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sturniqlo · 2 months ago

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COMFORT- SHY!MATT x SHY!READER

summary- matt loves how comfortable darling is around him, it turns him on at certain times (matt being a whole different person in bed.. yum)

cw: SMUT; dom(ish)!matt, p in v, making out, nipple play, oral!f receiving, creampie, FLUFF

an: thank you to this anon (also, this is my first ever shy!matt x darling smut fic, p.s i know the pajama bottoms are actually shorts but pretend they're underwear)

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

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it was that point in their relationship where darling was getting very comfortable around matt-and vice versa-, not that she wasn't ever comfortable around him, just comfortable in a different light. she started doing things around him that she would only do when she was alone. one of those things is walk around in her underwear or bra.

"i'm gonna shower really quick." she said with her clothes and towel in hand. "okay, i'll be here." matt smiles as he sits against her headboard her fluffy blanket over his lap. matt being matt, puckers his lips signaling he wants a kiss. darling doesn't think anything of it, in all honestly she loves when he does that, it's become normal for them.

she even catches herself doing it sometimes. "mwah!" she intentionally says as she plants a kiss onto his lips, she can still taste the faint sherbet ice cream they shared. "don't take long, i'll miss you." he teases, squeezing her hip gently. "i'll try not to." she pecks his lips this time before making her way to the bathroom out in the hall.

as matt waited for her, scrolling through her streaming services on her tv, he got up and went down to the kitchen to get a snack. darling's parents were currently out on a camping trip since it was their anniversary weekend. with their permission, matt was able to come and stay over. they trusted matt and darling as they were once young and in love.

he opened the fridge grabbing two cold water bottles as he noticed her water bottle was almost empty. placing both of them on the island counter, matt opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. he saw the half eaten tray of her dad's strawberry danish and held back from grabbing a piece. her dad was serious about his danishes.

opting for some chips and a bit of chocolate chip cookies, he made his way back upstairs into her bedroom. as matt passed the bathroom, he heard the running water and her slight humming to the song she played on low volume.

matt returned back to the room and dug into the snacks he had brought up. still continuing to scroll through the streaming services, he didn't choose anything because he wanted to wait for darling and see what she would want to watch.

he looked around her room noticing small details that she had added. a new sonny angel hipper was added to the back of her flatscreen tv, the calendar matt had gifted her with pictures of them was hung up on her closet door, and a new pair of shoes was added to her shoe rack. he noticed every little detail.

it was about fifteen minutes later when darling walked through the door, her hair up in her designated hair towel. when matt realized what she was wearing, his breath hitched. she wore a white teddy bear tank paired with matching teddy bear boxer like underwear.

she had just started doing this around matt, walking around in her underwear. he cleared his throat as he caught himself watching her as she went into her closet to put her dirty clothes into her hamper. "find something to watch?" she said in a soft tone as she sat in her vanity across the room, watching him through the mirror as she combed her hair. "huh- oh- uh, no. i was uh- i was waiting for you. see what you wanted to watch."

she didn't realize his now worked up state. "you can put modern family back on." darling did her skincare, and lathered herself in her sweet scented lotion that drove matt crazy. he went to hulu to put the show, but he kept glancing back at darling who stood up to lather her legs.

the ends of her underwear rode up slightly and exposed the bottom of her ass cheeks. "shit." he muttered under his breath, shifting in the bed putting the blanket back over his lap. darling came closer to the bed and smiled at matt. "i feel so clean." she giggled, sitting on top of the blanket. "baby, are you not hot?" her dad had cranked up the heater before he left and it was really warm in the house.

"no- no, not really." he nervously chuckled, her scent engulfed his sense of smell. he looked down to play with his fingers, but caught eye of her plump thighs. "well i am. it's like ninety degrees in here." she fanned her tank top. matt stared at her and noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra either.

they were a couple of episodes in and darling ended up laying on her belly towards the end of the bed, which was the worst decision in matt's eyes. the curve of her ass was taunting him. the way it jiggled when she laughed or made a slight movement to get comfy, and the way her underwear rode up more.

darling didn't do it intentionally, in all honesty the thought of matt being worked up didn't cross her mind. she soon sat up and scooted to matt. "i'm bored." she told him, kneeling next to him running a hand through his hair. "what do you wanna do?" he said, his eyes raking up to her eyes and down to her lips.

"are you sure you're okay? you look pretty flustered." she furrows her eyebrows. "baby-" she gasped. "are you.. hard?" he groaned. "darling.. you're- you just look so good." she blushed at his words. "why didn't you tell me? i could've helped you all this time." she moved the blanket off of him and straddled his lap. matt was never one to just ask for sex- he was too shy to do so, he would give her little touches here and there or just stare at her.

"you know why." his hands came to rest on the silver of her skin where her tank top rode up. her hips slowly rolled against his. "baby." his threw his head slightly back. darling took the opportunity to kiss against his neck. matt got hold of her chin and connected their lips in a hungry kiss. "such a tease, hm? wearing your tiny panties around me." his finger dipped into the waistband of her underwear and let it slap against her skin. "mmph!" she whined against his lips.

"can i?" he pulled away from her, their lips red and swollen, his hands slipped under her tank top, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "please- yes." she nodded- she was now as equally as needy as him. matt wasted no time in taking her shirt off. her full, round tits on display for him. "so pretty, darling. so fucking pretty." he growled, taking her right tit into his mouth. his wet, pink tongue swirled around her nipple as he stared up at her, her eyes closed in pleasure.

"matt, oh- shit." her back arched, furthering herself more into matt. "love your tits, babe." he popped off of her nipple, moving onto the left one as his hand came up to knead the one he had in his mouth before.

after some time, he began to trail kisses around her chest up to her collarbone, up her neck eventually making it back to her lips. "lay on the bed f'me. c'mon." he patted the side of her thigh. darling came off of his thigh and laid next to him. matt hovered over her, pressing a few kisses to her neck. his kisses trailed down her body until he reached the hem of her underwear. "matt- please." she looked down at him.

"patience, darling." matt continued to press teasing kisses along her underwear. a wet patch began to form on her panties. "wet already?" he smirked, his finger prodding at the patch. "mhm- so wet for you." she rolled her hips wanting more. after pressing a kiss to her wetness, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled them down. "lift up f'me." she lifted her hips so he'd be able to pull them down her legs.

he tossed the underwater somewhere on the bed, putting her legs over his shoulders. "look at that. pussys so pretty." matt was face to face with her glistening folds that we're aching to be touched. darling shivered when his breath fanned against her wetness.

pressing kisses along her inner thighs, so very close to her core, matt licked and nipped until she was a squirming wanted to be licked where she needed it most. "please, stop- stop teasing." she whined, gripped his hair to try and guide him to her pussy. "am i being mean, hm?" his tongue made very small contact, but quickly pulled away.

matt thought he had teased enough and dipped his tongue into her hole, licking a stripe up to her clit. "oh- yes!" she smiled at the feeling of his warm tongue on her. "so good, darling. taste so good." he lapped up her arousal. sucking on her lips, her back arched at the sensation- the suction around her lips and the vibrations of his muffled moans.

"just like that- fuck!" her hands fisted at the bed sheets as she didn't want to hurt matt's scalp. darlings moans and pants filled the room, her constant whines when matt would pull away for a split second. matt's hands trailed up her body as she continued to eat her out. his fingertips found her tits and he rolled her nipples in between his thumb and forefinger.

he soon pulled away due to the ache in his pants becoming too much. "baby, please let me- let me fuck you." he mumbled as he kissed up her body. he sucked a few marks onto her neck. darlings hands creeped into his hair. "mhm, yes. i want you in me." she whispered into his ear, his hips rolled against her. "yeah?" he bit down on her neck. "so bad, please." she held the sides of his face and stared at him. matt broke into a smug smile, leaning down to press their lips together.

as their lips and tongue clashed together, matt pulled down both his pants and underwear throwing them somewhere. he stroked his hard cock a couple of times, pulling away from the kiss. darling looked down to where his cock was and saw the red leaking tip, her pussy clenched around nothing. "ready f'me?" he said, slapping his dick against her clit. "yes, i'm ready." she nodded, biting her bottom lip.

matt lined his tip up with her wet hole and slowly pushed into her. darling moaned feeling the familiar stretch of matt's cock. "so tight." matt's jaw slacked at her warm walls squeezing him. once he bottomed out, he waited a few moments until she was ready for him to move.

"you can- you can move." she nodded, grabbing onto his shoulders. matt pushed out before thrusting back in making them both moan at the same time. "yes, just like that. faster, baby." darling whined. he accepted her wishes and picked up the speed.

the wet noises, along with their moans, now filled the air in her room. the occasional bang of the headboard against the wall was covered by the lewd noises. "feel you squeezing my cock, darling." he kissed just below her ear. "it's so good, matt. don't stop." her moans continued.

minutes later, matt pulled out causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. "matt- what- what are you doing." her glossy eyes looked up at him. "shh, it's okay, pretty." he pressed a kiss to her lips. "want you to flip over f'me. hands and knees, yeah?" matt knew that her being on all fours made it feel better and deeper for her. she nodded, her damp hair from her shower and the slight sweat made the baby hairs stick along her hairline.

matt got on his knees to give her space to flip over. once she was situated, matt got behind her and caressed the soft and plump skin of her ass. his hand grabbed his dick and ran it up and down her puffy, wet folds. "oh- matt." she arched her back as he circled his tip against her hole. matt didn't ram himself in, but he certainly didn't hold back. her high pitched moans and whimpers began again. only this time they were louder due to the new position and angle.

"f-fuck, you're so deep." she mumbled against the bed sheets. her once hands and knees position turned into her being face down ass up. "yeah? feel me so deep inside of your tummy, babe." his hands came to the side of her ass, holding her as he went in and out of her. "so fucking deep." she repeated.

darling felt the familiar pressure building up in her lower belly, so she began backing her ass into him. matt groaned when he realized what she was doing. "you close, hm?" he groaned, his right hand on her ass and the other on the back of her neck. "yes- yes, so close. don't stop." she cried, wanting her release.

"cum for me. cum all over my dick." matt began to do long, deep strokes. "shit- just like that." the movement in his thrusts brought her more to the edge. her fingers curled into the pillow as she mewled. "i'm- fuck, i'm cumming!" her legs trembled as she released. "that's it, baby. all over my dick, mhm." he thrusted a couple of more times before he felt the familiar sensation.

"babe- i'm close." he gently brought her up to where her back was pressed up against his chest. "cum in me. want all of it, plea- please." she cried, her hand coming behind his head as he nipped at her neck. "oh- shit." his cock twitched inside of her as he came. matt kept messily thrusting against her as he rode his high.

once she started to whine, he stopped as he knew that she had become sensitive. "it's okay, i've got you." he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. slowly and carefully he laid her back down, still staying inside of her. "is it okay if i pull out? need to clean you up." she nodded. slowly, he pulled out watching as his cum leaked out of her. matt held back a groan at the sight.

"i'll be back, gonna get some tissue."

when matt finished cleaning her up, they showered together. "baby, c'mere. wanna braid your hair." matt patted his lap. "really? think you got it?" she teased. "i definitely improved since last time." darling sat in between his legs as he worked with her hair. "so it's right over left- no, no. right over left." he muttered to himself.

although he had to restart a couple of times, he finally finished it. matt took a picture and showed her. "alright, what do you think of my masterpiece?" he handed her his phone and wrapped his arms around her waist bringing her into his chest. "it's definitely something, i'll tell you that." she giggled. some parts were pretty loose and in some her hair was sticking out. "hey, i thought i did pretty good." he pouted, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"just gotta keep on practicing." she turned around and booped his nose.

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i9messi · 2 months ago

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Don't break up with me — Oscar Piastri

Because of a misunderstanding, Oscar thinks you want to break up with him. Signals made him suspect he was right, but in fact, you just want to surprise him with a new puppy.

word count — 1,3k

note: i promise you this is pure fluff and romantic stuff. oscar here loves reader soo much, so I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Oscar started to think about the last half of the year. Everything in your relationship had been so wonderful in those last few months, almost too perfect to be real.

You went to support him to his races every weekend, had romantic dates in your favourite places, went to museums and book stores and enjoyed ordinary things such as going together to the market. You had a beautiful relationship, where you supported each other and talked about your concerns as well as your future. Having known each other since you were teens, you and Oscar had talked many times about what you wanted to do in the future: to get marry and start a family.

Your families were very close, his mother loved you and you loved her, even spent time with her when he was not around. Your side of the family adopted him as their son, showing love to him.

There was no way you would break up with him. It made no sense.

However, the signs were there. That morning before heading to the circuit he had called you and you interrupted him, saying you were busy. That would have made sense and it was fine, except then he talked later to his mom and she told him you had been texting her all morning. Why didn’t you want to talk to him?

It was bad. That couldn’t be happening.

“Oscaaaaaaaaaaarr.” Someone shouted and that made him come back to reality.

Lando was in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch. Oscar used to be the most calm in your relationship. He took things easy, used to think before taking action, but now thinking so much was turning him into a person full of insecurity.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked, realizing that his teammate was acting differently than usual.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your girlfriend?”

Oscar didn't try to hide the truth, not with him. “I think she’s going to break up with me.”

Lando was silent for a moment, until he burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I feel bad. I’m devastated.”

“She’s not gonna break up with you, mate.”

You didn’t live together yet, you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet, but you practically lived next to each other. Your apartments in Monaco were only a few meters away. Yesterday he had invited you on a date and you told him that you couldn’t go. Lately it was as if you didn't want to spend your time together, as if his mere presence was annoying to you.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you're the perfect couple. You love each other, you show the world how adorable you are, and then make everyone else feel miserable.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore, Lando.”

“Go talk to her, then. Crying and feeling bad about it won’t solve a thing. Go and win back your lady.”

Oscar listened to his teammate, knew he couldn’t waste time or the opportunity to talk with you. He found you just a few minutes later and you hugged him, while he left a kiss on your forehead.

“Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Oscar. Congratulations for the race, I'm very proud of you.”

That had to mean something, didn’t it? If you hadn’t missed him and if you didn’t want him more in your life, you wouldn’t have answered that. Oscar was trying to convince himself that he still had a chance with you.

“Let’s go to my house.” he suggested, as you raised your head and looked at him with a face that showed no feelings.

“We better go to mine. We need to talk.”

Damn. You were going to break up with him. You never spoke like that, you had never said those words before.

On the way to your apartment in Monaco, he drove quietly. Oscar noticed you were nervous. You ran your hand through your hair and barely spoke. You were acting strange. He was increasingly convinced that once you arrived at your home, you would tell him that you wanted to break up with him.

The road was eternal and the worst of the worst. You arrived and stayed in the living room.

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and came back a few seconds later. He drank the water in a single instant, too thirsty and nervous.

“Is something wrong, Oscar?”

“Do you want to break up with me?”

You stayed silent, until Oscar spoke again. His eyes were shining, his hair was messy from all the times he had passed his hands over it.

“Don’t break up with me, please. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, you're my everything. I love you, that’s all I know. If I did something wrong just tell me, I'll try my best to not make the same mistake again."

“Oscar, baby…”

He hesitated, but he walked a step closer to you. Oscar was trying to not lose his mind.

“We can’t break up."

His supplicant gaze begged you not to leave him, not when he needed you so much.

“I love you and my life would be shattered without you.”

And something happened. You smiled.

“Oscar, I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t know what made you think I would.”

Calm made Oscar relax, but he remained confused. He was very sure of all the signs he had seen, he wasn't crazy and he was not imagining things. You had been acting strangely in those last days.

“Then why have you been acting so weird?”

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

You left and came back a while later with something in your arms. A little puppy.

“It’s for you, honey.”

Oscar couldn’t help but come closer to you to see the puppy. The animal looked at him with a little mistrust, but once his hand came to caress the dog, the puppy began to move his tail with happiness, while you saw him with a smile on your face.

“A dog? For me?”

“It was a surprise. I talked with your mum about it and she even helped me. When you'll be busy with work stuff, I will be taking care of him.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the animal in his arms, the puppy ran his tongue over his face and Oscar squinted his eyes, while he couldn't stop feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“l didn't expect this, thank you.”

“I would never break up with you, Oscar. You make me happy. That’s why I thought of adopting a puppy for you.”

“Then why were you acting so weird?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. Yesterday I went to get him and that’s why I canceled our plans. Today the puppy peed in the clothes I was going to wear, just when you called. Also, he started barking and didn’t want you to find out. It was my little secret.”

Oscar had never been so happy, he left a kiss on your lips. Your mouths joined and he smiled so happily.

“I love you, you made me the happiest man in the world.”

“We have our little family now, Oscar. We are parents of a dog.”

Even as you planned to start a family when you were old enough, sharing the life of a pet was everything to him. Sharing the care and affection of a puppy made his tender and loving part appear.

“I love you and I love this animal. I will take care of you and him for my whole life.”

You weren't breaking up with him, that was the best part of all.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri one shot #McLaren #f1 #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 fandom #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 one shots #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fic

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lokis-army-77 · 1 year ago

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Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight.

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception.

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out.

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself.

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum?

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.”

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well.

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum.

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

And then the live is over.

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed.

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class.

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you.

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang.

He apologizes before making his introduction. He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you.

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence.

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention.

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O.

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen.

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand.

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone.

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes.

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself.

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad.

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans.

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat.

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes.

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth.

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one.

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off.

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs.

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length.

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?"

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound.

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth.

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect."

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit.

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level.

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast.

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy.

"Oh fuck," you cry. Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions.

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized.

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core.

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end.

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.”

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated.

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight.

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure.

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week.

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you.

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you.

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space.

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?”

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.”

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it.

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students.

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job.

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay.

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition.

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together.

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster.

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer.

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen.

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

…

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean.

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not.

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand.

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered.

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised.

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans.

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly.

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin.

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out."

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved.

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself."

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped.

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long.

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to.

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it.

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen.

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head.

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut.

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him.

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls.

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more.

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does.

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.”

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises.

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark.

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see.

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf.

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear.

“Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret.

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?”

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer.

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking.

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head.

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful.

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down.

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.”

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.”

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips.

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours.

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does.

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank.

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine.

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work.

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it.

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise.

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg.

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you.

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt, uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs.

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds.

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are.

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you.

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him.

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster.

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight.

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.”

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.”

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions.

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room.

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half.

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part.

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again.

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans.

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow.

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.”

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits. He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either.

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight.

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice.

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit.

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!”

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.”

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed.

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out.

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time.

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy.

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin.

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened.

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you.

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.”

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again.

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.”

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on.

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground.

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #camboy!eddie #camboy!eddie munson #soft!dom eddie

13K notes · View notes

mafiadad5 · 4 months ago

Text

cyber sex || Lee haechan

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ now playing- cyber sex: doja cat

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Audioguy!haechan x fem!reader

ִ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Genre/ warnings: smut, college au, 18+ mdni!, needy sub haechan/ soft dom reader, cyber sex, unprotected sex, praising, auralism, creampie ig?, oral (fem receiving), marking (if you squint), begging. Kinda nerdy looking haechan… Lmk if I miss anything.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Wc- 8.2k

authors note- omg… lmk what you think guys. Part 2 maybe I have some ideas…👀. No proof read cus lol. I hope you enjoy! <3

══════════════════════════

One day your friend joked to you and told you about these corny little audio guys that were on sound cloud. You were captivated to say the least, and curiosity filled your brain so that night you found yourself on sound cloud searching. Most of them were very laughable like your friend suggested, but then you came across this one profile.

"hcillusion119." You muttered out loud, biting your lip in curiosity as you clicked on the profile.

The first thing you noticed was instead of one of those anime boy banner things, it was just black with his username splat in the center. Ok, so far so good. The next thing that you noticed was how the profile description were just the words: "just listen, you won't regret ;)"

You giggled to yourself from how full of himself this guy was, so you decided to listen to an audio, expecting to laugh just like the other times, but this one was different. His voice wasn't what you had expected, it was whiny, but not in a high-pitched, irritating way. There was something desperate in the way he guided the listener through every step, an intensity that hooked you in. You had to admit, this was nothing like what you heard previously.

After the first audio you thought you would be done with it, but it kept creeping on your mind, causing you to go back to the one you were most familiar with, but after a while you started exploring his other audios and soon found yourself subscribed. No one knew you were into this, and you were too embarrassed to even play his audios if anyone was in the same proximity as you, this was your little secret— he was your little secret.

"Hey guys. We're gonna be doing something a bit different today, so just sit back and listen to me, okay?"

You sat there quietly, your body relaxing as his smooth voice seeped into your ears. It felt like he was speaking directly to you, and you couldn't help but nod along as if he could see you.

"I just want to start off by saying that we've reached 20k followers up here. I'm very grateful for all of you guys and I'll make sure to put out great content. That being said, to show my gratitude I will be hosting a little giveaway, or I guess it's like that. I want to pick one of you to have a private call with me on insta. Crazy huh? Only the best for you guys. To enter, all you have to do is comment on this post what you like about my content...and please, don't be weird... joking haha. The winner will get a private message tomorrow at 8pm. Good luck."

An embarrassing smile painted your smile as you typed out your comment on the post. You knew you probably weren't gonna win, and honestly you weren't even sure you could handle it if you did win, but something in you burned at the thought of what could happen—what it would be like to hear his voice in real time, just for you.

It was impossible to focus on anything else the next day, you even made an anonymous insta account just incase you won. The time went agonizingly slow, you honestly thought you couldn't wait any longer, but finally it was time.

You sat on your bed after a long day of class and work, checking your notification center obsessively, heart racing with both hope and dread.

8:05 came, then 8:10, and still nothing. By 8:15 you were ready to give up, the little spark of hope you had starting to flicker out. Just as you were about to close the app, your phone buzzed, a bright orange message appearing at the top of your screen.

hcillusion119- hey, sorry for the late text, I'll make it up to you when we call, but I want to let you know that you won.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the notification, your heart leaping into your throat. No way. It had to be too good to be true. You fumbled with your phone, nearly dropping it as you jumped up in shock. After pacing around your room for a solid five minutes, trying to wrap your mind around it, you finally opened the message.

unknown825: omg tysm TT

hcillusion119: no, thank you :)

hcillusion119: will you plz choose a date and time?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you considered your options, a thousand scenarios racing through your mind. You could cancel, let someone else, someone braver, take the opportunity. Instead, you found yourself typing.

unknown825: umm, well are you available tonight at 10?

There. You've done it, now there was no turning back.

hcillusion119: yea im available tonight. you're not very patient are you lol? what's your insta so I can call?

unknown825: I just like to get things done. my insta's the same as my user on here.

hcillusion119: ok, did you get my dm?

unknown825: yes, I'll talk to you then.

You barely registered your response before throwing your phone onto the bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. This was real. It was actually happening. You had less than two hours before the call, and the weight of it started to settle on you. What if you said something dumb? What if your voice shook? What if you just... froze?

The minutes went by slowly, agonizingly. You checked the time over and over, becoming more and more nervous with each glance.

9:45... almost time. You laid down in bed, trying to calm your racing thoughts, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

9:59.

You took a deep breath, staring at the screen as you scrolled through Instagram, pretending to distract yourself, but your heart was in your throat.Any moment now, your phone would light up, and you'd hear his voice—this time just for you.

Incoming call from hcillusion119

You took a deep breath, letting it ring for a moment before picking up, the silence so intense you could almost hear a pin drop.

Then his voice broke through.

"Hey."

A chill ran down your spine, sharper than you'd expected. Hearing his voice in your ears felt different this time—more personal, more intimate.

"Hi."

Your voice came out low, almost shy. You sat the phone on your stomach, unsure of what to do with your hands. The awkward smile on your face wasn't helping you feel any less flustered.

"How are you doing today?" he asked, his tone casual but warm.

"I'm good, exhausted. What about you?"

"I'm good too," he replied. "tired as well."

"Why are you tired?" You responded.

"Well, I just moved... like yesterday, so."

"Oh, cool. Where did you move to?"

"I can't tell you that." he said with a teasing edge to his voice.

"Oh, right... I guess I understand."

The conversation wasn't flowing like you'd imagined. It was awkward. You questioned why you were so nervous in the first place.

"What's your name?" His voice dropped lower and softer, catching you off guard.

"I can't tell you." you mimicked, trying to match his playful tone.

"Ahh, I see what you're doing. Well unknown825, why are you so tired?"

"I had school and work, so I'm pretty worn down."

"School?" He sounded curious, his tone lighter.

"Yeah, I'm in college. You're not like... an old man right?"

He laughed, the sound soft and genuine.

"No, I'm in college too."

"Oh cool."

Silence fell between you again, the awkward kind that made your heart race for no reason. You didn't want to keep bombarding him with boring questions, but you also didn't want the conversation to just end. Still, you felt that sinking feeling that maybe you should've canceled after all.

"So, what's your favorite audio?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Stress Relief."

"Ah, who would've thought?" He chuckled, his voice dropping an octave. "So you like to be talked through it, huh?"

You hummed in response, turning onto your stomach as you clutched the phone.

"Do you like being talked through it?" You asked, your tone slightly teasing.

The line went quiet, and for a second, you wondered if you pushed too far, but then you heard him lick his lips, a small noise you wouldn't have caught if you hadn't been listening so intently.

"Yeah, I do." he admitted, voice deeper now. "Can't help it when I hear a pretty voice like yours."

Your cheeks flushed as a smile crept across your face. "So what are you saying? You want me to talk you through it?"

"I never said that." he interrupted quickly. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to handle it, Miss Stress Relief."

He laughed softly.

"No, you're the one who wouldn't be able to handle it." You shot back, your voice in a mocking tone.

"Are you trying to challenge me?" His tone shifted, there was an edge to it now.

You hummed again, licking your lips before replying. "I never said that,"

You could feel the tension building, the invisible line between the two of you tightening with each word exchanged. You were both teasing each other.

"but I know you want me to." you continued, voice low. "If you asked nicely... maybe I would."

Silence.

The only thing you could hear was his breathing—slow, but heavy. Even that sounded beautiful, like every part of him was designed to captivate you. You waited, the pressure coiling tighter in the pit of your stomach. Then his voice came again, softer this time.

"Talk me through it."

But there was a command in his tone.

"I said nicely."

There was a pause, and you could almost picture him struggling with the request before he spoke again.

"Ca—Can you please talk me through it?"

"That's more like it." You whispered, smirking. "See what happens when you listen? Now... are your pants down? If they aren't, pull them down."

You waited, hearing the soft rustle of fabric on the other end. He was listening, and the thought made your pulse quicken. Thrill ran through your body, you had never done anything like this before.

"What do you want me to do next?" His voice was quieter now, the assertiveness from before completely gone.

"I want you to touch yourself, but not too fast, okay?"

You paused, waiting for his breathing to change—waiting for him to obey.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yeah." he breathed out, almost as if the word escaped him unintentionally.

"Good. Now, I want you to keep going, but don't finish until I tell you to. Can you handle that?"

There was a pause, his breath quickening.

"I can handle it." he replied, though his voice wavered just a bit.

"We'll see."

You could feel the heat radiating through the connection, charging the atmosphere around you. His breathing was heavier now, more ragged, each inhalation betraying just how hard he was trying to please you.

"Tell me how it feels." you encouraged, your voice silky and low.

"It feels... so good." he stammered, his words interrupted by tiny gasps. "I want you. I want to feel you. I want you here with me." He spoke again.

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulnerability in his tone. The yearning in his voice made you only think about him—how he sounded, how he felt.

"Touch yourself harder, let me hear you." You whispered.

He followed your command, his voice becoming strained and desperate Each moan a mix of pleasure with restraint, and you could practically visualize—lost in passion, chasing the edge of that sweet release.

"Are you going faster?" You asked, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"No... I- I won't until you tell me to." he responded, voice trembling, you could hear the struggle in his words.

"You're such a good boy. You can go faster." You could feel a rush of satisfaction at how he gave himself over to you.

"Fuck." He let out in a breathy moan. You could hear his hand moving faster, driving you to insanity knowing how desperate he was for you.

"Just like that." you murmured. "You want it, don't you?"

He gasped softly, almost pleadingly. "Yes, I want it so bad."

Before you could speak again, he interrupted. "I don't know how much longer I can hold back." His voice full with need.

"You can handle it, right? Well.. that's what you told me." You reminded him, your tone teasing. "Were you lying to me?

"No, but—" You could hear the struggle in his voice, the way his breaths quickened as he fought against the sensation.

"Please." A groan reached your ears, confirming your suspicion. "Please, I need—" His voice was whiny, but it was obvious he was trying to keep it in.

"Need what?" you interrupted, a smile on your face. "Permission?"

"Yes." He responded immediately, his breath rigid.

"You're close, aren't you?" you teased. "Beg for it. Use that voice and tell me how much you want it."

His breathing became frantic as he pleaded. "I want to cum so badly, please. I can't hold back anymore. I'll do anything you want... just please, let me finish."

You hummed softly, his voice seeping into your ears. His voice was a mix of desperation, coming out in broken gasps.

"Please... I'm begging you." The urgency in his tone echoed through your mind making you give in.

"Finish for me." You said softly.

The sound that escaped him was pure ecstasy. His voice melting into a series of gasps and whimpers— loud and desperate, sent shivers through you.

You wanted to be there, to feel him come undone against you.

"You did so well."

"Thank you." he murmured softly, trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high.

"Well... it's pretty late, I should get going." You spoke.

"Yeah cool, I understand. Have a good night." He responded, still sounding a bit winded.

"You too."

And with that you hung up, turning off your phone completely before closing your eyes, drifting to sleep as you thought about what just happened.

══════════════════════════

A week had passed and you still couldn't shake that night. You didn't know whether to feel disappointed or proud of the night you had with a complete stranger on the internet. It was truly something you had never done before.

Walking into class you noticed an unfamiliar face talking to your professor as you walked to your seat. He was cute, you can admit that, but his sudden appearance already irritated you. You groaned as you saw your professor point your way, and the stranger started walking toward you. Currently you're working on a project that requires a partner. Luckily, you ended up working alone due to the odd number of students, but you could tell that was going to change as he walked towards you.

Your eyes immediately dropped to your phone, hoping if you pretended not to see him, maybe he would just walk past, but of course you're not that lucky.

"Hey, I'm Haechan." His voice pulled you from your thoughts. "The professor told me to partner with you for the project."

Your heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. His voice—it was familiar, uncomfortably familiar. You felt a strange chill creep up your spine, but you quickly brushed it off. It couldn't be him, right?

"Hi, I'm Y/n." You replied, your voice coming out more clipped than you intended.

His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he looked at you in silence for a moment.

"Do you know what you're doing, or am I gonna have to teach you?" You didn't mean to speak harshly, but your words came out sharper than expected.

"I know what I'm doing." He answered, his voice low as he took a seat beside you.

You swear your blood ran cold every time you heard him speak. You listened to your fav audio guys voice a lot, you couldn't lie and say that it wasn't almost the same. It made you feel a little weirded out, only making you think of the night even more every time he spoke, but you just tried to ignore it and focus.

"So, we need to do a few things by the end of next week." You spoke.

He nodded but remained silent, his eyes locked on you in a way that made you feel exposed. His lips parted slightly as he continued to stare.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the tension. "I don't like strangers coming in my house, can I come over yours to work when we don't have class?"

"Yes, that works. Can I have your phone so I can give you my number? You know, to keep in touch." He asked.

You nodded in agreement, taking your phone and opening the phone app, handing it to him.

You looked away for one second, expecting him to quickly type in his number, but instead, you saw him swipe across the screen, heading straight for your Instagram.

"What are you doing?" You asked, irritation in your voice as you snatched your phone from him.

"I was tryna give you my insta like I said." He answered defensively, voice cracking slightly as he stared at you offensively.

"You said number." You replied, narrowing your eyes.

"Well I meant insta." He responded hastily, putting out his hand demandingly.

"Who do you think you are?" You snapped. "You're going to give me your number, it's way more practical." You handed him the phone again, this time watching him like a hawk as he slowly typed in his number, his eyes darting up at you now and then with that same suspicious glint.

"See how easy it is when you listen." You grinned, Haechan looking at you with glistening, suspicious eyes as you started typing on your computer.

"Why do you have SoundCloud and Spotify?" He asked suddenly, staring at your phone screen.

"What?" You hummed, not breaking contact from your computer.

"Why do you have SoundCloud AND Spotify. You only need one music app, right?" He asked, emphasizing his words sassily.

You turned to him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. "Why are YOU so noisy."

At this point you were clearly irritated and just wanted to get your work done, alone.

"Do you have something to hide?" He asked, leaning a bit closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he stared up at you.

You looked into his annoyed before sighing and turning back to your computer.

"I just listen to unreleased music up there, happy?" He hummed in response, not entirely convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to his phone.

"Are you busy tonight? I need to come over so we can discuss a new plan and get started." You didn't break any contact from your computer, typing steadily.

"You're not very patient are you?" He chuckled, scrolling through his phone.

"I just like to get things done." You responded.

He looked up from his phone, eyebrow raised as he stared at you suspiciously, as if he heard that line before.

"Yeah, that's fine. Come over at 6pm, I'll text you the address." He answered, looking down at his phone again.

"Ok, now get off your phone and give me your email so we can start working." You said.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes but complied, turning off his phone as he rattled off his email address.

══════════════════════════

You stood at his apartment door, annoyed as no one came to let you in. You turned around, getting ready to leave. The day had already been stressful, and now you were almost at boiling anger.

"Where are you going?"

His voice stopped you in your tracks. You didn't want to turn around, didn't want to acknowledge him—everything in you screamed to leave, but something about his voice pulled you back.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your gaze locking onto his. Haechan stood in the doorway, his frame leaning casually against the doorframe, eyebrows raised as if he hadn't just kept you waiting.

"What took you so long?" You walked toward him, your tone sharp as you fought to keep your composure.

"I was jerking off." He said sarcastically, a cocky smirk landing on his face as you looked at him with annoyance and disgust.

"Ah!" He yelped suddenly, launching himself toward you in mock attack, his hands making an exaggerated gesture as if he was going to grab you.

"Stop that was disgusting Haechan, what the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?" You asked, voice in obvious irritation.

He rolled his eyes, moving out the way so you could walk in. "Learn to take a joke."

Even though you had just got there he was already getting on your nerves.

You walked into his studio apartment, even though it was small, he made it look quite spacious and comfortable. His room was quite dark, purple and blue led lights surrounding his desk that sat next to his messily made bed, the atmosphere felt almost... intimate.

"It's so dark and scary in here." You joked trying to shake off your earlier discomfort, setting down your belongings and taking a seat on his bed.

Haechan said nothing, his face unreadable as he sat down in his desk chair, spinning it slightly to face you.

"So, why do you have a big microphone and a gaming headset?" you asked, pointing to the equipment scattered across his desk.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tightening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... why the big setup? You recording something? Streaming? Or... something else?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze darting to the microphone and then to the floor. "I just like good audio." He muttered defensively.

"Good audio for what?"

For a moment, he said nothing, only licking his lips as if buying time.

"Huh?" You spoke in a mocking tone, raising your eyebrows as you looked at him. "You can't answer?"

"God, why are you so noisy geez." He spoke defensively, getting up from his chair and snatching the cord from the computer, grabbing the microphone, throwing it in a drawer with more force than necessary.

"Oh, so when you ask questions I'm supposed to just answer, but when I ask you it's different?" You stood up, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

"Yes." He crossed his arms too, mimicking you with a smug expression.

"Do you have something to hide Haechan?" You asked softly, inching closer to him, his sparkling eyes looking into yours as you moved closer.

"Ha, no." He chuckled lightly, though it came out shaky, his shoulders stiffening as he backed up against the desk, knocking into it with a soft thud.

"Shit." He whispered, turning around quickly, scrambling to pick up all the items that fell, growing startled as he turned back around to see you standing in front of him.

"Why are you so nervous Haechan?" You murmured faintly, your voice drifting into his ears, making his mind race.

"I'm- I'm not" His voice cracked, betraying him as he forced out a chuckle, but it died quickly.

"You sure about that?" you whispered, leaning in just a bit more, your eyes locked on his. You could practically feel his pulse as it quickened at the base of his neck.

His eyes flickered down to your lips before darting back up.

"You act like you're so tough, like you got everything figured out, but here you are, all jumpy and flustered." You teased.

Haechan let out a slow breath, his hands grabbing the edge of his desk, trying to hold himself up. "You think you know me?" His voice was low, barely more than a growl as he tried to regain control of the situation.

You smirked, backing up just a little, giving him space to breathe. "I'm starting to get the picture."

He stood there, silent for a moment, watching you with wary eyes. The tension between you was heavy, but before either of you could say anything more, his phone buzzed on the desk.

He glanced at the screen, then back at you, something unreadable passing over his face. "You gonna stay and work, or you leaving?"

"Let's just get this done." You said, taking a deep breath, breaking eye contact as you turned toward the bed.

The room felt different now, charged with something unsaid. You settled back onto the bed, pulling your laptop onto your lap, feeling Haechan's gaze on you.

"Hurry up and pull out your laptop. I don't wanna be here all night." You spoke, turning to him.

His tongue grazed the inside of his mouth as he looked at you with irritated eyes. "Ok."

══════════════════════════

It had been over a month since you and Haechan have become friends, and you could say that he was bearable now— ok, you were kinda in love with him. How could you not be? His witty personalty, his face, his voice it was hard to not fall for him, especially when you saw him everyday. You and him were always together, hanging out mostly everyday, even after the project, so it wasn't a surprise when you got a text from him.

hey, can you come over im boreddd?

yeah

doors unlocked, just come in.

"Welcome home." He joked as you walked in.

You smiled, setting down your stuff at the door, removing your shoes to join him on the bed. He was wearing his signature outfit, a black shirt and gray sweatpants—thick frames sitting on his face, his black hair messily in a middle part.

"So what do you want to do?" He asked, turning to you.

"I don't know Haechan you invited me over." You responded, scrolling on your phone.

"Let's just watch a movie." He said.

You nodded in response, prompting him to get up to grab some snacks.

Your eyes scanned the room, stopping at his computer. Soundcloud was wide open, the screen pretty much screaming for your attention, and there you saw a familiar banner.

"What chips do you want." He asked, looking over to you, noticing you staring at the computer. You broke contact with the computer, looking at him, still a little taken aback.

"Uh, it- it doesn't matter." You said, looking back at the computer subconsciously. His eyes joined yours, staring at the computer screen then back into yours.

"Oh oops, is it too bright?" He asked, walking over to his desk and exiting out of the tab, turning down the computer brightness.

"Yea thanks." You giggled, turning back to look at your phone.

Your head flooded a thousand thoughts.

Ok, you could be overreacting and he could just be a pervert like you and you both happened to listen to the same guy, or it could be something he just stumbled across, but everything lined up so perfectly.

You turned the phone away from him, turning down your brightness as you opened Soundcloud. You went straight to his profile and the banner was obviously the same, no denying that, but you looked around the account for more hints. You couldn't find anything else, it's not like you could ask him anyways, right?

You were about to give up, but you took another good look at the profile, his banner catching your attention. You sat examining the username that was in the center 'hcillusion119." What could that mean?

"Hey Haechan."

"What?" He turned to look at you.

"If you had to choose a number what would it be? Make it in the hundreds."

"I don't know, maybe one hundred and nineteen."

Your eyes widened as you stared at your phone. No way...

"What are your initials again?" You asked, looking at your phone.

"LDH, Why?" He asked.

"Huh, where did the D come from?" You turned to him with questioning eyes.

"That's my real name Y/n. My other initials are LHC, Why are you asking?" He answered with a snarky tone.

You sat staring at him for a second, the user name replaying over and over again in your mind. That was it— the hc stood for Haechan. Of course he would choose a name like that: 'Haechan Illusion 119', it was right in front of your face.

"I have to go to the bathroom, take a second to get back normal because you're acting weird." He said, interrupting your thoughts.

You turned to him nodding, going back on your phone like there wasn't a care in the world. You sat there waiting patiently for the bathroom door to shut and lock, waiting a few seconds before sprinting up, taking a seat in his computer chair.

Thankfully, he didn't lock the computer, so you could easily access everything. You turned the brightness up and quickly typed in the website, before you even typed in the whole word it came up. You clicked on it, and there it was— that banner, those audios, and a 'edit' button.

Your eyes widened, you always had a feeling that it was him, especially when you heard his voice, but something was telling you that it was too good to be true— this explained everything.

The microphone, why he was persistently trying to get into your insta, why he asked about Soundcloud on your phone, everything was piecing together. You quickly typed instagram on the search bar, praying that it was logged in, and thank goodness it was. You went straight to his dms, a whole bunch of randoms of course, but then you saw it: 'unknown825'. You sat still for a second, staring at your username, clicking on it. You laughed to yourself quietly, you didn't know whether to feel relived, nervous, or...

"It's you, isn't it?" he said from behind you, startling you.

You turned around, heart racing. "I- um-" You stuttered, locking eyes with him, still sitting in the chair as he drifted towards you.

"You know, the first day we met in class I had a feeling it was you, but I didn't wanna jump to conclusions— goodness you looked like you were about to fall apart every time I spoke though, how could I not get suspicious?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Haechan." Your response came out a little less convincing than you thought.

"I tried to get into your insta, but there was nothing. I looked on your computer, nothing as well. Soundcloud? logged out. God you're good at hiding this." He inched closer and closer to you, your breathing getting heavier with every step.

"I couldn't just ask, expose what I do if it wasn't you. You thought the same thing too right, wanted to ask, but you couldn't? You had nothing to lose regardless, but I took you for one of those kind of girls— the kind that acts all innocent in front of everyone, but has a deeper, dirtier secret that you're hiding." His voice was seductive, yet mocking as well, you cant say that it didn't hurt your ego a little to spoken to like a little slut who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing.

"What, the cat got your tongue? What happened to you being so dominant?" He teased, sitting on his bed next to the chair, grabbing the arm rest and turning you to face him.

"You know, if you're wrong then you look like a fucking idiot." You scoffed.

You tried to make yourself sound as convincing and possible, tried to make the situation seem like it didn't bother you, but honestly you were a little uptight about it. It's all fun and games when it's on the phone and you could just block each other and not talk ever again, but in person it was so much more.

"There she is, the Y/n I know and love. You know, I've waited for this moment. The moment where you would finally be so fucking desperate to know if it was me, been waiting for you to go through my stuff. You wouldn't do it though, surprisingly, so I just gave you a little push." He smiled, placing his hand on your knee.

You shoved his hand off of you. "What are you talking about, gave me a little push?" You asked, giving him questioning eyes.

"You think I would just keep Soundcloud wide open on my computer Y/n, be serious? I thought you were smarter than that." He smiled cockily, titling his head as you looked deeply into his eyes.

It was a setup. He set this whole thing up to catch you on purpose, and you fell right into his fucking trap.

"You're despicable. You did it, you caught me... now what?" You asked, leaning back in the chair, crossing your arms.

He took a look at the computer that was behind you, pointing to it, prompting you to look. You can't lie and say that you and hcillusion119, well, Haechan didn't do this call thing often, and that's exactly what he was hinting at— the call that took place two days ago.

"Remember what you said we would do if we were together, what you would do to me?" He asked, his sweet, desperate voice melting your brain like ice cream on a hot summer day.

"No Haechan, I don't remember."

Of course, you remembered. How could you forget? Every late night conversation was carved into your mind. Each call felt like an escape, an intimate secret between just the two of you, leaving you aching for more. Now, the weight of his presence made it impossible to deny your own desires. You were curious...no, desperate to know if what you shared over the phone would be even more intoxicating in person.

"Let me remind you... please?" he whined, his voice tugging at something deep within you. He leaned down, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, guiding it to his cheek. The warmth of his skin sent shivers through your body, and without thinking, your thumb began to gently stroke his face.

His eyes closed as he leaned into your touch, his breath coming out in shaky sighs. "I'll be your good boy." he whispered, barely audible.

Your heart raced, the thrill of finally having him in front of you, not just a voice through a phone but real, and within reach. You could see the way his lips parted slightly, the rise and fall of his chest. It felt good to finally be close, to finally have him like this.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly withdrew your hand from his cheek. His eyes snapping open, filled with need, searching your face as you got up from your seat. His gaze followed you, not wanting to even be an inch away from you.

"Go to the headboard." You murmured softly.

Haechan reacted instantly, rushing to the head of the bed, pressing his back firmly against the headboard. He adjusted his glasses, his lips slightly parted, eyes locked onto yours.

You crawled onto the bed, your movements slow. His breath hitched as you came wanting more, needing you. You reached him, your body hovering just above his, your fingers grazing the side of his face again.

"Tell me," you whispered, leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost over his lips. "what did I say I was gonna do?"

His eyes sparkled, you could see him unraveling, caught in the web of everything you had both imagined during those late nights. You both knew that you imagined each other's faces on those calls after you met in person for the first time, and now it was all a reality.

“You said... you'd make me beg." His voice was a trembling whisper

"So beg me." You whispered, your voice soft, lips brushing against his ear, sending a wave of heat through him.

You felt him tense under your fingertips. His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto yours with a desperation that made your heart pound. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, voice small, almost a whimper.

You smiled at the sight of him completely undone in front of you. You slowly lifted his glasses up onto his forehead, pushing the messy strands of his hair away from his face. Your fingers lightly grazed his skin, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

"That's not how you ask." You teased, your voice low as you leaned in closer, just enough for your lips to brush his, but not meet fully.

He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling with need. "Please... Can I please kiss you Y/n? I need you," he breathed, his voice barely holding together. "I want your lips on mine so bad."

Your smile deepened as you leaned in, teasingly grazing your lips against his again, just barely. His lips parted, waiting for you to close the gap, but you pulled back, watching as frustration and longing flooded his expression. He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Please." He whispered.

You finally gave in, pressing your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. The moment your lips met, it was like something electric passed between you both. The kiss deepened as his lips moved urgently against yours, tongues tangling together as if you were both trying to consume each other, neither wanting to pull away. You melted into him, your body pressing closer.

The kiss broke only when you both needed air, both of you gasping as you parted. Haechan's lips were swollen, his breath shallow, his chest heaving as he stared at you, his eyes filled with lust.

"Can I touch you?" He whispered, his voice needy.

You nodded, your heart racing even faster as he shifted you higher in his lap, his hands trailing slowly, up your sides. His fingers caressed your skin through your clothes and you felt his breath hitch as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin softly at first, then harder.

His lips moved down, sucking and biting gently at your skin, leaving marks. His hands explored your body, grabbing, squeezing, and pulling you closer, his touch growing more possessive with every second. His hips moved beneath you, the friction of his lap against you sending waves of heat pooling in your stomach. You gasped as he rocked you back and forth, grinding you against him.

Small, breathy moans escaped your lips as his mouth moved from your neck, traveling down to your collarbone, where he kissed and nipped at your skin, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips firmly and guiding your movements against him.

"Fuck... feels so good." He whimpered, his voice strained as he broke away from your skin, his head falling back against the headboard. His eyes were half lidded as he watched you move.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned, his body reacting to every touch, every movement. His grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him twitch beneath you as he pulled you even closer, his hips bucking up against you.

"God Y/n." He whispered breathlessly, lips finding yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I wanna taste you." He desperately spoke, looking at you with begging eyes.

Your fingers slid through his hair as you watched him, his breath quickening, his hands resting on your hips. He was desperate for your permission.

"I wanna taste you." He repeated. He was looking up at you, his lips parted, pleading. "Please Y/n... I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

You let out a soft hum, your fingers tracing along his jaw, watching as his body visibly tensed, waiting for your response. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He was completely under your control, willing to do anything you asked.

"You'll do exactly what I want?" You whispered, your thumb grazing over his cheek as you leaned closer, teasing him with the lightest touch. He swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

"Yes—yes." He breathed, his voice barely holding together. His eyes were wide, shimmering with anticipation, his grip on your hips tightening, almost as if he were afraid you'd pull away. "Please, just let me. I'll make you feel so good Y/n, I swear."

Your lips curved into a small smile as you stroked the side of his head, leaning in just enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath. "Then go ahead baby. Make me feel good."

The moment the words left your mouth, his eyes lit up. Without wasting another second, he gently pushed you onto your back, his hands moving with urgency as he pulled down your pants and underwear in one motion.

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto you with awe, like he was seeing something he had dreamed about for far too long. His hands traced along your thighs, and you could feel the faint trembling in his fingers as he spread your legs, positioning himself between them. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly as he let out a soft exhale, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're... perfect." He murmured, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, his lips brushing your inner thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You could feel his desire, his need to please you.

Slowly, he began kissing his way up your thighs, his lips trailing delicately. Every kiss sent a spark of heat through your body, and you could feel your pulse quicken as he got closer and closer to where you wanted him most. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his breath fanned over your core.

"Fuck..." he groaned, his voice low. You could feel the restraint in his body as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you saw nothing but hunger in them.

"You're so beautiful Y/n." He whispered before lowering his head between your legs, finally giving you what you'd been waiting for.

The first touch of his tongue against you was slow, he was savoring the taste of you. He let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands held your thighs apart, his grip possessive but gentle as he worked his tongue in slow, sensual strokes.

"Oh my god." You moaned out, your hands tangling in his hair as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue moving with more urgency now. He flicked his tongue against your clit, earning a gasped out of you, your back arching off the bed as he sucked lightly, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Haechan groaned against you, the vibrations from his voice adding to the sensation, and you could feel his desperation growing with every second. He was completely lost in you, every lick, every suck more intense than the last. His hands slid up your thighs, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue moving faster, more eagerly.

Your breaths came out in shallow gasps, your body trembling beneath his touch, and you could feel the heat building in your core, your stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue.

"Haechan... fuck." You whimpered, your grip tightening in his hair as he continued to work his mouth against you.

"Please Y/n, I want you to come for me." He groaned against your skin, his voice filled with desire. His tongue moved faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "I need you."

You cried out, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, your grip tightening in his hair as you rode out your high, legs shaking. Haechan didn't stop, his mouth still working against you, drawing out your orgasm.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Did I do good?" He asked softly, his voice still breathless, his eyes searching yours.

"Mhm." You hummed, your fingers gently stroking his cheek brushing away a few strands of hair. "You did so good for me."

He smiled in response, leaning in to take your lips into a kiss.

Somehow, it was more passionate than the last. You two devoured each other, tongues tangling, your body heating up as you felt Haechan grind against you, trying to feel some type of friction.

"Fuck, I need to feel you... can I please feel you Y/n?" He whispered, his breath tickling your earlobe.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Do you think you deserve it?" You asked teasingly.

His eyes locked onto yours. "I do... please, let me feel you." He pleaded.

You couldn't resist the sincerity in his eyes. With a playful smirk, you gestured for him to adjust, his back pressing against the headboard as anticipation swirled between you.

"If you think you deserve it, then take off your pants." you instructed, your voice firm yet inviting.

His eyes widened like he was in a dream. Without hesitation, he slid down his pants, exposing his readiness to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Of course you're not wearing underwear." You laughed, crawling into his lap, his eyes filled with excitement and shyness.

"You're so fucking dirty." You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair, drawing a soft moan from him as you gave a gentle tug.

His glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose, but he seemed unconcerned, his attention solely on you. Any other time he would've voiced a rebuttal to your comment, but he needed you so bad he couldn't even find the words.

"Please." He murmured desperately.

Slowly, you adjusted yourself, guiding him to your entrance. Both of you moaned as you took him in, inch by inch, until he was fully in you.

He threw his head back against the headboard, overwhelmed by the sensation of your warmth surrounding him as you moved. "Fuck." he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening.

"What, can you not handle it?" You teased.

"I—" He tried to speak before it was cut off by a small moan escaping as you pulled him deeper. "Can I move you?" He asked.

A soft nod was all he needed. His hands found your hips, guiding you, lifting you in a rhythm that soon had him whimpering your name, his movements becoming more desperate as your heat wrapped around him.

He had dreamed of this moment—the chance to feel you, and it was everything he'd imagined and more. "Fuck, feels so good." He whimpered.

His pace quickened, driven by your shared need, each whimper and sigh from you encouraging him to go deeper, faster.

"Fuck Haechan, you're so big." You moaned out, the words shooting straight to his pelvis.

"Are you gonna be good for me and cum?" you whispered into his ear, your words sending a shiver of pleasure through his body.

"Yes, fuck, I'll be good for you." He moaned out, overwhelmed by the sensations pushing him closer to the edge. His glasses fogged with each heated breath.

His movements grew messy, each thrust sending him closer to the edge, you tightening around him.

"Fuck, gonna—cum.” He gasped, his body trembling beneath you.

"Cum for me, I'm almost there." You said, your stomach tightening as he hit your g-spot.

"Feels so good." He whimpered, the feeling of you clenching around him making him go almost insane.

"Fuck— gotta pull out." He could barely get the words out, eyes squeezed shut, he felt dizzy. Even though his mouth said one thing, his hands kept moving you, keeping himself deep inside you.

"It's okay baby, fill me up." You moaned, the permission tipping him over the edge.

"Fuck I'm coming." He let out a choked whimper, finding his release, filling you full of his seed. His hands covered his mouth as he tried to hold in the cries that wanted to be let out.

"Uncover your mouth." You spoke, wanting to hear every precious sound he made, reaching your high shortly after.

His hands fell away, gripping the sheets to ground himself. His moans turned into cries of pleasure as he twitched beneath you, riding out the last waves of pleasure together.

"Shit." You said breathless, exhausted and satisfied, your head resting in the crook of his neck, your shared breath slowing to a gentle rhythm.

"Look at what you do to me." He muttered, obviously still winded.

"Look at what you do to me" You said, gently cupping his face, smiling as you took in the mess you both became—his glasses fogged beyond use.

He smiled lazily, resting his head on the head board as he let out a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes.

#nct x reader #nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct 127 #haechan smut #nct haechan #haechan #nct dream smut #nct dream haechan #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 haechan #nct 127 smut #haechan x reader #haechan oneshot #nct haechan smut #nct smut #nct fic

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im-ovulating · 1 year ago

Note

"Jasper teaching Y/n how to ride him"

I ask, with all the love in my dirty, perverted heart. Fix it.

I ain't even gonna ask anonymously, because you know who it's gonna be.

(A/n: Your wish is my command~ (aka I'm lowkey scared of your wrath))

(Not proofread)

Word Count: 1,832

Summary- It's only fair that the cowboy gets cowgirled (Alternatively: TIME TO EAT, SLUTS🚨)

Warnings: Inexperienced reader, Creampie, Jasper calls reader "Darling," "Doll," and "Sugar" (I think there's one more, but I can't be bothered to scroll through and find it.) (It's not a missed warning - It's simply a surprise cunt throbber) (...sorry...)

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

(This specific gif is a lil inside joke, dont worry abt it lol)

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Most Dangerous Game

---------------------------

The kiss breaks with a gasp as Jasper's knee bullies its way between your legs, forcing you on tiptoe. The firm muscle bypasses the fabric of your skirt and presses against your barely clothed pussy in a way that sends your vision swimming. Even through your panties, the rough texture of his pants creates an addictive friction that causes you to chase more - rocking your hips down experimentally rewards you with even more of that coarse deliciousness and pulls a deep moan from you.

He wastes no time as you grind against his thigh, moving his lips to the hollow of your throat, licking and sucking at the area until red blooms across your skin in an intricate pattern of possession. Your hands desperately fumble to grasp anything they can, eventually ending up fisted in his hair. A warning growl rumbles deep in his chest as you tug on the soft blonde strands. Your proximity forces the vibrations through your own chest, weakening your knees.

Jasper presses closer, keeping you upright. His mouth finds its way back to yours as his hand comes up to your neck - fingers pressing into your pulse point as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. He eagerly drinks up your sighs as your lips continue to meet in a battle of teeth and tongue; it's becoming less of a kiss as the heat between you increases, but it doesn't matter. Not when you can feel just how hard he is against your stomach.

He all but swallows your keen when he flexes his thigh. Your hips stutter when your clit rubs against the denim; a cry of his name leaves you without thinking at the stimulation. Another, more vicious growl rips through you both as he yanks you away from the wall and walks backwards towards your bed. His lips never leave yours as he falls backwards, pulling you into his lap.

"The things you do to me, Darlin'..." Jasper mumbles into the kiss.

Hands are everywhere- his hair, your jaw, his chest, your ass. Every touch makes as he moves from one place to another sets a trail of fire in its wake.

The new position forces his hard cock to press against you and you can't help but press down harder. The pressure causes your head to drop against his shoulder; causes your jaw to drop as Jasper's hands slip to your hips, rocking you firmly against him.

You can tell he knows exactly when your throbbing cunt pulses out even more slick: you can hear his sharp inhale as it pairs with the way his fingers dip tighter into your flesh.

"I want you to ride me, Doll. Can you do that for me?"

It's only then that your movements halt. Freezing like a deer in headlights, you look at him with your mouth slightly agape. Neither of you are strangers to sex - hell, once Jasper got confident enough to let loose around you, there was a month when you were damn near fucking like rabbits. But of all the ways he's taken you, you've never been the one to be on top.

What if you're bad at it? How would you ever get over that?

"Darling," Jasper's voice cuts through your thoughts, definitely feeling your emotional turmoil. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Sugar." His golden eyes bore into you with a different intensity than before. His once heated gaze now only harbors concern as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your waist.

“It's nothing…” you mutter moving in to nose at his neck, pressing small kisses along the column in an attempt to bring the mood back.

His grip on you shifts, pulling you back a respectable distance to read your face. “Tell me what's wrong, or we're stopping right now, Darlin’."

Oh. Serious voice… As the realization that there's no avoiding voicing your insecurity if you want to get railed - which you do -, your face starts to heat, embarrassment flooding your veins.

Ever the patient man, Jasper waits for you to find the least embarrassing combination of words.

“I've never-” God, your face feels like it could smelt iron right now… “I've never rode anyone; I, um, I don't know how…”

Your voice falters to a whisper, but you know he heard you.

A grin starts to cut its way across his face, leaving you to balk. You know he isn't about to laugh in the face of your anxiety right now.

“You know what- forget I said anything.” you mumble, moving to get up only to be unceremoniously yanked back down.

“Where do you think you're going, Sugar?” Jasper chuckles, ducking his head to try to meet your gaze.

Ever the avoider, you look to the side, opting to pout about it since you can't storm out to the room all dramatic like you wanted. One of his hands comes up to brush some of your hair you were hiding behind.

“I'll teach you.”

Your eyes snap to his finally as the heat in your face starts to creep down your neck. “What?” You choke out.

“I said I'll teach you how to ride,” Jasper says, the humor in his eyes underlined with something darker- hungrier.

Your mouth goes dry from the intensity in them. Gulping, all you can do is nod, words failing you for a different reason this time.

“Yeah?” He hums. “My pretty baby wants to learn to ride me?”

His hands trail down to your skirt, slipping under the hem to trace the elastic of your panties. “Why don't you take these off, Sugar…”

His voice may be gentle, but you know a command when you hear it.

You slide off his lap, standing on shaky legs as you slide the thin fabric down.

“Skirt and shirt too. I want to watch my cock disappear in you while you grind those hips against me.”

You'd be lying if you said that didn't make something sinful twist inside you.

Once all the offending fabric is gone, you take a deep breath. Right now this is nothing new for you. You've been naked in front of Jasper countless times, this is fine.

His eyes never leave you as he works on his jeans - unbuttoning and unzipping them before shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He curls two fingers to beckon you closer, other hand leisurely stroking himself, smearing his precum along the shaft.

Settling yourself back in his lap, you slightly fumble, trying to steady yourself. Back in new territory.

“Easy…” Jasper soothes, holding your waist. He stops fisting himself in favor of manhandling you into position.

Your knees are spread to rest just away from his legs, and your hips angled above him by the time he is done adjusting you. One of his hands slips down once more to line up with your slit.

“Drop yourself, Darlin’. Slowly,” he guides. “Once the tip is in, roll your hips forward as you move further down.”

And so you do. Steadily, you push yourself down and forward as his cock slips further and further into your waiting quim. Within seconds, your hips meet his and he sits comfortably to the hilt inside you.

“That's it,” Jasper mumbles, hands lightly stroking your sides. “Can you lift back up and repeat that same motion for me, Sugar?”

“Yeah…” you breathe. This isn't hard, you think, lifting yourself up, not hard at all. Your hands steady you against his shoulders as you rock back down.

Jasper's head falls back with a heavy breath through his nose. “Fuck.”

You still. Did you already do something wrong? You're only two bounces in- are you really that bad at taking direction?

“You're doing great, baby, but if you keep clenching around me like that, I'm not gonna last,” Jasper chuckles, gripping your hips to force you to move again.

And just like that, he once again soothes your nerves. Perks of knowing the ins and outs of emotion, you guess.

So, you start your movements again, allowing his hands to go back to simply encouraging you. As you move, you find yourself growing more and more confident - adding in a few circles along with your roll forward, spreading your knees to take him deeper - the noises your experiments draw from Jasper have your eyes slipping shut and your head lolling forward to rest against his cool collar.

As you ride, you can feel to need for more steadily creeping up to you, forcing your hips to move faster, for you to grind your clit against him as you chase your release.

“Goddamn it-” Jasper hisses, burying his nose in your hair as he inhales your scent. “You're a fucking natural, Darlin’. C’mon, Sweetness, cum for me.”

A soft whimper falls from your lips at the praise, your face heating as you nuzzle further into him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but the ache in your pussy, the pure need to cum, outweighs any discomfort in your trembling legs as you start to slam yourself harder and more desperately onto his solid length.

You can feel your release. It's right there; dipping in and out of sight in a twisted game of desire, but you'll be damned if you lose.

You clamp down on Jasper, the sudden tightness causing even more of the delicious friction you're craving. The deep rumble that drags from Jasper's chest only pushes you closer, more and more noises drip from your lips as you all but ravage the man beneath you.

“Come on, Darlin’, give it to me- let me see how pretty you look creamin' all over my cock.”

You hips give a final jerk forward when his thumb meets you clit, the swollen nerves throbbing at the sudden shock of cold. With a sharp cry of his name, you cum.

Your nails dig into his arms as you rock against him, trying to prolong your high as long as possible. Not that you could stop if you wanted to - Jasper's hands are back to forcing your hips down, chasing his own release.

His hips have started to jerk up into you, meeting you movement for movement as he draw closer and closer to his own climax. Rambled praises have started to fall from him as he holds you tight. From mumbling about how beautiful you are sitting atop him, to growling out about how good your pulsing cunt feels.

Just at your limit, right before the stimulation becomes too much, Jasper finally empties himself into your heat. You though his growls before rumbled you, but the absolute animalistic sound that rips out of his chest as he loses himself in you uproots your very being. The knowledge that you can bring such a powerful creature, *the* Apex predator to such euphoria - the fact that such a magnificent being has allowed you to share in this game - has you shuddering in his hold.

The world's most dangerous game. And you've won.

#jasper hale smut #jasper whitlock smut #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader smut

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 7 months ago

Text

...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #logan howlett blurb #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine blurb #wolverine smut #xmen smut #deadpool and wolverine #danny speaks to the void

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ssour-apathyy · 14 days ago

Text

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ signed, with love

hockey player!vi x basketball player!caitlyn x cheerleader!reader, fluff, secret love messages, pining, reader is lowk a dumbass, use of y/n

word count; 1,899

summary; as valentines day approaches, you start to receive anonymous declarations of love, only to find out they're sent by the last people you'd suspect

a/n; happy valentines day!! this is my little gift to you all, and i hope you enjoy. i'm gonna go ahead and claim that it's a bit awkward because they're high-schoolers and NOT because i don't know how to write stuff like this jdhfsjhfdj

It was the week before Valentine's Day at Piltover High, and the excitement buzzing through the air was almost palpable. The annual holiday event was in full force, where students were able to send love themed cards to each other, be it anonymous or not.

The hallways were abuzz with giggles and murmurs as students speculated who had sent them cards, who might send them cards, and the reactions of those they had sent them to. Everybody seemed to be deep in the tradition, well, everybody except for you.

You weren't insanely popular, but you weren't not popular. A nice middle ground, some may say. You had been on the cheer squad for a year now, which naturally meant you were higher up on the pyramid of social status compared to the rest of the student body. This wasn't the problem, the problem was that you just weren't interested in anybody.

You told yourself it was a mixture of nobody being interesting enough, and just not having enough time to pursue anybody. If you weren't doing anything cheer related, you were studying. If you weren't doing either of those things, you were spending time with Caitlyn and Vi.

Caitlyn- easily the most popular person at school. Captain of the basketball team, tall and beautiful, and just so nice. Not that fake, only doing this to keep up appearances, nice either, like actually nice. And then there's Vi- breakout star of the hockey team, a little rough around the edges, but so fucking hot. Together, they were the very top of the food chain, everybody's favourite couple, and absolutely unstoppable.

You had been friends with them for a few months now, when you had cheered at one of Caitlyn's games and she couldn't help but watch you the entire time. She just had to talk to you after the game was done, and Vi was on board immediately. All it took was one conversation and it was like you three had been friends for years, and suddenly were inseparable.

The three of you had lunch together every day. Vi would walk you to classes, Caitlyn would walk you to cheer practice, any spare time you had outside of school was almost always spent with them. People had tried to joke about you being their third wheel, but the look that Vi had sent their way had them promptly shutting their mouths. You didn't mind, though. Never at any point did you feel uncomfortable or left out, and you were happy to see your best friends so in love.

What you didn't know, however, is that both Caitlyn and Vi were absolutely smitten with you. Their feelings were small at first, like a small sprout popping up in Spring. That was until you had gone on a week vacation and they realised how much they missed you, and THEN you just had to go and bring them both home a gift- a basketball keyring for Caitlyn and a hockey stick one for Vi- and suddenly the small sprout was a grand oak tree and they just couldn't keep lying to themselves anymore.

They had a long talk between themselves, discovered that they were both on the same page, and started to plan how they would approach the subject. They cared too much to risk jeopardising your friendship by just springing it on you, so they knew that it had to be perfect.

── ⟢

Your eyebrows furrowed as the small card slipped out of your open locker door, fluttering to the ground in front of you. You slipped your textbooks into the locker before kneeling down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands as you stood back up. It was cute, a little doodle of a steaming coffee cup with 'Words cannot espresso how much you mean' written underneath. No name. You let out a soft chuckle and a little shake of your head as you slipped the card into your bag, and didn't think much of it. Probably just one of the girls on the cheer squad sending them to the team.

And then there was another.

'If I could start my life over again, I would find you sooner so that I could love you longer ♡'

"What the fuck.." you mumbled, looking around you to the other students filling the hallway, trying to see if anybody was looking suspicious. Nobody had ever shown an interest in you, not really, so to start suddenly getting valentine's cards was surprising to say the least.

Every day up until the 14th, there was a new card waiting for you. Every day they seemed to get more and more personal, and there was no doubt in your mind that they were meant for you and you alone. The girls on the cheer squad had no idea about it, but they were fawning over the cards that you had gotten, studying each one carefully. When you tried to ask Caitlyn and Vi, they had played it beyond cool.

"Wow, seems you've got yourself a secret admirer, huh? You sure you've not been out there flirting up a storm when we're not around?" Vi had teased you, causing your cheeks to burn as you snatched the card from her with a scoff.

"You don't recognise the handwriting?" Caitlyn had queried, even though it was no use. The messages in anonymous cards were written by the students handing them out for this very reason.

You got the final card on Valentine's day, and although it was the most simple and, well, least romantic, it still caused your stomach to do flips.

'Gym, after school today.'

── ⟢

Being on school grounds after hours was always slightly uneasy. The hallways were silent, your own footsteps echoing along the empty expanse of the building. You stood in front of the doors to the gym, heart racing as you wiped your palms on your jeans and shook the shake out of your hands. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, and pushed the doors open.

The lights were off, the only source of light in the open room was coming from multiple candles scattered around the floor. In the middle of them was a picnic blanket with a hamper sat neatly on it, a couple of plastic cups tucked beside it. Both Vi and Caitlyn were sat on the bleachers behind, chatting away to each other before the sound of the door closing behind you caught their attention.

"Oh... uh, hi guys" you drawled, voice laced with confusion as you quickly checked over your shoulder before taking a few tentative steps towards them. "Sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."

Caitlyn stood up, her varsity jacket hanging off her shoulders as she hopped off the bleachers to approach you. "You're not interrupting, don't worry. You're right on time, actually."

That increased your confusion tenfold, and it must have shown perfectly on your face as you watched Caitlyn busy herself with pouring drinks, because Vi's soft laughter was suddenly reverberating through the empty hall.

"Y'know, for somebody with your grades, you aren't all that smart sometimes" she teased, coming up to rest a hand on your shoulder as Caitlyn passes you both a cup of soda.

"Wha- but I don't-"

Your fingers wrap tightly around the plastic cup in your hand as the realisation hits you, and your eyes bounce between the two girls. Vi has a cocky smirk on her face as she sees the gears in your head turning, whereas Caitlyn looks a little nervous as she sips her drink, arms crossed over her chest.

"You sent those cards?"

"We did" Vi affirms, her hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Cait said the puns were too cheesy, but I think you liked them anyway, hm?"

You watched as Caitlyn rolled her eyes, even though a hint of a smile was ghosting on her lips. "We had been thinking of how to approach the subject with you for a while, and well, this seemed like the perfect opportunity."

You nodded, eyes flitting down to the picnic blanket on the floor. "And... you did all this.. for me?" you asked quietly, your voice hesitant and still coated with disbelief. Caitlyn took your free hand in hers and gently guided you to the blanket, sitting you down on top of one of the pillows as she sat in front of you, Vi doing the same to your side.

"Of course we did. You're special, Y/n. We care about you a lot, and-" she cuts herself off, playing with your fingers that she's still holding in her hand. "We were hoping you'd feel the same."

Vi clears her throat and shuffled a little closer, lifting a finger to your chin so she can turn your head to look at her. "What Cait is trying to say, is that we like you as more than a friend. This is our way of showing you that, and asking if you want to be something more."

Your heart stopped in your chest, and a warmth had spread across your face as you let everything sink in. It was like being doused in ice-water, the realisation that you did, in fact, feel the same way about them. Your lack of a love life wasn't because you were busy, or because nobody interested you. It's because they had already filled that hole in you, you just hadn't thought about it long enough to see it.

"Wow, I- honestly had no idea" you breathed out, your words coated in an airy laugh. "I mean, looking back at it, of course it seems obvious this is where it headed."

The three of you shared a laugh at that, and you lifted your free hand away from Caitlyn's to rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

"I don't want it to change anything though, not really. I mean, yeah, obviously things will change-" You blush at the thought of kissing them. "-but it won't get like.. weird or anything right?"

The two girls shared a look and set down their drinks, Vi gently taking yours out of your hand too, shuffling closer to you so they were sat on either side.

"Nah, not weird at all" Vi murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"We won't do anything you don't want to, love. We'll take it at the pace you want" Caitlyn affirms, her voice soft yet strong.

They both lean forward and press a soft kiss to your cheeks, and you let your eyes flutter closed as the feeling of being sandwiched between them. For the first time in a long time, you had never felt as at peace.

"Okay then" you whisper into the space in front of you. "I feel the same way, so.. I think we should give it a shot."

"Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna be our girlfriend?" Vi questions in that teasing tone that you love to hate, her lips grazing against your cheek as she speaks. You just nod in response, both girls crushing you in a bone tight hug as relief washes over them.

"Now then" Caitlyn starts after a moment of the three of you basking in each other. She pulls away only to flip the lid of the basket, pulling out various different snack items. "I prepared this specially, and we have a valentine's picnic to dig into."

#𖤐 ssour-apathyy.#✧ katt scratch.#vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman x reader #vi arcane x reader #caitvi x reader #arcane #caitlyn kiramman #arcane vi

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the-winter-spider · 3 months ago

Text

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky fanfic #james barnes x you #james barnes imagine #bucky banres #seb stan fanfic

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il-miele-che-scrive · 10 months ago

Text

Lando Norris and [Y/n] Wolff are an on-and-off thing, fans think they're all good after [Y/n] releases a song supposedly about Lando, but they forget he's not the only Brit on the grid.

username1 HE LAUGHS AT ALL MY JOKES

↳username2 AND HE SAYS I'M SO AMERICAN

username3 sorry but in which part is y/n american?

↳username1 her mother, Y/m/n Y/l/n, is American and Y/n spent most of her life in the US after Y/m/n and Toto divorced

username3 oooh good to know, thank you!!

username4 I'm so happy to know Y/n and Lando are still together after all

↳username5 But they were never official

username4 But it's obvious! They were seen on dates many times, hanging out around Monaco, not to mention every time Y/n is in the paddock she spends more time in the McLaren garage than Mercedes'

username6 my fav nepo baby <3

username7 damn Lando must be doing a good job lol

username8 Y/n finally released a love song, everybody thank Lando

username9 Weren't there rumours about them being over forever just during the winter break?

↳username10 Toto would find a way to get Lando kicked out of F1 if he ever broke Y/n's heart lmao

username9 What does Toto gotta do with McLaren?

username10 He's rich? Lol

username9 And? Stroll's daddy is rich as well yet he can't make idk Verstappen disappear lol rich doesn't mean he can do anything he wants

username11 Guys I have a bad feeling, we actually haven't seen them together in a long time , I'm afraid they might be actually broken up for good

↳username6 I wouldn't read too much into it, Y/n studies in Monaco so she isn't able to attend races right now

username11 You sure? Y/n hasn't made a single appearance since the season started

username6 The season started in the middle of her uni year lol you ever thought of that?

↳username7 this is literally a love song, how are we even wondering if they broke up? she wouldn't release this if they were done

username6 THIS!! I feel like this song is a confirmation from Y/n that all is good, maybe she was tired of people talking if they're broken up or not

username5 Then why don't they make it official?

username6 that's not a question i can answer

username12 "I'll go anywhere he goes" then why aren't you attending races miss girl? Education can wait

↳username2 lmao it literally can't wait

username13 "the books you read" ma'am, Lando looks like he hasn't touched a single book his whole life

↳username12 And it's not like he dresses that well either, his style is nothing special

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

y/n's texts with Lando

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

username1 All men are the same I swear

↳username2 nooo I swear there are good ones, but that's just not Lando

username3 excuse me sir, y/n has just written a love song about you

username4 NOOOO THE WAY HE PUT HIS HAND ON THE GIRL'S LOWER BACK

↳username1 Him and Y/n are done frfr 😭

username5 Do we know who the girl is?

↳f1gossip Not yet, but I'm sure we'll know in no time

username6 Wtf is wrong with you, it's not her fault Lando can't focus on one woman

username7 But there's no way she didn't know about him and Y/n ;)

username6 There is/was no "Lando and Y/n", they never confirmed a relationship

username8 He's just won in Miami, I was hoping they'd make it official after that :(

↳username9 Sameeee it would be so cool

↳username10 Literally same, it'd be perfect

username11 Lando Norris, you disappoint me again

↳username12 at this point Y/n must be used to that lmao poor girl I hope she finds someone better

username13 WHAT DOES TOTO SAY ABOUT IT?

↳username3 Whats he supposed to say? Y/n is a grown woman, stop treating her like a baby

username14 I swear if we see Y/n back again with him after THIS I'm gonna break some dishes

↳username15 Yeah I hope she'll find some self respect and finally leave his ass

username16 Y/n I beg you to leave him, the d can't be THAT fire

yn_wolff posted on instastory

landonorris replied to your story:

↳mind if i join?

yn_wolff:

yeah lol don't join

landonorris:

i was gonna sail today anyway, what if we do it together?

hey i think i see u thru my window who are u with?

yn_wolff:

with dad and susie

stalker ass creep don't get anywhere near me today

landonorris:

I see another man

who is he?

*seen*

y/n answer me who is he

is that russell?

fucking russell wtf is he doing there

he better keep his hands away from you

what the fuck why are u hugging him

yn_wolff:

i'm hugging george and I'll do something worse if you don't stop with ur stalker shit

landonorris:

what the fuck do you mean y/n

yn_wolff:

don't worry, I'm sure that blonde girl would love to give you a hug, you should go see her

landonorris:

she's just a friend

y/n you're mine

she doesn't mean shit to me

don't show my texts to russell

yn_wolff:

Hello it's George, stop texting my girlfriend or we'll have to tell Toto

landonorris:

girlfriend?

username1 Right after? The Lando thing was yesterday

↳f1gossip Yeah, and this was this morning

username2 Whats Y/n doin with George? 🤨

↳username3 in case you forgot she's y/n WOLFF, the daughter of Mercedes' boss which GR drives for

username4 After seeing Y/n's story I hoped she's finally spending some time with Lando but...

↳username5 Have u seen what Lando posted? 😂

username4 What did he post?

username5 Oh apparently he deleted it already lol it was a story

username5 Anyway he posted like a lowkey thirst trap pic and the music he added was Tumblr girls by g eazy lmao

username4 Boohoo consequences of his own actions catching up

username5 Yeahh and he especially chose the verse that goes like "fucking off and on, always stop and go, probably got someone, choose not to know"

username6 Guys, I say we take in consideration the possibility of 'so american' being about George

landonorris Monaco weekend 🇲🇨☀

view all comments

username1 Why do I feel like he posted this just so people think Y/n was there with him even though there's not a single pic of her? 😂

↳username2 Bro why he want her when he can't have her anymore?

username3 get over it, it's your fault

username4 I feel like he's tryna say "Hey guys look, Y/n took these pics" but why would we believe it 💀

↳username1 Exactly!! We all KNOW she most likely spent the day with George

username5 Now all i think about when i see Lando is the story he deleted 😭

↳username6 totally hahah he literally called Y/n a bitch but also admitted that he can't help wanting other girls

username7 Wait when did this happen? When did he say that?

username6 he never said that, it's lyrics of a song he posted but quickly deleted

username5 He immediately regretted hahah

username8 @/maxfewtrell Tell Lando to behave, why are you even helping him with this bullshit?

username9 It's too late, you had your chance FOR HALF A YEAR and still chose to lead Y/n on, now she got someone else and you're being petty

↳username10 She let him lead her on for half a year? Damn it he should pay for her therapy

username9 I feel like she really hoped she can change him but realized "if you can't change the man, change the man"

username10 Very accurate lmao

username11 Guys, I believe Y/n and Lando were a thing for much more time than half a year, it was going on for at least a year, they were just very secretive about it

username9 Well, good for her to finally get out of this shit, she deserves so much better and I hope George will give her that

username1 I bet Toto loves his new son in law

↳username2 He has to be very relieved to know Y/n chose George eventually

username3 We still don't know if they're dating, remember George drives for Mercedes

username4 I really hope Lando is crying rn

username5 Now Lando for sure can't trick us into thinking Y/n was with him lmao

username6 I love George for saving Y/n

username7 I love them, they're all so old money, Y/n and George are a great match

username8 MY DELULU IS BECOMING TRULULU

username9 This is our confirmation that so american is about George

username10 I feel like Y/n upgraded at some point but at one point also downgraded

↳username2 Let's not talk about it, we should be happy for her and George, at least he won't treat her like an option

username11 George is literally THE MAN for Y/n, I'm so glad she finally realized that

↳username12 Chill, let's not assume stuff before we have any statement from them, we all know where assuming can get us

username13 This is my old money dream

username14 HEAR ME OUT but I'd actually love to see George and Y/n get married one day

↳username12 THIS is exactly where assuming can get us

yn_wolff Oh you'll like him, he's really kind andhe's funny like you sometimes, and I found someone I really like maybe for the first time

view all comments

username1 I'm so happy for them I'm gonna cry

lewishamilton Invite me next time!

↳georgerussell63 Toto said it was family only, I'm sorry, Lewis!

↳yn_wolff Ask Ferrari to invite you wtf

username1 lmao only Y/n Wolff can talk to a 7 times world champion like that

username2 YESSSS IT'S OFFICIAL

↳username1 Y/n is officially free from Lando!!

username3 I love the vibes, I love the fact that Y/n is dating a driver from her dad's team, I love the fact that Toto accepts it

↳username4 He must've been going CRAZY when Y/n had the situationship with Lando

username3 Absolutely and I think we all know about Toto's anger issues lol

susie_wolff 💝

↳yn_wolff 🩷

ymn_yln I hope George knows he's welcome in America too 😊

↳yn_wolff Of course!! We have a plane on Friday❤️

↳georgerussell63 I wanted to take Y/n to Miami so we can visit after the GP, but she refused 😔

yn_wolff Shut up I have uni!!

georgerussell63 It can't be more important than me meeting your mum

lilymhe Beautiful couple 😚

↳yn_wolff @/susie_wolff it's about you and dad💕

lilymhe Might as well be 😂

username3 Susie and Toto literally are Y/n and George in like 20 years lmao

alex_albon Finally, no more secrets

↳username2 ALBONO KNEW?

username4 Phew I can't imagine how much stress it was for him 😂

username5 George just MIGHT be the guy which so american is about...

username6 Something about this relationship makes me feel so at peace and I don't even know them in person

charles_leclerc Someone check on Lando😂

↳yn_wolff Charles 💀

username5 Is he wrong tho

username7 I laughed harder than I should've

↳username8 Betting all my money he's regretting all his actions

username9 As he should tbh imagine leading sb on for about a year, people who do this are evil

username8 Yeah, that was so wrong of him

username10 No but I need to know what books George reads tho

landonorris 👍

↳yn_wolff Stalker ass you don't even follow me

↳username4 THE AUDACITY

landonorris I hope you'll have fun while it lasts

↳yn_wolff YOU'RE the one to speak about lasting

↳georgerussell63 Not your place to worry about it🙂

username5 THE EMOJI MAKES IT SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON

username1 "THE WAY YOU DRESS, THE BOOKS YOU READ" he dresses well✅ he looks like he reads✅

username2 He's the perfect man for Y/n frfr

username3 I'm so happy that it's not about Lando after all, I was like girl he's treating you like shit and you write a love song??

username4 I've been waiting for it for YEARS

username5 So they had a thing for no longer than since the end of winter break and already made it official

↳username2 Something Lando couldn't do for almost a whole ass year lmao

username6 But have y'all noticed how obsessed with Y/n Lando is suddenly?

↳username1 of course he is, that's how it works, he's been rejected so his fragile ego is hurt

username3 He's even liking fans' edits of Y/n😭man is manifesting hard but I doubt anything can help him

username7 Good to know George's hands are warmer than hell, they don't look like it

username8 Girlie deserved a man who doesn't have commitment issues aka is a real man, I'm glad she got him

username9 Y'all think Lando reads Y/n x reader fanfics?👀

↳username1 Totally

↳username2 I can imagine it

↳username3 He'll do it until his delulu becomes trululu (it'll never happen🔥)

username10 I'll laugh so hard if now Lando will now stop fooling around with other girls 😂

username11 Can't wait for a whole album full of love songs about him

↳username12 I don't think we'll have to wait for long

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #george russel x reader #George Russell imagine #George Russell smau #George Russell social media au #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris imagine #Lando norris smau #Lando norris social media au

2K notes · View notes

miyukisu · 2 months ago

Text

A Trace of Body Paint .ᐟ

❤︎ Request | He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? 3.1k wc ╰ feat. artist!shidou ryusei (bllk) x afab!reader

tags - lots of tension and build up at first, p*rn with plot, college au, artist! shidou, he and reader are both experienced, FILTHY, dirty talk, unprotected smeggs, rough smeggs, face f*cking, creampies, overstim, no y/n, not beta read

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

"Yeah! I'll see you next week for my next assignment. Okay?"

Yeah right... next week...

You didn't peg Shidou as the type to flake on you, especially since he was the one who needed something from you. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, then your mind wandered to impossible territory.

Maybe he found a different person to model for him.

Maybe you weren't good enough a model and he was getting low marks because of you...

But wouldn't that be his fault?

Maybe... he dropped out of class?

Every possibility crossed your mind, but not once did you think of actually asking him, "Hey, what's up with not calling me anymore to model for your art class? You know... THE THING WE DO WEEKLY?"

But pride does get the best of us. You are no different. Either the world ends or he grovels at your feet for ghosting you like that. Anyway, why did you care so much?

Shidou Ryusei only asked you to model for him for a few weeks for an art course he was taking. It just so happens you two were close and your schedules matched (and he thought you were really pretty). In exchange, he'd treat you after every drawing session. Ordinary stuff—that was until you slowly started to develop feelings for him.

There was something about the way he looked at you as he studied every minute detail—making sure they were all transferred to paper. He made you feel so... beautiful in ways you've never realized before. But most of all, you fell for such a creative and passionate spirit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon spotting a familiar hairdo across the quad. Your eyes met and you made sure not to waste this opportunity—glaring at him, making sure he knew how much he had pissed you off. Shidou looked left and right, possibly trying to find a way out of it. But maybe the intensity in your eyes worked because before you knew it—he was making his way to you.

"Hey..."

"Really? That's all you have to say after ignoring the texts I sent last week?"

"Eh... must've missed them," he lied.

"What about the time you saw me near your building? You missed me standing a meter away from you?"

"Guess so," he lied again.

His nonchalance made you want to rip your hair out. This hot-and-cold treatment was driving you up the wall. It was clear with the exasperated look on your face.

Though, his eyes never left yours—those same damn eyes that stared at you for hours. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Why did you even walk over here?"

He sighed like he didn't gave a shit. "You looked like you were about to murder me."

"Shouldn't you be running away then?" you countered. Shidou simply shrugged. "I'm not sure either."

You were about to unleash your fury, but he sighed loudly before continuing. "Fuck... fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Yes. I can clearly see that. The question is—why?"

"Look. I've been getting the highest scores in class because I have the luxury to have an actual person model for me... while everyone else relies on references on the internet or whatever," he explains. "But now... it's..."

"Isn't that a good thing then?" you asked—confused by his reasoning, but even more confused by his change in demeanor.

He shook his head. "Nah... it's just... I won't be needing you anymore."

Your jaw dropped. He said it so casually like it didn't just left a gaping hole in your chest.

"I mean," he backtracked. "We're gonna start drawing nude figures soon, so either you're willing to strip for me or—"

You cut him off. "Are you gonna draw my face with it?"

"Eh, all I need to draw now is the body since we're done with portraits and—"

You cut him off again. "Then draw me."

"Wha—" Shidou was cut off once more. "You heard me. Draw me," you say, as if challenging him.

It earns a hearty laugh from him—one you haven't heard in a while. "You're saying you're gonna stand butt naked in front of me while I stare at you for an hour or two? You know how that sounds, right?"

"It sounds like you're gonna stare at me butt naked for an hour or two."

You were so shameless, he thought. But it was one of the many things he liked about you. He chuckled, amused by the way things turned. Well... what kind of artist would he be to turn down such an enticing muse?

Shidou let out a low whistle as soon as the last article of clothing met the floor. You used to do these drawing sessions in the library—when all he had to observe from you were innocent things like your eyes, your hands, your hair, and so on.

But now that you have to bare everything to him, you figured the only place to do it was at his dorm. It was like what you imagined: cluttered but artsy enough that you could let it pass.

You stood awkwardly in the middle, feeling a bit chilly with nothing to protect you. But you posed, placing a hand on your hip while looking off to the side. That way, there wouldn't be any awkward eye contact.

Shidou sat down on a stool and quickly got to drawing. He said nothing as his eyes constantly flitted between the paper and your body.

The first few minutes in—you became hyperaware of everything. The fact that he was seeing absolutely everything. The absurdity of this entire situation. But most of all, the way your body was reacting to his gaze.

From your peripheral, you could see his gaze linger a bit too long at times. He'd bite his lower lip every so often and it made you feel conscious. Was he doing that because he could see your nipples hardening due to the temperature? Maybe he noticed the way you'd subtly rub your thighs together?

Whatever it was—it had him clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

Around 15 minutes pass, until he finally spoke. "Feeling tired yet?" he asked without looking up from his paper. You figured he was applying the final touches at this point.

"Yeah. A bit."

He hummed in response. "Get comfortable on my bed then."

"What? On your bed? Now?"

Shidou looked up from his paper. At this point both of you were desensitized by your nakedness (or so you thought). "Yes. Now. I have to draw you in at least 3 poses."

Three?

You gulped. But, once more, pride creeps up. You can't just challenge him to draw you naked so boldly—only for you to back down now. You gathered yourself and sat on his bed which was only a few steps away.

"Go on. You can get comfortable," he encouraged.

So you did. You lied down on your side, propping your head up on your hand. The scene that had unfolded reminded you of that one Titanic scene: Rose sprawled out for Jack to draw.

Knowing that, the moment felt too intimate. But you sucked it up... even though there was an unwanted wetness forming at your core.

Shidou shifted in his seat again, lowering his paper on his lap. "Alright, keep that position," he said, a bit strained.

In this position, you couldn't look off to the side. Your only option for the next few minutes was the wall behind him or Shidou himself.

At some point, your eyes met. There was something in his eyes you've never seen before. It wasn't the usual focus he had; it was something else. Something more intense.

But the 2nd pose passes soon enough and you were down to your last.

"What should I do now?"

He sighed, looking over his current sketches. "Lemme think. I'm having a hard time getting the details right."

"Maybe it's because you're sitting so far away," you commented—not thinking about what it implied.

His eyes zeroed in on you again—caught by your words. You want him to come closer with you like that and him slowly losing his composure? You were playing a dangerous game and you had no idea yet.

Shidou finally stood up from his chair, walking over to the bed. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but he was hard. His length strained against his fitted pants. The sight had your mouth watering.

He sat down beside you, eyes never leaving yours. The atmosphere seemed charged with the way you two found yourselves slowly leaning into each other.

"You look great," he whispered. It was something he always said in these sessions. It was a rather simple compliment. But it held more weight now.

"Thanks," you meekly responded. Neither of you realized how fast he inched towards you. His lips were a breath away. You showed no signs of backing away, so he went in.

He pressed his lips on to yours. The kiss felt hungry—needy almost—like he was fighting off this urge for so long. Before you knew it, his weight pushed you down on the softness of his bed. His scent enveloped every sense, clouding your judgement.

Shidou pulled away, breathless. "Pose like this."

He sat upright, eyes raking over your body. This time, he didn't hide the way his gaze would linger on certain parts. His hands ran down your legs, admiring the softness of your skin.

Then, without warning, he pried your legs open. But you didn't stop him. His pink irises trailed down to your core, seeing how wet you've gotten. Shidou thought he was drooling.

"Fuck... I wish I could draw this."

You feel your chest tightening. "Why not?"

"And let everyone see this?" his fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh. "No chance in hell. I want to be the only one to appreciate my muse."

He let his thumb swipe through your folds softly before pressing lightly into your clit, earning a mewl from you. He kept circling the sensitive nub as if in a trance.

"I know what I want the last pose to be," he says. You moan a little louder as he rubs your clit faster. "Want your last pose to be you all fucked out... think you can do that?"

Words got caught in your throat. But it hardly mattered. It didn't seem like he'd take 'no' for an answer anyway.

Things escalated quickly because you soon found his finger plunging in and out of your quivering hole. He made sure to curve it in a way—relentlessly hitting that gummy spot on your walls.

He added another finger, wanting to hear more of your breathless moans reverberating throughout his room. To hell with it if his neighbors heard. This was music—it was art in its purest form.

"Shit... might just cum in my pants from this." He almost did after you clenched down on his fingers, cumming for the first time today.

Even as you coat his digits with your essence, he keeps pushing his fingers in and out until the fluttering died down a bit. He pulled his sticky fingers out before having a taste, savoring every last bit.

He made quick work of his belt, pulling down his pants and letting his member out. Your eyes widened. Not only was his size impressive, but his tip was incredibly swollen and leaky—like he couldn't wait anymore.

Shidou exhaled deeply, feeling the chill of his room brush over the sensitive length. He locked eyes with you again. "Care to take care of me a bit? My hand hurts from all that drawing... and... well, you know what else."

Normally, you'd bite back at his teasing. But your mind was fuzzy. All you could do was wrap your fingers around his length, slowly tugging it at first. The pleasure he felt after being so hard for so long took the strength from him. He almost fell on top of you if it weren't for his thick arms supporting him from either side of you.

"C'mon... do it fucking faster," he ordered. You obeyed—jerking him off as fast as you can without hurting him. It wasn't long before his own hand wrapped around yours as he continued to fuck into your fist. Next thing you knew—hot ropes of cum painted your stomach.

Even he was in a daze as he observed a part of him stained you in such an intimate way. He slowly leaned in, his breath fanning your face. "Hey, can I paint you like this? You look even better with my cum all over you."

You let go of his semi-hard member, slowly tracing his muscles up until you cupped his cheek. Gently, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was more than enough for him to know that you too wanted more.

He became rougher—biting your lip and fighting your tongue for dominance. As you pulled away for air, Shidou moved quickly to straddle your upper body. He shamelessly took his cock and slapped it against your lips a couple of times.

"Gonna have to help me get hard again, sweets. Help me out, won't you?"

Though he didn't really give you time to respond as he invaded your mouth inch by inch. One hand held the headboard while the other supported your head. He rolled his hips slowly, gauging how much you can take in at a time.

But, clearly, he underestimated you when you gripped his hips and pulled him in yourself. You felt his cock spring back to life steadily. He pulled out his hardened shaft, letting you breathe. It was only now you realized the grin that crossed his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

He went back to hovering over you, his cock bouncing at every move he made. Your body was jelly at this point—not even a bit of resistance as he flipped you over so easily. He licked a long stripe from your lower back up until your nape. The fresh saliva combined with the chilly air made you shudder.

He carelessly lifted up your hips. With your cheek pressed into his pillows and your ass up in the air, he only got harder at the sight. He leaned down to be eye-to-eye with this so-called masterpiece, your cunt.

His nimble fingers toyed around with your soaked folds, chuckling to himself. "Man, I don't think I could ever capture something so damn beautiful."

He gave it a quick lick to test. "Well, unless you let me get familiar with her long enough." Another lick. "Maybe I can capture at least half of its beauty." Another lick. "Don't you think?"

A muffled sound was the only thing he got from you. "Yeah? You're gonna let me get to know her? As an artist, I'm overjoyed right now. Maybe I should show you."

And show he did.

He lapped up at your arousal, tongue licking long stripes each time. Your legs threatened to give out every time he flattened the pink muscle against your twitching hole. It didn't take long before he started darting in and out. Helpless groans filled his small dorm room.

Big calloused hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, making sure you stayed in place for him to enjoy. He was so messy... so so messy. Shidou suckled on your clit—really trying to coax another orgasm from you.

It didn't take much more for you to cum again, but this time all over his mouth. He happily took in everything, reaping the fruits of his labor.

He gave your ass one quick kiss as if to show his thanks. But he wasted no time lining up his painfully erect cock against your entrance. "Fuuuuck, I need to be inside you already or I'm actually going to explode," he muttered.

At first, it was just the tip. But it stretched you out so good already. The needy whine that escaped you was a testament to that. It only made him grip your hips tighter, surely leaving a mark for you to see tomorrow. Carefully, he pushed in more of his length, feeling every bump of your pussy engulf him.

"Shit. This is the stuff."

But he got impatient, shoving in the rest of his length without warning. It was so tight, so warm—too inviting for him to handle. His hands left your hips, opting to find support on the mattress instead. His thick arms caged you as his chest pressed against your back.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things in your ear, kissing your neck occasionally. But for as slow and sensual his voice may seem, his hips snapped with reckless abandon. He wasn't shy about giving you your third and, maybe, fourth orgasm of the day while chasing his own.

"You finally understand why I didn't want to ask you?"

"Yeah... I knew I was gonna end up fucking you real hard."

"But this is so much better than what I imagined."

His words brought you over the edge, cumming again. But the overstimulation rendered you thoughtless. The only thing on your mind was how good he was dicking you down.

"Fuck... Ryu!" you screamed. His grin only grew wider.

"That's it. Scream my fucking name. Let them hear it."

Your wanton moans encouraged him to go faster, mercilessly pistoning into you. It wouldn't be a surprise if you came another time on his cock.

Shidou harshly grabbed your tit, hoisting both of you up into a sitting position. This way, his cock reached even deeper into you. He kneaded your neglected breast while keeping you steady by the waist.

He showed no signs of slowing—even reaching down to play with your clit. A tear was rolling down your face from how sensitive he made you. But he quickly licked the salty tear off of the curve of your cheek.

He whispered softly, "Cum with me."

Just like the obedient muse that you were, you did. You clamped down on him as he shot rope after rope of gooey seed into you. Finally, he slowed down a bit, letting him empty himself in your pulsing cunt.

As you calmed down and he softened, he gently laid you back down on the soft mattress of his bed. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, smirking to himself.

"My best piece of work yet."

╰ author's note WHAT THE FUCK DID I WRITE DAWG I WAS SO ON EDGE THE WHOLE TIME HELP WHY IS IT SO FILTHY

#blue lock #blue lock smut #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #shidou smut #shidou x reader smut #shidou ryusei smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader smut #bllk #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock shidou #blue lock x you #bllk x you #shidou x you #♪ ── luvr.fm // works

769 notes · View notes

togenabi · 1 year ago

Text

pick me up

roronoa zoro (opla) x reader

♡—zoro never paid your jokes or pickup lines any mind. that is, until something happens that makes you stop.

word count♡— 3.2k

genre♡— mild angst, fluff, straw hat!reader

content notes♡— opla zoro, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and tells very bad jokes, creepy dude oc, don't be creepy be cool yall, reader pulls off a heist with nami, zoro gets jealous, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, barely proofread

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is a request from anon! I'm sorry if I tweaked a few things, I'm not the best at angst hhhh I hope you still like it!

“Okay, okay. Wait. I got it this time.” You say, already trying to keep from laughing.

“Why were the kids having trouble in pirate class?”

Zoro only side-eyes you with his arms crossed, vehemently unimpressed.

“Because they were overbored!”

Watching for his reaction intently, you keep your eyes focused on his face... Nothing changes.

You tsk, but aren’t seriously discouraged. This is how he always reacts to your jokes, after all. “I’ll get you one of these days, Roronoa Zoro.”

The swordsman only sighs, leaning back into his seat to take a nap. “You do that.”

“Don’t listen to him, love.” Sanji says from the other side of the kitchen as he cleans the counter. “I thought that joke was good.”

“You’re lying, but I appreciate the sentiment, Sanji.” You grin at him. Focusing back on the book you were reading, you miss the amused, challenging look Sanji sends Zoro.

Everyone hears Luffy approaching the kitchen before he enters. “Guys!” He bellows. “We’ll be reaching land soon. Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes!”

The majority of the day is spent restocking supplies. You were all split up into pairs, but before you left, Luffy pointed to a restaurant with a flashy, illuminated sign on top that reads: ‘Bistro of Light’. How cringey of them.

“We should meet there for dinner! You don’t mind taking a break, right, Sanji?” Luffy asks eagerly, and you think that no one could say no to him when he’s so enthusiastic. Sanji nods, and you all go through the town until the sun starts to set.

The inside of the restaurant is just as ridiculous as the sign outside. Chandeliers of every color hang on the ceiling. Huge fish tanks and fountains lined with lights almost blind you. You laugh when looking at it all causes Zoro to wince.

“Hey Zoro,” You call for him. “You know what’s faster than the speed of light?”

“...”

“My heartbeat when I think of you!” You wink at him, proud of the joke even when he only sighs and looks away.

Usopp walks up to a receptionist standing behind a desk. “Hey. Table for six, if you would be so kind.”

“I’m afraid we’re at full capacity at the moment.” They respond. “You’ll have to wait, is that alright?”

Everyone shares a look. Except for Luffy, who looks dead set on eating here, you all feel unsure about waiting.

“When’s the next table going to be available?” Usopp asks. “We’re actually a really big deal. It’s gonna be really embarrassing for you guys if you don’t let us in.” The person frowns, face screaming, ‘is this guy serious’?

But before they can reply, a booming voice enters the restaurant. A tall man, dressed in a pristine white suit and wearing jewels on every finger, pushes you out of the way to yell at the receptionist. You stumble, but thankfully Zoro is there to catch you.

“What on earth is going on here?! Why are there so many people crowding the entryway?!” He fumes, angrily gesturing to your group.

“If they’re not going to eat, then I strongly suggest—” The rich man freezes suddenly, his eyes trained on you.

You keep your face as emotionless as possible, but you die laughing inside when Nami swipes a brooch from his jacket while he’s distracted with you.

“Ah,” The man says. His tone softening a considerable amount as he walks over to you. “I thought I had the best jewels in my treasury, but you're the most radiant gem I've ever laid my eyes on.” It takes everything in you to not back away. Zoro tenses beside you.

“Why haven’t these guests been guided to a table?” He asks, turning back to the receptionist.

“We’re at full capacity, Sir.” Oh. He must own the place. It makes sense that the owner is as gaudy as everything else in here.

“That won’t do.” He looks back to you, and you swear you could feel your skin crawl under his gaze.

“I am Helios. Welcome to my establishment.” The man introduces himself with a flourish, bowing to you. His jewels and gold accessories glint in the light. “What might your name be?”

Reluctantly, you introduce yourself. Had this been a normal situation, you would have turned around and walked away from him the second he saw you. But, you could feel the crew going hungry, and you’re sure Nami will want to snag another ring or two—so you play nice.

Helios smiles, repeating your name. He was probably trying to sound romantic, but he’s not doing anything for you. Not when Zoro says your name much better.

You keep Zoro’s voice in mind, remembering how nice it sounds. It’s easier to smile at Helios that way. Time to lay on the charm, “I was really looking forward to having dinner here. I don’t suppose you could help us out?”

“Follow me, my dear. You deserve to dine upstairs. The view is simply spectacular at this hour.” Helios holds out his hand to you, but Luffy—bless his soul—grabs it to shake it zealously.

“Thanks so much for letting us eat here, Mr. Helios!” Luffy claps him on the back. Helios looks dumbfounded, and the crew does an impressive job keeping their composure.

Helios tries to walk beside you as he guides you all upstairs, but Zoro is steadfast on your right, and Nami smartly positions herself on your left. Luffy and Usopp tug the restaurant owner along, chatting his ear off. You almost feel bad for him.

Nami murmurs, her voice carefully silent so only you can hear. “Treasury, huh?”

You smile. “Of course you’d be curious about that.”

“Think you could get us to his mansion?” She dares you, eyes aglow at the promise of a good heist.

“I know I can.” You pause walking to check your reflection on an ornate, sun-shaped mirror. After fixing your hair, you grin at your friends. “I’m irresistible, after all.”

Maybe if you weren’t busy buttering up your host, you would have noticed that Zoro wasn’t eating properly. Normally, you would force him to eat. You would pile food on his plate, telling that joke about fake noodles being impasta that always cracks you up.

Zoro frowns at the meal in front of him. The fish seems to frown back. Sighing, he decides to just order another drink. But no matter what he consumes, a bitter taste always blooms in his mouth afterwards.

The glass in his hand almost cracks when he hears your voice sucking up to Helios again. “So, you own this place? Do you live around here?”

Helios leans far too close towards you, but you grin and bear it. “Would you like a private tour, my gem?”

You place a hand on his arm, he may read it as affection, but you hold him so he keeps that distance. “That sounds wonderful.”

Zoro huffs under his breath. He needs another drink.

Thankfully, Helios serves good booze at his manor. Zoro almost didn’t want to drink any of it, but he needs alcohol in his system if he has to watch you flirt with this idiot so Nami can rob him blind. Whatever she steals better be worth all this, or else he might punch something. Or someone. Preferably Helios.

You share a look with Nami and give her an imperceptible nod. With that signal, she passes by and pretends to lose her footing. Wine seeps into your clothes, staining the fabric and sticking it to your skin. Did she really have to pick red wine? You liked this shirt.

“Oh, my dear!” Helios gasps. “You should get cleaned up. I’ll have my servants draw you a bath and bring you fresh clothes.”

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going.” Nami loops her arm through yours. “Let me help you with that.”

And so, with another fake smile sent Helios’ way, you rush with Nami to find the treasury.

“Be quick.” Nami says once you enter the luxurious bathroom prepared for you.

As tempting as the bubble bath is, you only take a few wet towels to tidy up. You step into the curtained area, about to strip when Nami holds out a hand to stop you.

“Wait.” She says, her tone serious. A teddy bear holding a rose is propped up on a shelf behind you. Tapping its eyes, Nami scowls before throwing the bear into the trash bin.

“A camera?” She nods. “Seriously? What a creep.”

You and Nami inspect the room. It’s not clear if there are other hidden cameras, but she stands guard in front of the shower curtains just in case.

“Hey,” She starts. “Did you notice Zoro acting weird tonight?”

You frown as you change into the dress Helios prepared. “What do you mean?”

Nami hums in thought. “He’s just…” A dumbass, she wants to say, but doesn’t. “He seems extra grumpy.”

That causes you to laugh. “I guess I should prepare more jokes for him when we get back.”

She winces. “...I’m not that sure he likes those.”

“Hm… Maybe not, but,” You pause to think. He may not laugh loudly as Luffy does, but he never shot you down for being bubbly around him. “Zoro would have told me to shut up by now if he didn’t, right?”

“Huh.” Nami says. “You got a point.”

You push the curtains aside, grinning at her. “Come on, let’s break into that treasury.”

“Of course, my gem.”

“Oh my god, if that sticks I’m going to be so mad.”

The treasury was a vault full of everything from jewels to ornamental weapons. Nami playfully crowned you with a diamond tiara, and she put on dangling emerald earrings that looked stunning on her.

After filling your bags and pockets with the most you can carry, you and Nami head out to find the others. You run into Usopp on the way back to the lounge.

“I see you two cleaned up well.” He jokes. “Luffy and Sanji are in the kitchen. I was just on my way there.”

“Where’s Zoro?” You ask.

“With Helios. You know him, still drinking.”

“We should leave soon.” Nami insists. “We risk getting caught the longer we stay.”

“Right.” You hand Usopp your bag, his eyes widen comically when he feels how heavy it is. “I’ll just go say goodbye, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Before you even enter the lounge, however, you hear Zoro speak your name. Are they talking about you? You press your back against the wall, straining to hear their conversation.

You almost wish you didn’t.

“She tells the worst jokes and doesn’t know when to quit it. Thinks she’s hilarious but she’s really not.” Zoro speaks in that deep voice that would usually be comforting to you—but his words now pierce through you painfully.

“What exactly is your relationship with her?” Helios asks, and Zoro is silent. It feels like your heart crumbles for every second he doesn’t answer.

You’re friends! You’ve been dreaming of more but, you’ve always been friends.

…Aren’t you? Doesn’t he think so?

“I don’t know.” Your heart fully shatters. What does he mean he doesn’t know? “She just sticks to me a lot. It can get annoying.”

“Well. That’s unfortunate, but it’s nothing to sob over.” Helios kisses his teeth. “I don’t care about her attitude. All that doesn’t matter as long as she has that pretty face.”

You wait for Zoro to say something. Anything. You want him to cut Helios where he stands.

But he doesn’t. The silence drags on. The air feels like it’s pushing you down, crushing your lungs. You have to get out of here.

You burst into the kitchen, trying your best not to cry. Nami immediately rushes to you, holding your shoulders to steady you. “What happened?”

Letting out a shuddered breath, you whisper, “You were right.” It’s impossible to think straight right now. “I want to leave.”

You look to Luffy, still shaken up. Your captain’s expression is serious as he nods. “Go ahead, we’ll get Zoro and catch up.” Not needing to be told twice, you head out the door.

Before she follows you, Nami hisses at Sanji, “Talk some sense into that dumbass, won’t you?”

The entire walk back to the Going Merry is silent. You’re grateful Nami doesn’t immediately press you for what happened, but you know that you should answer her questions. You finally get the words out in the safety of her cabin.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, and everything comes pouring out. “He called me annoying.”

“Zoro?” She asked, offering you a box of tissues.

“Yeah.” You sniff, taking the box.

“I’m sorry. That was fucked up of him to say.”

Unsure how to properly comfort you, Nami gets up and retrieves extra pillows from a storage compartment.

“Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” Nami asks, offering you a smile. It pulls a smile out of you too, the first one you mustered since Zoro crushed your spirit.

“I’d like that.”

Zoro is confused to find that you and Nami had left before them. Luffy gave Helios some lame excuse that you weren’t feeling well, but Zoro knew better. If you were really sick, the whole crew would be panicking and rushing to get to you.

He stares at Sanji and Usopp, trying to piece together what really happened. They both turn away from him, refusing to say anything.

In the next second, a maid rushes out, panting and screaming, “Mr. Helios! The treasury has been robbed!”

Fine. Answers can come later. For now, they need to run.

Once they’re back on the ship, Sanji follows Zoro into his cabin. He stares at the chef blankly, “Get out.”

“Did you do something?” Sanji leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Get out.” Zoro repeats, about to push him out of the room when Sanji speaks your name.

“She was upset. Asked to leave as soon as possible.” Sanji’s gaze is almost menacing, and his frown deepens when Zoro’s face falls. So, that’s what happened. You had heard him.

“Fuck.” Zoro groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Everyone noticed you getting bitchy over Helios.” Sanji notes “Did you confront him or something?”

Scoffing, Zoro sits on his hammock, the fabric dips under his weight. “It was something, all right.”

Wanting Zoro to explain himself unpromptedly, Sanji just watches him and lets the silence hang in the air. After a solid, suffocating minute, the swordsman caves.

“I called her annoying.” Zoro breathes out deeply. “I said her jokes aren’t funny and that she sticks to me a lot.”

“Man, that’s screwed up.” Sanji gapes. “I thought you cared about her?”

“Of course I do, but I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Zoro defends. “Luffy’s the only one who laughs at her jokes, and she’s always by my side.”

Sighing, Zoro continues, “...but I never minded any of it. I learned to care for those parts of her a long time ago. I was only trying to get that shithead off her back.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sanji concludes. “You have the emotional depth of a sink, sometimes.”

Zoro, surprisingly, doesn’t insult the chef back. He stares at the wall, slouched and looking the most empty Sanji’s ever seen him.

“What should I do?” He asks. “How should I make it up to her?”

Sanji’s eyes light up, he beams and claps his hands together in excitement. Even if Zoro hasn’t heard it yet, he already dreads the chef’s suggestion.

“I have an idea.”

When you woke up the next morning, you had every intention of avoiding Zoro like the plague. It was still really difficult to look at him, the hurt you felt still stings your heart.

But unfortunately for you, he had other plans.

You’re gazing out into the sea on the forecastle deck when you hear a familiar set of heavy footsteps. You sigh. “I don’t want to talk, Zoro.”

“I’m not here to talk.” You turn to him questioningly, but you really shouldn’t give him the time of day. Wasn’t he the one who complained about you clinging to him?

You don’t say anything. Only glaring at him and hoping he sees how disappointed you feel. Zoro stands here, appearing strangely vulnerable. If you weren’t so hurt, you would have hugged him by now.

But you are. So he has to wallow in the awkwardness of the consequences of his words. He—wait. What’s that on his face?

“I…” Is he… blushing? “I’m sorry I wasn’t around in the past.”

You make a face and blink at him. What is he up to?

“...Can I be part of your future?”

That knocks the wind right out of you, your jaw practically falls to the floor. Did Roronoa Zoro just use a pickup line? On you? You can’t help but glance at your surroundings to check if the sky is still blue.

No—hold on. He can’t win you over just like that. He needs to explain why he said what he did.

“You said my jokes are the worst.” You grumble.

“They are.” Zoro looks straight into your eyes as he speaks. “But you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“You said I always stick to your side.”

He doesn’t miss a beat and answers earnestly, “You do. And I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else.”

“…You said you didn’t know what our relationship is.”

That causes Zoro to pause, searching your eyes as if he’ll find the answer in them. “…I don’t.”

Oh, this impossible sword-brain of a man. Your lips quiver, and you realize you can’t fight back your smile anymore. “I love you, Zoro.”

His expression shifts from anxiousness to shock, relief, and a bit of something else...

“I love you, too.” Ah, of course. Love, that too.

Slowly, tentatively, he raises his arms, inviting you to an embrace. He’s adorable, looking a teensy bit nervous that you wouldn’t want to hold him. Giggling, you rush to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he envelops your shoulders.

“I bet Sanji taught you to apologize with that line.” You murmur into his chest. “If you tell me another one…” Zoro cringes, his frame tensing.

“...I’ll give you a kiss.” His expression lifts, seriously considering it.

After a minute, Zoro clears his throat. You almost squeal in excitement.

“Roses are red, violets are blue…” A classic. This is going to be good.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel awkward, I just want to have dinner with you.” You gasp, squeezing him tighter.

“Yes! That was perfect.” Laughing, you reach up and hold his face to keep your promise.

You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips. When you pull away, he’s looking at you like he would fight anyone for you. He probably would, if you’re being honest.

“You’re perfect.” He breathes, mouth against yours and then he’s kissing you again.

Hiding behind a pile of crates, the rest of the crew whoop and cheer. (Silently.)

“That was such a good line!” Luffy whispers.

“I still think he should have used the ‘I don’t speak angel’ one.” Usopp whispers back.

“What are you talking about?!” Sanji angrily, quietly mutters. “That was perfect because he apologized and delivered the line.”

“Shut it, you guys. I was right, he didn’t last a day with her mad at him.” Nami holds out her palm. “Pay up.” The others groan, handing her some berry. All’s well that ends well.

taglist: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @hi3431 @akakaze @lownna

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endearng · 2 months ago

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the good things, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

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