough. Instead he’d continued to keep you bound while he worked out his anger…

By ruthlessly overstimulating your poor, sweat slicked body. No matter how many times you came, no matter how many times you threatened to scream yourself hoarse, he kept demanding more.

Because, according to Ari, since you’d taken a few years off his life, you apparently owed him as many orgasms by way of apology as you were able to give. Which meant you were going to be sore as hell tomorrow. 

Which was why, in this moment, although you could feel another orgasm threatening to overtake you, you were filled with nothing but…

Regrets only.

END  

Official Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

@gh0stgurl

@blogbog710

@sincerelytlh

@gummydummy19

@steviebbboi

@patzammit

@curls-and-eyeliner

[ateezscupid]

Ateez Imagines: Getting pegged for the first time ♡

— Hyung Line: k.hj, p.sh, j.yh, k.ys

warnings ✩ pegging (obviously) sub!ateez, switch!fem reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, edging, fingering (m receiving), handjob

tags ✩ @shinestarhwaa @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride @wooyoungisbaby @nyang3racha @hwakakeri @nnnarchives @ihavetoomanyfandomstobesane @v-lvs-yungi @hwashotcheeto @ja3hwa @kisaraginami @10nantscompanion @shhyesimmonroeagainpt2 @hwallazia @wisejudgedragonhairdo @10nantscompanion @hwashotcheeto @yeosang-dot-mp3 @akimkim @fruitcakebin @akimkim @k-pop-valda @onedumbho3 @yuyubeans @another-random-fanfic-blog @sinforsuccubus @/moonwalkerinaugust741 @yun-fangz @bnming @winklehwa @/meowmeeps @/kosmicbomb @lover-ofallthingspretty @writhingwrecked @jiwoongsblondehair @/ladymilkywayfortune

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

HONGJOONG

"Babe, I need to tell you something," Hongjoong said, his voice crackling with tension as he broke the silence of your cozy apartment. You looked up from your book, your eyes wide with curiosity. You’d known him for a while now, and when he talked like this, it was usually about something important.

"What's up?" you asked, setting your book aside and turning to face him.

Hongjoong took a deep breath. "You know how we've been trying new things in the bedroom?"

You nodded, your expression shifting to one of understanding. You’d been together for a year, and your relationship was marked by a spirit of adventure and openness. "Yeah, I've been lovin’ it," you said with a warm smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Well, I've been doing some reading," he began, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "And I've been thinking about trying out some new kinks."

Your eyes lit up with interest. "Oh? What kind of kinks?"

"Well, there's one in particular," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I've always been kind of curious about…pegging."

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. "Pegging?"

"Yeah, y’know," he replied, a hint of shyness in his voice. "Like, when a girl uses a strap-on on a guy."

Your eyes grew even wider, and you couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Wow, that's..." you paused, searching for the right word. "Surprising."

"But you're cool with it?" he asked, hopeful.

You nodded, your smile never wavering. "If it's something you wanna try, then I'm all for it."

Relief washed over him. "Really?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice firm. "Long as we’re both happy and we both consent, I don’t see why not.”

Hongjoong felt his heart race. He'd been nervous about bringing this up, but your response was more accepting than he could have ever hoped for. "Thank you," he said, leaning over to kiss you. "Thank you so much."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement. "Luckily, I already own a strap-on," you revealed, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "I was just waiting for you to say something."

He pulled back, surprised. "You do?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. "I picked it up a while ago, just to keep things interesting. The store I bought it from was having a sale, anyway.”

You decided to start slow, setting a date for your new adventure. The days leading up to it were filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. You talked about it in hushed tones, sharing your thoughts and expectations. You assured him that you’d be gentle, that you’d take it step by step, and that you could stop at any point if he felt uncomfortable.

On the day of your rendezvous, the tension in the air was palpable. You both agreed to set the scene, making your living room into a makeshift boudoir with candles and soft music. You wore a lacy lingerie set that made Hongjoong's pulse quicken, and you had the strap-on laid out on the bed, gleaming in the soft candlelight.

When the moment finally came, you approached him with the strap-on, your eyes locked on his. "Ready?" you asked, your voice a mix of excitement and concern.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah…yes, yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I'm ready."

You leaned over and reached for the bottle of lube on the side table. You squirted a generous amount onto your fingers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You looked back at him, your eyes dark with anticipation. Slowly, you brought your hand to his backside, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

"Relax," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. You began to circle his hole with one finger, applying gentle pressure. He tensed up at first, but your reassuring strokes and soft kisses along his neck helped him to ease into it. As you pushed your finger inside, he gasped, his body tightening around you. You waited for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation, before you started to move it in and out, the lube making it smooth and easy.

With each stroke, he felt himself relaxing more and more. He'd never felt anything like this before, but the pleasure was undeniable. He leaned into your touch, his cock growing harder by the second. He watched you in the mirror, your eyes focused and determined as you worked him open. It was a strange, vulnerable feeling, but it was also incredibly erotic, watching the woman he loved take control in such an intimate way.

As you added a second finger, he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was intense, but he was ready for more. He could feel your excitement building too, your breath quickening as you watched his reactions in the mirror. You leaned down and kissed him, your tongue dancing with his as you continued to prepare him for what was to come.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice soothing.

He nodded, his eyes still closed. "Y-Yeah," he breathed. "It feels... amazing."

You felt a thrill of triumph at his words. You’d read about the prostate, the male G-spot, and knew that if you could hit it just right, it would be an experience he'd never forget. You curled your fingers slightly and felt him jolt as you brushed against it. His eyes snapped open, and you watched in the mirror as his pupils dilated with pleasure.

"Oh, f-fuck," he murmured, his hips bucking involuntarily. You stilled your hand, giving him a moment to process the sensation. You could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken "W-What… was that?" But you just smiled and whispered,

"You're doing great," before resuming your slow, deliberate movements.

With each stroke, you grew bolder, applying more pressure to that sensitive spot. He was panting now, his body trembling with every touch. You could feel his muscles tightening around your fingers, and you knew he was close to the edge.

"Y-Y/n," he moaned, his voice strained. "I think I'm... I-I'm gonna..."

"Let go," you urged, your voice low and encouraging. "I've got you, baby."

And with that, you pushed your fingers a little deeper, your thumb pressing firmly against his prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure that crashed over him like never before. His body arched off the bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a guttural cry. The orgasm was unlike any he'd ever experienced, a deep, intense release that seemed to start in his toes and work its way up through his entire body. He could feel the muscles in his ass clench around your fingers, his cock pulsing with every spurt of cum that painted the sheets.

When it was over, he collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You gently withdrew your hand, a look of pure satisfaction on your face. "See?" you murmured, leaning down to kiss him softly. "It's all about exploration and trust."

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes still glazed over with pleasure. He could feel the sticky warmth of his release on his stomach, and his ass was still tingling from your expert touch. "Yeah," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "It was... incredible."

Without wasting any time, you reached for the strap-on. You slipped it on with an air of confidence that made his heart race all over again. The sight of you, dressed in nothing but the lacy lingerie and the leather harness, was enough to make him hard once more. You grabbed his hips, your grip firm but gentle, and positioned yourself behind him. He could feel the coolness of the lubricated toy against his skin, and his nerves spiked in anticipation.

"Remember to breathe," you instructed, your voice calm and steady. "We're gonna take this slow."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. He watched as you pushed the tip of the strap-on against his now-sensitive entrance, applying just enough pressure to allow it to slide in. He gasped as you entered him, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. You waited for him to adjust before you started to move, your hips rocking in a slow, rhythmic motion.

The initial discomfort soon gave way to a building wave of pleasure. With every thrust, you hit that spot deep inside him that you’d found with your fingers, sending bolts of electricity through his body. He could feel his prostate swelling with each pass, the sensation growing more intense with every moment. He moaned, his hands clutching the bedsheets as he tried to hold on.

Your movements grew more deliberate, your breathing quickening as you found your own rhythm. You leaned over him, your breasts pressing against his back as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. "Do you like it?" you asked, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he gasped, his voice strained. "Oh, G-God, yes-!”

Your eyes met in the mirror, and you gave him a wicked smile. "Good boy," you said, your voice dripping with desire. "Because I'm about to make you come again."

And with that, you picked up the pace, your hips slamming into him with more force. He didn't know how much more he could take, but he didn't want it to stop.

As you thrust into him, he reached down to stroke his cock, the sight of you taking him in the mirror pushing him closer to the edge. His orgasm built quickly, his body tightening as he neared the precipice. He watched as you pushed him over, your own climax written on your face as you moaned in pleasure. Your clit had been rubbing against the fabric of your underwear with each thrust.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. When you were both spent, you pulled out gently and removed the strap-on, collapsing beside him on the bed. You lay there for a moment, your hearts pounding in unison.

"That was..." he began, but the words failed him.

"Amazing,” you finished for him, your voice soft and filled with love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You held each other tightly, your breathing slowly returning to normal. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a new chapter in your sexual journey that had brought you closer than ever before. And as you lay there, tangled in the aftermath of your passion, you both knew that you were ready to explore whatever kinks and desires your hearts desired.

SEONGHWA

"Hey, Seonghwa," you called out, gout voice bubbling with excitement as you padded through the apartment in your socks. The floorboards were cool under your feet, a stark contrast to the warmth that suffused your cheeks. You had rehearsed this moment in your head for weeks, turning the words over and over until you were smooth as river stones.

Seonghwa poked his head out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yes, dear?" he responded, the scent of simmering garlic and onions filling the air.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage. You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Can I help with dinner?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know I like cooking for you."

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. The kitchen was a cozy cocoon of warm light, the sound of sizzling oil and clinking pans creating a comforting backdrop to your evening ritual. You took a step closer, feeling the heat from the stove against your legs. "But I have a surprise for dessert," you said, your voice barely above a murmur.

Seonghwa looked at you, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You leaned in, your cheek against his back, and whispered, "I wanna… peg you."

The room went still, the only sound the persistent hiss of the stove. Seonghwa stiffened, the spatula hovering in the air. You could feel his heartbeat quicken against you.

The silence stretched on, thick and unyielding. You tightened your grip, your pulse racing.

Finally, he turned to face you, setting the spatula down with a clatter. His eyes searched yours, a question etched into the lines of his face. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Your nod was firm, your eyes unwavering. "I’m asking you. Are you sure? I already have a strap-on.”

For a moment, the air between you two crackled with tension. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Seonghwa's face. He reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand. "Sure," he murmured, "But let's finish cooking first."

“Do you really wanna finish?” you tilts your head with a raised eyebrow, and he scoffs a bit, knowing you were right about him not wanting to finish cooking. The aroma of your dinner filled the room, but the anticipation of what was to come was stronger.

“I’ll just set a timer,” he says, turning back to the stove to do exactly that. The kitchen timer beeps obediently, acknowledging the temporary pause in your culinary endeavors. He turns back to you, his eyes smoldering with desire and a hint of apprehension. You can see he’s trying to keep his cool, but you know he’s just as eager as you are.

You move to the bedroom, the floorboards creaking under your weight as you leave the warm kitchen behind. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescents of the university halls where your secret relationship had begun. The air is charged with excitement and nerves as you both stand before each other, the weight of your unspoken desires hanging in the air like a ripe fruit ready to drop.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he sees the strap-on lying on the bed, gleaming in the candlelight. It’s a new toy, something you’d bought just for tonight. You’d done your research, watched videos, read articles – you wanted this to be perfect for both of you.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your knees touching. He takes your hand, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Are you nervous?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“A little,” you admit, your voice shaking. “Even though I’m the one who’s pegging you. So you should be nervous. But I trust you. And I know you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve done my own research on this too… That’s why I’m not so nervous. And yes, I’ll tell you,” he promises.

You leaned in for a kiss, your lips parting slowly, tentatively. It’s a kiss filled with promise and love, a silent pact to explore this new part of your relationship together. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as your tongues dance together.

Breaking away, you grab the lube from the nightstand, your hand shaking slightly. You try to play it cool, but the excitement in your eyes gives you away. Seonghwa watches you, his own hands fumbling with his buttons, his shirt coming off to reveal his bare chest. You can't help but admire the way the candlelight plays off his muscles.

He lays back on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping him. You follow suit, kneeling beside him and gently guiding him to lie on his back. His eyes never leave yours as you straddle him, the warmth of your bodies melding together. The air in the room feels charged, as if the very molecules are vibrating with anticipation.

"I'll start with my fingers," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heart. You lean in, your breath hot against his ear, and he nods, his eyes closing in anticipation. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you apply the lube to your fingers. You both tremble slightly, the moment feeling both surreal and incredibly intimate.

Your hand moves to his waist, sliding down to the button of his pants. He lifts his hips slightly to help you, and you feel his hardness against your palm. You take another deep breath, your pulse quickening as you unzip his pants. You’ve done this countless times before, but tonight it feels different – charged with a new kind of excitement.

With trembling hands, you slide his pants down, exposing his bare skin. He's already hard, his cock standing proudly against his stomach. You stroke it lightly, watching his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. His eyes are closed, his breathing deep and even.

"Ready?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes still closed. You smile, a mix of love and excitement lighting up your features and lean in to kiss him again. Your lips meet in a gentle, lingering kiss that seems to go on forever, your bodies speaking a language only you understand.

Your fingers trace a path down to his ass, the tip of one digit circling his hole. He tenses slightly, and you pauses, waiting for his signal. When he relaxes, You presses in, slow and steady, feeling him open up to you. The sensation is strange and thrilling, and you’re acutely aware of every little sound he makes, every twitch of his body.

Seonghwa's eyes fly open, and he looks at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. "M-More," he whispers, his voice thick with need. You add another finger, your own heart racing in response to his. You’ve never felt so powerful, so connected to him.

The timer in the kitchen beeps, a jarring reminder of the dinner waiting for you. But neither of you care about the food anymore. You’re lost in a world of sensation, a place where only the two of you exist.

Your fingers dance around his prostate, finding the sweet spot with a precision that surprises even you. You can feel him tense and release, his breath hitching in his throat as you explore him. He gasps into Your mouth, the sound muffled by your kiss. His hand tightens around your wrist, urging you to go deeper, faster.

As you do, you wrap your other hand around his cock, your grip firm but gentle. You stroke in time with your fingering, feeling him throb against your palm. The rhythm builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you both. You can feel him getting closer, his hips bucking up to meet your hand.

But you’re not ready for this to end yet. You pull your hand away from his cock, smiling at the whine of protest that escapes his lips. "Patience," you murmur, your voice low and seductive. You reach for the strap-on, your heart pounding in your chest.

Seonghwa watches you, his eyes glazed with desire. You slide the harness over your hips, adjusting it until it fits snugly. The feel of the cool leather against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful.

The head of the dildo nudges against his entrance, and you feel his body tense. You pause, looking down at him, your breathing ragged. "Ready?" you asks, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours.

Slowly, you pressed in, feeling the resistance give way as you fill him up. He gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you starts to move, setting a rhythm that's both torturously slow and incredibly intimate.

His hands are on your hips, guiding you, urging you deeper. You can feel the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles clench around your fingers. You’ve never been so attuned to another person's body, so in sync with your needs.

You move together, the only sounds in the room your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin. His moans are music to your ears, and you knows you’re hitting all the right notes. The candles flicker, casting shadows across the walls, painting your bodies in a dance of light and dark.

As you pressed down on his prostate, he arches his back, his grip on your hips tightening. You can feel him getting closer, his muscles tensing around your fingers. You know he's close, so close, and you speed up, eager to watch him fall apart.

And then it happens. His whole body tenses, his eyes squeezed shut, and he cries out, his release spilling over your hand. You continue to move, letting him ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling his ass clench around your fingers.

When the spasms finally stop, you lean down to kiss him, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin. He's panting, his chest heaving. You pull out, gently, and he relaxes, his eyes opening to meet yours. The look of pure ecstasy on his face is worth every nerve-wracking moment of anticipation.

You lie there, entwined in each other's arms, the candles burning low. The timer in the kitchen has long since stopped beeping, but the food is forgotten. This moment, this new chapter in your relationship, is all that matters.

Seonghwa's hand drifts down to your strap-on, his touch gentle and exploratory. "Your turn,"

YUNHO

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city as Yunho pulled his motorcycle into the apartment complex's underground parking. He killed the engine and let out a contented sigh, feeling the gentle vibrations of the bike fade away. The smell of exhaust and leather filled the cool evening air, a stark contrast to the scent of blooming flowers that had been thick in the air during his ride. The world was quiet now, save for the distant echo of a closing garage door and the occasional murmur of a passing car.

As he climbed the stairs to the third floor, his thoughts drifted to his girlfriend, Y/N. He knew you’d be waiting for him, probably with dinner already made. You had a simple routine that he cherished. He reached for the door handle, the anticipation of your reunion making his heart race just a little faster.

When he stepped inside, the apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from a couple of flickering candles scattered around the living room. You looked up from your book, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You set the book aside and slid off the couch, walking over to him in a way that made his knees feel a bit weaker than usual. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, the fabric clinging to your curves in a way that made him swallow hard.

"You're back," you said, your voice a sweet purr that seemed to resonate through his entire body.

He nodded, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended. "Missed you."

Your smile grew mischievous as you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "I missed you too," you murmured, reaching out to trace a line down his chest. "I've been thinking about something."

Yunho's eyes widened as you took his hand and led him to the bedroom. "What's that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You turned to face him, your expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I wanna peg you," you said, your cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "I've been readin’ about it, and I think it could be amazing for us."

He blinked, taken aback by your sudden proposal. "Pegging?" he repeated, his mind racing. He'd heard of it before, but you’d never discussed it.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little shakier now. "You know, I wear a strap-on and we can switch things up a bit."

Yunho felt a thrill of surprise, and a flicker of arousal at the thought of the power dynamic shift. He knew you were adventurous in bed, but this was a new level of intimacy you hadn't yet explored. He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice firm. "If it's something you really want to try, then let's do it."

Your face lit up, and you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. The scent of your perfume filled his nose, making him dizzy with desire. As you broke apart, you reached into your drawer and pulled out a velvet pouch. "I got this," you said, holding up a sleek black strap-on. "It's made of the softest material."

He took it from you, feeling the weight and the smoothness of it in his hand. His heart was racing now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Your eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation. "We can take it slow," you assured him, your voice gentle. "We'll use lube, and I'll be as careful as I can."

Yunho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He trusted you completely, and the thought of experiencing something new together was exhilarating. You undressed slowly, each piece of clothing falling to the floor like a silent promise of the intimacy to come. Your body was a vision, your skin glowing in the candlelight, and he felt his arousal growing as he watched you strap the device on.

You took his hand and led him to the bed, your bodies brushing against each other with every step. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his heart hammering in his chest. Your touch was gentle as you laid him down and began to stroke his cock, your other hand reaching for the lube. "I'll have to stretch you out first," you said, your voice low and seductive. "I'll use my fingers."

He nodded, his breath hitching as you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your fingers. You leaned over him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you took his cock in your hand and began to work the lubricant around his opening. The coolness of the gel was soon replaced by the warmth of your touch, and he felt his body begin to relax, opening up to you. Your eyes never left his as you pushed one finger inside, your gaze filled with a mix of passion and concern.

The sensation was strange at first, a slight burn that quickly gave way to a fullness he'd never felt before. Your eyes searched his, gauging his reaction, and he nodded again, his voice barely a whisper. "Keep going."

With agonizing slowness, you added a second finger, your movements deliberate and precise. He could feel the muscles inside him stretching, accommodating you, and the sensation was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing. His cock grew harder in your hand, and he felt his body responding in ways he'd never expected. You worked him gently, your index finger circling his prostate as you stretched him wider, preparing him for what was to come.

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the occasional squeak of the mattress beneath you as you worked your fingers in and out of him. Your eyes never left Yunho's, watching for any sign of discomfort, your own arousal growing with every little gasp he made. You felt a thrill of power, of being the one in control, the one bringing him to new heights of pleasure. His trust in you was palpable, and it made your heart swell with love and desire.

Yunho's body tensed and then relaxed, his breaths growing shorter as you added a third finger. The initial burn had transformed into a deep, intense ache that was strangely pleasurable. He felt vulnerable, but safe in your care. Your eyes, usually so playful, were now focused and serious, and he knew you wouldn't push him further than he could handle. He nodded, his voice barely a murmur, "I'm ready."

You leaned in to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as you pulled your fingers out. You took the strap-on in your hand and positioned it at his entrance, the tip slick with lube. Yunho could feel his heart racing, the anticipation making him dizzy. You pressed it in gently, the soft material sliding in easily thanks to your careful preparation. He tensed for a moment, then sighed as you pushed it in deeper, filling him completely.

You took your time, exploring this new sensation together. You started with slow, shallow thrusts, your eyes never leaving his. You watched his face, studied his reactions, and adjusted your movements accordingly. Yunho's hand found yours, his fingers entwining with yours as you gripped the base of the strap-on. Together, you found a rhythm that made him moan, his hips rising to meet you.

The sensation grew, building like a crescendo inside him. The feeling of being filled by you, of you in control, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was intimate and raw, and it was beautiful. His cock was rock-hard, begging for attention, and you didn't disappoint. You reached down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him in time with your movements.

The world outside the bedroom faded away, replaced by the sound of your skin slapping together and your mingled gasps. Yunho's eyes rolled back in his head as you hit his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that was both terrifying and incredible. "Y/N," he breathed, his voice ragged.

Your movements grew more urgent, your hips moving faster, and he knew you were close too with hoe your clit was rubbing against the inside of the strap-on. He watched you, the muscles in your arms tensing, your breath coming in pants. You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, your tongues dancing together as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

And then it was too much. Yunho's body arched off the bed, his orgasm tearing through him like a lightning bolt. He came hard, his cock pulsing in your hand as you continued to stroke him, your own body trembling with the force of your climax. You stayed like that for a moment, breathless and connected, before collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs and sated sighs.

The candles continued to flicker, casting shadows across the room, but you were lost in your own little world. You pulled the strap-on off, your body slick with sweat, and curled up next to him. "How was it?" you whispered, your voice filled with concern and excitement.

Yunho turned to you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Amazing," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. "I can't believe we've never done that before."

You grinned, your eyes sparkling. "There's so much more we can explore," you said, your voice filled with promise. "But for now, let's just bask in this."

And so you did, your bodies entwined, hearts racing, as you reveled in the afterglow of your shared experience. The air was thick with the scent of sex and candle wax, a testament to the uncharted territory you’d just explored together.

YEOSANG

"What's up with you and your weird fantasies?" you tossed your head back, letting out a peal of laughter.

Yeosang, caught off guard by your reaction, felt his cheeks flush. "It's not weird," he protested, his voice a tad defensive. "It's just something I've been thinking about."

You leaned forward, your eyes dancing with curiosity. "Okay, fine," you said, your smile teasing. "Tell me more."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "You know how we've been exploring different things in bed?" He paused, waiting for your nod. "Well, I read somewhere that pegging can be really intense for both parties. It's about trust and pushing boundaries, you know?"

Your expression grew thoughtful as you traced a finger along the rim of your wine glass. "I guess I can see that," you murmured, your gaze drifting off to the distant horizon. "But isn't it a bit... unconventional?"

"That's kind of the point," he replied, leaning in closer. "It's about trying new things together, growing closer."

The silence between you both stretched out, filled with unspoken questions and anticipation. Yeosang could feel the warmth of your skin and the sweet scent of your perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine that always made his head spin. He waited for your response, his stomach in knots.

Finally, you took a sip of your wine, the red liquid leaving a trail of shimmer on your upper lip. "Alright," you said, your voice casual. “Cool. I’m pretty sure I bought a strap-on.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected you to be so nonchalant about the whole thing. He felt his heart racing even faster, his mind racing with thoughts of what this could mean for your relationship.

"Where?" he managed to croak out, his voice thick with anticipation.

"In my drawer," you said, with a smirk. "I’ve had it for a while. You know, for when the mood strikes."

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. He had never thought you’d be so open to the idea, let alone already have the equipment. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You nodded, your smirk growing into a full-blown smile. "Why not?" you said, reaching out to place a hand on his thigh. "I've always liked the idea of switching things up. It keeps things fresh, you know?"

Your touch sent a jolt of excitement through him. He had never felt more alive, more connected to you than he did at that moment. He took a sip of his own wine, trying to calm his nerves. "I just didn't know you were into that kind of thing," he admitted.

"Well, now you do," you said, your voice a purr. "And it's your lucky night, because I'm feeling particularly adventurous.”

The both of you finished your wine in silence, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yeosang could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body already reacting to the thought of what was to come. The candles flickered, casting shadows across the room that danced in time with your racing thoughts.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your hand slid into his, your grip firm and reassuring. You led him to the bed, where you pulled open the drawer and revealed the strap-on. It was sleek and black, with a curved shaft that gleamed in the soft light. Yeosang felt his stomach flip at the sight of it.

With a gentle touch, you began to undo his pants, your eyes locked onto his. He could see the excitement in you, the same thrill that he felt coursing through his veins. His shirt followed, and soon he was standing before you in just his boxers, his body trembling slightly.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed. You reached out and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His erection sprang free, bobbing in the cool air. You took it in your hand, stroking it gently as you studied him. "You're so beautiful," you murmured, your voice low and sultry.

Yeosang felt a rush of love for you in that moment. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so desired. You leaned in and kissed him, your tongue probing his mouth as your hand continued to work him. He could feel himself growing harder, his breath coming in short gasps.

When you broke the kiss, you slid your fingers down to his opening, gently pushing inside. He gasped, his eyes flying open. The sensation was new, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made him quiver. You moved your hand in a slow, steady rhythm, working him open as he grew more and more aroused.

Finally, you pulled away, your fingers glistening with lubricant. You stood up and put on the strap-on, adjusting it until it was snug. The sight of you, tall and confident, wearing the harness, was almost too much to bear. Yeosang couldn't help but stare, his body responding eagerly to the sight.

"Ready?" you asked, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, unable to find his voice. You climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He could feel the head of the dildo pressing against him, the anticipation making him dizzy. You leaned down and kissed him again, your tongue dancing with his as you began to push inside.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was pain, yes, but it was melded with a deep, intense pleasure that took his breath away. He clung to you, his nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, your hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that made him moan.

You took your time, letting him adjust to the feeling. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. Yeosang could feel your love, your desire for him, in every stroke. It was as if you were claiming him in a way that no one ever had before.

As the initial shock subsided, Yeosang began to move with you, pushing back against you, meeting your thrusts with his own. The pain had morphed into something else, something primal and addictive. He never wanted it to end.

Your bodies moved together, a dance of love and lust that seemed to go on forever. Your hands roamed his body, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever you went. Yeosang could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

"H-Harder," he mumbled, his voice thick with pleasure. "P-Please, baby, harder."

You smile grew as you complied, your hips moving faster, more forcefully. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate in his very soul. Yeosang's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation. He had never felt so alive, so wanted.

Whimpers and gasps escaped his lips as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel every inch of you, the velvety softness of the dildo, the firmness of your thighs against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. It was too much, and yet not enough.

"Oh god," he moaned, his hips bucking wildly. "It feels s-so good."

You leaned down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your breath hot in his ear. "You like it?" you whispered, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he whined, his voice high and needy. "I-I love it."

The words seemed to spur you on, your movements growing more erratic, more demanding. Yeosang could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, tightening like a spring ready to snap. He clutched at you, his nails digging into your flesh as he tried to hold on, to savor every moment of this newfound ecstasy.

And then it washed over him, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. He cried out, his body arching off the bed as he came, spilling his release between you. You didn't stop, your movements growing more frantic as you chased your own climax.

When you finally reached it, you collapsed on top of him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in time with one another's. Yeosang felt a sense of euphoria that was almost unbearable, his body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As you lay there, tangled in the sheets, you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a glow in your eyes. "I knew you'd like it," you said, your voice filled with satisfaction.

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled by the pillow beneath his head. "How could I not?" he replied, his voice still shaky. "It was... amazing."

You shared a smile, one that was filled with a newfound understanding, a deeper connection that transcended words. It was in that moment that Yeosang knew your relationship had reached a new level, one that was built on trust, love, and a willingness to explore the depths of your desires together.

And as you both lay there, your bodies still joined, the candles flickering out one by one, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey into the uncharted territories of pleasure. The end of the night had brought you both closer than ever before, and the promise of a thousand more adventures lay just beyond the horizon of your passion-filled embrace.

[medugo]

Track your health records in one place - Download the App now.

[cloverina]

“VICTORIA’S SECRET.”

summary: you took sam into a lingerie store, in hopes he would be embarrassed… but he got revenge.

wc- 4,371

warnings- afab reader, slight humiliation, some degradation, voyeurism if you squint, cream pie, overstimulation is implied, spanking and if i forget any, lmk!<3

a/n- i have a 5 day trip to nyc in a few hours, so i probably won’t be active for that time period, im currently writing an anakin skywalker AND a scott barringer fic rn. ill be sure to finish them when im home:)))

"Sam, please don't be like this," She begged, turning on his arm as he rolled his eyes. "It's just a lingerie store. It's not like we're going to a pet cemetery or something."

He sighed heavily, his studded belt jingling against the metal rack of a nearby clothing store. "Fine," he grumbled, "but I'm not going to help you pick out your granny panties."

With an indignant huff, she shot him a glare that could've cut glass. "For your information," she said, her voice sharp as a knife, "I don't wear granny panties." She spun on her heel, her hair whipping around like a dark halo, and stormed towards Victoria's Secret, her favorite lingerie shop. Sam had no choice but to follow, his sneakers squeaking against the polished mall floor.

Once inside, the soft glow of the pink lights bathed them, the scent of vanilla and jasmine hanging in the air. She began to weave through the aisles, her eyes scanning the delicate lace and silk that adorned the mannequins. She couldn't help but feel a little thrill at the thought of Sam being in such a place, his discomfort was almost palpable. It was like watching a fish out of water, flapping around, trying to find its way back to the ocean of black band t-shirts and skinny jeans.

Her gaze drifted to the far corner where a royal blue set caught her eye, the exact shade of the streak in Sam's hair. It was a daring choice, she thought, but it had a certain allure that called to her. She picked it up, the fabric feeling like a whisper against her skin. The set was comprised of a push-up bra with a lace trim that would make her cleavage look like a secret garden and matching panties that had a cheeky little bow at the back. She couldn't resist a smirk as she imagined Sam's reaction.

Turning to face him, she held up the ensemble with a flourish. His eyes widened like a teenage boy's would at the sight of his favorite band's poster. She watched as his gaze took in every inch of the lingerie, his pupils dilating with desire. "What do you think of this one?" she asked sweetly, playing coy.

"Oh my god," Sam breathed, his baby blue eyes darkening with a hunger she hadn't seen before. "If you wear that, you won't need any other accessories," he managed to murmur, his voice hoarse with restrained lust.

Her smirk grew into a full-blown grin as she turned to face him, holding the royal blue lingerie set against her chest. The soft light played over the material, casting shadows that only served to enhance its allure. She could see his pulse quickening in his neck, his fingers itching to touch the silky fabric.

SUMMARY^1: She found a royal blue lingerie set at Victoria's Secret, the same color as Sam's hair streak. Presenting it to him, she playfully asked for his opinion. Sam's reaction was intense, his eyes revealing desire and his voice growing husky, suggesting she would look stunning in it.

"Well, if you insist," she said, sauntering towards the checkout. The color looked stunning against her pale skin, the blue a stark contrast to the darkness of her outfit. She knew it would look even better against the starkness of her bedroom walls. The cashier looked up, her eyes flicking between Sam and the lingerie with a knowing smile. She felt a thrill of excitement, enjoying the fact that she was making him squirm in public.

As she placed the set on the counter, Sam's gaze remained glued to it, his mind racing with thoughts of peeling it off her later. The cashier's eyes darted to him, reading his discomfort with a smirk before she scanned the tags and bagged it. The plastic crinkled as she handed it over, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet store.

"Thank you," she said sweetly to the cashier, her voice dripping with the satisfaction of knowing she had Sam right where she wanted him.

Before she could even think of her next shopping destination, Sam's grip on her arm tightened and he began pulling her through the mall at a pace that was halfway between a brisk walk and a full sprint. She stumbled to keep up, laughing despite herself at his urgency. "What's the hurry?" she teased, glancing over her shoulder at his flushed face.

SUMMARY^1: She bought the blue lingerie set, enjoying Sam's evident desire. The cashier smirked at their interaction. He grew increasingly eager to leave, practically dragging her through the mall, his discomfort now tinged with excitement. She playfully questioned his rush, amused by his flustered state.

"You know what," he murmured, his eyes dark with something that sent a shiver down her spine. She playfully resisted, letting out a little squeal when he picked up his speed, dragging her out of the lingerie shop and into the bustling mall. The sound of their shoes on the tiles and the distant chatter of shoppers faded away as they approached the exit.

The cool air of the parking lot was a stark contrast to the warm, fragrant atmosphere of the mall. Sam's grip on her arm didn't loosen as they made their way to his car, a black sports car that looked as out of place in the suburban mall as he did in the lingerie store. He opened the door for her, his movements sharp and decisive. She slid in, her heart racing from a mix of excitement and the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He got into the driver's side and cranked the engine, the purr of the car vibrating through her body. She watched as he shifted gears and peeled out of the parking space, the tires squealing against the asphalt. She could feel the speed increasing as they left the mall behind, the scenery outside becoming a blur of colors and lights. It was only when they passed a street sign that she realized they were not heading towards her house.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to him. "Sam, you missed the turn."

"I know," he said, his voice low and intense. "We're not going to your place."

Her eyes widened. "What? Where are we going?"

SUMMARY^1: He bought the lingerie and hurried her out of the mall, his excitement palpable. Despite her playful protests, he led her to his black sports car and drove off. When she noticed they weren't going to her house, she questioned him, surprised by the shift in their plans.

He didn't take his eyes off the road, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. "My apartment," he repeated, and she felt his hand land on her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. It was possessive, almost aggressive, and she couldn't help the way her body responded, heat blooming in her core.

Her heart raced as the car sped through the city streets, the lights flashing by in a colorful blur. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in her throat. "Sam," she began, but his grip tightened, cutting her off.

With each speed bump they hit, she found herself subconsciously shifting forward in her seat, her core grazing the side of his hand. It sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from gasping out loud. His eyes flicked to hers briefly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips before returning to the road.

"Sam," she whispered, her voice barely above the engine's growl. But the words she wanted to say died on her tongue when she saw the look in his eyes, a fiery determination that was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying.

He pulled the car into the underground garage of his apartment complex, the headlights cutting through the darkness like twin beams of white-hot desire. The tension in the air was thick, charged with the promise of something raw and primal. He parked in his designated spot, the engine idling for a moment before dying down to a quiet hum. His hand didn't leave her thigh as he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face her. "You wanted to play this game," he said, his voice a dark whisper, "now it's my turn to set the rules."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of teasing or jest in his gaze. But she found only a fiery determination that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she had pushed his buttons in the lingerie store, flaunting her sexuality without a care for his comfort. And now, she was about to face the consequences of her actions.

"I'm sorry," she offered, her voice small and meek. But the words were cut off by the sudden pressure of his hand moving higher, his thumb grazing the edge of her panties. She gasped, the fabric already damp with anticipation.

Sam leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. "And that's just from my hand? You're such a naughty whore for my hand, aren't you?" His words were like a slap to her senses, jolting her out of her momentary hesitation.

Her eyes flashed with a mix of shock and arousal as she processed his crude yet undeniably accurate assessment of her current state. She bit her bottom lip, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. He wasn't wrong; she was wet, and it was all because of his touch, his presence, the way he made her feel like prey to his hungry gaze.

Without another word, Sam opened the car door, the cool air of the garage brushing against her heated skin. He pulled her out of the car, his grip unyielding, and she stumbled slightly in her haste to keep up with his long strides. He slammed the door shut behind them, the sound echoing off the concrete walls as they made their way to the elevator. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows that danced across his face, making his features look harsher, more predatory.

As the elevator doors slid open, he scooped her into his arms, his strength surprising her. She gasped as he carried her across the threshold of his apartment, the door swinging shut with a bang that seemed to reverberate through her entire being. The space was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the city lights. The only illumination came from the flickering glow of a candle on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the room.

He set her down roughly on the bed, the mattress bouncing slightly beneath her. She watched as he moved with purpose, the tension in the air thickening like a storm cloud about to unleash its fury. He grabbed the bag from the lingerie store and tossed it to her. "Put it on," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Her trembling hands reached into the bag and pulled out the royal blue set. She could feel his eyes on her as she unclipped her bra and slid off her pants, the fabric pooling around her ankles like a dark waterfall. The cool air hit her bare skin, making her shiver. She took a deep breath and slipped the panties on, feeling the soft lace kiss her skin before adjusting the bow at the back. The bra was next, the cups cupping her breasts, pushing them up to create a perfect view that she knew would drive him wild.

As soon as she had the lingerie in place, Sam was upon her. The studded belt hit the floor with a clank, the spiked bracelets following. His hands moved with an urgency she had never seen before, peeling off his black band t-shirt to reveal the toned abs she had only ever caught glimpses of. The sight of his bare chest made her pulse quicken, the anticipation building within her like a crescendo in a symphony of desire. He kicked off his sneakers and yanked down his jeans, his eyes never leaving hers, the intensity in them making her knees weak.

Her own hands were trembling as she watched him, the fabric of her new lingerie seeming to hum with the energy in the air. He stepped out of his pants, and she couldn't help but gasp at the size of his erection, straining against the fabric of his black boxers. With a smirk, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid them down, revealing himself to her fully. She felt a warm rush between her legs, her body responding instinctively to the primal need she saw reflected in his gaze.

"On your stomach," he ordered, his voice a gruff rumble that sent another shiver through her. She complied, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the coolness of the bed against her skin. He climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing down slightly, and she could feel the heat from his body radiating through the mattress.

He straddled her hips, his legs on either side of her. His hands were firm as they gripped her wrists, pulling them back until she felt the soft bite of the handcuffs snapping shut around them. She gasped, a mix of surprise and arousal, her eyes widening in the dim candlelight as she felt the cold metal digging into her skin.

With a smirk, he reached down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her new lingerie. With one swift tug, he ripped the delicate fabric away, exposing her bare ass to the cool air. "Sam!" she exclaimed, the shock causing her voice to crack. "I just bought this!"

"I'll buy you more," he replied, his voice a low growl of dominance. "Now, be quiet." His words were a command that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she had pushed him to his limit, and now she was going to pay the price.

With a smug smile, he tossed the shredded lingerie aside, revealing her bare skin to the cool air of the room. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and incredibly turned on. His hand trailed down her back, sending goosebumps along her skin as he caressed her curves. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier tone.

The sudden sting of his hand smacking her ass took her by surprise, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. She yelped, her body jolting at the sharp pain. He didn't give her time to recover, delivering another smack, harder this time. The heat spread through her cheeks, the pain turning into a warm ache that mingled with her desire.

Before she could even begin to protest, his hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her. The smell of his skin, a mix of leather and sweat, filled her nostrils as she felt his other hand positioning himself at her entrance. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a cocktail of fear and excitement. Then, without any warning, he thrust inside her, filling her completely in one swift motion.

The sudden intrusion took her breath away, the pain momentarily overwhelming the desire that had been building in her. She bit down on the hand that covered her mouth to stifle her cry, her eyes watering with the intensity of the sensation. But as the initial shock subsided, she felt her body begin to adjust, the pain morphing into a deep, primal pleasure that spread through her like wildfire.

"You wanted to act like a whore in the lingerie store," he growled, each word punctuated by a brutal thrust, "so now you're going to be treated like one." His hips pistoned into her, the force of his movements pushing her further into the bed. She could feel the fabric of the comforter bunching up under her, the material rough against her sensitive skin.

The sting of his words and the harshness of his touch were a stark contrast to the tenderness she had come to expect from him. But the fire in her belly grew with every smack and thrust, the pain mixing with the pleasure until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. She managed to arch her back a little for him, lifting her ass up to meet each punishing movement, her eyes watering from the intensity of it all.

Sam's grip on her mouth tightened as she moaned, muffling the sounds of her pleasure. He knew he wasn't going too far; they had agreed on boundaries before, a safe word that could stop everything in its tracks if she ever felt truly uncomfortable. But she hadn't said it, and she wasn't using her safe action either—a subtle tug on his earlobe that signaled she needed him to ease up. Instead, she was responding to him like a wild animal in heat, her body writhing beneath him, her hips bucking back to meet his every move.

The room grew hot with the scent of their combined desire, the candle flickering as he pounded into her. He watched the way her body reacted to his touch, the way her breaths grew ragged and desperate, and he knew she was getting off on this. It was a heady feeling, one that made his blood sing with power and lust. He smacked her ass again, the sound ringing out in the quiet apartment, and she moaned even louder, her pussy tightening around him.

Her eyes watered from the pain, but she didn't protest. Instead, she arched her back more, pushing her ass up higher to meet his every thrust. It was the only thing she could do in her bound state, and she used it to her advantage, moving her hips in a way that had him groaning with pleasure. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his grip on her wrists tightening as he picked up his pace.

He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered obscenities into her ear. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine. "You like being my little whore, don't you? My little fuckdoll.”

Her breath hitched, her body responding to the harshness of his words. She couldn't deny it; the way he talked to her, the way he used her, it all just made her wetter, made her crave more. She nodded, a silent admission of her desires, her eyes fluttering shut as she focused on the feeling of him inside her.

His whispers grew filthier, his breath hot and wet against her ear as he spoke of all the things he was going to do to her. His words painted a vivid picture in her mind, one that had her pussy clenching around him. "You're going to take it all," he murmured, his hips moving in a rhythm that was punishing and perfect. "Every inch of me, until you're begging for mercy."

The hand that had been clamped over her mouth moved down to her stomach, his fingers digging into her skin as he pushed down, forcing her to arch even more. The pressure was intense, and he felt something strange—a bulge, a sensation that sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through him. He realized that she was so tight around him, so filled to the brim with his cock, that he could feel it in her belly. The realization made him even harder, his body responding to the idea of being so completely claimed by him.

"Feel that?" he murmured into her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "That's what you do to me, baby. You make me feel like I own every part of you." He leaned down to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin. The hand that had been on her stomach trailed down to her pussy, his thumb finding her clit. He began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, his movements matching the rhythm of his hips.

Since her mouth wasn’t clamped shut anymore, she could talk. And talk she did, letting out a string of moans and gasps that grew more frantic with every stroke. "Sam, I'm close," she whimpered, her voice shaking. "So close." She could feel her orgasm building, a tension that coiled tightly in her belly, ready to snap.

Sam's response was to thrust even deeper, his pace quickening. His thumb moved in circles over her clit, the pressure just right to drive her wild. "Come for me," he ordered, his voice thick with desire. "Come on my cock, like a good little whore."

The words were like gasoline on a fire, setting her off. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, her body shaking with the intensity of it. She cried out, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain as she felt him swell even more inside her, his own release imminent.

"Sam, I'm coming," she managed to gasp out, her voice hoarse from the effort of holding back. She could feel the muscles in her stomach tightening, her pussy contracting around his cock as the pleasure overtook her.

He responded by pounding into her even harder, his own climax approaching like a runaway train. With a final, desperate thrust, he emptied himself inside her, filling her with his hot seed. He groaned, his body shuddering with the force of his release. But he wasn't done. He kept moving, his hips jerking in a staccato rhythm, his cock still hard and demanding.

The feeling of him coming inside her was almost too much, but she was so lost in the haze of pleasure that she didn't protest when he pulled out, his cock glistening with their combined juices. He was like an animal in heat, insatiable and unrelenting. Before she could catch her breath, he had her flipped onto her back, her wrists still bound by the handcuffs.

Her legs were trembling, but she managed to spread them, giving him full access to her pussy. She watched as he stroked himself, his eyes locked onto her face, watching her every reaction. "Again," he growled, his hand a blur as he worked himself back to hardness. The sight of him was almost too much, so raw and primal.

He didn't waste any time, plunging back into her with a ferocity that left her gasping for air. Each thrust was a declaration of his dominance, and she reveled in it. He was so deep inside her, so deep she could feel him in her chest. The sensation was overwhelming, and she knew she was going to come again.

As she felt the familiar tightening in her belly, she reached for his hand, silently begging for release. He smirked, knowing exactly what she wanted. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Not yet, baby. Not until I've had my fill." And with that, he reached between her legs and found her clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

Her breath hitched, and she could feel the second orgasm approaching, a wild beast ready to pounce. She moaned around his thumb, her body writhing beneath his, her legs trembling with the effort of holding herself up. He leaned down to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he whispered more dirty promises. "I'm going to make you come so hard you won't be able to walk straight for days," he murmured, and she knew he meant every word.

The pressure inside her was unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke. She could feel the head of his cock nudging against her cervix, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she shattered. His thumb moved faster on her clit, the pressure building until she couldn't take it anymore.

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared up at him, her pupils dilated with lust. "Sam, I can't," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't hold on much longer."

But he was relentless, his strokes becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. She felt the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with each powerful thrust. And when he finally came again, it was with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the room. He pushed deep inside her, his cock pulsing with the force of his orgasm, filling her up completely.

Her own orgasm was just as intense, the second one hitting her like a freight train. She bucked against him, her bound wrists tugging at the handcuffs as she screamed out his name. Her pussy clenched around him, milking him for every drop, and he groaned in response, his hips jerking with the force of it.

Finally, with a last, desperate thrust, he pulled out, and she watched as his semen began to trickle out of her, painting a white line down her thigh. Sam's gaze followed the path of his release, and she could see the hunger in his eyes as he took in the sight of her, trembling and used.

Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned down, his tongue darting out to catch a droplet of his own cum on her skin. She gasped at the sensation, the taste of him on her, and the realization of what he was doing. His eyes met hers, a wicked glint in them as he licked the trail of semen up to her pussy. He paused at her entrance, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh.

"Sam, what are you doing?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and excitement.

"Now, be quiet for me baby," he murmured, his tone a seductive blend of dominance and affection.

[pseudowho]

The Wrong Tie

18+, MDNI, voyeurism, semi-public sex, hints of a foursome

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

It was a rainy spring day, when the rumour started that Nanami Kento and Higuruma Hiromi were having an affair. It was categorically untrue-- all a misunderstanding; but their wives wouldn't confirm that.

The faculty meeting, an all-day "team building event" was dull, a monotonous slew of games and personality tests, to drive those of a more practical mind to madness. The steady shhhhhh of rain against the windows only made it worse. Higuruma Hiromi was on the verge of sleep. Nanami Kento was lost in his own mind, reading on a tropical beach somewhere.

Kento felt the smooth slide of one small hand across his upper thigh, under the desk, and let out a quiet, involuntary grunt. His wife sat beside him, apparently interested in the presentation, and her hand slid higher, and higher, and higher. Kento felt his pulse quicken, leaning forwards on steepled fingertips, trying not to groan when clever fingers undid his zipper, and slipped through to squeeze his rapidly hardening cock through his boxers. Kento twitched his cock inside her grasp, and was rewarded with her biting her lip, her breath hitching.

Hiromi was already fantasising about his wife, sat opposite him, as sleep began to claim him. He jumped out of his seat, and excused it as a sudden, violent cough, when his wife trailed her bare stockinged toes over his lap. Hiromi grasped her foot under the table, giving a warning tickle to the arch. It did not dissuade her at all, and she rolled the ball of her foot insistently over the thickening bulge beneath Hiromi's zipper. His legs went lax, spreading, as his hooded eyes sat half-open, slack-jawed and humping involuntarily against her foot beneath the desk.

"Alright everyone...a ten minute break, and then we'll meet back in here. There are snacks in the staffroom."

Neither couple could last. Everyone flurried from the room, with all but four hurrying for the best choice of snack.

Kento dragged his wife into the nearest store cupboard, deep, dark and narrow. She giggled at the manhandling, and felt herself lifted into a shelf near the end. "You dirty little minx," he rumbled against her throat, rucking her blouse aside to drag one breast out, pawing at it, kneading and licking. She laughed, happy to be used, and threw his jacket and tie to the ground as he tucked her skirt around her waist, and began to hook out his heavy, pre cum wettened cock.

The door open and closed with a brief snippet of sunlight, and a slam, and Kento heard Hiromi's voice, and his wife's giggling; "Trying to get me to cum on your foot, in the middle of a meeting? You fucking menace. Only one place I'll be cumming, and it's a little bit more discre--"

"Higuruma."

"Oh, Nanami-- shit."

"Shit."

"Shit."

A moment of silence. A quiet shuffle as Hiromi pressed his wife face down, bent over, to the shelf that Kento's wife sat on. Kento scowled, unable to see in the dark. His cock throbbed, stroking between his wife's plush, wet folds; he was desperate. Hearing how Hiromi moaned, cursing as he rolled his wife's skirt up, and slapped her on the arse, he was just as pent-up.

"...we share the cupboard."

"Fuck yes we share the cupboard, Nanami. These two need to be taught a lesson."

Kento couldn't hold back any longer. Listening to Hiromi shred his wife's stockings at the crotch, and shove her panties aside, sent a shiver through him. Kento leaned over his wife, who was still suckling at his throat, and planted both hands on her hips before slamming into her to the hilt, with a husky, ragged moan. She squealed at the sudden, sharp fullness, and Kento clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Want to fuck with me in work hours? Fine. You're the one with my cum dripping down your thighs all day."

Hiromi laughed, landing one more sharp slap to his wife's arse, before dipping his cockhead to her entrance, and sinking inside with agonising tenderness. She whimpered, gasping, clutching at the shelf in front of her. Hiromi doubled over her, his belly to her back, mocking her gently.

"Aren't you two going to be a lovely matching pair? All full of cum with nowhere to go."

While it wasn't definitely a Wife-Fucking-Competition, it hardly seemed coincidental, how each man found his wife's throbbing little bud with devastating accuracy. How, when Kento slammed his wife so hard onto his cock that she sobbed and begged for mercy, Hiromi reached forwards and grabbed his wife by the roots of her hair, growling against the back of her neck like a man possessed. How, when Hiromi made his wife squeal, Kento tried to make his wife squeak louder.

At one point, the wives held onto each others' hands for dear life as their husbands dragged them through their orgasms, over hot coals.

"--that's it-- fffuuuuck, sound so pretty," Hiromi cooed to his wife, two fingers underneath her and rolling over her clit as she tried to scoot away, mewling and overstimulated, "-- ah ah ah, we're done when I-- haaaah, shit-- say we're done, sweetheart-- gonna fuck you-- fuck you stupid-- hold onto something--"

Kento held his wife gently by the throat, squeezing just hard enough, as his thumb and forefinger rolled around her clit, that her peak spread, electric, through every single nerve; "--that's right...beautiful. Can feel you milking me, shit-- gonna cum right in your belly...just where you like it. Won't need-- f-fuck-- so good-- won't need lube later...just fuck this seed right back into you, hmm?"

Kento didn't want to admit that hearing two women become whining messes around him was something of a buzz. When he came, it was with violently competitive satisfaction, as Higuruma had spilled his seed just moments before. Hiromi didn't give a fuck; he was lost in the sound of Kento's cock squelching into his wife's aching pussy. Kento never took Higuruma for such a whimperer. Hiromi never knew Nanami could fall apart like that.

Both men spilled more seed than they ever had, the testosterone thick in the air. Their wives almost regretted their misbehaviour-- almost. Each wife stood on shaky legs, trying to stop drips of cum running past the hems of their skirts, while Hiromi and Kento dressed in a hurry, breathless and trying not to laugh.

They made it back to the meeting room in time, the wives entering first, trying not to stagger into their seats. Kento and Hiromi entered after, mostly straightened out. They were busy trying to look normal. Neither of them noticed how eyes flickered to their flushed faces, Kento still quietly panting, Hiromi with a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Eyes flicked to their chests, and back up to their faces. The next stage of the meeting was awkward, at best.

Gojo approached Hiromi at the lunch break, and Hiromi almost spat out his coffee when Gojo leaned into him, and whispered; "...why are you wearing Nanami's tie, huh? Anything you two need to tell us?'

Hiromi's horrified, pale face shot down to another man's leopard print tie on his chest, then shot up, searching for Kento. Kento looked across the room, his face impassive, but his eyes screaming...in an unusually muted black tie.

The wives had noticed, earlier. They enjoyed their lunch, chatting and blushing, with cum still cooling between their legs, pretending they knew nothing.

[inkdrinkerworld]

i just think that james is such a petter. he pets your hair in line at the store and your shoulders when you’re sitting at your desk reading and your thighs when you’re cooking. if he didn’t have such a comforting vibe about him, the way he’s always petting you is enough to make you sleepy all the time. speaking of, he is definitely the type to fall asleep around you all the time, unashamedly, because he loves you and he feels safe. you ought to pet him, too

James is your first boyfriend, your first real and considerate and touchy boyfriend. You love it, or more accurately you've learnt to love the way his hands trail all over your body and the heat of his palm is no something you find yourself looking forward to.

You're laying on the sofa, watching the football with him. You'd started sitting down, and then the game remained level and you'd grown a little bored so you'd laid down.

James had been sitting, leaning forward full of nerves. You're sure tonight his nails are going to be all gone if he carries on. The moment your body is flat though, James is following.

"Can you pass me the maltesers before you lay down Jamie?" He's already got the box in his hands, and a pack of the gummies you like. His head resting on your tummy as he opens both packets and hands them over to you.

"I need us to win so bad," he murmurs into the fat of your thigh where he holds it to his lips. His hands start kneading the dough of your thighs as you munch on the malt balls.

"They'll win Jamie, s'a cup final." And they're playing like they want to. You wish you could focus more on what's happening on the tv, but James' hands a kneading at the fat of your thigh or stroking up and down your calves.

It's distracting and it feels good and worst of all, it's making your pulse hammer like it always does. There's just something about being touched and pet like this that makes your tummy flip and your nerves spark.

You're lost in your own thoughts when James squeezes your calves making you jolt beneath him. He turns immediately, apology on his lips. "Sorry gorgeous, didn't mean to be so rough."

You shake your head, stroking through his curls that have gone a little flat from him laying on you. "Didn't hurt Jamie," your tone is warm and soft and James knows exactly what he's done to you.

He's smug about it, but just because you're no longer skittish about him grabbing at you like you'd been before. His lips smash against your shin in quick but fond kisses. James settles his head right back on your stomach with a content sigh, turning back to the tv just as his team scores to go ahead.

[misaerabl]

Dead Girl Walking

(You do not need to watch Heathers to read this!) Ellie as JD and Reader as Veronica

SUMMARY: You just made the biggest mistake of your high school life: crossing the most popular girl in school. She was supposed to be your friend, but even you couldn’t ignore her ruthless, queen-bee ways. The fallout is inevitable—she’ll not only banish you from the social circle but will likely make your life an endless nightmare. Or worse, she might make you regret you ever dared to challenge her. Knowing that your time in this school, and maybe your life, is running on borrowed hours, you decide to do the unthinkable: live like you’ve got nothing left to lose. You’ve got 30 hours to squeeze every moment out of life before the storm hits, and there’s only one person you can imagine going to—Ellie. Something about her defiance, the way she breaks the rules but still outsmarts everyone, draws you in. If this is your last day, you’re going to spend it doing what you want, consequences be damned. WARNINGS: the characters are fucking insane, fingering, use of those strap-ons where it's double-edged, referring to strap-on as cock and dick, slapping, aggressive sex, mentions of self-harm and suicide, murder, toxic characters! A/N: you don’t really need to watch Heathers for these to make sense, but it does take place in the Heathers universe so it does help if you've watched/know heathers! Also to all the Heathers fans, this isn’t like on the dot completely the same as Heathers, of course. 

Minors and Men DNI / Word Count: 9.4k words

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The thump of the bass pulsed through Heather’s car as she sped down the dimly lit road. The night felt electric, charged with the promise of the unexpected. You leaned against the window, the cool air biting at your skin as Heather drummed her fingers to the beat, impatient as always.

A sharp turn of the wheel, and the car slid smoothly into a 7/11 parking spot. Heather didn’t look at you as she pushed a crisp hundred-dollar bill into your hand.

“Don’t take forever,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “And get the sour cream and onion chips.”

You slipped out of the car, the chill of the night settling around you as you made your way into the brightly lit store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in an artificial glow. As you grabbed the chips, your gaze drifted toward the register—and that’s when you saw her.

Ellie was there, leaning casually with a cherry-red Slurpee in hand, her eyes glancing lazily around the store. She was a walking contradiction—messy auburn hair in a half-up, half-down style, clothes that screamed rebellion, yet a calm confidence that belonged to someone who could take on the world. When her eyes met yours, her lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Hey, Miss Ivy League,” she drawled, her voice a slow, teasing melody.

You felt a grin tug at your lips, despite yourself. “Ellie.” The way her name rolled off your tongue felt familiar and electric, like a spark you hadn’t known you’d been carrying.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

She took a slow sip of her Slurpee, the straw making a low, gurgling sound before she replied. “What, you think I only haunt alleyways and dive bars?” She quirked an eyebrow, the playfulness in her tone offset by something deeper. “Nah, 7/11s are where it’s at.”

You tilted your head, leaning into the banter. “Yeah? What’s so special about neon lights and convenience store hot dogs?”

Ellie chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Consistency. You know, no matter how messed up life gets, there’s always a 7/11 open at 2 a.m. A place that doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t judge.” She lifted her cup, swirling the ice around. “A brain-freeze that reminds you you're still alive, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

The way she said it, with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, made the moment heavy. For a second, it felt like she was letting you peek behind the armor, at the girl who needed the chaos to feel normal.

Before you could reply, Heather’s shout cut through the air. “Hey! I said move it!”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to Heather, and her smirk returned, more mischievous this time. She took another sip, then set the Slurpee down with an exaggerated flourish.

“Remember, Ivy League,” she said, her voice softening, “when the world tries to break you, sometimes you’ve gotta freeze your brain, just to feel something.” Her gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer, her expression almost wistful. “Build walls, but don’t let them lock you in.”

She pushed off the counter, slipping out into the night with the ease of someone who didn’t quite belong anywhere—and liked it that way. The glass door swung shut, leaving you standing there, chips in hand, with her words echoing in your head like the last note of a song.

As you made your way back to Heather’s car, the cold night felt sharper, the air humming with a feeling you couldn’t quite place.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The party at Heather Chandler’s house is blindingly vibrant, neon lights casting deep shadows across the crowded living room. The air buzzes with music and gossip, a mix potent enough to make you feel on edge. You stick to the periphery, watching as Heather Chandler moves through her domain like a queen inspecting her court. Every smile she flashes is calculated, every tilt of her head a silent command.

Then you notice her—Emily Tran, a girl from your AP History class. She’s standing near the snack table, looking uncomfortable, eyes darting around like she doesn’t belong. You remember how she once lent you her notes when you were out sick for a week, her quiet kindness making a rough time a little easier.

Heather Chandler sweeps over, her entourage in tow, McNamara and Duke smirking behind her. Heather’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp and loud. “Oh, look who decided to show her face here. Did you get lost on your way to the library?” she sneers, the words dripping with mockery. The girls around her laugh, the sound cruel and high-pitched.

Emily’s face flushes, eyes dropping to the floor as she tries to shrink into herself. Something inside you snaps. The sickly sweetness of Chandler’s dominance, her candy-coated cruelty—it’s too much. You step forward, voice clear. “Back off, Chandler,” you say, loud enough for those around to hear. The conversations falter, whispers bubbling up in their place.

Heather Chandler’s eyes snap to yours, narrowing into slits as the music’s beat pulses around you. “Excuse me?” she says, voice cutting through the tension. “Did you just tell me what to do?” The room collectively holds its breath, eyes darting between you and the queen bee.

“Yeah, I did,” you reply, swallowing the fear climbing up your throat. “You don’t get to treat people like that.”

Heather smirks, but there’s no humor in it. Her smile is hard, saccharine, like she’s gearing up to chew you up and spit you out. “Oh, look at you, little hero. Have you forgotten who made you into this? You’ve come so far, clawed your way into my circle, and now you’re turning on me?” Her voice lifts on the last word, as if she can’t believe you would dare.

The crowd gasps, a collective inhale that adds to the pounding in your chest. Heather Duke’s grin widens, enjoying the spectacle, while McNamara looks on with a raised eyebrow, more amused than shocked.

“Do you really think you can play in my world and come out clean?” Heather taunts, louder now, making sure everyone hears. “Because if you think this is over, you’re wrong.”

The room watches, anticipation crackling in the air. Emily’s wide eyes meet yours for a moment, gratitude and worry mixing together.

“I’m not scared of you,” you say, even if your voice trembles at the edges.

Heather lets out a sharp, cold laugh. “Well, you should be,” she whispers, leaning in close enough that only you hear. “Because once I’m done, no one will remember your name.”

With a wave of her hand, she turns away, leaving you standing there, breathless and shaken. The crowd splits to let her pass, the music picking back up as if nothing happened. People shoot you looks—some impressed, some sympathetic, but most afraid to even acknowledge what just unfolded.

The adrenaline only carries you so far. You push your way out of the suffocating room, past curious eyes and muffled whispers, until the cool night air hits your face. Your heart is a drum, thundering in your chest as you move down the dark, empty street, the confrontation replaying over and over.

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan. Your feet moved on their own, driven by the panic coursing through your veins. The fight with Heather left a gnawing emptiness in your chest, every harsh word, every sidelong glance, looping over and over in your mind. Thirty hours till Monday, till consequences came crashing down. You couldn’t tell if your life was over metaphorically or if you were teetering on the edge of something far worse.

But Ellie. She was the one person who made things make sense, who managed to pull you back from the spiraling mess your mind created. You didn't know what you expected from going to her house—comfort, distraction, maybe just to see a face that didn’t make you feel like the world was caving in.

As you stumbled into her neighborhood, the streetlights casting pale glows on the pavement, your eyes caught the lone tree leaning against the side of her house. You didn’t know why you chose to climb it, only that the ache in your chest wouldn’t let you just walk up to the front door. You scrambled up, bark scraping your palms, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just you and the rush of adrenaline. Each foothold, each rough branch digging into your skin felt grounding, tangible, and real.

At the top, you hovered by her window, the realization of what you’d done crashing in. You knocked softly, heart racing. The sheer absurdity of it all struck you; you hadn’t been to Ellie’s house before, hadn’t so much as looked up her address, and yet, somehow, you were here.

The curtain shifted, revealing Ellie’s face. Surprise sparked in her eyes before melting into worry, then something else you couldn’t quite place. She pushed the window open, her voice a whisper.

“What are you doing?” A smile flickered, half-bemused and half-concerned, tugging at the corner of her mouth.

You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed, caught in the mess of panic and exhaustion. You looked at her, the one steady thing left, and swallowed the tremor in your voice.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit, the tightness in your throat making your voice crack. You’re hyperaware of the seconds ticking by, of the clock that seems to be counting down the hours left until Monday—until everything Heather promised becomes real. But right now, in the glow of Ellie’s room, it feels like maybe the world can stop, just for a moment. Just long enough for you to catch your breath.

Ellie’s eyes shift, scanning your face as if reading every fear, every question you’re too afraid to say out loud. The look on her face—half worry, half resolve—reminds you why you came here, why you needed to see her. You need someone who knows the real you, someone who can ground you when the floor falls out from under your feet. And right now, Ellie is the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely.

She steps back, making room as you slip inside. The glow from her bedside lamp paints her room in warm golds and deep shadows. Ellie crosses her arms, eyes searching yours. 

Without thinking, you move closer to her, your heart thudding louder with each step.

Ellie pauses mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you—?”

Before she can finish, you’re kissing her, your lips crashing against hers with a sudden urgency. It’s frantic, unexpected, and entirely out of nowhere. The shock in Ellie’s eyes is evident, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stiffens, her hands hovering uncertainly as if she’s unsure of what to do with the sudden intimacy.

You pull back just a fraction, breathing heavily, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. “I—I don’t know why I did that,” you stammer, your pulse erratic.

Ellie looks at you, confusion flashing in her eyes. “How the hell did you even find my address?”

You blink, thrown off by her question. Of course, she’d wonder. You hadn’t exactly planned this. “I—uh—Student Files…” you admit, a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s... kind of a weird story.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her confusion shifting into curiosity.

“I—well, I helped Mrs. Turner with the student records for a while. She needed an extra hand with some administrative stuff, so she let me go through the files a few times. It was mostly just sorting things, but I guess I kind of memorized some of the addresses along the way.” You swallow, trying to steady your breath. “I—I didn’t think about it at the time, but when I got here... I just remembered yours.”

Ellie stares at you for a long moment, her lips parted slightly in disbelief. “You’re telling me you broke into my address book from some random school paperwork?”

You wince, feeling a rush of heat spread across your face. “Yeah, I guess that sounds bad when you put it like that.”

She snorts, shaking her head in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “That’s... honestly a little creepy.”

“I know, I’m not proud of it,” you say quickly, guilt bubbling up, “but I swear, it wasn’t like that. I just—needed to get away from everything. And you... you’re the only person who doesn’t seem like they’ll judge me for it.”

Ellie falls silent, her eyes narrowing, but not in anger. She’s just processing, trying to make sense of what just happened. Finally, she shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, I guess I'm stuck with you now. Might as well make the most of it."

You exhale a shaky breath, relieved that she’s not freaking out. The tension between you is still there, but somehow, it feels like something else is shifting, too—a kind of quiet understanding.

You’re both sitting beside each other on her bed now, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Ellie watches you, her gaze steady, but there’s a hint of curiosity behind it. The silence stretches between you two, the weight of the night pressing down on your shoulders—the fight with Heather, the pressure of the thirty hours looming over you. It’s too much to handle on your own, and in this moment, you need something, anything, to make it stop.

You could still back out, apologize, and explain that you didn’t mean to make things awkward. But you don’t want to. You don’t want to walk away from this feeling like you're still running from your own choices.

In one sudden, impulsive motion, you push Ellie back onto her bed. The action is quick, almost reckless, and she gasps, taken off guard as her body sinks into the soft sheets. You move on top of her, your hands still shaking slightly as you hold yourself above her. Her eyes widen in confusion, and for a moment, she seems unsure of what just happened.

The heat rises to your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from her. For the first time in what feels like forever, you're not thinking about anything else. Your mind is too full of the chaos in your chest to focus on anything but this moment.

"What the hell?" Ellie breathes, her voice a little breathless, but there’s no anger, no rejection. There’s only surprise, and maybe something else you can’t quite place. She doesn’t push you away. Instead, she just stares up at you, lips parted, waiting for you to say something.

The room feels smaller now, the air thicker, and your pulse is pounding in your ears. You’ve crossed some invisible line, but you’re not sorry for it. You’ve gone too far to care about what happens next.

"I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore," you murmur, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I’m done trying to please everyone."

Ellie blinks, her gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something softer, but there’s a challenge in her eyes now, like she’s trying to figure you out. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks, voice quieter, but still probing, looking for answers.

But you don’t have one. Not really. All you know is that, in this moment, you want to feel something—anything—other than the fear and pressure that’s been crushing you. You need to feel alive again, even if just for a few minutes.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

You know exactly when it all started—the moment you first felt something for Ellie. It was in the cafeteria, and you’ll never forget it. Ram and Kurt, two of the biggest assholes in school, had cornered someone—probably just because they could. The usual bullying, the usual sneers. But then, for the first time, you saw Ellie.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate. Even when they tried to intimidate her, Ellie stood her ground, her voice sharp, her posture a quiet defiance. When Ram made the mistake of getting too close, Ellie didn’t back down. She swung a fist at him—hard.

You watched the whole thing, frozen in your seat, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the fight that caught your attention. It was the way she carried herself—the raw, unapologetic confidence she exuded, even in the heat of it. You weren’t exactly a fan of people who get into fights, but damn... in that moment, Ellie was something else.

Something that made your chest tighten, and for the first time, you weren’t sure whether you were scared or impressed.

One thing is for sure though, seeing that scene… Made you so fucking wet. 

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The moments were flooding your mind—those stolen glances, the subtle touches, the things left unsaid. They were all piling up on you, overwhelming you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. It felt like everything had led to this point: you, on top of Ellie in her bed.

Her breath hitched, and for a split second, everything around you froze. Your heart hammered in your chest, the rush of blood in your ears drowning out everything else. There was something electric in the air between you two, something that had been building for what felt like ages, but you hadn’t known how to recognize it until now.

Ellie was looking up at you, her eyes wide, lips parted. But there was something in her expression that you couldn’t place—was it fear? Or was it something else? You couldn’t tell, but you couldn’t pull away now. Not when everything felt so intense, so real.

You’d spent so many nights wondering what it would be like to finally be close to her, to feel her warmth, to understand what it was that pulled you in. But now that you were here, with her beneath you, everything—every little moment, every glance—crashed down on you all at once, and you couldn’t think straight.

Her hand found your shoulder, not to push you away but to pull you closer. The world around you seemed to shrink until all that existed was you and her, suspended in a shared tension you didn’t know how to escape. There were no words, just the raw intensity of the moment, the feeling of being trapped in something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

And just like that, all your self-control, all your attempts to hold back, evaporated. You couldn’t think of anything but her—only Ellie, and the pull between you two that had been simmering in silence for so long.

Ellie’s hand tightened on your shoulder, her eyes never leaving yours. The room seemed to grow quieter, the outside world fading into nothingness. You could hear her breath catch, a clear sign that she wasn’t immune to the weight of the moment.

“You’re going to be my last meal on earth, Ellie Williams,” you whispered, your voice raw and unsteady.

Ellie's eyes darkened with desire as she watched you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. Smirking, she reached up and tore the fabric open, buttons flying everywhere. "I hope you know this is going to create one hell of a mess," she breathed, her fingers trailing down your chest.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She hooked a leg around your waist, pulling you flush against her. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" she growled, nipping at your bottom lip. I've been wanting to do this for so long.

“I know. let's fucking break this bed… You won't be getting any sleep tonight you know?” Her eyes widen at your sudden boldness, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She knows you’re not the type to throw caution to the wind like this. Something’s different about you tonight—more raw, more desperate. Ellie studies you for a moment as if trying to decipher the shift in your demeanor.

"Has that fight with Heather really gotten to you this much?" she asks, voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

You can see the question hanging in the air between you, her eyes searching for the truth. “Do you really believe the Heathers would go that far? That they'd actually try to destroy you over something this stupid?”

Her gaze is sharp, unrelenting. You’ve always known Ellie as the type who doesn’t just take things at face value—she digs, pulls, challenges. But tonight, she seems almost... protective, as if she can sense just how badly this whole mess has broken you. You didn’t come here just to escape the night. You came because you truly believed your life was about to end. 

Nobody could control you. Not even yourself. 

You tossed your shirt away, lifting yourself off Ellie for a bit to slip off your panties. Ellie lifted her hips to help you push her pants down, kicking them off the bed. "You're so impatient,”

“I need you…” You leaned in and whispered in her ear, kissing her neck aggressively. 

Ellie moaned softly, her nails digging into your back. "Well, how can I resist such a request?" she purred, unhooking your bra. 

Ellie's back arched as you pushed two fingers into her, her body clenching around them, making her hiss at the suddenness. She nipped at your breast, her moans muffled by your curves.

Ellie's free hand reached down to join yours, her thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles as she fucks herself with your fingers. The sounds of her eating your tits and the wet squelching of your fingers in her pussy fill the room. “Fuck...fuck...fuck…”

Ellie's hips bucked against your hand, her breath coming in short pants. "Harder..." she hissed, biting down on your flesh. Her hand gripped your wrist, guiding you to that magical spot inside her. 

You started moving even faster, more aggressively, making the cheap bed squeak and move. You moaned as she sucked your nipples. 

Ellie cried out sharply as an intense orgasm crashed over her, her pussy clenching rhythmically around your fingers. She released your nipple with a gasp, burying her face against your neck. "Holy shit...holy shit…” 

You chuckle, staring at her as you lick your fingers. 

Ellie's eyes were glued to your mouth as you licked her juices off your fingers, her chest heaving. “You're...you're so hot," she stammered, her hand sliding down to cup you between your legs. She found you soaking. “My turn.”

Ellie pushed you onto your back, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she nestled between your thighs. She teasingly blew cooling air across your heated flesh, making you shiver.

"Make me—Make me scream so fucking loud, the neighbors will think we're murdering each other,”

Ellie winked mischievously. "Challenge accepted." She dove in, her tongue lapping at your glistening folds, probing and teasing. Two fingers plunged deep inside you, curling just right to hit that perfect spot. "Mmmm…”

Ellie pulled back, a strand of your juices clinging to her lips. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with a hungry intensity. “Why'd you fucking stop?” You asked. 

She smirked as she reached for her large strap-on, buckling it around her waist. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet. I'm just getting started." Ellie stroked the thick cock, grinning wickedly.

Ellie grabbed your legs, hiking them over her shoulders. She ran the head of the strap-on through your folds, coating it with your slick heat. She leaned forward, bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your thigh.

Ellie slowly pushed forward, her eyes locked onto yours as she stretched you wide. "So...tight," she grunted, feeling you clench around the intrusion. "Relax for me, baby. You can take it." She leaned down to kiss you, muffling your moans. 

“Fuck yeah I can” 

Ellie smirked against your lips, slowly pulling back before slamming forward with a grunt. "That's it, fuck yeah," she panted, setting a hard, fast pace. The room filled with the slap of flesh and your cries of pleasure. "Scream for me,”

“Let me ride your cock…” 

Ellie pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your hands and knees before grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto the strap-on. "You want to ride, huh? Then ride," She sat back, guiding you to bounce on her lap as she held your hips steady.

Her hands tightened on your hips, controlling your pace as you rode her. "That's it, bounce that ass on my dick," She growled, leaning forward to grab your hair and yank your head back. "Look at me while you ride me, damn it.”

You were in shock at her sudden demeanor, but you fucking loved it. You stared into her eyes as you made pornographic noises, gripping the sheets… 

“Fuck I think you tore my mattress” Ellie chuckled darkly, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow as you tossed your head back. 

“Just get a new one…” You mumbled. “You're not fucking sleeping tonight. Make yourself useful for me, Williams!”

"Damn, you're insatiable tonight, aren't you?" Ellie smirked, gripping your hips tighter as she rolled her own, changing the angle of penetration.

"Fuck, just like that," Ellie panted, one hand snaking around to toy with your clit as she continued to relentlessly pound into you. "You're gonna make me cum, riding my cock so good like this.”

“Yeah…? Good.” 

Her words trailed off into a growl as her other hand grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs wider to accommodate her powerful thrusts. "Shit, shit, shit..." She grunted, her body tensing up as she prepared to erupt inside you.

At this point, the only thing you two could hear were the lewd noises you were making and the bed creaking. It's as if the whole town has disappeared.

For some fucked up reason all you could think about was…

“Slap me” You mutter under your breath. 

“What?” Ellie replied confused at your request.

“I said slap me!” 

Ellie's rhythm faltered, her brow furrowing as she looked back at you. "You... you want me to slap you?" She asked, her voice hesitant, checking for consent even in the heat of the moment.

“Yes! Come on just do it” You take her hands and lead them to your face.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was something you actually wanted, before finally giving in to your demand. "Fuck, alright..." She brought her hand up and slapped you across the face, the loud crack echoing through the room. "There?”

“Harder” 

Her hand came crashing down against your face again, harder this time. Her handprint was already visible on your cheek.

“Fuck… Yes!” You scream, tossing your head back, picking up your pace as you continue to ride her. 

She looked at you with confusion and fascination, her hand still stinging from the force of the slap. 

Ellie's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. A dark smirk spread across her face. "Oh, You're into that, huh?" She grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, exposing your neck which she bit down hard. 

You continued to bounce on her lap. Ellie's movements became more erratic as she struggled to keep up with your demanding pace. She slapped your face again, and again, each blow landing with a loud crack. "Fuck, what's gotten into you?!" She screamed, her voice hoarse from exertion.

Her grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your flesh as she pulled you down harder onto her with each upward thrust. Her own breathing was ragged, punctuated by grunts and growls as she fought to maintain control. "Answer me... " She hissed through gritted teeth.

“I'm a dead girl Ellie… In a few hours, I'll be nothing but a memory” 

Ellie's face contorted with emotion. She wrapped an arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back. She loomed over you, her eyes filled with a mix of passion and determination. "Then we'll make these next few hours count," she whispered hoarsely.

With a fierce intensity, she began to move inside you once more. Her touch was both tender and demanding as if she were trying to brand the moment into both of your memories. "Look at me..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of their joining.

Ellie leaned down, pressing her forehead to yours, her breath mingling with yours as she continued to fill you. Her hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing as she looked deep into your eyes. “Look at me…” She panted, her pace quickening as she neared her release.

Ellie's movements became more erratic, her grip on your throat tightening slightly as she felt her climax approaching. Her eyes, usually so fierce and intimidating, now held a vulnerability that took your breath away. "Fuck... I can't... I'm gonna…”

Her words turned into a guttural moan as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, her body convulsing as she found her release. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your fingers digging into her back as you came undone beneath her.

Spent, Ellie collapsed on top of you, her weight grounding you in the moment as both of you struggled to catch your breath. The room was thick with the shared silence of heartbeats and whispered sighs. After a while, she shifted, rolling onto her side and pulling you into the circle of her arms so that your faces were inches apart on the same pillow. Her gaze found yours, unreadable yet intense, as though she were searching for an answer you hadn’t yet asked.

You let out a soft laugh, breaking the silence. “I should probably apologize to Heather, right?” Your words hung in the air, teasing, with a hint of guilt.

Ellie’s lips quirked up, but her eyes stayed serious, studying you as if memorizing each line of your face. “Apologize? For what? For not being a bitch like her?” She tilted her head, the question more genuine than you expected.

A silence settled between you, heavy but not unwelcome. Her hand brushed over your arm, fingertips tracing lazy patterns that sent shivers down your spine. The moment felt fragile like it could shatter under the weight of what was left unspoken.

“Maybe she’ll forgive me.” you finally said, voice softer now.

Ellie’s expression softened, the edge slipping from her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “What matters is now.” She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the touch lingering as if trying to convey everything she couldn’t say out loud.

You closed your eyes, sinking into the warmth of her, the world outside forgotten. Whatever storm awaited beyond these four walls, you knew you’d face it when the time came. But for now, in this stolen moment, the rest of the world could wait.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The sun was still low in the sky when you pulled on yesterday’s clothes, feeling the fabric cling to you like a reminder of the night before. Ellie shot you a glance from across the room, a smirk tugging at her lips as she threw on her jacket and grabbed the keys to her dad’s old car.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice husky with the remnants of sleep.

You nodded, a tightness in your stomach as the reality of facing Heather settled in. The drive was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, Ellie’s fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. You caught yourself glancing at her profile, the early morning light outlining the sharp line of her jaw. It stirred a strange mix of dread and comfort in you, like everything was about to change.

Heather’s front door stood slightly ajar, swinging gently in the breeze, as if even the house was recovering from the chaos of the night before. You exchanged a quick look with Ellie before climbing the familiar steps to Heather’s room. You knocked, the sound loud in the silence. A moment later, Heather appeared, her eyes rimmed with red, bleary with sleep. Her gaze shifted between you and Ellie, confusion furrowing her brow. Then, the realization hit—betrayal mixed with something darker.

“Why are you here… with her?” Heather muttered, her voice hoarse.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Ellie before meeting Heather’s gaze. “I came to apologize,” you said, the words tumbling out quickly, awkwardly.

Heather’s eyes narrowed, skepticism battling the exhaustion on her face. She sighed, rubbing her temple. “My head is killing me,” she groaned, dismissing the tension for the moment.

“I’ll get you something for that,” you volunteered quickly, relieved to have an excuse to escape the weight of her glare. Ellie followed you down the stairs, her presence a familiar shadow at your back.

As you rummaged through the kitchen, pulling out random ingredients in a half-hearted attempt at a hangover cure, Ellie leaned against the counter, one eyebrow raised. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” she teased.

You shot her a tired smile. “Not even a little.”

She laughed, the sound sharp and unexpected in the otherwise quiet house. She spotted something in the cabinet, a bottle in her hand, her eyes glinting with mischief. “How about we give her this?” she joked, waving it like a prize, before pouring it into a cup.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly reached out, batting her hand away. “No, fuck, I’m not going to kill Heather,” you said, exasperated. You set the cup down on the counter, the tension in your chest loosening slightly at her playful grin.

Ellie’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Relax, I was just kidding.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. Just grab the cup and let’s go.”

Ellie nodded, grabbing the cup without a second glance as you led the way back upstairs. Heather was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the cup Ellie handed her. She hesitated for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a long sip.

It only took a few seconds for her face to go pale. Her eyes widened in horror, and she gasped, a strangled noise tearing from her throat before she collapsed, crumpling to the floor.

Time seemed to stop. You froze, heart hammering in your chest as reality crashed over you in icy waves.

“Oh my God, Heather!” you shouted, rushing to her side, shaking her lightly.

Ellie stood frozen, her eyes wide, the cup rolling to a stop at her feet. The room spun, and panic surged in your chest. The weight of the moment hit you all at once.

You fumbled for Heather’s wrist, your hands trembling as you felt for a pulse, even though you knew Ellie had already checked. The silence that followed was deafening, pressing in on you like a vice. Panic clawed at your throat as you stumbled backward, staring at Heather’s lifeless body on the floor.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, voice cracking. “This is it. My future… it’s over. We’re screwed.” The words rushed out in jagged breaths, and tears stung your eyes.

Ellie dropped to her knees beside Heather, her face pale but composed, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “Hey, hey. We’re not doing this,” she snapped, looking up at you. “We’re not giving up.”

You shook your head, fingers running through your hair. “Ellie, she’s dead. There’s no coming back from this. We need to turn ourselves in and tell them it was a mistake. Maybe—”

“No,” Ellie’s voice cut through your spiral like a knife. Her eyes locked onto yours, fierce and unyielding. “That won’t work, and you know it. No one’s going to believe this was an accident, especially not with our history.”

You swallowed hard, her words sinking in. She was right. It didn’t matter that it was an honest mistake; nobody would buy it. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as the reality of the situation set in.

Ellie’s gaze flicked to Heather’s desk, cluttered with remnants of last night’s party—crumpled notes, an empty bottle, a pen lying askew. An idea sparked in her eyes, wild and desperate. “We have to make this look like it was her choice,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “We need a note.”

Your stomach twisted. “What? Ellie, no. That’s insane.”

“It’s the only way,” she insisted, stepping closer. Her hands found yours, squeezing tight enough to ground you, even in the chaos. “Listen to me. You’re good at this—you know how to make it look real.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you met her eyes. They were wide with fear, but steady with resolve. You pulled away, pacing the room as her plan took shape in your mind. The thought of forging a suicide note felt sickening, but the image of everything you’d worked for slipping away was worse.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, voice cracking as you reached for the crumpled notebook on Heather’s desk. You picked up the pen, your fingers numb against the cold metal.

Ellie hovered behind you, her voice a whisper in the silence. “We don’t have a choice.”

Your hands shook as you opened Heather’s notebook, filled with neat handwriting, doodles, and half-finished notes from classes you all shared. The sight of it twisted your stomach into knots. You glanced at Ellie, who was pacing behind you, her footsteps restless on the creaking floorboards.

“Write this down,” she said, her voice strained but sharp. “Something about how no one really knows her. How they only see her for her looks, her parties, but never who she really is.”

You nodded mutely, the words flowing from the pen as if it had a mind of its own. Each sentence felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t stop. Your mind swirled with memories of Heather—flashes of her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she was truly happy. The notebook beneath your hands felt like a violation, turning those memories into something twisted.

Ellie leaned over your shoulder, reading the words as they took shape. “‘I just wish someone could see me beyond the mask I wear every day,’” she added softly, a tremor in her voice.

You glanced at her, and for a moment, you saw something in her eyes—vulnerability, maybe even regret. But she didn’t look away. She couldn’t afford to.

You finished with a trembling signature, one that mirrored Heather’s, your heart pounding so hard it felt as though it was echoing in your ears. The note was done.

Ellie exhaled shakily, stepping back. “This… this has to work,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

You stood frozen, clutching the notebook like both a lifeline and a curse. The room felt colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, impossible to ignore.

The note sat on Heather’s desk, the ink still drying. You and Ellie exchanged a glance heavy with fear and silent understanding. Your heart hammered in your chest, every instinct screaming for you to run, to put as much distance as possible between yourselves and this room.

“Let’s go,” Ellie whispered, her voice tight, urgent. She grabbed your hand, grounding you enough to snap you from your stupor.

You stumbled out of Heather’s room, casting one last glance at her lifeless form sprawled on the floor. The sight twisted in your stomach, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Every step down the stairs felt like an eternity, the creaking floorboards and muffled noises from the outside world blending into a nauseating symphony.

As you reached the front door, morning light filtered through the glass, illuminating the remnants of the party—empty cups, forgotten jackets, a broken picture frame. You swallowed hard and pushed the door open, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

Ellie’s grip on your hand tightened as you both hurried down the driveway. She didn’t let go until you reached her dad’s car parked a few houses down. The two of you climbed inside, and Ellie fumbled with the keys, her fingers trembling as she shoved them into the ignition.

The engine roared to life, cutting through the morning silence as she pulled away with a jerky start. You couldn’t look back; you didn’t dare. The road ahead blurred as your vision swam, the reality of what you’d just done slamming into you with full force.

The silence between you and Ellie was suffocating, filled with all the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. Finally, after a long stretch of tense moments, Ellie spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“We’re going to be okay. We have to be.”

You stared out the window, the familiar streets of your neighborhood passing by like scenes from someone else’s life. The weight of the lie you’d just created pressed down on you, an unshakable truth that would follow you both, no matter how far you drove.

The car sped down the road, the hum of the engine doing nothing to drown out the thundering beat of your heart. You clenched your fists in your lap, knuckles white as the gravity of what had happened sank in. The silence was unbearable.

Finally, the words burst out of you in a shaky gasp. “What the fuck have we done, Ellie?” Your voice trembled, cracking under the weight of your panic. Admitting it aloud made everything feel too real, like saying it would bring everything crashing down.

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the road, but you could see her hands shaking where they gripped the steering wheel. She swallowed hard, taking a breath as her neck tensed. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice fragile as the morning light seeping through the windshield. “I don’t know, but we did what we had to.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as you looked at her, searching for answers that weren’t there. “Had to? Ellie, we just—”

“Stop.” Her voice was sharp now, cutting through your panic like a knife. She glanced at you, eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. “If we break now, it’s over. We have to hold it together, alright? Just… just breathe.”

But how could you? How could you breathe when the weight of what you’d done sat so heavily on your chest? The road stretched endlessly before you, each passing moment taking you further from Heather’s house and deeper into a future you couldn’t begin to understand.

The silence that followed Ellie’s words was deafening, a chasm between you. Your vision blurred, and you turned your gaze toward the window, watching the neighborhood blur into smears of familiar shapes. Memories of Heather flooded in, each one twisting the knife deeper.

Heather Chandler. Larger than life, with her sharp sarcasm and effortless command of any room. The girl who annoyed you endlessly with her need for attention, but who had also shown up at your house with ice cream and a playlist of your favorite songs when you had a bad day. You’d shared secrets, inside jokes, late-night talks when the world felt safe.

Despite her flaws, Heather had always been your best friend. She could be self-absorbed, reckless even, but you knew behind the façade was someone just as scared and insecure as anyone else. She trusted you in ways she didn’t trust anyone else, and in a twisted irony, that trust now lay shattered on her bedroom floor.

A lump rose in your throat, guilt clawing at you with an intensity that was almost unbearable. “She was my friend, Ellie,” you choked out, your voice thick with grief. “My best friend.”

Ellie’s expression hardened, eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road. She didn’t say anything, and the silence that filled the car was deafening. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand; you knew Ellie well enough to know she carried her own shadows. But right now, understanding didn’t change what had been done.

Heather was your best friend, and now she was gone. A casualty of a moment that had spiraled so far out of control that you couldn’t even breathe.

Ellie’s eyes flared with frustration, and her hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles white. She snapped her gaze to you.

"Seriously?" she barked, her voice laced with frustration. "A few hours ago, you were freaking out about Heather trying to tear you apart. You thought she was gonna come after you, right? That she was out to ruin your life, and now you're losing your shit because—what? Because she’s gone?”

The words hit you like a slap. She was right. That’s exactly how you’d felt—like Heather’s rage was a ticking time bomb, and you couldn’t breathe without thinking she was waiting for the right moment to make your life hell. But now, everything was different.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising, becoming sharper. “We took care of that problem, and now you're acting like it’s the end of the world?” She laughed, but it was bitter, almost a sneer. “Are you really this worried about killing someone when a few hours ago you were terrified she was gonna ruin your life?”

The truth hit you like a cold wave. You had been consumed by fear of Heather’s wrath, so focused on her anger, so terrified she’d destroy everything you’d worked for. And now, somehow, she was... gone. Just like that.

But that didn’t make this better. It didn’t make it right.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. How could you explain to Ellie that, even though Heather had been a threat, she had still been your friend? How could you say that this was a mistake, an irreversible one, no matter how much you tried to justify it?

Ellie’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, colder now than before. “Make a decision,” she said, voice steely. “Either you're with me, and we handle this, or you lose it and ruin everything. No middle ground. Pick one.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. There was no turning back. You could feel the tension crackling between you, daring you to say the wrong thing.

You stared at her, at the frantic energy in her eyes, and for a moment, you almost wanted to pull away, to scream at her to take responsibility, to make this right. But deep down, you knew that would only make everything worse. And a part of you—the part that had once feared Heather—knew that sticking by Ellie was the only way to survive this.

You took a slow, shaky breath and met her gaze, locking eyes. You didn’t speak, because you both knew there was nothing left to say. The promise was unspoken, but it was there. Both of you understood it in the silence that filled the car.

Never again. That was the promise. No one could ever know. Not Heather’s family, not your friends, not anyone. This was the end of Heather Chandler—and the end of the lives you’d known before this moment.

You could feel it, the weight of it settling in your chest. But there was no way out now. So, as much as you hated it, as much as it twisted your insides, you nodded. The promise was sealed between you and Ellie.

A promise that would haunt you both... forever?

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

A week later, it felt like the whole town was playing a part in a twisted play where everyone pretended Heather Chandler was some tragic saint. In reality, she had been anything but. Heather’s smile was sharp, a weapon she wielded as easily as a laugh. She was untouchable, rich, popular, and cruel when she wanted to be—which was often.

But now, the school halls were lined with flowers, photos of her with wide grins and perfect hair, as if she had been everyone’s best friend. As if she hadn’t left a trail of bruised egos and whispered stories behind her. The memorial was set to take place in the gym, with its polished floor and banners that Heather herself had probably ordered others to hang while she stood back with a critical eye.

You sat at your desk, the speech paper in front of you nearly crumpled from the force of your grip. You were expected to speak, to stand in front of everyone and tell them who Heather had been. Not the girl who snapped at you during rehearsals or spread rumors just for entertainment. Not the Heather who wielded secrets like knives, knowing exactly where to cut. But the version of her that the school wanted to remember—sanitized and perfect.

"Heather Chandler was... complicated," you wrote, then scratched it out immediately. The truth couldn't live in this speech; it wasn’t allowed to. What people wanted, what they needed, was a story that fit their idea of her. A tale that made sense of the mourning, justified the tears. And so you wrote a lie instead.

"Heather was a leader, a voice that demanded to be heard. She pushed those around her to be better, even when it was hard to see."

Your stomach twisted as you read it back. It was true, in a way. Heather did push people—but only when it served her. And yet, the guilt coiled tighter, because even if she had been sharp and demanding, even if she'd hurt others more times than you could count, she hadn't deserved this.

Ellie’s idea to forge the note had seemed like the only way out that morning. You’d done it, hands shaking so hard you thought the pen might break. And now, that act hung over you both like a storm cloud, pressing down on every breath.

The knock at your door barely registered. "Sweetheart, it's time to go," your mom said softly, unaware of the storm raging inside you. You forced yourself up, folding the paper into neat, straight lines, as if by making it perfect, you could convince yourself that it was okay to stand up there and tell this story.

As you walked into the gym, eyes followed you, their faces expectant, tearful, pretending that Heather had been something more than she was. Your gaze met Ellie’s from across the room, and for a moment, the mask slipped—both of you wearing the same haunted look. You knew that as you spoke the words written in shaky pen strokes, the real Heather would remain forgotten, buried under a lie that bound you and Ellie together forever.

“Heather... was my best friend,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to make it believable. The gym was silent, the air thick with the weight of collective grief and whispered memories. You took a shaky breath, feeling every eye on you, watching, waiting. “I had no idea she was struggling like this.”

The tears that welled up stung, but they weren’t for Heather. They were for the guilt gnawing at you, tearing through your chest like a beast. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. Because beneath the surface, behind the eulogy and the sympathetic nods from the crowd, you knew the truth. You knew that you were the one who had killed her—accident or not.

As the words spilled from your lips, painting a picture of a girl who was kinder, more misunderstood than she ever was, your throat tightened. You blinked rapidly, letting a tear fall, and from the murmurs and shifting bodies, you knew it had the intended effect. The speech ended with a final echo, your voice cracking at the right moment.

The teacher stepped forward, a solemn smile on her face, and spoke. “Thank you for that beautiful tribute. We know this is a difficult time for everyone. The school counselor will be available for anyone who needs to talk.”

You descended the podium, the weight in your chest pressing heavier than before. The applause felt hollow, a charade, just like everything else.

Ellie found you by the corner of the room as people began to disperse, some going up to lay flowers, others wiping tears. She sidled up next to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re such a good actor, you know that?” The words had an edge, sharp enough to make you flinch.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression hardening. “Those were real tears, Ellie. This... what we did... it’s eating me alive.”

Ellie’s smirk fell, her eyes narrowing. “She was a fucking asshole to you, to everyone. Maybe she deserved it.”

Her words struck you like a slap. Memories flooded back—the way Heather had humiliated you in front of others, the cruel jokes, the power she wielded like a weapon. But you shook your head, the panic creeping up your spine. “No, Ellie. Not like this.”

A shadow crossed Ellie’s face, and she looked away, her jaw clenched. The silence between you stretched uncomfortably. Then a thought slammed into you with such force that it made your stomach churn. That morning, before it all unraveled, Ellie had joked about giving Heather the wrong cup—the one with your experiment, the mixture that was never meant to be ingested. At the time, you’d laughed it off, thinking it was just dark humor.

But what if it wasn’t a joke? What if she hadn’t made a mistake at all?

Your heart raced, the blood thundering in your ears. What if this wasn’t an accident, but something much darker? You glanced at Ellie, whose eyes remained distant, a coldness settling there that you hadn’t noticed before. And for the first time, you realized you didn’t know her as well as you thought.

Ellie’s eyes, once so familiar, glistened with something unreadable as the tension crackled between you. She turned back, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, the gym, the memorial, and the hushed sobs around you all faded away. It was just the two of you, bound by the secret that threatened to suffocate you both.

“I would do anything to protect you,” she said, her voice low and steady, but with a strange, fervent edge. The words sent a shiver racing down your spine as if she’d just revealed a part of herself you weren’t supposed to see.

Ellie’s words lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating. You searched her face for any hint of guilt, any sign that she was as trapped in this as you were. But instead, there was a flicker of something else—something more complicated. Protective, maybe. Defiant. But not malicious.

The realization loosened something in your chest, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter if Ellie had meant it, if the poison had only been meant as a scare tactic, a mistake. The fact remained that Heather was dead, and the weight of that truth was too much to carry.

“It’s over, Ellie,” you said, your voice hollow, almost mechanical. The words tasted bitter, final. Her eyes widened, the mask slipping for just a second to show the raw shock underneath.

“What do you mean?” Her tone cracked, breaking through the confidence she always wore like armor.

You shook your head, stepping back as if the distance could somehow cleanse the guilt seeping into your bones. “I can’t do this. I can’t look at you and pretend everything is okay. We’re done, Ellie. I don’t want any contact with you anymore.”

Her face fell, the sharp edges softening with a kind of disbelief. “But I—”

“No,” you cut her off, each word like a knife. “I don’t care what your reasons were. We crossed a line, and I can’t come back from that. I don’t want to.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. For a moment, you thought she might argue, try to convince you that she did what she did out of love, out of loyalty. But instead, she nodded slowly, the acceptance stinging more than any fight could have.

“Fine,” she said, voice tight and low. “If that’s what you want.”

You turned and walked away before she could see the tears that threatened to fall again—this time for everything you’d lost, everything you could never take back.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

Part Two??

Tag List : @mimasroom2 @pixelllliess @elliessgfsstuff @abandonedstars1

A/N : okay guys it's like 1am and i have to wake up at 4 for school. I hope you guys enjoy this! (ps. i only tagged people who said they wanted to get tagged!)

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Story Book Romance (Larissa Weems x f!Reader)

Synopsis: As the owner of a bookstore in Jericho, you've gotten rather good at giving recommendations to your customers. There's only one woman you desperately want to give one to.

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: discussions of discrimination, like one swear word

AN: It's been a hot minute since I've written for Larissa so please be kind. I'm a bit rusty. I hope it's still good.

The first time you’d walked into your shop, you’d fallen in love. It had been an empty space, but you had been able to see exactly what it would become. Inch by inch you built it up into your dream.

All these years later, your bookshop was thriving.

You hadn’t been sure about settling down in Jericho. The town was picturesque and it had a deep sense of history, but you weren’t sure if there was a market for a bookshop. You’d only meant to be passing through. Still, the space had called to you so you’d created a safe haven for yourself.

The large window at the front let in sunlight to warm the room, catching the motes of dust as they spun in the air. Shelves pushed against the walls and freestanding, creating mazes of books for customers to get lost in. Potted and hanging plants bringing some life to the space. The air smelt of ink and paper and stories, the scent you’d grown up with, comforting you even on the darkest of nights.

You hadn’t expected to be so embraced by the community. Perhaps you should have. The quaint town ran at a more leisurely pace than the city, giving the time for browsing stacks upon stacks of books, taking time to read a book on a warm summer afternoon. You’d grown to have the reputation to be able to recommend the perfect book to anyone.

The first time she’d walked into your shop, you hadn’t thought much of it. The bell had rang out, sweet in the quiet atmosphere of the shop. One more customer, one more story, the joy of helping someone discover something they might love. You’re turned the corner and immediately been struck dumb.

She was glorious. It was the first word that had come to your mind when you’d laid eyes on her. Tall, statuesque, elegant. Incredibly beautiful. Red lips had pulled up into a pleasant smile upon seeing you, blue eyes sweeping over your shop with a twinkle lighting her up from the inside out. Silver hair swept up, showing the long line of her neck only made you want to feel her pulse under your lips. The body hugging dress was unfair, leaving you feeling frumpy in your jeans and cardigan.

“Do you need any help?” you’d managed to stutter out, pushing past the sheer awe you felt looking at her.

She hadn’t, her voice smooth and lovely when she’d answered. Her accent made your mouth grow dry and your knees turn to jelly. So you’d turned on your heels and disappeared back into the safety of your stacks. You were lost, and it wasn’t to your own imagination this time.

Despite not being very helpful, she’d continued to come back, slowly exploring your store with each visit.

One such day in early fall, you could be found reshelving in the lull between customers. It had been a busy morning, a group of tourists having swept through for you to clean up after. You were humming to yourself, lingering over each book, doing your best not to let your thoughts linger on the beautiful woman that kept visiting your shop.

Over the last few months she’d come in at least once a week. You’d felt her presence like electricity on the air each time. She’d linger, browsing longer and longer before picking a book and bringing it to the counter to be rung up. Each time she’d offered you a smile, a comment, the brush of her gloved fingers in the exchange. It set your heart racing.

But she’d never asked for a recommendation before. You longed to give her one, to see if the woman you’d built in your head was anything like reality.

The bell above the door rang out. You ignored it, knowing you’d be found eventually if you were needed. Stretching up onto your tiptoes, you pushed a book back into place. Unlike the shelves along the walls, this one didn’t have a rolling ladder for you. Instead, stepstools were scattered throughout, waiting to be of some use to the poor person wanting to reach the top shelf.

A small meow caught your attention.

“I know, Moppet. It is a travesty.”

Your kitten, a calico you’d rescued off the street, had taken to shouting her opinion at you whenever the chance presented itself. In true bookshop fashion, you’d thought a cat would only add to the atmosphere. Unfortunately, yours just seemed to want to complain to anyone that would listen.

Another meow.

“Have you considered using your words?” you asked, scooping her up, “you’re always so quiet, Moppet.”

Her claws sunk in as she clambered onto your shoulder, balancing precariously. You bent your head towards her, letting her bump her own head against your cheek. She rubbed against you, her little purring making you smile.

“Is that the newest employee?”

You startled, your hand coming up to keep from jostling Moppet as you turned. She was standing at the end of the stack, those blue eyes sparkling as they peered at you. Your cheeks heated and you felt frozen on the spot. Approaching, a smile stretched over her red painted lips as she looked at your little kitten.

“This is Moppet,” you said as if that was the obvious answer to the question.

She held her finger out and the little traitor rubbed against it, her purring increasing. She gave her a gentle scratch behind the ear. Those blue eyes met yours and you flushed, entranced under her gaze. The scent of her perfume, something floral and expensive, wrapped around you, turning your head hazy.

“Moppet?” she asked.

“I spent my childhood lost in Beatrix Potter,” you replied.

“And you dismissed Mittens and Tom as names?” she asked.

“She’s much more a Moppet,” you said.

Her tiny paw came out, swiping at her hand, batting her finger away.

“No, Moppet,” you scolded, “we treat people with respect.”

“It’s alright,” she said, taking a reserved stepped back.

“If I don’t teach her now, she’ll be uncontrollable in her adolescence,” you said.

“Yes, teenagers can be difficult,” she agreed.

Moppet gently nudged at your cheek again, stealing your attention. You manoeuvred her from your shoulder, back into your arms. She meowed loudly, her claws digging into your cardigan, getting caught as she struggled. You were patient as you untangled her, listening to her ongoing commentary.

“Can I help you with something today?” you asked the woman when you finally got Moppet free.

You popped her down on the floor. She turned, looking up at you with a grumpy noise, before sauntering off into a more interesting part of the bookshop. Straightening, you forced a smile on your face as you looked up into the face of the towering woman.

“I’ve heard you’re rather good at giving recommendations,” she said into your expectant silence, “I find myself in need of something new. Ideally not about teenagers.”

You considered her a moment, eyes sweeping over her form. It would be so easy to assume she would want something along the lines of a classic, or perhaps poetry. You tilted your head, considering what she’d bought before, where she sometimes lingered in the shop, the references she sometimes dropped.

“I have just the thing,” you said.

You walked off, glancing over your shoulder to find her following you on silent feet. No wonder she kept managing to sneak up on you. She was like a ghost. You thought it wouldn’t be such a horrifying thing to be haunted by her.

Stopping in front of a packed shelf, your eyes roamed over it, searching out the title you wanted. Pushing up onto tiptoes, you tugged one down. You held it for a moment before passing it over to her. Her eyes stayed on you for a moment before they dragged down to the book now in her hands.

“Rebecca?” she asked.

“If you haven’t already read it,” you replied, “I think you’ll quite like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll find it wonderful,” she said with a smile for you.

She returned about a week after, finding you staring up at a tall shelf, hands on your hips, less than pleased. A small face was peeking over the edge, green eyes and whiskers looking surprisingly smug for a feline face.

“No, you can’t stay up there,” you said.

A small disinterested meow.

“I know you like it up there, Moppet, but it’s not safe,” you said in reply.

A long yawn showed you the contempt she felt towards you. You sighed, doing your best not to get frustrated. You could go and find a ladder, but then you might lose her again. She’d wander off and enjoy the game of hide and seek she was forcing you into you.

“You appear to be in a bit of a predicament.”

“She’s playing with me, the little troublemaker,” you said, not bothering to turn around. The bell had been warning enough.

“Do you want some help?” your mystery woman asked.

“Would you mind? You might have an actual chance of reaching her,” you said.

She stepped up to your shoulder, waiting for you to get off the step stool. You watched her ascend, trying not to ogle her like a creep but not quite managing it. Shapely calves led up to the curve of her hips, making your mouth grow dry as you gazed upon her.

“Come on, little one,” she murmured.

A small yowl came from the shadows atop the shelf. She muttered under her breath and then a displease face was dragged over the edge. In gentle arms, she carried your troublemaker back down to you. Her bare fingers were gently stroking along her spine, her gloves not present for the first time since you’d seen her.

“Safe and sound,” she said, looking to you with a wide smile.

“Thanks,” you said.

You took the kitten back from her, ignoring the grumpy look she gave you as you took her from her comfortable lounging position in the woman’s arms. Your hand brushed over hers, soft skin warm against yours. Your heart flipped over itself at the feeling.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said to Moppet, “I warned you.”

Her claws dug in to your forearm as she tried to rearrange herself into a more comfortable position. She rolled until her stomach was facing you, green eyes staring at you unblinking. You scratched her tummy, waiting for her to clamp onto your skin.

“She does seem to enjoy getting into trouble, doesn’t she,” the woman said, snatching your attention back.

“You should have seen her last night. She got into the bath after I’d drained it, then shouted until I came to investigate and made me think she was stuck, then just calmly hopped out and wandered off like I was being ridiculous,” you said, “she likes making me worry.”

“But she’s rather sweet,” she said, stepping into your personal space to offer more pats to your cat.

“Oh, the sweetest. She can get away with anything,” you agreed.

The two of you took a moment to stare into the yawning face of Moppet. She really had stolen your heart. When you looked back to her, she was smiling down at your cat, eyes sparkling, looking just as under her spell as you were.

“Sorry to hijack your browsing,” you said, that sense of shame from taking her attention for yourself burning in your bloodstream.

“I was actually looking for you,” she said, not realising the pulse of pleasure that gave you, “I’m in need of another recommendation. You did so wonderfully last time.”

You’d never thought of yourself as someone who enjoyed being praised but on her lips it sounded so good. You wanted to keep giving her reason to bestow more upon you.

“I know just the thing.”

You didn’t have to go far to get the book you were thinking of. Juggling the cat in your arms with the book you crouched to find, you managed to drop a kiss on the top of her head before releasing her to find more trouble to get in. Standing, you passed the book over to her, purposefully brushing your fingers against hers.

“I know it’s been made into a movie, but the book offers up something more,” you said.

“I’m unfamiliar with the movie,” she said.

“Not a fan of Tom Hiddleston?”

She raised an eyebrow at you and you tried your best not to read too much into it. It would be so easy to read too much into it. Maybe it wouldn’t be too much, if the way she was looking at you spoke to something more.

“Well, anyway,” you said, turning away from her to keep from doing something silly, “I hope it pleases you.”

“I’m sure it will,” she said.

When she turned away from the counter a few minutes later, a couple of your regulars stepped past her, giving her a wide berth. Trying not to show how strange you found their behaviour, you busied yourself straightening the display next to the counter.

“They shouldn’t let them around the rest of us,” one of the women said, uncaring of you listening in.

“They should be left up in that school to rot,” the other said, “they’re a danger to us all.”

“Outcasts have no business bringing their trouble to us,” the first said, before turning to you, “don’t you agree?”

You realised they were talking about your favourite customer. Who must be a teacher from Nevermore. Making her an outcast.

“I’ve never had any issue with them,” you replied evenly.

They both sniffed, turning away from you. You weren’t about to openly insult a portion of your customer base. That would clear out your shop quick smart.

You hadn’t realised she’s still been there to hear your response until the next week when she returned. Moppet was curled up in her basket by the window and you were going around watering the plants while you had a moment of peace. It was quiet in the shop, nothing but the soft sounds of music playing over the speakers and you moving through the stacks.

The bell above the front door rang and you smiled to yourself. You waited a few moments before turning, finding her watching you with an unreadable expression on her face at the end of the stack. You placed the watering can down, turning an expectant look on her. Only then the silence continued to stretch.

“You’ve returned,” you said when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything.

“I have,” she said.

“Did you enjoy Crimson Peak?” you asked.

“It was certainly atmospheric,” she replied.

“I suppose you’re looking for another recommendation?” you asked.

“I am,” she said.

“Nothing set in a boarding school right?”

You laughed. She didn’t. The moment stretched on and on, settling into an uncomfortable silence.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“I’m unused to people choosing to side with us in this town,” she said, her expression still unreadable to you.

“You heard that conversation,” you said. It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need to ask. It was obvious she had.

“If you’d rather, I can return to buying my books online,” she said.

“Why?” you asked, so taken aback by the turn the conversation had taken.

“I understand that normies are wary around outcasts,” she said, “this town has been… there have been issues between the school and the town.”

“I don’t want you to stop shopping here,” you said.

“You don’t care I’m from Nevermore?” she asked.

“Even teachers have to buy books. Why would your place of work matter?” you replied, shooting her a smile to let her know that of course it didn’t matter to you.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she replied slowly, “although, in the name of honesty, I’m the principal, not a teacher.”

So this was Larissa Weems. You’d heard whispers of her around town, but hadn’t thought you’d met the woman yourself. Keeping away from some of the larger town gatherings had left her more of a machiavellian figure looming over the town from her place in the school.

Turns out, the rumours were completely overblown and they’d hidden the goddess you’d been finding yourself enchanted by more and more with ever encounter.

“Even better,” you said, “so, a new book recommendation?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

You graced her with a wide smile. You’d been thinking about it all week, the next book you’d recommend her. It was a bit of a risk, but you wanted to gauge her reaction to it.

“How familiar are you with early vampire fiction?” you asked, leading her off to your classics section.

“I’ve dabbled in Dracula,” she replied evenly.

“Anything else?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said and you found yourself pressing your lips together to keep from smiling too widely.

“I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts on this one,” you said, “especially since I’ve never met a vampire before. It’s probably completely inaccurate but writers take all kinds of liberties.”

She hummed but didn’t give you much more than that. You paused in front of the right shelf, a shiver of apprehension going through you. It might be a bad idea, giving her the book you were thinking of.

You reached up on tip toes, your fingers just brushing the spine of the book you wanted. You glanced to the side, looking for one of your trust step stools. A warm presence stepped up to your shoulder and you felt your cheeks heat as she reached up, over your head, pulling down the book you’d tried to grasp. She was so close, practically caging you against the shelves. She paused a moment, that intense gaze sweeping down to you. The moment spun out like sugar, delicate and sweet, leaving you breathless.

“Was the the one you were looking for?” she asked, voice soft, almost intimate.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, “that’s the one.”

She took a step back, the book clutched in her hand. Glancing down, her eyebrows drew together and you wanted to know what she was thinking so desperately it was like a physical weight sitting on your chest.

“Carmilla?” she asked, looking back to you.

“One of the original vampire stories,” you said, “I know it’s not the longest but-“

“No, that will do nicely. I have a rather busy week coming up,” she said.

“I’m glad to help,” you said.

She lingered another moment and you weren’t sure what to say to her. The shop was quiet and it felt as if you were inhabiting a bubble of time with her that was seperate from the rest of reality.

“I’m unused to being shown such kindness from people like you,” she said.

“Bookshop owners?” you asked, “cat moms?”

Her smile was indulgent. It made your heart do a backflip and you realised maybe you could spend forever in that aisle with her.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” you said.

“Not everyone is as kind as you,” she said, looking down, refusing to meet your eye.

“They’re idiots,” you said, “your teenagers are no more a danger to us than Derrick who keeps setting fires.”

“I don’t scare you?” she asked, looking at you from under lowered lashes.

She did, but not in the way she was thinking. Just in the normal way that a beautiful woman giving you the time of day scared you. But you figured saying that out loud would be more embarrassing than you could handle at that time.

“No,” you said.

“Not even a little bit?” she asked.

“You’ve been nothing but pleasant to me so unless you’re about to threaten me, I think we’re good,” you said.

She took a step towards you and without thought you took one back. Your spine hit the shelves behind you and your mouth fell open as she crowded you against it. Her perfume surrounded you, her warmth curling around you, leaving you a mess as you stared up into her face. Her lips pulled up into a smirk, temptation never looking better.

“You don’t feel the least bit intimidated?” she whispered.

Her hand rested on the shelf by your head, effectively keeping you caged. Your heart beat hard in your chest and you were sure she could hear it. Her smirk deepened and you found yourself without words. You shook your head. There was no feeling of intimidation, but by god was there something. Something hot and throbbing and desperate.

Cold air hit you and it took a moment for you to realise she’d backed off, leaving you leaning on the shelves while you tried to get your knees to work again. Her face had returned to the unreadable expression and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You tugged on your cardigan, wrapping it around your body like armour to save your vulnerable heart. You were worried it was on display for her, easy to see exactly how you were feeling.

“Did you want anything else?” you asked, not realising how it might sound until her eyebrow rose. Your cheeks heated and you looked down at your feet, your weight shifting from foot to foot.

“I think that’s all for today,” she answered, kindly not mentioning any of your odd behaviour from the last few minutes.

“I’ll just, uh, ring you up then,” you said, cheeks aflame, not able to look at her.

If you did, you might get lost in the thought of how close she’d been, the brush of her body so close, the feeling of her surrounding you. It would be too much for your poor heart, leaving it to beat right out of your chest. You did your best to ignore it as she paid and left your store for the overcast sky outside.

You didn’t see her again for a few weeks after that. The unhelpful voice in the back your head told you it was because she was completely disgusted by you. Between your behaviour and the recommendation you’d given, it wouldn’t have shocked you if you’d driven her from your store entirely. It left you in a funk, one deep enough for your usual customers to take note.

The free teas and baked goods from the Weathervane were appreciated throughout the days as you waited with bated breath to see if she’d come back.

It was on a day, weeks later, the night closing in on you as Halloween approached, once you’d given up all hope on seeing her again that the bell above your door jingled, a cold wind nipping at the heels of your customer. The lamps had been lit, a soft glow giving life to your store against the encroaching darkness. You sighed to yourself, wanting to lock up and wander upstairs, curling under a blanket with a book in hand to forget how quickly you ruined something that had been filled with such hope.

“I was worried you would be closed already.”

That voice, familiar, haunting your dreams, sweet enough to make your heart trip over itself. You spun, almost stumbling over your own feet, desperate to lay eyes on her and make sure it wasn’t an awful hallucination sent to torture you. Larissa stood in front of the counter, her smile slipping as your wide eyes met hers.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” you said.

“I’ve been… busy,” she replied.

There was a weariness to her you hadn’t seen before, like a weight had settled on her shoulders and she hadn’t yet grown accustomed to it. Your hands pressed into the cool wood of the counter, fingers splayed as you tried to remain cool. And yet your heart was racing.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “just the usual difficulties of being responsible for a school full of teenagers.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said.

“With an iron fist.”

Her weary smile lit you up from the inside out. You circled the counter, placing yourself firmly on the same side as her, wanting to be closer. Her eyes followed every step, brightening the closer you drew.

“I was just about to close up,” you said.

She wilted before your very eyes.

“My apologies. I’ll leave,” she said.

“No!” Your voice came out too loud, “I just meant, I could lock up and I could make you some tea. If you wanted. Not that I’m suggesting that that is something you want. But in case it is, I could.”

She chuckled, throaty and low, and a shiver went through your body. Your rambling was hardly the cool suave exterior you’d wanted her to see but you couldn’t help yourself. Around her you seemed to lose all sense of chill and instead turned into a mess of a person.

“I’d love that,” she said.

“Oh.” You perked up, “uh, wait here. I’ll go… close up shop.”

You left her there as you made your way to the front door. Flipping the sign and turning the lock, you looked out on the darkened street. The weather had turned, dark clouds rolling in, covering the moon until there was nothing but darkness pressing in against the window. You shivered, glad you weren’t out in the weather.

She was where you’d left her, inspecting the display of bookmarks you had on the counter. A woman in town made them, beautiful beaded monstrosities to keep your page. Her fingers idly played with one, purple beads contrasting with her pale skin.

“I’ll throw that in for free with your next purchase,” you said, “I have to reward my loyal customers.”

She offered you a small smile, letting the bookmark go.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said.

“Shall we have that tea?”

You led her over to the two armchairs set up for customers to sit in. The antique lamp was on, giving a warm circle of light.

“Um, I’m just going to go boil the water. Do you have a preference on tea type? Peppermint?” you asked.

“Peppermint sounds lovely,” she said.

You took the time for the water to boil in the backroom to try and calm down. It was normal. It was a cup of tea. Nothing to get worked up over. Just the woman you’d been enamoured with taking time out of her day to share a cup of tea with you. There was no need to make it into any more than it was.

You could be cool.

She was sitting in one of the armchairs, elegant in a way you’d never managed. You tried to keep the tremor from your hand as you passed over the cup. Her fingers brushed yours, gloveless again despite the chill of outside. Not that it was cold in your shop. You always made sure it was comfortable inside your four walls.

“What did you think of the book?” you asked as you settled in your own chair, legs curling up underneath you.

“It was certainly an interested read,” she said.

“Did you not like it?” you asked.

She looked at you a moment, those eyes seeing more than you wanted them to. You looked down into your cup, not wanting her to see how much the answer meant to you.

“I did. I found the relationship written between an outcast and a normie fascinating,” she said, slow, careful, as if putting a lot of thought into each word, “but then, I suppose given the time period, a relationship between two women could have been just as shocking.”

“I think it was ahead of its time,” you said.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Because neither of those things matter.”

The way she was looking at you had any more words dying on your lips. It wasn’t that you’d surprised her, more that you’d confirmed something for her. Like you’d shown her a piece of the puzzle she knew you held. Like you were exactly who she thought you were.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she asked, but you weren’t sure it was actually a question.

“Of course,” you replied.

She nodded, taking a sip from her cup. You followed suit, not sure what to fill the silence with.

“I was curious about your reasoning for suggesting this book to me,” she said when it became clear you had nothing else to say.

“I suppose… I wanted to see your reaction to it,” you admitted.

You looked up at her from under your lowered lashes, hoping to be able to read her expression this time. A look passed over her face, one that spoke of surprise mixed with smugness, not something you were used to seeing.

“I see,” she said.

“Do you?” you asked.

“I think I do,” she replied, “you wanted to see how I’d respond to a sapphic love story between an outcast and a normie.”

A spike of hope went through your heart.

“And how do you respond?” you asked.

“Rather favourably.”

Your fingers convulsively curled around the mug in your hand, the warmth from the ceramic seeping into your bones. Something in her gaze sparked fire in your veins and you felt breathless. She placed her cup down, the noise louder than it shouldn’t have been in the space.

“The first time I walked into this quaint little store, I thought you were the most precious thing in here,” she said, “it’s what kept me coming back. Although, I must say, there is something in the atmosphere of this place that evokes comfort.”

“I thought you were glorious,” you said, not considering the words before they left your lips.

“You did?” Her entire face lit up.

You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, a loud bang came from the front of your shop. You jumped, hot liquid spilling over the skin of your hand. You hissed, placing the mug down before you could properly burn yourself.

She was there in an instant, reaching out for your hand, her fingers soft as they brushed over your skin. You tried to suppress a shiver. She tugged on your hand until you’d risen to your feet, hand closer to her face as she bent over it.

“I’m okay,” you said, “it was more the shock than anything else.”

“You’re not hurt?” Those blue eyes were so close.

“No.” You shook your head.

Her hand didn’t leave yours, the feel of her skin against yours making your head hazy. Even from so close up, she was still easily the most beautiful woman you’d seen and you yearned to close the small distance. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip again and you saw her gaze drag down to it. Your breath caught, the moment suspended in time as you waited to see what she would do.

“May I…”

The rest of her question never materialised. She was still watching your mouth and so you made the decision for her. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, your fingers tightening around hers, you pressed your lips to hers. She made a small noise and before you could pull away her other arm had curled around your waist, keeping you close to her.

You moaned into her mouth as she kissed you back more insistently. You curled your arms around her neck, your body flush with hers. The fire in your veins was igniting, lighting you up from the inside, threatening to burn you up. Her tongue swept into your mouth, her hands on your body leaving you a trembling mess.

Her hands found their way under your cardigan, palms warm through the thin material of your shirt. You couldn’t get close enough, wanting to feel every inch of her. She groaned into your mouth when you nipped at her lower lip.

A displease meow broke through the haze as something soft brushed against your ankle. You jerked back before chuckling at the indignant face glaring up at you. Moppet was making her feelings known in the only way she knew how.

“Sorry,” you said to her, “it’s getting close to someone’s dinner time.”

She chuckled and there was a sense of fondness in it that had your heart tripping over itself. Her fingers came up, brushing over the apple of your cheek before giving a soft tug on the end of your hair.

“I think your chaperone has the right idea. It’s gotten later than I intended and I’m sure I’m needed back at Nevermore,” she said.

You didn’t bother to hide your disappointment. She chuckled again, leaning forward to press her lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Her thumb ran along your lower lip, coming away stained red from where her lipstick had smudged against your skin. You nipped at the pad of her thumb as she drew it back, earning another smile from her.

“I’ll walk you out,” you said.

“Such chivalry,” she said and you were beginning to recognise when she was teasing.

You led her mack to the front door, flicking the lock to release her into the wind and the darkness. You wrinkled your nose at the large tree branch that had landed outside your door. She lingered, right on the threshold, and you found yourself gazing upon her.

“Tonight has been lovely,” she said.

“It has,” you agreed.

Her fingers under your chin, lifting for just a moment before she stepped out into the street. Your fingers clutched at the doorframe, knuckles aching with the cold and the tension.

“Wait.” She paused, turning to look at you over her shoulder, “you didn’t get a new book.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to come back tomorrow, then,” she said before striding away into the night.

Moppet meowed by your feet again. You sighed, closing the door and locking it against the encroaching night. Crouching, you lifted her into your arms, giving her a scratch behind the ear.

“I know, Moppet,” you said when she gave another little meow, “I’m so fucked.”

[lqveharrington]

FRED WEASLEY AND ALL TOO WELL😭🫶 pleasee

All Too Well | F.W.

summary: your daughter gets curious about all the different parchment you had stored away.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

includes: reader’s last name is Lupin, mainly fluff and angst, kissing, playful teasing, pregnancy, death, crying (this fic is practically as long as the song)

a/n: first fic of the 2k celebration! also, i cried everytime i came back to write this 😭 i miss him so much (rules for celebration here!)

It had been exactly eleven years since your beautiful baby girl Charlotte was born, Molly and Arthur Weasley's first grandchild. Born a pureblood, she would be going to Hogwarts this September and you couldn't be more proud. From all the stories Charlotte heard about your time at Hogwarts, she knew she would have the time of her life. Especially since all the stories were about you, her father, and her uncles. You would tell her all the stories of how the twins and Lee would set up pranks only to be scolded by McGonagall. Sometimes you had to scold them too.

You missed the days where you had no care in life except for your studies. You missed spending every single day with your favorite people and seeing them everyday. You missed everything Hogwarts had to offer before the war began.

But even after all the chaos it brought, your sweet girl was born. The only righteous matter to come out of the war.

"Mum, what's that?" Charlotte sat beside you on the couch and perched her head on your shoulder as she looked inside the box you brought out, beautiful red hair draping over your body.

Her gaze was drawn to the different sized parchment, each one having different drawings and dates. Charlotte picked one up and read the name, eyes widening at the signatures signed at the bottom. They were her father's and there were so many of them. "Whoa."

"What're you doing, creeper?" You laugh softly and pull her to sit in front of you, kissing the top of her head when she put the note back inside the box.

"What are all of those?” She gestured to the box and looked at you with curious eyes, fingers moving to touch the gold ring around your left hand; A habit she picked up from you whenever you felt the need to fidget. “Did dad send you all of those?”

You nod and clasp your hand around hers, feeling her pulse. "Yeah, he uhm,” You cleared your throat and blinked fast, ridding yourself of the tears that wanted to spill over. "He would write me one from the day we met until he… Your dad would even write me notes when I was just sitting next to him in class."

You pursed your lips and looked down, mind going through years and years of memories. Every time you received a new note, you wrote down the date to keep track of how long he had been doing it.

"There's so many..." Charlotte looked in awe and made out some of the dates, many of them dating back to when you were eleven. “He must have loved you a lot, mum. Especially since you kept all of them.”

You let out a chuckle, your hand reaching up to hold the gold ring adorning your necklace, thumb feeling the lettering inside. “Well, your dad was head over heels for me, Char.” You watched her pick up different parchment and smiled softly at how intrigued she was.

“Here, pick a couple and I'll tell you the stories behind them.” You hand her the box and watch her eyes light up before closing them and plucking out five pieces of parchment, handing them to you with glee.

Charlotte folded her arms over her knees, cheek resting against her arm. She watched your eyes water again at the notes she picked, making her bite her bottom lip. She didn’t want you to cry. She hated seeing you cry. Especially when it was over her father.

“Do you…” She started and met your eyes again, giving you a small smile in hopes of getting you to smile again. “Do you remember how you got all of them?”

"Of course, I do." You sent her a short grin and tucked pieces of her hair behind her ear, her brown eyes and red hair oh-so familiar to you. "I remember it all too well."

10/09/1993

“Weasley, you’re late to your own date.” You wave the parchment in his face and bite back a smile when he rolls his eyes and takes the note from you. “You said to meet you in the courtyard at exactly 3PM.”

Everyone had already left for Hogsmeade and you were left standing in the courtyard with the handmade scarf Mrs. Weasley made for you, the wind blowing it around. You weren’t actually upset with Fred, this happened more than once already, but he had time to serve with Filch whenever he pulled a stunt worse than usual.

“No, it says 3:30PM.” He tapped his wand on the parchment and sent you a lopsided grin, this time making you roll your eyes. “You look, Lupin.”

You took the note from his hands and read it out loud, giving him an exasperated look. He pulled you close by the waist, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. He loved the height difference you had with him, being a whole head shorter than him gave him lots of pun material.

“Wow, it says 3:30PM all of a sudden.” You tuck the parchment into your pocket and strain your neck to look at him. He still wore that smile you loved, making you push up on your toes to kiss him properly.

He grinned into the kiss and pressed his lips against yours multiple times until he was satisfied, adjusting the scarf you wore when he separated from you. You sigh softly and push locks of his red hair away from his eyes, meeting the beautiful brown eyes that you adored.

“Now did you actually leave on time? Or did you leave when Filch wasn’t looking?” You question him as you began the descent away from Hogwarts, careful to walk around the rocky terrain.

“I’m offended! Who do you think I am?” Fred laced his hand with yours and guided you safely around the trail to Hogsmeade, looking over yours clothes to insure you were dressed properly for the fall weather in Scotland. “Of course I left when Filch wasn’t looking.”

You smack his chest with the back of your hand and shake your head, not even a little surprised with the stunt he pulled. “Frederick Gideon Weasley.”

“What? I promised a date to the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.” He squeezed your hand before pulling you closer to him, looking around the area in confusion. “Speaking off, have you seen here? We were supposed to meet up at 3PM back at the courtyard.”

“I knew we were supposed to meet up a three, you prat!” You exclaim and smack him once more, making him laugh. He crookedly smiled, loving how you completely ignored his short jab to defend yourself about the right time you were supposed to meet.

Fred leaned down and pressed another kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up. You let out a small noise before indulging him, placing a hand on his cheek before pulling away.

“That’s not fair.” You whisper to him, lips grazing his when you spoke. You peered down at his lips before back up to his eyes, smiling when you knew you got caught.

“Nothing’s ever fair, Lupin.” He murmured and smiled back at you, thumb softly tracing his initials into your covered hip.

You felt so much love from Fred — although it did take you years to finally agree to go on a date with him. Maybe it was to spite your dad when he began teaching at Hogwarts, but you truly loved Fred. You had known his family for far too long to ignore the heart that only beats for him.

12/25/1994

“Why is it we learned how to ballroom dance together only to ditch and sneak off to the kitchens?” You ask in a low voice, not wanting to break the calmness that fell over the both of you as you moved further and further away from the bustling Great Hall.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you walked beside Fred, letting the silence overtake after an overstimulating two hours at the Yule Ball. You weren’t even planning to go because you knew your social battery wouldn't be able to handle so many people in one room, but Fred convinced you to go with a simple heart-shaped piece of parchment.

“'Cause you needed a breather. I could see it in your eyes.” He nudged your shoulder gently before slipping his arm around your waist, letting you rest your head on his shoulder; The smell of lemon ginger cookies and firecrackers filling your senses from the suit jacket he wrapped around you earlier.

You smiled softly at his actions as he led you down toward the kitchens. He was everything you never knew you needed and it made your heart swell with so much love. You never wanted to leave his side.

Fred came to the conclusion that the elves loved you a lot more than him when you dismissed them with a bright smile. Whenever he and George visited during the midnight runs, they would always greet them. When you were with him and George, the elves would do anything you asked them to without any hesitation.

While you moved around the space to make a quick snack for the both of you, Fred simply admired you. He admired how beautiful you looked doing such a mundane task or how you would always click your heel whenever you were counting something. He was so in love that watching you just stand and cross your arms when the stove wasn't cooperating made he grin stupidly.

Before he realized what exactly he was doing, you sent him a confused look. "You haven't spoke in like—" You looked over to the wall clock, raising your brows in surprise. "Ten minutes. Are you okay?"

Fred hummed and pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands coming down to rest at the curve of your waist. “Can’t I admire how beautiful you look, Lupin?”

You squint your eyes at him and meet the brown eyes that have been staring at you for quite some time. Although he was bold most times, you saw how raw and genuine his words were.

“I mean, even without trying you just look,” Fred laced his hand with yours and slowly spun you around, breath catching when you faced him once more. He was so enamored with you — no spell was strong enough to break the enchantment. "Absolutely stunning."

You try hiding a smile that made its way onto your face, only settling into it when he moved to kiss your neck. You grasp the back of his shoulders and sigh softly, shutting your eyes briefly before he parted and smirked at your breathless look.

"I wanna marry you." Fred murmurs and thumbs your bottom lip, catching you give him your golden smile. "The only thing I want to do before I die is marry you."

You hum and rest your hands on his chest, fingers playing with his lapels. You wanted nothing more to marry the man in front of you. Every little thing he did was like painting a perfect picture, and you wanted to frame it forever and ever. He would be the only oath you were willing to take.

“Let’s dance for a little while.” He suggested as the muffled music coming from the Great Hall wandered into the kitchens, a slow song coming on at a perfect time. “There’s music and the candle light by the fridge.”

“Just us?" You ask almost like you needed the reassurance, watching him bow and take your hand like any waltz started. He clasped his hand with yours and began to take the calculated steps he learned only a few weeks ago.

“Just us.” He reassured you and snuck a kiss to your lips, earning an eye roll and lopsided grin.

Yeah, this was it for the both of you.

05/26/1996

Fred knew that you would be upset if you found out that him and George were planning on leaving Hogwarts without graduating. Especially since you were so keen on helping the both of them study for their N.E.W.T.S. He knew you wanted to graduate with him by your side, but what good would graduating from Hogwarts be if he and George had a plan that could be set in motion right now?

He was going to tell you a couple weeks ago, but you got so busy with studying for N.E.W.T.S. and ensuring you would get 'outstanding' in all subjects. So he decided to wait. Well, until you found the note he was planning to give you.

You were absolutely heartbroken. The entire day you wanted nothing to do with him, even sitting beside Angelina during potions just to avoid him. But he eventually found you sitting at the top of the astronomy tower, head resting on your knees and fingers playing with the gold necklace he got you the year before.

Guilt was eating Fred up from the inside out. Starting with his heart.

“Are you really leaving without graduating?” You murmured when you felt his body heat approach you, head still staring forward toward the forbidden forest.

Fred sighed and sat beside you, running his fingers through his hair. “The system isn’t working for us right now and—" Then he heard the sound that absolutely crushed him. He heard the hiccup that would soon become sobbing. "Lovey, what’s wrong?”

You were quick to bury your head in your arms. You knew Fred could read you like a book and anything you did now would trigger his different responses. When you sniffled, you knew it was game over.

“Okay, lovey, you're crying.” He pulled you around so that you were sitting in front of him and gently moved your arms away from your face, his own face falling at the way you look at him.

Your eyes were wet with tears, your lip was quivering, and it pained him to know he caused it. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but if you tried to speak, you would completely fall apart. Everything was stressing you out and the note just pushed you over the edge.

“You know I'll be at the station when you get back.” Fred murmured and tucked your hair behind your ears, listening to your uneven breaths. "I won't leave you forever."

You hiccup and turn your head, biting your bottom lip to help stabilize yourself. "I-I just thought we would have more t-time together before everything got s-so serious outside of Hogwarts."

Fred tilted his head and tried his best to meet your eyes, "But you know that's not the case, lovey. You'll be living with Georgie and I, and you know were aren't exactly the most serious people."

You let out a wet laugh and look down, fingers coming up to play with the infinity symbol on you necklace. Fred smiled softly at your laugh. At least he knew you weren't too terribly upset over the predicament.

“If I do w-well on my N.E.W.T.S, I'll be t-training full time as a h-healer.” You hiccup and trace the symbol over itself, still trying to calm down as best as you could. “And I know you two will run your business together most of the time. So I don't—”

“Lovey, look at me." Fred pleaded and lightly cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could face you properly. "Nothing will ever come between you and me. You were in my past, currently living in my present, and you are indefinitely my future. You are my everything and I refuse to leave this spot until you give me that golden smile I love."

Your laugh softly and give him that golden smile, "I love you, Fred Weasley."

08/14/1997

Fred proposed to you a couple of months ago. It wasn’t anything too extravagant or crazy, but you definitely cried like a baby when he got down on one knee and revealed a gorgeous gold ring you swore cost more than how much the twins made a month. Flash forward, you were having a wedding at the Burrow surrounded by family and loved ones.

After vows were said and the most passionate kiss was exchanged, you and Fred were immediately separated. He was pulled to talk to family he didn't even know were family while you were stuck plastering a fake smile to Sirius and Remus who kept going on and on about how happy they were for you.

Eventually the both of you were able to get away, running away from your own reception like you would if you were still in Hogwarts. You laughed as you both made it to the edge of the forest, resting your head on his shoulder. Although you were both only nineteen, you knew that this would be forever.

“Do you think they'll realize the bride and groom are missing from their own wedding?” You let your laughter subside and following him wherever he was guiding you. Was it such a good idea to follow him blindly? Not really, but you trusted Fred. "Where are we going?"

“You’ll see.” He moved a hand to cover your eyes and helped you maneuver through the foliage.

It felt like an hour of just walking and constantly trying to peek through his hands until he stopped abruptly, causing you to stumble over your own heeled feet. He helped stabilize you before removing his hand, letting you look at the sight in front of you.

“Tada!”

The sight was drop dead gorgeous. Almost every single note he had ever wrote to you was floating around a cleared part of the forest, small wisps of light acting as your guide to each and every date. Your eyes were filled with tears as you went up to one of the earliest notes, the date going back to the first week of your first year at Hogwarts.

“When did you ever have the time to do this?” You murmured and looked around, hand coming up to play with your golden necklace, the same one he got you forever ago.

“I have six siblings, I can get them to do my bidding.” Fred shrugged and flicked his wand, the song from the Yule Ball playing in the background. From where you would never know. “Shall we dance, Mrs. Weasley?”

"We shall." You smile brightly and clasp your hands in his, letting him guide you through the same waltz. You squealed when he spun you around and fell into his arms, both of your gold rings flashing from the light. The rings that were a promise of love and happiness.

“Thank you.” You look up at him with so much love and sigh. He was now yours forever, bound by the vows you cried to.

He looked between your eyes and tilted his head, "For what, lovey?"

"Just for being yourself. Everything that you do is just..." You find no other way to express what the feeling was, racking your brain for a word but unable to fine the proper wording. You push up on your toes and kiss him silly, pulling away just as fast. "That's what it feels like."

Fred felt warmth coat his cheeks and neck, lowering his head so he was mere millimeters away from your face. “You love me.”

“I love you, yes.” You look down at his lips before looking back up to the brown eyes you fell in love with so many years ago. "That's why I married you, dummy."

"Good thing you did too, your dad was going to kill me if I just wasted all your time. You know how hard it was to convince your dad I actually love you?" Fred complained as he dipped you, smirking when you gasped at the sudden movement. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you back up.

You furrow your brow before breaking out in laughter as you remember the memories of him trying to get the Remus Lupin to like him. “He’s not that hard to charm, Fred!”

“Considering it took me months to even get him on board of the idea of you marrying me, I don’t believe it.” Fred kept you close, swaying to the music that was now coming to an end.

“Whatever.” You press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you either way.”

04/25/1998

The entire day you've been a wreck. The note you held in your hands felt like a weight, and you wanted to toss it to Fred as fast as possible. Your nerves were killing you, slowly making you twitchy at every movement. You weren't sure how Fred would react to the news, but when you found out, you threw up. Well, you weren't sure if that was because you were scared or if it was morning sickness.

“Georgie, has Fred gone on break yet?” You wander down into the store and pick at your nails, narrowly avoiding two kids chasing each other throughout the store.

“Ah, not yet. He’s dealing with a particularly tough customer. I’ll send him up for you once he’s done though.” George sent you a sympathetic smile and flicked his wand, watching the stairs turn to help the kids return back to their parents.

His smile soon fell into a frown when he noticed how sick you were looking. He knew that you were pregnant, but it was well past the morning and you were sitting upstairs merely working on papers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowds so there were no stragglers to listen in on the conversation.

You purse your lips and spin the golden ring adorning your left hand, head reeling at the thought of telling Fred about the pregnancy. “I’m telling him today.”

“Oo, yeah. Can’t wait to see the look on that wanker’s face.” George chuckled and earned a punch to the arm from you, causing him to recoil and glare.

“Hey!” You scold and place a hand over the lower half of your stomach. “You can’t say that anymore, there’s a child present!”

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore now that you’re married and becoming a mother.” George stuck his tongue out at you before sending you a reassuring smile and giving you a thumbs up. “Congratulations, you can do it."

You nodded and made your way back up to the flat above the store, pacing back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. The nerves were getting worse. The note soon became overly crinkled and you swore your socks were getting tarnished by how many times you frustratedly spun around on your heel.

By the time you thought your nerves were finally settling, Fred walked in with the smile you loved. Your emotions sky rocketed and you ran into his arms, burying your head in his neck while he supported you up by the back of your thighs.

"Did you miss me already?" He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek, earning a quiet 'yes' from you. "Aw, lovey."

After a few seconds of practically gluing yourself to him, you finally pulled away and pressed a proper kiss to his lips. He smiled and thumbed the skin available to him. You hum and direct him toward the couch, pulling away only to giggle when he chased your lips. He sent you a joking pout, ready to protest when you shoved the note into his hands.

"What is this?" He unfolded the paper and stared at you with so much love you felt a cavity coming in. "Turning the tables on me? I— Fucking hell."

"Fred!" You smacked his chest before meeting his brown eyes, unsure of the emotion behind them. "So?"

"So what?" His grinned and tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face in kisses. "You're pregnant! I'll be a father!"

You laugh at the feeling of his kisses, "You're not mad?"

"Godric, how could I be mad at you? You're having my child!" Fred kissed you senselessly, free hand coming down to rest on your stomach. "We're going to be parents!"

"We're going to be parents." You say to him and cup his face, letting your stored tears free fall from joy. "You and me."

"Just us." Fred wiped away your tears and sighed, resting his forehead on yours. "Us and the little one."

05/02/1998

You promised Fred you would stay home today. You promised him. But he never promised he would return home to you, causing you to rush over to the Hogwarts as soon as possible. When you arrived, the war was already won, but you didn't care. You wanted to see your husband.

“Where is he?” You ask the first person you find, sighing in relief when you see the youngest Weasley. You excused yourself and ran over to her, grasping Ginny’s arm before seeing her solemn expression, making you internally panic. “Ginny, where is your brother?”

Although you never specified, she knew exactly who you were asking for. She bit her lip and pointed to where George was kneeling, burying her head in your shoulder. You felt your heart constrict as you held her closely, breath catching at the sight in front of you. Molly was wiping her own tears when she saw you, pulling her daughter away from you so you could see Fred yourself.

“No no no no no no.” You fall to your knees and catch your breath, looking at Fred through wet eyes. A sob threatened to escape your throat when you felt for his hand, the warmth of his hand now gone and replaced with cold. You choked on tears and let yourself cry, hiding your face in his shoulder.

You begged the universe for this to be a horrible joke that everyone was in on. That Fred was okay and well, only pretending to be dead.

"Freddie, please." You cry and clutch his hand tighter, feeling for the gold band that represented your everlasting love. "I need you to wake up, Weasley. I-I can't do this without you. How am I s-supposed to—" You choked on your words, sobbing once more. You couldn't even finish your sentences.

When you felt a pair of arms pull you away from Fred, reality hit you like a train wreck. You stumbled over your feet as you stared at his dead body. Fred Weasley was really gone.

"What happened?" You whisper and stare at Fred, tears still falling. You felt so helpless. You were a healer and there was nothing you could do. When no one answered you, you whipped around and stared at whoever carried you away, another sob threatening to spill over when you saw George. "What happened, George?"

“There was an explosion.” He whispered and pulled you into a hug, letting you cry for a second. He had his last moment with Fred, but you hadn't seen him in hours.

You sobbed and collapsed in his arms, cries ringing out into the Great Hall. The pain you felt was nothing like you ever experienced before. You did everything you could do try and deny it, but no matter what you thought of, the sight of his dead body seemed to appear.

“George, why are we at Hogwarts?” You huff and follow him into a restricted room.

You weren't even supposed to be at Hogwarts and somehow you were standing on the very grounds your heart shattered. Your daughter just started a few weeks ago, but George somehow convinced you to return and dragged you to a room you've never seen before.

George glanced down at you, noticing your distant gaze, like you weren't safe inside the building anymore. “Have you been to Hogwarts since the war?”

“No.” You purse your lips and push the thought of the war away, brows creasing when you see how clean and furbished the room was. “Why? I need to get going soon. My shift—"

“Just look.” He pointed toward one side of the room, revealing the little contents of the room.

You frowned when you looked over. There was nothing of interest. “I can see the Mirror of Erised and a covered portrait.”

“Pull the bloody cover off.” George rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, shaking his head when you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Okay, but I’m not looking at the mirror.” You sighed and covered your eyes when passing the mirror. When you stood in front of the portrait, you pulled the cover off and gave George an annoyed smile. “I don’t understand—" When he gestured for you to look back over, you rolled your eyes before gasping, dropping the cloth without realizing a piece of parchment was attached to the front of it. "Oh my, Fred Weasley.”

“Hi, lovey.” Fred winked at you, wearing that smirk you haven't seen in years. When he saw tears falling from your face, he frowned and seemingly reached out to you. “Why are you crying? Did George upset you?”

“No, in fact he made me happy.” You spoke through tears and wiped your tears, smiling sadly. “I get to see you again.”

Fred grinned again and clapped his hands. “It’s been forever since I saw you last, Lupin. Where were you?”

You furrow your brows and look at George in confusion. “Does he—?” George shook his head and handed you the parchment that fell. You quickly peeled it open and wiped your tears once more as you read the contents. "He made it for a prank he never committed to." You huff and shake your head before responding to Fred. “I’ve been out and about, Weasley.”

He tilted his head and scanned your figure up and down, confusion written all over his face. “It seems as if we have a predicament here.”

“And what is that?” You murmur and step closer to the portrait, not realizing George had left you alone to have a moment with Fred.

“I want to hug you, but the best I can do is talk.” Fred sent you a lopsided grin and blew a kiss at you, making you laugh.

“Seems like a big problem.” You nod in agreement and sigh, wrapping your arms around your midsection. “I’ll understand what you mean.”

“In that case, I’m giving you the biggest hug right now.” Fred spread his arms wide and pretended to give you a hug before his eyes caught the gold ring around your left hand. “Where’d you get the ring, lovey?”

“Uhm…” You look down and spin the ring, smiling down at the piece of jewelry. “I got it from you a bit ago.”

Fred beamed in joy before he flattened again, looking around like he could see past the frame. “Where am I?”

“Home.” You muster a smile and wipe a tear that managed to escape, hands shaking. “You’re at home with your mum and dad. Don’t worry though, they wanted to actually hang out with you.”

Fred scoffed and shook his head, “Still rude as ever, Lupin.”

“Not as bad as you, Weasley.” You laugh softly and hold back anymore tears, hands finding Fred’s adjacent ring hanging around your neck. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms