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#for the week & I still have to do things today and I didn’t even finish what I was supposed to do yesterday
mxmmyprentiss · 23 hours
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Bad Mom
Summary: Emily has always been better at this mom thing than you are. Sometimes, you actually envy her for how good she is at it. She was a natural while you’re a disaster. And maybe your daughter knew that. Genre: Fluff Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: none Word count: 1.6K
A/N: Just some little fluff piece I wrote to get back to writing. It's not proofread so forgive me for mistakes and errors. Likes, comments and shares are welcome. Enjoy! :)
AO3
You and Emily Prentiss have been married for over five years now. You dated for two years prior to your marriage. And in those years that you’ve been together, both of you have gone through ups and downs together. Emily has never left you to deal with your problems alone.
Except today.
And that problem was your 3-year-old daughter having temper tantrums at breakfast.
“I don’ wike t’is!” Eleanor, your daughter, slammed her tiny hands on the dining table. She was clearly furious at you for trying to feed her vegetables instead of her requested chocolate cereals.
In your defense, it’s all she wanted to eat lately and you just didn’t want her to be diabetic early (or at all). 
“Ellie, please. This is yummy and healthy, baby. You can have cereal again tomorrow.”
Ellie shook her head and continued slamming the table. Her face was flushed from yelling and arguing with you for the past ten minutes or so. “No, mama! Ce-yals today!”
You sighed weakly. Ellie was such a good, easy  kid most of the time but can be a real pain in the ass when she wants to be. And in those times, only your wife can get through her stubbornness. After all, she is Emily’s daughter too.
“Mommy will be mad. Do you want mommy to be mad?”
“Mommy not he’e!” She pouted.
“I know, but she will be mad once she finds out you’re giving Mama a hard time.”
Ellie folded her arms to her chest and displayed a sulky pout. “I wan’ mommy!” She fiercely yelled at you. “I wan’ mommy he’e!”
“I want mommy here too, baby, but she is fighting bad guys and she will come back to us soon.” You tried to offer her another spoonful of mashed vegetables. To your surprise, Ellie grabbed the spoon and tossed it to the floor. “Eleanor Prentiss!”
“Mama bad! Bad!” Ellie screamed before storming off to the living room and played with her puzzles.
Your eyes fell to the mess your daughter made on the table and the floor.
God, you wish she was here. Emily has always been better at this mom thing than you are. Sometimes, you actually envy her for how good she is at it. She was a natural while you’re a disaster. And maybe your daughter knew that.
After cleaning up the mess, you gave up and fed her cereals instead. It’s still better than Ellie not eating anything at all.
Your phone buzzed and it was from your wife.
Emily: Hey, babe. Just got back from Chicago. How are you and Ellie?
You: Ellie and I are enemies at the moment. She’s not eating her veggies and she’s asking for you.
Emily: I’ll be home in 30. Just have to finish this last paperwork then I’m out.
You: See you later, babe. I love you.
Emily: I love you too and that little self-willed kid of ours.
You have no doubt about that. In all the years that you’ve known each other, not once did Emily make you feel that you didn’t matter to her. Even when she had to leave you for days or weeks to travel to different states for her job. She never made you feel that her job was a priority over you; it’s just something she had to do. Emily would call you every night to check on you. Most times she would have food delivered at your door or at your workplace so she’s sure that you’d eaten. And when your wife comes home to you, a bouquet of hydrangea - your favorite flower - would be found on your bedside table.
But when you and Emily decided to adopt Eleanor three years ago, everything changed.
Emily was just promoted as BAU unit chief six months before Ellie’s adoption while you stayed home for a while to take care of your newborn. Your wife managed to spend less hours in the office and made a strict rule to not be interrupted during her off days. During some of these days, you would caught her teaching Ellie different languages and the then two-year-old girl was just staring at her wide-eyed.
Your wife had made sure to spend her annual leaves with you and Ellie. Emily would take you and Ellie to Disneyland and other theme parks she researched about. She would never bring her family to places she deemed unsafe and family unfriendly, especially places the BAU has worked abduction cases with. 
Long story short, the change in your routine was all for the better.
Emily is a great mother, the best even. And she is just as great as your wife.
The problem lied with you though. You can’t seem to get through to your daughter like Emily did. It feels as if Ellie didn’t like you, or just liked her other mother better. Of course, you still loved that kid to death and you would do anything for her. But sometimes, at times like this one, it feels like you’re a failure of a mother to her.
Ellie was still ignoring you and your attempts to play with her. If you had a bingo card of her mama no’s, you would have won by now.
Maybe your daughter hated you.
You settled on watching your daughter have a tea party with her stuffed animals. Her dark curls tangled with the golden plastic crown she wore and her dark brown eyes focused on her white bunny. She was doing her best in re-telling them the bedtime story you told her last night.
The front door opened and Emily entered the living room, holding a big bouquet of pink and lavender hydrangeas and a tiny bouquet of white lilies.
“Queen Emily has arrived!” Emily announced, referencing the last story she told Ellie the night before she left for the case. “How’s my lovely sunshines?”
“Mommy!” Ellie exclaimed and ran to Emily. The little girl tightly hugged her mother’s leg. “Miss you, mommy!”
“Aww, I missed you too, sweet cheeks.” Emily knelt down to kiss her daughter’s cheek. She handed her the small bouquet. “This is for you, baby girl.”
Ellie jumped in joy and hugged Emily. “Thanks, mommy! They pwetty!”
“Yes, they are. Just like you, little one.” Emily playfully pinched her nose. When Ellie ran back to her tea party - boasting to everyone about the pretty flowers that her mother got her - Emily turned to you. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Please, I’m a mess.” You said, smiling faintly.
“Oh, you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still find you the most beautiful woman on the entire planet.” You couldn’t help the blush that crept on your cheeks. Damn, this woman. Emily planted a kiss on your lips then handed you your bouquet. “This is for the best wife and mom in the world.”
You gratefully accept her gift. “Best wife? Yes. Best mother? Hmm, you’ll have to ask Ellie that.” You kissed Emily’s nose. “Your daughter hates me.”
“Our daughter,” Emily corrected you, slightly offended that you would ever say otherwise. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just a stubborn little girl.”
“Wonder who she got that from.” You teased, earning an eye roll from your wife. “I made breakfast for you in the kitchen. You should eat.”
“Best.” Emily pecked your lips. “Wife.” And another peck. “Ever.” And another.
“I better be ‘cause I’d be the only one you’re getting for the rest of your life.” A smirk formed at your lips.
“One and only, babe.” Emily winked at you.
You and Emily spent the entire day playing with your daughter - having tea parties, dressing up her barbies, Emily making up silly stories about your family running an entire kingdom of stuffed animals. Eventually, your wife made sure that Ellie eats the mashed vegetables you prepared for her, proving only a stubborn could get past another stubborn.
Later that night, you and Emily tucked your daughter in. Emily was carefully brushing her hair while you set up her starry night light. Like most kids her age, Ellie didn’t like sleeping in the dark.
Ellie looked up to you. “Mama, pwease tell me ‘nother stowy?”
Your eyes met Emily’s. She smiled softly and nodded at you to go along with your daughter’s request.
You’re about to grab a book from Ellie’s cabinet when she stops you. “Don’ wan’ books. Wan’ mama and mommy stowy.”
“Our story?” Emily clarified. Little Ellie nodded. “Oh, mama, she wants to know our story.”
“I’m telling this one because we cannot trust mommy to tell the whole story, right?” You giggled as you tickled your daughter. “Okay, where do we start, hmm?”
“Start when you saw me across the room and fell in love with me.”
“I think that was the other way around, honey.”
“Touché.” Emily carried Ellie on her lap and hugged her. “Mama’s just so pretty that mommy cannot help but fall in love with her.”
Ellie giggled. “Mama pwetty!”
“That’s right, she is.” Emily smirked. “Mommy’s lucky.”
“Mommy, you pwetty too!”
You grinned. “She is. And you are our pretty little baby, Ellie.” You leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”
Ellie reached out and hugged your neck. “Wuv you, mama.” She planted a kiss on your cheek. “Sowwy I stubbo’n ‘bout veggies.”
Your heart swelled with love for your daughter. Emily squeezed your hand when she noticed the tears pooling in your eyes. “It’s alright, honey.” You said.
After telling your daughter more of how her mothers met, with a little too much protests from your wife about the inconsistencies about your story, Ellie eventually fell asleep hugging her stuffed giraffe.
“I told you she doesn’t hate you.” Emily spoke once you’re both in your bed, snuggling from behind and wrapping her arms around you. She planted a kiss on your exposed shoulder. “Don’t ever think that you’re a bad mom. Ellie is lucky to have you, and so am I.”
You didn’t say anything. Instead, you relaxed in your wife’s embrace.
And you believe her.
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totopopopo · 2 years
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I had such a good day! However I am also 98% anxiety
#I got work done on my thesis which is excellent but I didn’t get enough done which is terrible#and my laptop is broke.n. lol#but I had a rly good day I had dinner w friends outside and we talked and laughed for ages and then watched Jesus Christ superstar#and I played fetch w atlas and we went on a nice walk#it was a rly goood day buT ALSO GOD FUCK CHRIST I have so much work to do and I should have been doing it more#I worked on my bibliography that’s basically it tho AND CHRIST I sent myself documents I need but I don’t have any of my sources bc they’re#all still on my laptop so I have. none of my notes. which means I couldn’t work on that part even if I WANTED to#AHHghahghhAhhgggGgghhhh#deadlines are so soon and after that it’s just more deadlines and. soooo many things to turn in in sooooooooo little time I gotta write like#7 essays between now and may 8th and that’s not even counting finishing my thesis#aaaaaahahhhhh aahhhhhhhhbaahhh aahahhhhhhhhhh#aahhhhhhh#but also I did do work today so good !! just. I can’t even feel pride bc it wasn’t enough work#HNGAGGHHHH#also I don’t want to bother person who I want to talk to and I don’t want my mother to bother him but also waaaah I want to talk to himmmm#so baddd#aahhhhh#especially cause. idk I just watched Jesus Christ superstar and I first saw that play w him and asked him the stupidest questions and now 4#almost EXACTLY four years later (off by two weeks or so) I’m the one answering those exact questions posed by my friends#and it’s like. woah#like. ah#anyways. Jesus Christ superstar is the best musical and also horrible but also SO good man I love it so much. the 70s movie is bad !#and yet I had a great time
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soaps-mohawk · 1 month
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry
Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting
A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.
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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 
You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 
You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...
He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 
You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 
“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 
“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 
He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 
He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 
“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 
You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 
He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 
“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 
“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 
“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 
You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.
“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 
You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 
“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 
He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 
He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 
You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 
“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”
He has a point. 
You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 
You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 
He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 
Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 
“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”
“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 
He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”
He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 
“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 
“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”
Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 
The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 
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“You look tired.”
“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 
“How is that going?”
“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”
“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.
You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”
“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 
He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 
“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 
You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 
“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.
You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 
Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 
“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 
Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 
You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 
“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 
You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 
“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 
You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 
“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”
You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.
“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 
You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 
Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 
You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 
“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 
“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 
“Exercises?” You ask warily. 
“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 
Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 
You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 
How easily he could take everything from you. 
“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.
You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 
You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 
“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 
You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 
“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 
Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 
You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 
“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 
You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 
Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 
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“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 
The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 
“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 
You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 
“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 
His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.
“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 
Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 
You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 
Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 
You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 
“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 
You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 
You wonder if he feels responsible. 
You hope he does. 
Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 
Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 
“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 
Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 
You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 
“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 
Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 
 “I don’t know.” 
The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 
“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 
You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 
“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 
Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 
You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 
Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 
“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 
“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 
You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 
“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 
A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 
“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.
“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 
“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 
You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 
He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 
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“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 
You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 
“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 
“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 
You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 
“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 
You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 
Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 
“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 
“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 
“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 
You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 
“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 
“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 
He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 
“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 
“From the institute?” He asks. 
You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 
“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 
“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.
“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 
“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 
“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”
“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 
“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 
You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 
“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 
“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 
Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 
“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 
“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 
You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 
“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 
He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 
Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 
He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 
“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 
You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 
“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 
You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 
“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 
“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 
An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 
Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 
You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 
You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 
It must be exhausting. 
“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 
“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.
He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 
You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 
“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 
“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 
“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 
You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 
It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 
You don't want to think about the things they've done. 
Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 
They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 
You know nothing about them. 
You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?
“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 
You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 
It’s only been two weeks. 
You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 
Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 
It had been expected of you. 
Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 
You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 
You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 
“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 
You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 
You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”
His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 
The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 
Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 
You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 
He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 
You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 
You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 
“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 
“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 
You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 
He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 
“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 
He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 
“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 
“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 
You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 
“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 
“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 
The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 
“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 
“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 
You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 
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You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 
Just past one a.m. 
You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 
You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 
You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 
“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 
“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 
“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 
He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 
Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 
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steddieas-shegoes · 17 days
Text
for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*
Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.
And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.
And a few of them were also hot.
But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!
He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.
“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”
Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.
The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.
Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.
Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.
Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.
But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.
So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.
Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.
He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.
He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.
“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.
A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.
“What?” He hissed out.
“Do you understand this?”
“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”
Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.
“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.
Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.
“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”
“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.
“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”
Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.
“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”
Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.
“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.
“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”
“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”
Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”
“So you aren’t a natural at French?”
Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”
“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.
“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.
Eddie kinda liked that.
“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”
Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.
“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”
Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.
By Steve Harrington.
“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”
Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.
“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”
Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.
Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required
When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.
Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.
Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.
Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉
Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.
Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.
And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.
He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.
Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months
Text
unexpected consequences
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words: 700
warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, condoms breaking, pregnancy/breeding talk, unprotected p in v sex, established relationship, mention of marriage
“oh fuck, yeah.” you moan out, fingers gripping rafes shoulders. “right-right there.”
your moans are extra loud today, having been apart from rafe for nearly a week after he had business out of the country. rafe is just as pent up as you, thrusting harshly into your cunt to the chorus of his grunts.
“close.” rafe warns, but you could tell anyways by the swelling of his cock that he wouldn’t last long.
“oh my god, yes.” you moan out, back arching off the bed as your release pushes through your body, cumming with a final shout of your boyfriends name.
rafe drops his head into your neck as he cums inside of you, pushing as deeply as he can as your cunt pulses around him. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press soft kisses to his head while rafe pants through his orgasm, until you shift slightly and feel it inside of you.
“rafe, pull out.” you shove at his shoulder, causing him to look up in concern, but he slips his softening cock out.
“what is it baby?” rafe asks. you look down at the condom he always wears, where theres always a bit of white cum gathered at the tip, but this time it looks practically empty, like he just rolled it on.
“rafe.” you hit his shoulder, causing him to flinch and look down.
“wha-” rafe suddenly realizes the issue, rolling himself off the bed as he walks into the bathroom, no doubt to inspect the condom and tell you what you already know is true.
“it broke.” rafe says when he comes out a moment later.
“i know.” you admit, shifting your hips from side to side again. “i can tell.”
“im so sorry baby.” rafe says with a sigh, laying on the bed next to you but not pulling you into his arms, not sure if you want to be touched.
“its okay.” you hum softly, mind still reeling. “you didn’t know.”
“what are we gonna do?” rafe asks, knowing you’re not on birth control due to affecting other medication you’re on.
“well, i can take a plan b in the morning…” you say quietly. 
“or.” rafe encourages you to continue, able to tell that you aren’t finished.
“or we could wait and see. i mean i probably won’t get pregnant just from one time, right?” you shrug.
“what about if it does take? and you’re pregnant?” rafe asks, looking at your tummy.
as if you’re thinking the same thing, you lay your hand over your stomach, knowing that even if you are pregnant there is nothing in there yet, but the thought alone has you rubbing gently over your skin. “i don’t know.” you admit.
“i want to keep it.” rafe blurts out. “if-if you are pregnant.” rafe can’t take not touching you any longer, pulling you close to him and tangling your limbs together.
“are you sure?” you raise your eyebrows. you think rafe would be an amazing father, knowing how protective he is of you, and how he strives every day to take even better care of you. “we are so young.”
“i love you. i want to be with you, i want a family with you. why not start now?” rafe questions. he won’t admit it to you yet, but he’s been thinking about taking the next step, having even gone ring shopping to see his options. “besides-” rafe smiles, “why are you trying to talk me out of it? you’ve always wanted kids.”
you grin back at him. “i know.” you let a giggle free, feeling giddy about the possibility. you’ve always wanted to become a mom, especially because you have so many younger siblings. “so, are we doing this?”
“yes.” rafe says definitively, pulling you in for a kiss, a comforting one that you truly need.
“oh my god, im so excited.” you break the kiss to mumble against his lips.
rafe nods in agreement, lowering a hand between your bodies to touch your stomach. “probably too early to start talking to your tummy, huh?” 
“definitely. i mean, we don’t even know if i’m pregnant, it may take a couple tries…” you trail off, hoping rafe gets your intention.
“well, i will just have to keep cumming inside you.” rafe shrugs. “in fact, we shouldn’t take any chances and i should fill you up again right now.”
rafes hand lowers from your stomach to your thigh as he grabs your flesh and pulls your leg over his hip, spreading your thighs for him as your cunt rubs up against his quickly hardening cock.
“rafe!” you shout with a laugh, but don’t stop him as he begins to grind his cock into your core.
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onlyswan · 3 months
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summary: in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know.
idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / wc: 7.9k
playlist: strange by celeste / sinking by clairo / manta rays by chloe moriondo / ceilings by beabadoobee / iris (cover) by phoebe bridgers & maggie rogers
content/warnings: [deep breath] no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle / it’s their first winter as a couple / oc’s ex bf slaps oc / jk beats up the ex / blood and bruises / crying :( / mention of cheating (not in our main’s rs we don’t tolerate that in this household :]) / mention of s*x / jimin as both their older brother and friend :(
in which masterlist!
note: greeting 2024 with angst woopsie… i literally ugly sobbed writing a particular scene T_T… anwww i hope it’s a good read <3 as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i’d love to hear your thoughtsss 🥺
the word VICTORY flashes across the screen.
with a proud smirk adorning his lips, jungkook pushes down his headphones to hang around his neck.
he rises from his seat, resting his crossed arms over the partition dividing the computer that you’re renting from his.
“hi, baby. are you almost done?”
he chuckles to himself when he realizes that you didn’t hear him, not with the music blasting from your headphones. you direct your attention upwards when endless song by no reply is abruptly put on pause; the cushions of the headphones are pressed up against your cheek by your boyfriend’s doing.
“what?”
“hi, baby. are you almost done?”
“oh, yes…” your focus returns to the screen, fast fingers dancing along the keyboard without an ounce of hesitation weighing on them. “i just… need to… send the file to my email.”
jungkook blinks at the long rows of words you’re masterfully curating, thinking to himself — how the hell do you think and type that fast at the same time?
it was his suggestion to stay at a pc bang tonight so you could be together while you each do your own thing. he spent his half of his day-off playing games, and during that time, you worked on your research paper and finished an essay that isn’t even due for another week. you took a break every hour, munched on some snacks, and cheered him on while he was diligently playing. perhaps he could’ve done something more productive today, but it couldn’t have made him happier.
he holds out the last slice of gimbap in between chopsticks, lightly poking your lips, and his heart flutters when you offer him a sweet smile after welcoming the big bite with some difficulty, cheeks full and nose scrunched.
“is there anything else you want to eat?”
you shake your head, and unable to speak while chewing, you gesture for water as if you’re playing charades.
a kiss is granted to your forehead.
when he comes back with a bottled water, all your tabs have been closed and you’re wearing your white beret again, re-organizing your belongings in your backpack.
“ready to leave?” he inquires as he hands your order.
you hum as a reply, standing from your seat as you swing the backpack over your head to wear it with little to no effort.
jungkook thinks you’re so cool.
you visit the restroom as he settles the bill. when you come out, he’s already pulling out a credit card from his wallet. you decide to head straight for the door then, wait for him outside as the air inside the room has started to feel a little too stuffy after you stepped away from the computer.
you’ve always thought about it— how time stands still when you experience something traumatic, how that moment feels stretched for eternity… how utterly barbaric that is. you’re forced to memorize frames of the origin of your scars, relive it over and over again, eyes closed and open. moments of happiness, on the other hand, are fleeting. they are sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. getting out of bed is scooping them in your hands and praying that they will hold on to you in the following rotations and revolutions of the earth. they never do.
there he stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as horrified as you.
his face is the last thing you want to see on a winter night.
because you still recall the amalgamation of emotions in his eyes two winters ago. his skin was flushed from the cold, but he turned redder with anger and your stomach coiled in shame.
“juwon?”
the name felt odd in your mouth. it’s like when you eat a food you haven’t had in a long time, and it doesn’t quite taste like you remember it.
and to be honest, you didn’t know what you expected to happen when he carried on to climb the remaining steps that led to you. but it definitely wasn’t… this.
the first hand to carress your bare body, as if it was in disbelief of its existence, and the rings you used to blindly adore— they collide with your cheek with a sound that resonates in your eardrums.
the slap thins out into a ringing noise.
“are you insane?!”
it continues to assault your hearing even as you scream and hit him back.
it ends when someone bumps against your shoulder in a haste, and the next thing you register is juwon lying on the ground with jungkook sitting on top him, balled fist throwing unforgiving punches at your ex-boyfriend’s face. juwon is held hostage by the shock and is unable to reciprocate jungkook’s aggression. he attempts to fight back but your boyfriend dodges easily.
“jungkook! stop, stop, stop!”
you run down the stairs with panic thundering in your chest, nearly in tears as you forcefully grasp at the back of jungkook’s coat to pull him away, but with his strength and the adrenaline flowing through his veins, your efforts prove to be fruitless.
“you fucking bastard! i’m gonna kill you!”
“that’s enough-” you cry out. “please!”
“how dare you lay a hand on my girlfriend like that, huh?!”
he is furious, gripping the collar of juwon’s sweater and slamming him to the ground.
“your girl?” coughing, juwon faces the side to spit out the blood in his mouth, which then shapes into an arrogant smirk. “didn’t you know? ____ was mine first. i was the first!”
the next punch he receives cuts his lower lip open, and a stronger metallic taste assaults his tongue.
“jungkook!”
before jungkook could inflinct more permanent damage, you resort to holding back his arm with both of your hands.
your gazes connect, and your heart drops to your stomach. he is seething with anger. your blood runs cold and a thick haze clouds your thinking. you can’t move your limbs. what do you do? what do you do? what do you do?
“____, let go. i’m not fucking finished with him.”
“please,” you beg, ignorant of the tears that have begun to slide down your cheeks. “that’s enough. look at him!”
“and why should i care?” he spits out as he shrugs you off.
“ah, jungkook! i said that’s enough! why won’t you listen to me?!”
your desperate tantrum falls on deaf ears. you squeeze your eyes shut when he re-assumes his stance, tucks his thumb over his folded fingers, exactly what he taught you about making a proper fist to avoid injuring one’s self when boxing.
“stop it! you’re scaring me!”
that throws a bucket of ice over jungkook’s head. the anger in his eyes is replaced by vacancy, and with that, juwon seizes the opportunity to finally strike him with a jab and escape from underneath him. jungkook finds himself pushed aside on the ground with a throbbing cheek, mostly likely to be noticeably bruised in the next hours.
“love-” you gasp, and you rush over to him but your path gets rudely obstructed by your ex.
“is this the guy you cheated on me with?”
he is extremely near that you can feel him panting on your face. two years later, your stomach coils in disgust. your glare is venomous, and if only looks could kill, if only looks could kill…
“just leave, won’t you? what’s the point of all this?” you roughly push him away with your remaining shred of energy, driven by exhaustion and frustration. “it was so long ago! get a fucking grip!”
he huffs in disbelief as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. it also drips from his nose and eyebrow. strange enough, you do not feel guilt nor compassion for this man. not anymore.
“are you seriously crying just because he got punched one time…? isn’t that a little unfair? you loved me too. once.” he snickers, but he is visibly pissed off. he can no longer look at you in the eye. “shit, is he that much of a better fuck than me?”
your skin crawls. bile creeps up your throat. technically speaking, this is the consequence of your own actions, but you can’t help but to be resentful.
“you are…” your voice trembles, but your glare remains unwavering. “still as despicable and shallow as ever… and i don’t regret what i did.”
and it may have been a long time ago, but you still know how to hit him where it hurts the most— his ego.
you purposely bump against his shoulder as you make your way to jungkook, leaving him speechless as he stares at the ground. the night the two of you broke up, you were crying and begging him for forgiveness… what the fuck happened?
“let’s go home.” you demand quietly while refusing to meet jungkook’s stare— a mix of confusion, offense, and rage.
but the thing about juwon? he always needs to have the last word.
“you better keep a close eye. you might think you know ____, but whores never change. especially those who became one so young.”
“dude, how are you still speaking?!”
it’s too late when you realize that jungkook has left your side. he swings at juwon’s face with a force that sends the man stumbling backwards. he completely loses balance then collapses on the ground with a curse that almost misses your ears.
“don’t ever go near ____ again! don’t even think of it! if you show your face to me again, i might really end up fucking killing you. you hear me?!”
jungkook doesn’t recall a time when he felt a rage this intense and consuming. witnessing you get slapped, his vision went dark and he was shaking with fury. everything was a blur after that, but he knew one thing: this man violated the most precious person to him, and he won’t allow him to get away with that unscathed.
and that must be why he feels restless until now. neither one of you has dared to utter a word for the past couple of minutes. he can’t see your face as you’re walking ahead of him, leading the way with his wrist in your cold hand. however, he can hear your sniffles, and he can see you wiping your tears dry with the back of your hand. he thought he has experienced heartbreak, but this pain cuts deeper than anything he has ever felt.
“baby, let’s go back.”
he breaks the silence, standing infront of you to stop you on your tracks. he almost reeks of desperation as he intertwines your fingers together.
“please? there should be a cctv camera infront. we can sue him.”
“are you even hearing yourself? you’ll also get into trouble!”
his insistence only fuels the urge to cry and scream and break things. it’s an understatement to say that you’re ashamed. it was foolish of you, really, to assume that leaving the past behind would be as easy as forgetting. it may be out of sight but it is everywhere, and it sneaks up on you without tell and mercy.
“you attacked him out of nowhere! he can sue you for that too!”
“out of nowhere?” he repeats your words slowly, hurt flashing across his face. “i was protecting you, ____! who knows what else he could’ve done? and the shit he was talking about you? was i just supposed to stand there and do nothing?”
“and i’m protecting you too! why did you even have to punch him again?! he was obviously just trying to provoke you! god, i-” you release the air in your lungs you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “thank god he didn’t see your face.”
that struck a nerve for some reason. he harshly rips off the mask that has been concealing half of his face all along.
“he hit you! look- fuck, you’re bleeding-”
oh, his rings must’ve grazed you.
jungkook brings out a clean white handkerchief from the backpocket of his pants, pressing it softly against your cheek. the sharp sting forces you to grit your teeth. it’s not only the wound… your skin is still warm and tender from the assault. you’re terrified to look at the mirror. you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself.
“and that’s what you’re really worried about right now?”
“okay, then i’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend and his career! i’m sorry, okay?!“
he dies a little inside when you harshly push his hand aside.
so this is what it feels like to be at the other end of your anger… shitty. it feels really shitty. after what happened, there is no sadness or fear. the twinkle in your eyes have been replaced with sharp daggers and it is gutwrenching to watch. it clicks for him then: you weren’t scared of him. you were scared for him.
he doesn’t allow you to go further than ten feet away. he seizes your arm before sneaking his hand on your waist to tug you closer to his body.
“you think i’m letting you out of my sight again? it’s not happening!”
you click your tongue in exasperation, left with no choice but to admit defeat as he hails the approaching taxi. you cover your face to hide from the blinding headlights.
ever the gentleman, jungkook opens the door for you.
“get in, ____.”
and the first thought that enters your mind: the air freshener is nauseating. it has to be something mixed with lemon.
you roll the window down as your boyfriend dictates the address of your destination to the taxi driver. not yours, but his. you send him an unimpressed scowl, but he only looks back at you challengingly under the warm dim light. the soft cloth is placed over your wound again, rudely snatched as you turn away from him. you hold it on your own as you watch the world outside the window, streetlamps with blurry light streaks and homes you will never set foot into. in the midst of your musing, you register the weight on your head, or its lack thereof. your beret landed on the ground in the aftermath of the first strike. what is there left to lose?
you thought you could be happy at last, but beside you is another soul you’ve stained with your bloody hands.
juwon was right, you never change.
“i still don’t think it’s right that i know the password.” you whisper as you push the door open.
“but i have a key to your house. what’s the difference?”
“i don’t know…” you begin removing your boots, carefully placing each one in the middle level of the shoe rack. “you live with six other people.”
“namjoon-hyung and yoongi-hyung are in their studios. the others went home.”
you enter the living room with jungkook hugging you from behind. his cheek rests on top of your shoulder, and he doesn’t want to let you go. the ride here was suffocating. he thought you wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night anymore.
you blink at jimin who is sprawled out on the sofa, a gray blanket that matches his sweatpants is covering his naked torso.
“why does he sleep here? doesn’t he have a bed?”
“the sofa is more comfortable.” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear as he opens his eyes halfway, but then he gives up and closes them again, curling in on himself to resume his slumber.
“okay… now i know what to get you for your birthday.”
for a brief second jungkook assumes that you’re joking, but you sounded way too nonchalant.
“a sofa?”
“a new mattress,” you blankly stare back at him, before proceeding to break free from his embrace to search for the bathroom.
he follows you like a lost puppy, whining. “why does he already have a birthday gift and i don’t?!”
“quiet!”
he winces. “sorry, hyung!”
you’re perched in the space between jungkook’s thighs, legs swung over one of them as he tenderly presses a cold compress against your left cheek. you’ve changed into the pair of pink cooky pajamas he wore a few times and has kept in his closet specially for you. sinking into his mattress, drowsiness has also begun to seep into the depths of your bones. it’s been an arduous week, and you’re exhausted of fighting in every sense of the word.
“he deserves more than what he got away with.” he mutters through gritted teeth.
“jungkook, enough.” you chide at him with a sigh. “let’s just forget about this.”
“your face is going to be bruised for atleast a week! how am i supposed to ‘just forget’? are you hearing yourself?”
your rhetoric question from earlier comes back to gnaw at your thread-like sanity. you feel backed into a corner. you can’t think of a solution that will put this issue at rest, much less make either one of you feel better.
“he’s not worth it.”
“you are to me.” he declares.
it’s impossible to argue with that. you want it to stay true. you want him to keep believing in you.
“i’m tired.” you whisper, removing yourself from his lap. “let’s go to sleep.”
he gazes at you with longing.
you are lying on his bed but you have never felt so far away.
“are we really not going to talk about this?”
“not now. i’m tired, jungkook.”
“baby…”
“juwon is a terrible person, but i had it coming…” you mumble. “that’s all there is to it.”
foreboding silence falls upon the bedroom. you can’t bring yourself to look at jungkook, so you close your eyes and pray that when the sun rises, this night will simply turn out to be a nightmare orchestrated by your wicked mind.
“whatever that is, it doesn’t warrant what he did.” he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart into a thousand shards. “and i’m sorry that i couldn’t stop it from happening.”
jungkook returns after his shower, not yet done with drying his dripping hair with a towel. you’ve drifted off to sleep in the time that he was gone, lips slightly parted open as you breathe out puffs of air in a steady rhythm. your hair is a halo and you’re an angel snoozing on a cloud.
he heard it loud and clear, and you haven’t denied it either, but there’s not a part of him that believes it. is he blindly in love with you? is this what he was warning him about? are you not an angel, but a siren?
wary of waking you up, he attaches a bandaid to your cheek. he flicks the lightswitch but he turns on the night lamp so you won’t have to manuever the dark incase you wake up in the middle of the night in need of the bathroom.
shit, shit, shit. he curses in his head when you begin shuffling as soon as he settles himself on the bed, but it’s just you unknowingly seeking for warmth in your sleep. he gathers you in his arms and your pillow is abandoned in favor of his naked chest. it always feels fitting, like his heart is the stuffed toy that you can’t go without at night.
he swallows the lump in his throat, brushing your hair away from your face to gently caress your soft skin. you look so serene. but your ex’s fingers can be traced on the red bruise that has tainted your cheek and his jaw clenches, hand momentarily balling into a fist to release the leftover anger still boiling in his blood. everyday, you feel the need to act tough because of people like him, and you are… but deep down, he knows, that you just crave to be loved.
“you loved me too. once.”
however, that has lost its meaning when juwon didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.
and jungkook admits it’s not as easy for him to do in a whole different dimension. he leads a kind of life not everyone survives, but that never stopped him for trying his damn hardest.
you’re awoken in the middle of the night by jungkook’s forehead accidentally knocking against yours. his snoring doesn’t cease, however, and you had to remind yourself that this is the same boy who continued sleeping despite rolling off his inflated sleeping bag on camera.
you slowly sit up as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you spend an unknown amount of time spaced out, barely blinking. afterwards, you force yourself to leave the comfort of the bed, taking the cold compress along with you. you drain the melted ice over the kitchen sink before opening the refrigerator to refill it with ice cubes. you can’t help but to allow your eyes to wander around, which then leads you to contemplate on whether to cook ramen or not… but then again, it’s already 3am and most likely, you won’t be able to sleep again if you do.
“yah! why are doing just standing there?”
the deep voice echoes throughout the kitchen. you yelp in shock, nearly dropping the ice bag as you tap on your pounding chest.
“i told you to stop doing that!”
jimin bursts into a fit of too delighted giggles, hunched over the kitchen counter as he places a hand over his belly. he’s fully clothed this time, fresh from the shower, judging from his hair.
“it’s not funny!” you whine. “one of these days i might be holding a knife when you do that!”
“ey, what would you be holding a knife for? jungkook never lets you lift a finger while you’re here.”
that’s just because he knows you’re not very talented in the kitchen.
the wide smile on his face then fades, expression morphing into one of concern as he studies your face bathed by the refrigerator light.
“what happened to your face?”
fuck, you’ve completely forgotten about that.
“it’s a long story.” you sigh, closing the refrigerator.
“it’s alright. i have all the time in the world to listen.”
“you know that i really appreciate that and i’m grateful but…” your smile borders on a wince. “no, you don’t. get some more sleep, please.”
your unexpected response causes jimin to scratch his head shyly. the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the same time.
“oh, that’s right!” you pause on your tracks when an essential item pops in your mind. “do you have healing ointment? for cuts and bruises and stuff?”
“it’s for jungkook,” you add.
“doesn’t he have that?”
“it’s not here,”
your sweet smile tells jimin everything he needs to know.
“ah, that kid really comes home to different houses now. he’s all grown up.”
“…and how many exactly?” you arch an eyebrow.
he purses his lips together, jokingly pretending to think hard. “the dorm… and then his family… then there’s you?”
“anywhere else?”
“nope!”
“sooo, do you have it or not?”
“i’ll go downstairs and buy it right now.”
he offers you a kind smile and pats on the head. a protest dies down in your throat as he goes straight for the front door.
“thank you!”
“you’re welcome!”
despite your active efforts to avoid making any sort of noise, the door produces a small ‘click’ as you cautiously close it behind you. you discover that jungkook has flipped over to face your side, his arm outstretched as if he was reaching out for you. you almost feel bad for leaving him alone in bed, so you sit next to him, positioned on the lower half of the bed since he took up your space.
a short snore escapes him, one that rises then falls so abruptly, like a note on the piano pressed on accident. you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle.
how adorable. you have grown to tolerate, and even adore, his snoring.
stolen kisses on his bruised knuckles, tiny and featherlight, apologetic most of all. their bad condition brought upon by boxing worsened when he used his dominant hand bare, knuckles of his two longest fingers ripped. it seems that he did the bare minimum by putting a stop to the bleeding then washing them clean, then nothing else. he didn’t even tell you, didn’t complain or show any sign that he was in pain.
you hold the cold compress over his bruises, switching between his cheek and knuckles, mindful of not touching the wounds as to not aggravate him in his sleep.
you’ve been stripped down bare— your pride and dignity dismantled into pieces that create a picture of you that you do not like… but could be the love and sincerity in your heart be enough to live by? even if no one is awake to witness it?
you’re saved from drowning in your thoughts by the front door being unlocked. for the second time, you tiptoe your way out of jungkook’s bedroom.
“this is for wounds, and then…” jimin returns the tube inside the paper bag to grab the other. “this one, for bruises.”
“thank you. i’ll pay you back.”
“yah!” jimin expands his eyes threateningly, which you mimic in challenge as you hug the paper bag to your chest. “i’m also your older brother, okay? i should do these things for you.”
you scrunch your nose, to express disagreement at first, but later on it only makes your smile appear brighter.
“doesn’t it hurt you to smile? please use them well too, ____. do you understand? that’s why i bought the biggest ones!”
it does hurt.
“thank you…” you reply shyly.
you’ve forgotten how it feels like to be taken care of by family.
“baby, where did you go?”
jungkook’s raspy voice is music to your ears.
he woke up a mere minute ago, caught in the middle of sitting up on the bed once it caught up to his sleep-muddled brain that you’re no longer beside him.
“nowhere,”
you sit at the edge of the bed without another word, putting his hands over your lap to apply the healing cream to his afflictions.
his eyelids flutter in sleepiness as he watches your every movement.
a small dollop at the pad of your finger, transferred over his torn knuckle and smeared with the lightest of touch. occasionally your finger pauses, unsure, calculating— the last thing it wants is to hurt him.
he kisses your lips— he feels suspended in time—hasn’t quite reconnected with reality and with his body. wide-eyed, you seem taken aback by the display of affection. his mouth then softly curves with fondness.
“i love you.”
“i love you, too.” you whisper timidly.
your actions have become hurried, but jungkook is far too drowsy to notice your discomfort.
for the final part, you rub the cream on the bruise on his cheek. you press a kiss on the corner of his lips. “all done. go back to sleep.”
“let’s go,”
he hooks his arm under your knees, eager to carry you over to your side of the bed, but he gets interrupted by your protest.
“wait, wait, wait- i need to pee first.”
“wha- hurry!” he complains with a peeved frown, which you fail to catch a glimpse of because he has squeezed you taut against his body. “i won’t be able to sleep without you here.”
eternally cursed with the ability to feel too much of everything.
you push your back against the bathroom door, breathing heavy and labored as you blindly pat around for its lock. the click serves as the cue for your salty tears to drip from the edges of your eyelashes, cascading down, down, down your chin. some of them crash on the collar of your pajama top, the rest on the white tiled floor. this room is a stranger to your shipwreck, but old habits die hard.
the intense pressure of the water collides with the porcelain sink. rain and thunder and the gusts of wind being your gasps for air. an isolated storm undetected in the city of seoul you’re forced to brave alone, on the floor, tucked into yourself to protect the beating sacredness inside your ribcage. the sobs claw their way up your throat rather than soaring like exhales do.
no one has ever raised their hand at you. not even your parents. not even when you broke your grandmother’s precious china, or lost their big paper bills to the wind, or cursed at them for embarrassing you infront of your friends.
you want to be mad and say that juwon deserved what he got. you want to say that you hope his nose is broken. but you don’t know how one is supposed to react when something like that happens. you don’t know if it justifies everything after that. if the roles were reversed and you slapped him, won’t no one bat an eye?
…and you know jungkook has questions you still haven’t figured out how to answer. you know he now has reasons to doubt you. you know in his eyes, you may now be a hypocrite and not the advocate he adored. these days, you don’t really want to be seen as anything less or more than who you are, but you so desperately wish to be someone he is proud to love.
you feel mocked for even daring to dream of it.
“i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.”
incoherent mumbles further stirs the unbridled chaos.
“i’m so sick of this. why… why do bad things keep happening to me?”
you don’t expect an answer but you yearn for some sort of meaning. you don’t mind suffering but you wish it could only be to an extent where you don’t have to fear.
echoes of rumbles and thunder. you’re nearer the sky but farther from heaven.
it’s been more than a week. you’ve been waking up with a gaping hole in the middle of your torso. you climb out of bed, cover up your cheek with make-up, good as new, and go about your day as if nothing happened. life on its own is already too much of a burden for you.
jungkook checks up on you everyday, though, despite his busy schedule. mostly through the phone, and whenever he can, he goes straight to where you are after work to dote on you no matter the time. he kisses you on the cheek, claims himself to have healing properties, and says i love you. and during those periods of time you were together, he hasn’t said another word about the incident. and it has been driving you absolutely insane.
you glance down at him, sat on the floor with an ipad balanced on top of his propped up knees, wearing one of your anti-radiation glasses as he finds himself absorbed in drawing the view a foot away from him. you.
“why do you keep looking at me?” he scolds you lightheartedly. “go back to studying so we can go to sleep.”
“can’t help it,” you mumble as you reposition your pen over the paper. you’ve been reorganizing your notes the whole night for your upcoming tests, but your mind keeps flying everywhere else. “my boyfriend’s too pretty.”
“ah, it can’t be helped then. sorry about that.” he smirks cockily, pulling the dramatics by switching his eyes between you and his back. “should… should i turn around then?”
“did you box again?”
the accusation is spat out before you can think twice.
“oh, you did. your knuckles are all messed up again.”
he pouts, crossing his legs. “but baby, i have to train... i wrapped my hands properly!”
“still,” you sigh. “can’t you just let them heal for a little while?”
you turn to the cabinet on your other side to bring out the pouch of healing ointments you’re now suspecting he brought and didn’t accidentally leave behind.
you lay out your hand, and jungkook puts his on top of yours, dragging himself close.
you both smile when you see that he has laid his hands over your thighs like he’s getting a manicure. silly boy. you pull them closer by his fingers so you can reach his red knuckles.
“why are you trying so hard?”
your finger is stained with his blood. your voice is as gentle as your touches, and that’s why it hurts.
jungkook doesn’t know either. he’s been trying to extinguish his leftover anger and bitterness through work and boxing— suppressing the onslaught of negative thoughts threatening to poison what the two of you have. jungkook doesn’t want to know. he doesn’t want anything to change. right now, he can’t afford them to.
“there’s no one to fight.”
“turns out there is,” he argues.
he regrets it as soon as your hand trembles.
“it’s okay… to ask. we’re in a relationship. you’re entitled to know things like that.” your eyes are unafraid again, and it scares him, like you’re always prepared to let him go. “i won’t get offended, or anything like that. if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“i trust you,” he says simply. “so i don’t need to know. especially if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. it’s okay… we’re okay, baby.”
stillness washes over the room like a tide that swallows everything up, and for a moment jungkook is convinced that the two of you will never bring it up again.
but the words you utter next are a punch to the gut.
they almost sound like a plead.
“but i can’t live my life that way, jungkook.”
strands of your hair descend to your face, framing it perfectly, but your eyes become hidden from view. you rip a bandaid open and blanket it over his two knuckles, still wounded as before, if not worse.
“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know…” because there will be things i’d want to tell you, but wouldn’t feel the need to.
“then tell me,” he replies, prompted by a renewed determination. “i don’t just intend to be with you for a long time. i want way more than that.”
jungkook fiddles with the hello kitty bandaid using his thumb, mind reeling and grappling to process the overload of information told by your storytelling voice. all of a sudden, he’s grateful that you decided to lie down on the bed for this conversation.
“juwon was your boyfriend before me, no?”
“no, no, no. he was…” your lips part as if you have something more left to say, but you eventually give up. “yup, no.”
“so you found out that he’s been cheating on you for-for two mo-”
“three-”
“three months, and you…” he blinks. “slept with a stranger and let him catch you?”
“i was really petty. i was seventeen after all… my pride couldn’t take it. my friends- they tried to stop me but… but all i could think of was how to make him feel the way i was feeling.” your voice sounds small, smaller as you squeeze yourself into his side and curl up to hide your face. “so i let him think i was the bad guy.”
he understands that you were vengeful, but he doesn’t know if you comprehend the scale of what you have done.
“he looked so sad and hurt that i started to feel guilty. i don’t know if i was still acting when i was apologizing to him.” you scoff with eyebrows knitted together. “i felt so dirty… i still feel like a bad person, you know?”
you took the face of juwon’s demons and he didn’t like what he saw.
“i had it coming,” — he now has a grasp of what you meant before.
“so how has he been doing this to me for such a long time? how does he stomach it? knowing what i was going through? that’s what i thought… it makes me so upset…”
jungkook doesn’t try to assess you as you speak. he only listens, until your voice cracks. his heart is split into two as tears flood your eyes, escaping past the corners and slipping down to soak the fabric of his t-shirt.
you sniffle. “and the sex wasn’t even that great. i regret it even more.”
he flinches, abruptly squeezing his eyes shut. not that great? okay… okay. the mental image of you being physically intimate with someone that isn’t him definitely doesn’t sicken him to his core. at all. nope, nope, nope.
“fuck, baby, please,” he groans as if he is in pain, putting an arm over his eyes. “hearing about you have sex with other guys is making me want to punch something again. fuck.”
“that’s what you took away from the story?”
“yes!” he exclaims with conviction. “we should’ve met a year earlier. i would’ve let you use me!”
you gasp, scandalized. “oh my god! jungkook!”
“argh-” he animatedly clutches at his chest that caught your fist.
“you’re crazy!”
“uhuh, about you.” he proudly replies, pulling you closer to his side, as if that was still possible.
the subtle upwards of the corners of your lips gives him a sense of relief. he tenderly cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the bruise that has turned a darker shade of blue and purple.
“listen to me, i- i’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. i’m not that type of person. but what i can do tell you is that this…” he briefly shakes his head. “didn’t change the way i see you at all. he hurt you. he cheated and you were hurt, ____.”
your eyes gleam with uncertainty, a fresh wave of tears threatening to escape. “are you sure?”
“of course i am. why wouldn’t i be sure?”
“because you’re crazy about me.”
the sweet innocence of your eyelashes fluttering elicits a chuckle from him. you’re so fucking cute.
“that’s the reason i’m sure.” he tilts up your chin to plant a kiss to your lips, mumbling. “i’ve never been wrong about anything i’m crazy about.”
“thank you,” you say quietly, melting into his embrace. you nuzzle your face against his chest, and at last, you grant your eyes rest. “i can finally sleep peacefully again.”
fuck, it’s been weighing on you this whole time and he didn’t know.
“i’m sorry i only dated assholes before you.”
“aish, why would you be sorry about such a thing?” he kisses the top of your head, gentleness contradicting his following sentence. “i’d crush each one of those assholes for you.”
and he’d beat himself up the worst if he ever becomes one of them.
you yawn, sniffling right after. “mhm, i bet you will.”
he carefully rolls over to the side so he can wrap both arms around you, and you keen in contentment.
“jungkook?”
“yes, baby?” he coos.
“i… really… love you so, so, so much. you are… the one person i’d die for before i hurt.”
goddammit, it’s an angel sleeping in his arms.
“that’s a relief to hear. you’re very smart and scary when you’re mad.”
“eh, jungkook! i swear i’ve grown up! i’m not like that anymore!”
“okay, okay!” he laughs at your childish whining and squirming as he ushers you back in his embrace. “i believe you! i trust you! i love you too!”
although you spend more nights together in your apartment for your safety and convenience, in all honesty, you like staying over at jungkook’s more. his smell evokes the sentiment of home, and when you stay long enough, it becomes a temporary part of you. you’re gradually more well-versed in the organized and unorganized corners of his room. you like that you know where he keeps the safety pins and you know to be careful when walking so you won’t trip over his dumbbells he leaves lying around. and it’s a little ridiculous but… you like that his mattress is on the floor and you don’t really know why.
your boyfriend is still blissfully asleep as you climb over him, landing on the floor without a sound like a veteran spy. however, you rush to step out of the room before the rumbling of your empty stomach could wake him up.
“yah, thief! what do you think you’re doing?!”
“fuck!” the pack of ramen hits the floor when your hands fly to your chest to clutch at your painfully pounding heart. “i swear to god, you’re going to kill me one day!”
and unsurprisingly, your chagrin is countered yet again with jimin’s all too pleased laughter.
“____, you look so suspicious! why are you using a flashlight? we have electricity! we can pay for it!”
“i don’t like it too bright, okay?” you grumble as you pick up your supposed midnight meal.
“let’s just turn on this one then.”
“uh-” the objection dies down in your throat when the light over the dining table was switched on.
“i’m hungry, too. grab two more packs of ramyeon, please.”
“who’s the other one for?”
jimin fills the pot with water from the sink while you pick up two more of the same pack from the pantry.
“just us. don’t you agree that one pack is too small for one person?”
“it’s just enough for me though?” you rip open the packs one by one to retrieve the packets of seasonings. “with your job, though, i’d definitely have a bigger appetite.”
“alright,” he pouts, pretending to be upset. “let’s have just two then.”
“no, no, no-” you chase his hand, tightly gripping the last pack that he stole. “let’s have three! let’s have three! i didn’t eat dinner!”
“my mom brought a lot of kimchi yesterday. there’s an entire box in the fridge. i’ll pack you some before you leave later.”
“put some more in,” you say cutely as you peer down at the pot of ramen beside jimin. “please?”
he chuckles, adhering to your request before handing the container to you.
“thank you!”
you hop on the counter infront of the stove, chewing on a mouthful of kimchi with a joy akin to a child receiving a sweet treat. leaving the ramen to cook for the next five minutes, jimin sits a few feet away.
“aigoo, are you that hungry?”
“this is so delicious!” you praise his mother’s cooking instead of answering the question. “i can really eat this on its own.”
“ey, don’t fill yourself up yet! we have a lot of ramyeon to eat!”
“sorry, sorry!”
your giggles fill the apartment with warmth during this freezing winter. jimin didn’t doubt it when jungkook said that you light up every room you enter, he just didn’t expect that he would also gain a friend.
“how’s your cheek?”
“as you can see,” you motion at your face. “yellow. soooo… uglier.”
“that means it’s healing well.”
“i know,” the apples of your cheek become plump as your lips curve. “it no longer hurts to smile.”
“that’s a relief to hear,” he returns your kind smile. “jungkook has been worried about you.”
that’s the end of what he can tell you. jungkook won’t be pleased if you learn that he cried when he talked about the horrible thing that happened to you.
“thank you,”
“huh? for what?”
“being jungkook’s happiness.”
from his peripheral vision, he perceives your surprise. however, he is too flustered to meet your eyes while he is speaking from the bottom of his heart.
“the past year was physically and mentally draining for the team. as you know, we… we were considering giving up and disbanding. and of course it’s hard on all of us, but i’m really, really worried about jungkook. but!”
he chuckles at the dramatic rise of his own voice.
“i’m less worried now that you’re in his life. and i’m not saying this to put pressure on you or anything! but you see, when he’s tired, he bounces back quickly because of you. he’s smiling more because of you. and i know it goes it also goes the other way around. mhmm… i-i guess what i’m saying is that i hope you can continue being each other’s strength? be each other’s cheerleader?”
you have begun to feel emotional as you listened to his sincere and heartwarming words, but you can’t help but to cackle at the fact that you just witnessed the park jimin say the word ‘cheerleader’ while daintily waving his hands around as they were holding pompoms. how awfully endearing.
“…or something like that.”
uncontrollable giggles vibrate his body, dramatically slipping down the counter and onto the tiled floor to enshroud himself in extreme sheepishness.
“ah, ____! this is driving me crazy! don’t laugh!”
“what are you doing lying on the floor?” you playfully scold him, recording with your phone in secret. “why do i suddenly feel like the older one?”
“what’s with the noise?”
you whip your head around, wide curious eyes greeted with a shirtless jungkook who is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“is that ramyeon…? i want some too.”
jimin groans when he feels your foot poke him lightly.
“mister, can we add more? my googie is hungry too.”
“hyung, ____ told me something recently that really put a lot of things into perspective.”
and with that, jimin pours another bottle of beer in his and jungkook’s ice-filled mugs. “let me hear it.”
“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know. at first i didn’t understand what it meant? then after we talked, something clicked for me. ahhh, i see it now. ____ didn’t want us to trust each other blindly… because that… that isn’t a good… foundation? for something that i want to last for a very long time. you, me, the members… don’t we all trust each other because we know that we’re good people to our core and we’re good at what we do? isn’t that why we have come this far, and why we keep going? besides army, of course!”
jimin blinks lazily, glossy eyes from the alcohol underneath it all. “that’s right. we wouldn’t have started this anyway… without that kind of trust. i don’t think it’s a connection you can just build with anyone too.”
“oh, that’s it. that’s right!”
“living together for a long time doesn’t guarantee it.”
“exactly.” jungkook nods repeatedly, probably too passionately, a guaranteed ticket for a hangover later on. “we talked about that last time too.”
“right? so we should protect it… maintain it… never lose sight of our purpose…”
the lack of words that follow does not equate to silence. glasses clink against each other and teeth rip bags of chips open and noodles are slurped. they’re overseas and they can’t go to a korean restaurant and grill their own meat. the hotel steak would take forever to arrive and quite frankly, they had it yesterday and it was not good. this is not exactly ideal, but it has its own charm.
jungkook takes another swig of the bittersweet alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.
“____ has become an important part of my life that i would do anything to protect too. how do i say it…?” he exhales to relieve the heavy weight on his chest. “i feel like i gained more purpose in life, hyung… to be honest, i might have a harder time because of that. i know it but… i’m happy. seriously, i’m happy.”
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avis-writeshq · 4 months
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05 — enchanted
summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST
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Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make. 
O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases. 
“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.
You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”
JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”
“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”
Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”
You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”
The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 
“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.
Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”
JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”
“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”
“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice. 
“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum. 
Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”
“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”
JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”
“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone. 
“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”
Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”
“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”
You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”
“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”
Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm. 
“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”
Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”
You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”
The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.
You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–
“Trouble in paradise?” 
An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”
The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.
“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.
You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”
Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”
*** 
After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions. 
“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.
She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”
“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”
Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”
“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”
“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”
“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”
Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”
Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”
“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”
Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.
“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you. 
“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”
“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).
You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”
Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”
“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”
Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”
“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”
“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”
Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”
“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”
You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”
“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”
You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”
“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”
You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”
Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”
“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”
“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”
You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and  you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.
Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.
“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”
You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.
“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”
“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back. 
“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”
“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”
He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”
“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”
Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”
“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”
“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”
Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”
*** 
It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.
You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground. 
‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’
The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity. 
The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes. 
The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?
It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer. 
“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”
“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”
You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”
He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”
“Always.”
He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up. 
The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing. 
“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”
You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”
“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”
A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”
Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”
“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”
He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby. 
“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”
“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”
Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”
You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”
He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”
“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat. 
He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”
What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought. 
“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch. 
He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”
“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”
“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling. 
“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”
He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”
“Oh.”
You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.
Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”
“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here. 
He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”
“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down. 
“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”
You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin. 
“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”
You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.
“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs. 
“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”
The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain. 
He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?
“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.
He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”
Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”
“Uh huh,” you respond, your head  spinning. “Bye.”
“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”
“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”
“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”
A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”
“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”
“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”
He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”
“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”
“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”
Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.
*** 
It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring. 
“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”
“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful. 
“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”
“Yes.”
“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.
You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”
“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”
“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.
“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”
Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line. 
She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”
You hang up. 
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just-jordie-things · 4 months
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the subject of every photo - fushiguro megumi
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word count: 5,555 (i'm so proud of that) warnings: swearin' summary: a photoshoot at the pumpkin patch isn't his ideal day, but at least megumi gets to spend time with you. and maybe he'll take a few pictures anyway. (a/n): really delayed pumpkin themed fic with the softest boy but i needed to write this ok a greater power called upon me to do it
___
“It’ll be fun!” Nobara had claimed, although her tone was more threatening than bubbly.  “It’s just a little photoshoot at a pumpkin patch, why so gloomy about it?” 
And it wasn’t that Megumi was gloomy about it, because he wasn’t.  It would be immature to pout about a simple hangout among friends.  The thing was… he just didn’t care for the whole pumpkin patch thing that really seemed to take off on instagram and tiktok these last few years.
He hadn’t carved a pumpkin since he was just a tot, and even then he’d only done it to satisfy Gojo’s bonkers need to participate in every holiday tradition.  He never particularly liked scooping the guts and seeds out, and as a kid wasn’t decent enough with a blade to carve a face that actually looked interesting.  Not to mention, it was always chilly in late October, making it insufferable to wander around outside solely to pick out a big orange vegetable.  
Really, if he wanted a pumpkin that bad, he would’ve picked out a discount one from the grocery store.  But really, he didn’t want a pumpkin.
Nonetheless, Nobara had bought four disposable cameras— which he didn’t know were even still a thing— told everyone to wear their cutest, coziest outfit, and pretty much demanded they all go spend the afternoon at one of the more popular farms in town.  As with most plans, Megumi begrudgingly agreed.
Even under three layers— his coat, his sweater, and the long sleeved tee he wore underneath them both— the crisp air still pricked at his skin and left goosebumps in it’s wake.  It was hard to enjoy being out here when he was fighting the urge to shiver.
“It’s pretty cold for this, huh?” 
Megumi wipes away the resting bitch face he’d been making, opting instead for as much neutrality as he could muster.  He turns to (y/n), only to find her peering up at him from behind her little plastic camera.  His brows wrinkle.
“Don’t take a picture of me at that angle” 
He puts his hand over the lens and pushes it away before she could even think about snapping the photo, and she chuckles a bit at his boyish antics.  He almost cracks a smile when she’s peeking up at him with her cheeks tinged pink from the cold.  He squashes it before his lip could curl too far.
“Well what side do you prefer then?” She teases, shifting around to stand before him and raising her shitty little camera again.  “Full portrait? Or perhaps a side profile?”
Megumi rolls his eyes, but when he starts to walk away, she’s quick to follow.  He doesn’t dislike her company.
Nobara is off farther in the field, ordering Yuuji to pick up as many pumpkins as he can for the perfect picture.  It was only a matter of time before she came over and started barking at the two of them to make the perfect poses as well.
“So why do you hate pumpkin patches?” (y/n) breaks their silence, but when he turns to her again, she’s fixing her camera on a sparrow pecking away at a less than ripe pumpkin.
“I don’t hate pumpkin patches,” He replies, but even he has to admit the dryness in his voice makes it seem a bit unbelievable.  “It’s just…” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but he’s quick to straighten his gaze when he finds her full attention on him now.  “Cold” He finishes, lamely, but it’s not untrue.
He fiddles with the plastic camera in his hands.
“Yeah,” (y/n) agrees from beside him.  “Would’ve been nice to do this a few weeks ago, when it was still sunny” 
Megumi nods back at her, unsure of what else to say.
He hoped that they weren’t doomed to only speak about the weather today.  However that meant he’d probably have to put the effort in to change the subject.  His palms began to sweat.
It was their day off, so he didn’t want to strike up a conversation about work, and preferably he’d like to avoid the subject of sorcery altogether.  So that narrowed down the options by a lot.
He knew that like him, she liked to read.  But she was more into the fantasy stuff, and the only book off the top of his head he could make conversation about was The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe and he was fairly certain that wasn’t currently on her shelf.
Was it always this hard or was he just overthinking it? 
“Wait, stay right there!” 
Before he can suck it up and ask how her most recent assignment went, (y/n’s) throwing her arms up at him to make him freeze in place.  Megumi startles at the sudden movement and holler, but he listens and stays put while she backs up a few steps.
“The sun is peeking out,” She explains, before steadying her camera in front of her face.  “The lighting is great” She says with a grin, and then without warning, she snaps the photo.
Megumi wants to complain, he didn’t even have time to smile or pose or anything.  When that picture got printed, he’d just be a guy standing there, probably with a resting bitch face.  Nobara wouldn’t be happy.
But (y/n’s) still grinning as she lowers the camera.
“Too bad we gotta wait so long to see ‘em,” She says as she heads back towards him.  “It’d be nice to—” 
“Stop moving” 
He’s more blunt than she is, already lifting his camera and peeking through the small lens.  (y/n) gets the hint and retraces her steps to fit properly in the frame.
“Better?” She asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically before posing with a bright smile.
Megumi snaps the photo without warning, although he’s sure that this one will turn out much better than the one she’d taken of him.  For one, she’s smiling, but he’s also certain that she’s much more photogenic than he is.
She’s at his side again as they wander around the patch, fiddling to fit the camera into the pocket of her coat.  It takes him a few minutes to find his courage again, but eventually Megumi clears his throat and tries to spark conversation.
“Gojo used to take a million pictures of me and Tsumiki” 
That seems to be exactly the right thing to say, because (y/n’s) entire demeanor lights up as she looks up at him with wide eyes.
“Really?” She laughs softly at the mental picture.  “Did he keep, like, photo albums and stuff?” 
“Oh yeah,” Megumi snorted, recalling the rows of photo books on the living room bookshelf when he was young.  “Dozens, at least.  It was like he couldn’t commit a thing to memory, always had to document everything” 
When he was young, it was obnoxious to always have a camera shoved in his face.  Now though, he wonders if the crazy bastard still had those albums.
“That’s sweet,” (y/n) muses, wandering off a bit to check out a display of gourds, all varying in shapes and colors.  “I bet there’s tons of embarrassing ones of you, too” She teases. 
Megumi doesn’t give her an answer, instead silently watching as she picks up a large green vegetable with a curly top.  She holds the long end in her hand, before turning to face Megumi with the plump end out, holding it like it was a very deformed gun.
He rolls his eyes at the joke, but just as she looks away, he snaps a photo.
(y/n) seems to not even notice, setting the gourd back on the display and turning back to Megumi to continue their conversation.
“Was he a scrapbook mom?”
He chuckles, and he wants to deny it, but he can’t.  Even if he tried he thinks she’d see through it with how he smiles with all of his teeth.  She’s laughing before he even explains.
“He made one scrapbook, ever,” He tells her.  “And you have to swear to never tell them this,” He adds quickly.  (y/n) doesn’t have to ask to know who he means, and she simply drags her thumb and forefinger over her lips as if to zip them up.  “It took him weeks.  I think the kitchen table was covered in all of his crafts for a solid month” 
“You’re kidding!” She laughs louder, loving the image of her mentor hunched over a table while he glued down photos and ribbon to pretty sheets of paper.
“I wish I was.  I think it’s why he only ever made one,” Megumi shrugged.  “But it’s… a lot.  Every sheet was three dimensional.  The spine of the scrapbook was stretched so wide the thing couldn’t even sit flat” 
He knows that all of the pictures in that book would be embarrassing now.  Gojo liked to document every first— first day of school, first science project, first A+, along with more ridiculous milestones, like when Megumi chopped all of his hair off in the fifth grade and looked ridiculous.  If he remembered correctly, Gojo glued that hair in the book too, as if it were his baby hairs.  That scrapbook really should be burned, but a part of him wishes he could show her now, just to prove how messy it really is.
“I’d do anything to get my hands on it,” (y/n) sighed, almost as if she could read his mind.  “My parents did some stuff like that, but they certainly weren’t obsessive” 
“Obsession is all he knows” Megumi mumbles, and he doesn’t mean to be funny, but she laughs, and it makes his chest feel warm.
“I still think it’s sweet,” She assures him, and then she stops in their slow and aimless walk, kneeling down to tie the shoelaces on her boot.  Megumi waits beside her.  He cared much more for her company than he did seeing the pumpkin patch.  “He probably just wanted to save lots of memories of you guys when you were little.  All parents say it goes by fast” 
She goes to tie the other boot, and Megumi can only stand there in soft surprise.  Sure, deep down he always considered Gojo his parent, because he simply just was.  But no one else referred to their relationship that way, the others always called him teacher or mentor.  But (y/n) must’ve understood that it was more than that.
He’s pulling his camera out again and stealing another quick picture while she was still focused on her shoes.
When she stands, he’s got the camera tucked back into his pocket and an innocent look on his face.
“Want to take a picture over there?” She asks, pointing to the tower of hay bales set up mostly for photos.  Originally it was for children to climb and play on, but it’s purpose was far more often served as a posing station.
Megumi simply nods, and follows her as she races over the tower.  It shouldn’t have surprised him when she started climbing the thing right away.  Surely Nobara had been over here earlier, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and the other on the stack of hay, but not (y/n), who was almost to the top.
“You’re not gonna fall, right?” Megumi asks unsurely as she’s grabbing at the highest bale.
“I’m a trained athlete!” She shrieks back, clearly offended.
“I’m more worried about you destroying the play area” Megumi retorted, his lip curling upwards against his will.  He can’t help but take a picture before she’s settled.  Her hair’s a mess and her limbs are everywhere as she tries to steady herself on the wobbling tower, but it’s a perfect picture nonetheless.
“This is great!” She shouts back at him, before stretching her hands above her head.  “Take my photo like this!” 
It’s silly, it’s childish, but Megumi’s laughing to himself as he snaps a couple.
Somehow she manages to climb down without toppling the entire thing, and they quickly make their way across the pumpkin patch before an employee could scold them for being grown adults playing on the children’s setup.
Megumi finds it easier to talk with her the longer they walk around, aimlessly eyeing pumpkins without committing to picking any out, taking photos here and there, but mostly they just wander around and talk.  Yuji and Nobara seem so wrapped up in the full on photoshoot they were having with each other that it could seem like they’d completely forgotten the other pair, but Megumi didn’t mind one bit.
Hang outs never turned out like this.  Nobara tended to cling to (y/n) like a lifeline.  She was always dragging her off to the next boutique on the strip or game in the arcade or exhibit at the museum— wherever they went, it seemed as soon as Megumi would get a minute of alone time with her, Nobara would steal her away.  It was deflating, but he couldn’t be mad, they were best friends after all.
Today was like a gloomy day miracle.  He almost felt spoiled having the last half hour with her all to himself.  All of her laughter and smiles were only for him.  It warmed up his chilled hands until soon, even the breeze wouldn’t make him shiver.
(y/n) didn’t appear to have the same effect, shaking like a leaf every time the wind picked up.  She always shrank into the collar of her coat and shoved her hands into her pockets, and after a few times, Megumi couldn’t stand to see her freezing.
“Let’s go inside for a bit,” He nodded his head towards the small shop.  (y/n) pouted back at him, before glancing around the pumpkin patch, clearly looking for their friends.  “They won’t be upset that we went inside because we’re cold,” Megumi chuckles to himself, before gently pushing his hand against the small of her back so that he’d follow her.  “I’ll text Itadori” He adds for good measure.
After a moment of hesitation she agreed and walked along with him, but just slow enough that he left his hand on her lower back.  Just because it was nice to be so close to him.
Stepping into the shop was an instant rush of fresh warm air, and she finally felt like she could stretch her fingers.  There was a small bakery inside with only a couple of tables, but without anyone else inside it was perfectly quaint to warm up in.
“I’m going to order a hot chocolate, do you want anything?”
The offer was sweet, but she’s already making her way to the counter, set on a mission as soon as the alluring smell of apples and cinnamon wafted past her nose.
“I could go for a coffee” Megumi hummed as he followed.
He’s ordering for the both of them as soon as a clerk arrives behind the counter, two drinks along with the enormous bear claw in the glass case that (y/n) hadn’t torn her eyes away from since stepping up to the counter.  She tries to fight him when he pulls out his wallet but he’s faster at tapping his card to the reader than she is at hitting him.
Even once they sit down with their drinks and the pastry that takes up most of the table space between them, she argues with him about the payment, and all he can do is shake his head— and maybe smile to himself just a little bit.  After realizing arguing is futile, she decides that as long as he eats some of the bear claw, she can forgive him.
And they continue to chat, about dumb things, about nothing, about everything.  Megumi learns all about the book series that she is reading, along with her plans for getting promoted faster, and that her dream pet is a sugar glider.
“That’s ridiculous,” He mumbles through a mouthful of almond paste and cinnamon.  “When would you ever have the time to take care of something like that?”
“That’s why it’s a dream pet, dummy,” (y/n) rolls her eyes at him.  “Doesn’t have to be realistic.  Don’t you have a dream pet?” 
“I kinda already have a lot of pets” 
“Oh, right,” She laughs to herself, and he thinks he can see a hint of a blush dusting over her cheeks.  Was she embarrassed? He wasn’t sure exactly.  But it was really cute.  “Well if there’s ever a sugar glider shikigami, please summon it for me” She tells him in all seriousness, and Megumi bites his tongue as he agrees to the condition immediately.
He pulls out his camera for the tenth time that day and rests his elbows on the table as he brings it to his face.  (y/n’s) eyes widen before she’s covering half her face with one hand.
“Are you taking a picture of me right now?” She hisses anxiously, before shaking her head at him.
“Duh” He mutters out as he tilts forward and back, trying to find just the right angle of lighting.
“I’m eating—” 
“So? Not like you have food on your face.  Hush.  Go back to eating or something” 
“I am not letting you take a picture of me while I eat” 
“Alright then just sit there then” 
She’s grabbing her paper cup of hot cocoa to use as a shield, but it’s too late.  Megumi clicks the button and she can hear the soft whirring coming from inside the camera.
The lens cuts to black and Megumi pulls the camera away, eyeing the little roll of numbers next to the lens.
“I’m out already,” He says, tossing it onto the table.  “Guess I win” 
(y/n) laughs to herself.
“I didn’t know this was a competition,” She takes a sip of her warm beverage before setting it back down.  “But I can’t believe you finished before me”
“How many do you have left?” 
Curiously, (y/n) pulls the camera out of her pocket and eyes the tape with the amount of film left.  She frowns as she looks back up at him.
“Just one,” She answers, and her frown tilts into a small, soft smile before she asks, “Do you want to take one together?” 
___
Greedily, Nobara snatches the stack of freshly printed photos out of Megumi’s hands.  (y/n) and Yuji are too busy sharing theirs with each other, and Nobara had been dying to know what photos Megumi and (y/n) had taken on their last outing.  By the time the group had met up and gone home, their cameras were already full, and she knew she hadn’t been the subject of a single one of them.
“I swear Fushiguro if these are all dumb pictures of pumpkins, I’ll—” 
But her threat falls short after sliding through the first three pictures.
The first was (y/n) on the path, just standing and smiling.  It wasn’t special, there wasn’t even a pumpkin in the background, but it was cute.
The second was a picture of her crouched down and tying her shoe.  Her face wasn’t even in the picture, her hair was hanging in front of it, but if you squinted you could barely make out the tip of her nose.
Then the third was another candid, where she was pretending to hold a gourd like a gun.
“What the—?” 
Nobara flips through to the next one in the stack, and yet again there’s a candid of her climbing up the side of a hay bale tower.  At least that one captured her smile.  She shouldn’t have been surprised to see the fifth one in the stack was also of (y/n), this time sitting on top of the haystack victoriously
“You’ve got to be kidding me, dude” 
“Okay give them back—!” Megumi tries to grab the stack of pictures from Nobara before she could keep being nosey, but she deflects fast, swiveling to turn away from him and keep skipping through the photos.
He shouldn’t have let her get her hands on them to begin with, but it was too late now.  If he caused too big of a scene, Yuji and (y/n) would notice.  He didn’t exactly want all of his pictures on display.
So Nobara kept flipping.
One was of her lifting up the tiniest of pumpkins— definitely the runt of the whole patch.  It fit in the palm of her hand but she seemed delighted by it.
The next few were just of her walking around, nothing too exciting in the frame.  Just the occasional pumpkin in the background.
There was a decent one taken from inside the shop.  (y/n) was still in the frame but her back was turned as she eyed the glass case of sweets.  Nobara could almost let Megumi off the hook for that one.  Almost.
And then the last photo was of her laughing, the blurry image of a paper cup waving in the space beside her face.  Her eyes are on the camera, so she must’ve known he was taking that picture, but judging by the surprise in her expression, it was easy to conclude she was trying to hide behind that cup.
Once she’d ogled every picture, Nobara finally turned back to Megumi.  Her brows twitched and furrowed, lips parted in shock, not a single word spoken as she handed the stack back to him.  It’s practically shoved towards him, but he doesn’t complain, just snatches them back as fast as he can.
He wants to find a way to quickly and discreetly ask her to keep this to herself, but before he can find the words, she’s gawking at him again.
“Every single one?” Nobara asks in a mutter.
“We hung out the whole time, okay? It's not like—” Megumi tries to defend himself, but it’s no use.  Nobara’s already speaking over him again.
“It’s almost pathetic, dude.  Just ask her out like a normal person” 
His brows almost raise to his hairline in shock.  Here he thought she was about to call him out for being a creep or something.  But no, her disgust only lied in his pathetic pining and lack of action.  Maybe he should have assumed that already.
He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Nobara’s marching over to Yuji and demanding to see his photos as well.  Megumi’s left reeling from the whole interaction, the humiliation still lingering in his gut.
The feeling remains as (y/n) makes her way to him, her own fresh stack of photos in her hands.  There’s a nervous sort of smile on her face as she glances back at Yuji and Nobara, double checking that they were out of earshot.
“They took that pretty seriously, huh?” Her voice was still low, careful not to draw the attention of their rambunctious friends.  “Yuji takes great photos, don’t get me wrong.  But I think she should pay him for his time” 
There’s some relief in his chest when he cracks a smile, a small laugh coming out.  He could only imagine the quality of Nobara and Yuji’s photos, certainly prepped for instagram.
“I bet she still puts filters over all of them” He mutters back, and (y/n) stifles a giggle behind her hand, but nods her head in agreement.
“Can we leave now or what?” Nobara calls out, already dragging Yuji by the arm to leave the store.  “I want to get boba before home” 
“Boba sounds good,” (y/n) agrees softly.  “Let’s go” 
As the red head continued to drag her friend despite him arguing that he was an adult who could walk by himself, she turned and aggressively whispered something to him.  After her obvious threatening, she glances back at (y/n) and Megumi, which Yuji promptly follows her pointed glance.  Suddenly after that he was upright and speed walking along with her.
(y/n) and Megumi share a baffled look as their friends so blatantly ditch them, but they don’t exactly pick up the pace to follow.
“So, did you get good photos?” Megumi asks, tucking his own away in his pocket.  Foolishly, he hoped if they were out of sight she wouldn’t ask him about them.
“Oh,” (y/n) chuckles nervously, holding her stack of pictures in both hands.  She tilts them towards herself so he can’t see, and Megumi raises a brow at the secrecy.  “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually” She says sheepishly.
Her cheeks flood with color, and Megumi can’t help the curious grin that begins to stretch across his face.
“Embarrassing?” He repeats, sounding horrifically hopeful.  (y/n) sighs, and sticks her arm out, handing him the stack.  He’s quick to take them and start flipping through, eyeing her anxious demeanor in his peripheral vision.
“Yuji’s probably going to tell you anyway.  But… they’re sort of all..” 
His steps slow further after quickly sliding through the bunch of pictures.
The first was at the entrance of the pumpkin patch, with the cute sign with the family name painted on it, and just under it was him.  He wasn’t paying attention, and quite frankly he looked rather bored standing there.  She must’ve taken it while he was still pouting about having to go.
The next photo was of the sparrow poking at the rotted pumpkin, and he had to admit the way she captured it actually was sort of cute.
The third was the photo Megumi dreaded seeing.  He recognized it as soon as he saw himself standing on the thin path of dirt.  He grimaced as he looked closer to see just how bad it was.  But to his surprise, he wasn’t scowling like he thought he’d been.  He was actually smiling.  
Which was odd… he certainly didn’t remember smiling for that picture.  He clearly remembered being upset because he hadn’t tried to look nice for her picture at all.
He glances at (y/n) to gauge her reaction so far, but she was holding her expression at a neutral state, waiting for him to react first.
So Megumi goes back to the photos, and flips to the next one.  Which was… also him.  It wasn’t anything special, just him standing there, but he was smiling a little bit in that one, too.
When the following is also a candid of him with that dumb little smile, he glances over at (y/n) again, raising a brow at her in silent question.
She’s a tough one to crack, but the corner of her lips gives her away as she tries to bite back a smile.  His own smile is unable to be hidden as he flips through a few more photos.
And to his shock and delight, they’re all him.  Him while he was picking up that big pumpkin she dared him to, him while he was drinking his coffee and not paying attention, him just standing and doing nothing in particular, but for whatever reason, she’d used up all her film on capturing it.  
His favorite is the one of the both of them.  She’d given him the camera so he could stretch his arm out and snap the photo selfie style.  They’re sitting at the small table, two paper cups and the enormous bear claw between them, but pushed aside as (y/n) leans across the tabletop in order to better center herself.  She’s grinning from ear to ear, her chin set in one hand while the other holds up a peace sign.  Megumi’s smile isn’t as wide but nevertheless it’s genuine, and anyone looking at the picture would know.  It’s a great picture of the two of them, and he thinks it’s probably the first, too. 
Megumi hadn’t realized he’d gone through the whole stack till he flips to the next one and is met with the first photo, but once he does, (y/n’s) quick to reach out and take them back.  She doesn’t snatch them as aggressively as Nobara had, she handles them gently, careful not to leave an ugly smudge or crease.
Megumi watches with eager intrigue as she tucks the edges together neatly, making the stack smooth in her hands.
“Sorry if that’s creepy— is that creepy?” She turns to him suddenly, full of worry that she’d crossed a line, but Megumi just chuckles, and shakes his head at her.
“Not creepy” He muses, his soft smile remaining as he dips his hand into his pocket, retrieving his own small collection of photos.
He stares at them for an indecisive minute, clenching and unclenching his jaw, working up the courage to make the smallest of gestures.  When he does hold them out to her, he still doesn’t say a thing.  His throat is too dry and hot to even try.  He thinks it would be worse if his voice cracked right now.
(y/n) smiles as she tucks her pictures away in her purse with great care so that she could better look through the pictures he’d taken.  His face flushes with color when she finally takes them from him.  Even the small brush of the tips of her fingers against his has Megumi’s breath catching in his throat.
And he holds his breath as she eagerly slides through the stack of photos.  His throat is far too constricted now to show any sign of life.  He very well could pass out at any moment.  He just hopes she’d leave him there in a heap on the ground.
The relief of the exhale doesn’t come until she begins to giggle.  It’s soft at first, almost under her breath as she continues admiring his photos, but then it erupts into something brilliant and bubbly, as if it was coming out of her uncontrollably.  As lovely as the reaction was, it didn’t do much to ease Megumi’s nerves.  They began to sink their teeth into his heart and gut, and he knew that any minute now, his knees would give out.
When her laughter calms down and she finally looks up at him, the surprise is evident on his features when he sees her colored cheeks and nervous smile.  She hands the stack back to him, and Megumi’s quick to tuck them into his pocket, where maybe he they’d disappear forever, or at least just from the front of their minds.
“That’s pretty cute, huh?” She asks, an aftershock of quiet laughter shaking her shoulders and crinkling the corners of her eyes.  This time, Megumi can’t help the way he laughs with her, but he does duck his head bashfully.
(y/n) thinks it’s all the more cuter, how he resorts to his nervous habit of rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but directly at her.  She wonders if he even knows he’s doing it.  With a surge of confidence, she rocks on her feet.
“Wanna ditch our friends and get lunch or something?” 
He shrugs and nods, thinking anything would be better sustenance than the too-sugary drinks that Nobara had an addiction to.  But the implication of the question dawns on him too late, and suddenly his eyes are widening as he realizes what she really meant.
“You mean— like, a date?” 
It’s so damn cute the way his brows furrow and then raise ever so slightly, waiting without a single ounce of patience for her clarification.  (y/n’s) giggling again as she nods her head, putting him out of his misery.
“Yeah, like a date,” She repeats teasingly.
Megumi nods his head again, this time faster, as if there was a time limit to her offer and he was worried he’d already wasted too much of it.  Her smile brightens and there’s a small but noticeable skip in her step as they head off in a new direction together.
“Now maybe it won’t be so creepy when our friends see those pictures” She says, and Megumi can’t decipher if she’s messing with him or not.  The look he gives her barely hides his panic.
“They’re gonna see them?”
“What do you think they’re talking about right now?” (y/n) retorts, knowing for a fact that Yuji and Nobara were gossiping away about the pair’s photos that consisted only of each other.  
The thought makes Megumi’s face feel hot, and there’s no discretion in the way he tugs at his collar.  The idea makes him nervous, his stomach flipping excessively.  That said, he knew with the amount of gossip those two chatterboxes would generate, there was plenty of time to add a date to today’s agenda.
“They probably won’t even notice we’re gone”
(y/n) nods in agreement.
“They’ll be grateful to have the time for girl talk,” She teases.
With purpose, she steps closer to him so she could link her arm around his, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow and shyly smiling up at him.  Megumi returns the smile, his arm hooking a little further to keep her tucked next to him as close as he wanted.  It was another chilly day outside, but he could almost forget about it with the way her closeness sparked warmth in his chest that flooded throughout his whole body.  He hoped he’d get to do this for the rest of their day—
“So… where do we want to go?”
—and more days to come. ___
xoxo ~ jordie
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seiwas · 6 months
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₊˚⊹。this feeling inside of me— | gojo satoru
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wc: 1.5k
summary: you make gojo realize that this twisty-pop!-y feeling in his stomach might just be jealousy. 
contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are used, mild jealousy, mentions of some of the students, lots of stifled laughs and held back grins!, mostly fluff really, gojo just doesn’t understand what he’s feeling! 
a/n: split this into two parts: the first half (this one), lighter and more central to reader’s perspective, while the second half (the next part), darker, and more central to gojo’s perspective. best read after ‘so this is what it means to be in love’ because there are some references made! 
collection masterlist: conversations on love 03. so this is what it means to be in love + (extended scene) too good to be mine <-you are here -> 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace?
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Gojo’s been… hovering lately.
He hangs around you a lot more than usual, following your footsteps around your apartment as if he didn’t just spend the night and stay in bed with you all morning. 
You’d think that’d stop at work, but nope. 
For someone who hates sitting still, Gojo’s spending an awful lot of time doing nothing while watching you rifle through folders and documents you’re meant to type away. He sits by the chair in front of his desk, feet propped up and fingers tapping on the wooden surface enough to push you just to the point of going a little crazy. 
Tap.
You could have sworn you’ve read this line already. 
Tap.
This paragraph feels entirely too familiar at this point. 
Tap—
“Satoru,” you sigh, smile half-annoyed-half-guilty as you switch your attention to the man in front of you, “do you have extra work to finish today?” 
You’re trying to ask kindly, after all, Gojo rarely chooses to sit by the paperwork he’s been assigned to do (even though he doesn’t really do any of it because it’s mostly left to you). 
He stops tapping, moving to rest his cheek on one hand as he flashes you a grin so lovesick you think it’s infectious—the corners of your lips are curling up too. 
“Just working on spending more time with you.” 
Of course he says something like this; the most powerful man in jujutsu society transformed into the ever-charming sweet-talker that being your lover brings. 
You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you chuckle—the look on your face a reflection of his. As annoyed as you are that he’s distracting you, you’re endeared. 
“You didn’t have to come with me, you know.” 
Today is his day-off after all. 
He hums, eyes set on you with cerulean sincerity, “It’s boring without you, though.” 
Strands of white fall to kiss his eyelashes and you reach forward to brush them off—his hair is getting longer now, you note. No doubt he’s going to ask you to accompany him for a haircut soon. 
His nose scrunches under the space your fingers hover over and you draw them back, “Clingy.”
—which he’s always been, but even moreso lately. You don’t know where all of it is coming from, how it’s even possible for him to be clingier than normal, but the past weeks have definitely shown you that he is more than capable. 
Gojo loves grocery runs, but only when he’s able to wander around the breakfast and candy section while you go through the long list of essentials and ingredients that need stocking up on. 
Not last week though. 
Instead of beelining straight towards his usual spot, he stayed right where you were, pushing the cart whenever you needed him to and reaching up on the top shelf for things you’d normally have to ask some other kind sir to get to. He stays close to you, body draping over yours as you line up for the checkout queue—long limbs, long torso, long everything engulfing you.
It’s endearing, and cute, and oh so Satoru, but the days after that find him following you everywhere—picking you up after pottery with Megumi (as if you can’t make it back home alone), insisting on doing a taste test on cooking lessons with Inumaki, and even joining you on that afternoon yoga class you reserved for (initially) just you and Yuuji. 
You wonder what’s causing this, why he’s acting this way lately.
“Well, I have to be or else Yuuji might really steal you away from me.” he jokes, elbows propped on the table as he rests his chin on clasped hands. 
You know that he isn’t actually threatened by Yuuji—just that he wants more attention from you, some that you give to the pink-haired boy too eagerly and so easily. 
Still, it’s weird whatever he’s feeling right now, a bundle of unrest bubbling in his stomach these days. He isn’t familiar with it, doesn’t really know what to call it, just that he knows when it hits—like knots waiting to pop at any minute.  
You stand up from your seat to make your way to him, glancing at the clock across the room; you suppose there’s no point trying to squeeze in any more work for the last 20 minutes before you’re set to clock out. 
Gojo pats his thigh, as if beckoning you to sit; he manspreads like crazy but you think it makes sense for moments when he wants to hold you like this. 
Once you position yourself on his lap, he snakes an arm around your waist as you sling yours around the back of his neck, landing a soft peck at the tip of his nose. The hand resting on your hip rubs gently. 
“Is that comment still bothering you?” you ask, scratching the short buzzed hair of his undercut. 
You catch his eyes then, sky blue with a troubled sea.
Now that he thinks about it, it probably did start with the videos. 
Gojo Satoru is a man of many accolades: the strongest, a lone child prodigy, the best teacher (self-proclaimed); at some point he was also the world’s saving grace, and you’d think after that he’d decide to lay low for a bit, have a change of pace—but no.
The man you love has also, apparently, become a social media heartthrob after garnering attention for vlogging your dates. For the memories, he had said, but of course, it’s never just that when he’s as pretty–if not prettier–than the models you see on magazines and billboard posters. The video goes viral and suddenly you’re made very aware of just how coveted he is across all generations. 
He feels the first pop! in his stomach when he finds the comment under a 10-minute video of your day out in the park. He blacked out, he’s sure, but some loser said something about how you were so hot and completely out of his league.
As if he doesn’t know that already, but it’s how confident user ManInATux69 typed that you should just leave Gojo and be with him instead. That one stung a bit; maybe even got to his head, and it’s ridiculous because it really is just some faceless person on the internet. 
But maybe that’s really how this feeling started. 
“Of course not,” he pouts, eyes avoiding yours as he looks to the side, brows furrowed.
You stifle a giggle as you wait, biting the insides of your cheek as you stare at him. A mental countdown until—
“Maybe a bit.” he mumbles after a few blinks, pout deepening as he turns to you. He always comes around to tell you the truth, without fail. 
It’s endearing, and cute, and oh so Satoru. Your Satoru.
“You wanna tell me how you’re feeling exactly?” 
If there’s one word Gojo will use to describe you, it will always be lovely. You have always been so gentle, so kind, never pushing, always asking lightly. 
You’ve sat through all his non-answers, so he thinks it’s just right, fair, that he gladly offers up his heart to you, now nestled into the palm of your hands as he lays all these feelings down, bare, intended just for you. 
He takes your free hand and places it right at his center, the space between his chest and abdomen. It’s warm as his hand dwarfs yours, forming it into a fist and twisting it into his skin. 
“Feels like a knot first,” he begins, before jerking your hand slightly as if to emulate a pop!, “then it pops.” 
And you think, that for all he sees and knows, it’s ironic that he can describe a feeling so vividly yet not know what it’s called—what it could possibly mean or be. 
“Do you think you’re jealous, Satoru?” you ask, smiling, fighting back a giggle (again), tone teasing. 
Hm, he thinks, is that what this is? 
Jealousy? 
He stares at you, lips parted slightly as you watch it register to him slowly. 
“Would explain why you’ve been hovering,” you chuckle, stroking small circles with your thumb. 
“I have not been hovering.” he snaps out of it, almost offended. 
You give him a look, eyebrow raised and mouth set in a smirk as if to say: really?
He relents, taking your hand to interlace your fingers with his, “Maybe a little.” 
Kisses are dotted along your knuckles, his eyes closed as if to ground him. You’ve known Gojo for so long that you can tell when he’s still figuring out how to say whatever it is he wants to—and your heart warms at the fact that this side to him is one he only entrusts to you. 
“There’s no competition, you know,” you whisper, the sky opening back to you, “I love you.” 
Your words are weighted, meant for him to hold and keep in the parts of him that doubt what he means to you. And it might sound a bit silly, to be this affected over a comment from some nobody, but you don’t want to leave any room for uncertainty—for your inaction to once again feed into his insecurity. 
He hums, soft vibrations flowing through his lips still pressed against your hand. Red is starting to bloom across his cheeks to his nose, and he mumbles, “Just want to be sure I’m good to you.”
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a/n: the first and second part wouldn’t have fit in tone if i put them in one fic, so i split them! the second part will be a bit darker, more serious, but will discuss more of where the feelings stem from in the first place! 
thank you notes: to niku @stellamancer for listening to me and being there when i seriously needed it writing this!! & to dilly and somi my bbgirls!! @crysugu @soumies for always cheering me on, especially during the slump!! 
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comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
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linopls · 6 months
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kinktober day eight
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breeding hyunjin x fem!reader summary: hyunjin figures out a new kink of yours. warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, degradation, humiliation, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v 1.5k words
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you haven't seen hyunjin in two weeks. neither of your schedules have aligned for fourteen days. you’re going what one would call boyfriend-withdrawal and it was terminal. you both had finally found a day that works, or a night. hyunjin told you he would be outside your apartment at 9:00 PM, it was 11:00PM. 
you’re fighting sleep at this point. you’ve had a coffee, an energy drink, and have turned down your AC to levels that will keep you awake. but you were just about to give up and let sleep overtake you on your couch, when you hear the sound of keys and your door knob moving. you jump off the couch, almost tripping in the process. 
before hyunjin can even enter your apartment, you’ve enveloped him in a kiss. he slides his unoccupied arm around your lower back and pulls you closer. he walks you both back into the room and shuts the front door with his foot without breaking contact. he drops his overnight back at your feet and wraps his now freed arm around your upper back, pulling your chest against his.
his lips are soft, everytime you kiss him that’s the first thing you think. they’re plush and soft and fit against yours like a puzzle piece. the way he kisses is perfect, it's never too sloppy but you can always taste him on your lips for hours after you’ve kissed him. he always knows exactly how to hold you to keep you close and drive you insane. 
you start to slide your hands under his shirt and rub your fingers over his abs when he pulls away.
“baby, i have barely gotten in the door,” he laughs, looking down at you. “what’s up with you today?” 
“i’ve missed you so much.” you grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up and over his head. “so, so, so much,” you say, dragging your nails gently back down his chest.
“don’t start something we both know you can’t finish,” he says sternly. you can tell by the way he talks that there is love behind everything he says and that he’s missed you too, but you decide to play along and see how far you can go and push his buttons.
“i can finish anything i start, hyunjin.”
“go sit on your bed. i’ll be there in a minute.”
his demeanor change sends waves of heat to your core. and as you hurry into your bedroom you catch a glimpse of the tent forming in his shorts. 
you take the extra time hyunjin has given you to light the candles on your night stand and shut the blinds on the window. you adjust the pillows upright and and adjust the comforter and sit with you back against the headboard while you wait for your pretty boyfriend to come back. 
he returns after about five minutes, his shirt still off and his overnight bag in his hand. he places it down on your dresser before stopping to look at you. “come here,” he commands, motioning you with his finger. 
you crawl to the edge of the bed and let your feet hang off the side. “get up,” he says, his tone never shifting, you obey and stand. he turns to face you, places a soft kiss on your lips. “kneel.”
you drop to the floor with enthusiasm, staring face to face with his crotch. you move you hand to palm him through his shorts, but he swats your hand away before you make content. “i didn’t say you could touch me, you’re so desperate.”
you whine. “‘m sorry.”
“show me how sorry you are,” he says, sliding his shorts down his legs revealing his long and dripping cock. 
your mouth waters at the sight and you go to wrap your lips around the tip and he stops you again. “you’re such a little cockslut, aren’t you? hmm? just open your mouth for me.”
it was like you were playing ‘simon says’ the way hyunjin said anything and you compiled, no questions asked. he slowly slides his cock down your throat. its heavy on your tongue and reaches the back of your throat with ease, you gag and he pulls out, doing the same action again until you are used to the feeling.
“only been gone two weeks and i have to retrain you to take me, hmm?” he laughs.
hyunjin pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and whispers a small ‘you ready?’. when you give the go ahead he begins fucking your mouth at an animalistic pace, rutting inside you like he never had before. tears are streaming down your face and your moaning and whining at the feeling of hyunjin using your mouth. 
“fuck, thats it baby,” he grunts between thrusts. “make me feel good.”
your eyes roll to the back of your head and you're humming around him trying to bring him closer to his orgasm,when he stops and pulls out of your mouth.
“strip for me,” he says as he walks over to your bed and sits in the middle, back against the headboards. you do so quickly, knowing what's about to happen next. 
you crawl onto the bed and hover over his cock. “good girl, i didn’t even have to ask,” he praises while putting his hands on your hips.
as you slide down you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. you’ve tried to relieve yourself for two weeks but nothing feels as good as him. you slowly slide yourself up and down his thick cock, admiring the feeling. hyunjin stares at you with admiration and lust.
“will you ride me til i cum, baby?” he doesn’t need to ask, he knows the answer, you’d do anything to please him.
you slowly start to quicken your pace, balancing yourself by gripping his broad shoulders. pleasure hazing your mind at the feeling of his veiny cock sliding against your walls. hyunjin takes his hands and folds them behind his head. you whine at the lost of him touching you.
“you’re fine, baby. you can do the work today, i had a very stressful day,” he says. the way his voice is completely steady during this sends frustration and arousal to your core.
you begin to move faster. you move your hands to his knees in hope that can make you move faster but it doesn’t elicit a reaction from him. you whine again, worried you won’t make him finish yourself.
hyunjin must pick up on your frustration. “you can do it, baby. you can fuck me til i fill up your tight cunt.” 
the thought of him filling you up makes you dizzy. you whimper at the thought and try to ride him faster, moving your hips in circles.
“oh,” hyunjin gasps. “does the idea of me filling you up get you going?”
you whine in response, uncontrollably clenching around his cock. which at this new speed and angle is hitting your cervix directly.
hyunjin smirks. “keep going then, baby. fuck yourself on my cock til i fill you up and keep going so nothing slips out.”
you’re going insane, your mind is full of hyunjin and you want nothing more than to drain him completely. 
“come on, baby. that’s it,” he grunts. “at this rate, you’re gonna get yourself pregnant if you keep going.”
your brain short circuits at the thought and all you're able to do is moan.
hyunjin chuckles. “hm, is that what you want, baby? to be so round and full of me, hm?” he asks, placing his hand on your lower stomach. 
“yes, yes, god yes,” is all you are able to reply with. tears streaming down your face, heart pounding out of your chest, and sweat falling onto the bed below you.
“keep going, i’m gonna fill you up, i’m gonna knock you up so good,” hyunjin is blabbering as his hips grind up to meet yours. he moves his thumb down to your clit and rubs small circles on the sensitive bud. you yelp in pleasure as he finally gives you some assistance. 
“close,” you whine, grinding down desperately on his cock. 
“fuck, fuck!” hyunjin is yelling at that point, humping his throbbing cock up into you. “please cum with me, please cum as i fill you and make you mine. please.”
hyunjin’s cries send you over the edge and you’re cumming all over his cock. your juices slipping all over his lap and your hips buck controllably. before you can even realize it, hyunjin grabs you by the waist and slams you back onto the bed.
“jin! jinnie!” you whine as he continues his brutal attack on your hole. hips spazzing in overstimulation.
“stop squirming slut, take my fucking cum,” he spits. “gonna fill you up til you're swollen and pregnant.”
he thrusts once more before you can fill his cock twitch and his warm seed spilling inside you. he slows down his motions and pulls out. he swiftly replaces his cock with his fingers. he holds your squirming body still with one of his arms over your stomach. 
“i said i didn’t want anything to fall out.”
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hehe
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atomicami · 6 months
Text
quick fix
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contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader
- summary: in which joel and jerry have a constant rivalry with their contracting businesses. as a result, you’ve had to abide by your dad’s rule to stay away from jerry’s daughter, abby. you follow along at first, but when your TV stops working on the day you’re hosting a movie night, you might have to break that rule.
- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are both alive (he’s not a doctor in this), contractor/engineer!abby (women in stem 🔛🔝), reader has a business degree, family and work drama, oral & fingering (r!receiving), squirting, kinda softdom!abby, reader and abby almost getting caught, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything
- author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do an abby fic with this specific pairing for a while now so i hope y’all like it! if this one goes well i might make a second part to it.
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Your father was never the competitive type when it came to his job. Joel’s been known to be a humble person while still taking pride in his hard work. In all fairness, he did spend so many years of his life forming one of the biggest contracting companies in Texas alongside with his brother, and ever since you were a kid, you’ve wanted to take part in it as well. Business was running perfectly for your dad, he felt like everything was going according to plan every single day.
That is…until about four years ago, when a contractor from Washington moves into your neighborhood with his daughter with the intention of expanding his company to a second state. Joel didn’t think of anything at first when this happened. Texas is known to be one of the best states for business, he completely understood the other man’s intentions to come reside over here.
However, things started to go downhill a couple of weeks after the father-daughter pair moved in. You were at work with your dad doing customer calls for him. Things were going good so far until the phone began to ring from your end. You reach over to your desk and pick up the phone, holding it up to your ear.
“Miller Contracting, how can I help you?” You greeted into the phone. “You’d like to speak with Joel?“ Your dad was in the same room as you, working on some blueprints, lifting his head up towards your direction once he had heard his name. You had done the same, motioning for him to come over. “Yeah…Yeah I can put him on with you.” He was now by your side by the time you finished that sentence, taking the phone from your hands and answering it. “Miller Contracting, this is Joel.” he addressed into the phone, turning around so he’s slightly leaning back onto the edge of the desk.
“Mr. Jones! I was just workin’ on the blueprints for the project you wanted—wait, what?”
You remained seated at your desk next to your dad as the conversation kept going, seeing his expression change completely over what the client was telling him. You were even able to hear what the client had said through the receiver of the phone:
“I’m sorry Joel, but we’ve decided to go with Anderson Contracting to work on the project for us…We’ve heard so many good things about Jerry’s work in Seattle, and we really want what’s best for—“
Your dad didn’t even let the man finish his sentence as he immediately hung up the phone. You could tell that he was already fuming after finding out what had just happened. He was totally fine with Jerry settling here with his company, as long as he’d find his own fucking clients to work with instead of stealing his. Joel knew at that moment that in order to prevent himself from losing any more clients, he needed to take action. Ever since that day, he’s had a four year long rivalry with the other contractor, both of them making the attempts to see who can not only get the most clients, but also the best ones to work with.
Fast forward to today, and you’ve graduated from college this year with a degree in business administration, now dedicating yourself full time in helping out with your father’s contracting company. And as you’d expect, Jerry Anderson, the man your dad refers to as his competition remains living across the street from you with his daughter Abigail, who also stuck with the same plan as you after graduating college in terms of helping out her dad with his company as well. But given the bad blood that your dads have with each other, you two had to abide by their rule to not be anywhere near each other.
“Listen to me sweetheart, you stay away from Anderson’s kid, alright? Her daddy can take away as many clients as he wants, but I sure as hell ain’t letting his daughter take you away from me.”
“Abby, I don’t care who you end up with, as long as it’s not with Joel Miller’s daughter. Can you promise me that?”
And so you both did. For four years and counting, you and Abby have made the efforts to stay as far away from each other despite how difficult it may have been for you both.
However, you might have to be the one to break that streak when your living room TV stops working.
“So you’re sayin’ that it just won’t turn on?” Your dad asked you through the phone.
“Yeah…I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” You replied, pressing the on button of the TV remote again. You could see the little red light flashing on the remote, but the TV still wouldn’t budge.
“Did ya try flippin’ the breaker outside?”
“No…everything else in the house is working except the TV…I think something’s just wrong with the outlet that’s it’s plugged into. Do you think you can try to come by for a moment and fix it?”
You heard your dad let out a sigh through the phone. You already knew what he was going to say next.
“M’sorry sweetie, but I’ve been so caught up at work today…been trying to perfect a project for this client lately. N’ I don’t want Anderson to try n’ steal this one from me. I’ll try n’ see if I can stop by real quick durin’ my break, alright?”
“Yeah, I get it…I’ll just…try and wait til you get home. Love you dad.”
You sighed as you hung up the phone, completely helpless. It could’ve been any other day where the TV stops working and you wouldn’t really care about it. But today you were hosting a movie night with your girlfriends. You took the day off from work ahead of time to prepare and had already spent the past hour making a large charcuterie board that was currently taking up space in the fridge. You had been planning this movie night for weeks with your friend group only for it to possibly get canceled.
All because the stupid TV wasn’t working.
You looked back down at your phone, opening the group chat with your friend group to break the news to them. As your fingers hovered over the keyboard, an idea came upon your midst. You turned around to look through the window, eyeing the cream colored house that stood across from yours.
Now, at this very moment you have two options:
You could tell your friends that movie night will be postponed, and wait for your dad to come back from work to fix the TV outlet.
Or…
You could make the attempt to cross the street and ask Abigail Anderson, the girl you’ve been keeping yourself away from for over four years per your dad’s request, to come by and fix the outlet for you.
For some reason, part of you was leaning towards the second option. Except you really didn’t want to break your dad’s promise.
But then again…Abby does have a lot of experience with the actual hands on work in contracting. After all, she did graduate at the top of the class just like you, except with a degree in civil engineering instead. Not to mention she has her contractor’s license just like her dad and yours. Fixing an electrical outlet should be a piece of cake for her.
You hesitate for a moment, pacing around your living room as you try and gather the courage to leave the house and cross the street. This task shouldn’t take long…it’s just a quick fix, right?
Walking over to the front door, you take a deep breath and step outside, making sure to lock your door in case anything happens before crossing the street. Once you approach the driveway of her house, you see the two Ford pickup trucks parked outside. This meant that both Abby and her father were home right now.
You make it to the front door of Abby’s house, and hesitate once again before ringing the bell. You pray silently to yourself that it’ll be her answering the door, and not her dad. Once the door opens, you look up to your prayers being answered as she stands right in front of you, her eyes widening in shock once she sees you.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” she exclaims, trying to keep her own voice down to not get her father’s attention.
“Look, I know we’re supposed to be away from each other, But I really need your help.” You let out a sigh before continuing your explanation. “The outlet in my TV isn’t working, and I need it to be ready for a movie night that I’m hosting this evening… but my dad’s been too busy at work to stop by and fix it…could you please fix it for me?”
Abby shook her head in response. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you right now, let alone be inside your house. Can’t you just call an electrician or something?”
Damn, why didn’t you think of that as an option? Could it be because you wanted Abby to be the one fixing the outlet for you instead of some random guy? Probably….
You shook your head, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “These electricians take forever to arrive, and my friends will be here any minute now. Please…? It should just be a quick fix….”
Abby opened her mouth to say something before she was interrupted by the sound of her father calling her from inside.
“Abby! Who’s at the door?”
“Shit…” she muttered, quickly looking over her shoulder before back at you. “Okay, I’ll do it…just stay there for a moment.” She briefly closed the door before soon returning after a couple minutes, now with her tool belt wrapped around her cargo pants. “I had to tell him it was Manny…you know that my dad doesn’t want me to be seen with you.” she said in a slightly stern tone as both of you began to cross the street to your house. Once the two of you arrive at your place, you look both ways, making sure no one else was seeing you two together before unlocking the door and stepping inside, Abby soon following after and closing the door behind her.
“The outlet’s over here…” You walk over to where the TV was, and push the display table away from the wall, revealing the hidden outlet that needed fixing. Abby stepped past you to get to the broken outlet and got down on one knee, already getting to work as she began to unscrew the plate. “This shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” You nod in response, heading over to the kitchen to set the table for when your friends arrive.
Those ten minutes fly by like thirty seconds, and you can already hear the sound of the TV playing from the kitchen. You enter the living room to see Abby flipping through the channels on the TV, making sure that everything’s working perfectly before handing you the remote.
“Thank you so much, Abby…” You turn the TV off and set the remote on the display table next to you before looking back at her. “I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem…” There’s now a brief moment of silence between you two. You notice her looking out the window and eyeing at her house. “I should uh, get going now…” She tells you this, but she doesn’t move. For some reason…Abby didn’t want to leave just yet. And you didn’t want her to either.
Noticing this, you start to feel a sense of boldness spike through and take a step towards her direction. “Do you think that…you could stay just a little longer?” Abby then turns her head and looks down to face you, noticing that you were just inches away from her now. The two of you realize that this is the longest amount of time you’ve spent together, and this is the closest you two are to each other right now. Who knows when this could happen again…Might as well take advantage of the time, right?
Abby doesn’t even respond to your question. Instead she takes the risk and leans into you, enclosing your lips with hers into a kiss. You can’t help but kiss her back and grab at the collar of her open muscle tank, pulling her closer to you. By instinct, Abby brings her hands down to the back of your thighs and signals you to jump. Once you do, she gets a grip on each of your legs as you wrap them around her waist. Abby brings you over to the couch and slowly sets you down before parting her lips away from yours and bringing her head down to kiss at your neck, causing you to whimper at her touch.
“Look at you…I’m barely even touching you and you’re already so desperate for me…” she murmurs in between kisses. “I wonder what your dad would think…knowing that his precious daughter is with me right now…”
Abby was right about that. What would your dad think of you right now? You promised him that you’d stay away from the daughter of the man that was competing with him and his business. And now she’s in your house, in your living room, planting kisses all over your body and marking you as hers.
All because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed.
But was it really because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed? Or because you couldn’t wait for Abby to fix the arousal that was starting to form in between your legs?
You snap yourself out of your thoughts once you feel Abby’s hands trailing down your body and stopping once they reach the hem of your shirt. She grabs onto it and pulls herself away to take it off of you, tossing it to the side once it’s off of your head. You reach over and do the same with her open muscle tank and remove it off of her before she goes back in to kiss at your exposed chest. But then…she stops. Why was she stopping?
You give her a confused expression as she pulls away to look at you, her blue eyes piercing through yours. “Listen…I’d be lying right now if I said I didn’t want to be doing this. I’ve been wanting you ever since I first saw you from across the street.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “But I need you to tell me, right now…Tell me you want this, and if you don’t, I promise I’ll leave and won’t come near you again.”
You were shocked over what Abby had just admitted to you. But then again, you understood why she would tell you this. This is by far the closest and most intimate you’ve ever been with her, and she didn’t want to go overboard or past your boundaries. She needed the green light. She was seeking the reassurance from you. She wanted to know if you were okay with this, because you both were about to break the rules, and there’s no turning back once it’s done.
But little did she know that you’ve been wanting the same thing. You’ve been wanting Abby in the same way she’s been wanting you. Hell, you’ve even touched yourself at night before with her on your mind. But she doesn’t need to know that. Instead, you just shake your head and grab onto her broad shoulders, pulling her in towards you for another kiss. “I want this, Abby, please…you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”
And before you know it, she’s stripped you from the rest of your clothes until you were just in your underwear. Abby was completely taken aback by the sight of you right now. “God…you’re so beautiful…” She mutters out as she begins to kneel down in front of you. “It should be a crime to keep this away from me.”
All you could do at this point was whine in response. The ache that was growing in between your legs was making it so difficult for you to even comprehend what Abby was saying to you right now. You desperately needed her to alleviate that feeling.
“Abby…p-please…need you so bad…”
You heard the blonde let out a chuckle in response. “I know baby, I know…Let’s see what I’m working with, yeah?” She then reaches up to your waist and grabs at the band of your underwear removing it off of you in one pull before spreading your legs open, revealing your pussy to her. The view that was in front of her right now was a sight for sore eyes. You were completely soaked for her, she could easily see the wetness gushing out of your pussy and trailing itself down to the leather of the couch. You tried to hold back a moan as you felt Abby’s fingers gently press against your folds and slowly spread them open to get a better look.
“Fuck, you’re so wet…is this really all for me?” She asks in surprise, looking up at you. You nodded in response. “It’s all for you Abs, please….need you to fix this…”
“Don’t worry angel, I’ll fix it for you.” she murmurs in response as she begins to scatter more kisses on your inner thighs, slowly inching her face closer to your heat. “I’ll make it all better for you, yeah?” And with that she begins to insert one of her fingers into your tight pussy, causing another whimper to escape from your mouth. You were so wet for her that she was easily able to slide her finger into you without struggling. It didn’t take long for her to slide a second finger in. “Atta girl…you’re taking my fingers so well…I wish I could’ve fixed this a lot sooner.” Abby then leans in and wraps her lips around your throbbing clit, not stopping the movements of her fingers.
You grab onto the armrest once you feel the sensation of her mouth on your clit. Her fingers were curling themselves into your cunt so hard that it’s practically causing friction in your g spot. Feeling heavy in your head, you slowly bring it down to see the sight of her beneath you. You spread your legs out a little more to give Abby some room, with your right leg hooking itself over the armrest of the couch. She’s been so fixated on eating out your cunt that the movement slightly startles her a bit. With her mouth still sucking onto your clit she looks up at you once again and you could’ve sworn that her fucking pupils just dilated. Abby was getting completely drunk on your pussy, and you were getting drunk from the overstimulation she was giving you.
You feel Abby’s mouth briefly remove itself from your clit, quickly replacing it with her thumb to keep you stimulated. She then brought herself up to tend to one of your tits, gently kissing and biting onto it as she continued to finger your cunt senselessly. It came to the point where the all of contact that Abby was giving you right now was slowly starting to consume you. Your pussy began to clench and contract around Abby’s thick fingers, indicating that you were starting to get close. She immediately noticed and took her mouth off of your breast, and went back down to your needy cunt to finish you off.
“Abby…” you moan out to her, your voice getting tense. “I-I’m getting close.”
“I know you are, angel. I’m gonna help you get there, yeah?” She tells you reassuringly as she presses her free hand onto your lower stomach. “Just ride my fingers out for me, baby, just like that.”
Abby then brings her mouth back to your swollen clit as she speeds the pace of her fingers. You follow her instructions and grind your hips against them, desperately trying to approach your climax.
However, you start to get an unusual feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as you began to get closer. The pressure was more intense than what you’re used to, for some reason it didn’t feel right. You felt like your body was on fire.
This led you to tell Abby to stop right at the last minute. “W-Wait, Abby, stop I— Fuck!”
But it was too late. Your body already did its deed before the words could get through your mouth. Your cunt pulsed hard against her fingers before going completely overboard on its climax. You throw your head back in pleasure and shut your eyes, whines and whimpers escaping your mouth as you cum all over Abby’s mouth and fingers. Her fingers soon start slowing it’s pace right after. She then removes her mouth and fingers from your pussy, gently stroking your trembling thighs as you slowly recover from your climax.
“Fuck, Abby…that was—“ You slowly tilt your head back down and open your eyes, only to be shocked by the sight of the blonde in front of you, completely drenched in your release. “Oh my God…Did I just…”
She nodded in response, wiping the bottom of her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think you did…”
You start to feel your face heat up in embarrassment and completely avert your gaze from her. “I’m so sorry Abs…I-I didn’t even know I could do that…” She only shook her head in response. leaning in to give you a another kiss, which allowed you to taste a bit of yourself on her lips. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did so good for me.” Abby then brought her gaze down to your cunt, still twitching after it’s intense orgasm. She gently ran two fingers down to pick up the rest of your release before bringing them to her mouth, sucking them clean. “This was definitely worth the wait.”
You let out a giggle in response before leaning in to give her another kiss. “You were definitely worth the wait for me.”
Abby smiled back at you, before noticing something at the corner of her eye. She looked out through the window, her eyes widening in shock at what came across her vision.
“Oh shit…Isn’t that Joel’s truck?”
You quickly turned your head around to see your dad’s truck passing through the roundabout of the neighborhood. It looks like he was able to stop by from work after all. “Oh my God, I completely forgot I told him about the outlet.” You look over to Abby and began to pick up your discarded clothes from the ground. “You need to go, now before my dad sees you.”
The two of you scramble around the living room for each other’s clothes, quickly dressing yourselves again. You then sprint over to the kitchen to get a rag before coming back to the living room to wipe what was left of your release off of the couch. Once you do, you look up to see your dad’s truck now parked in the driveway. Thank God he was still sitting there and on his phone, probably talking a client out of doing business with Abby’s dad. You then look over to her, now fully dressed. “Come with me, I’ll take you out through the back.” You grab her hand and bring her outside to the backyard, opening the back fence for her. “Just go out through the left and cross the street, that way it won’t look suspicious.” She nodded in response, quickly turning back to briefly kiss you on the lips before heading out. This gave you the feeling that it wasn’t going to be the last time that this would happen.
But for now you felt a wave of relief wash through you. As Abby began to head back home you closed the fence and went back inside, only to hear the sound of the front door opening and your dad’s footsteps entering the house.
“Hey kiddo, m’home!” You heard him call out. “Was able to stop by real quick from work to check on the TV. Is it still not workin’?”
Well, Abby might be out of your hands, but now you’ve encountered a new dilemma: trying to explain to your dad how the TV got fixed.
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author’s note: i pray that this doesn’t flop 🙏🏻
part 2 here
requested tags 🏷️: @aouiaa @whorn3y @pretty-prrincess-13 @elliewilliamskissr
2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.
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harrysbabycherry · 4 months
Text
ONE NIGHT ONLY (part two)
in which one night turns into many nights and harry cannot get enough of y/n
11.8k words (wtf was i on)
warnings: smut! idk what else
a/n: i know everyone has been waiting for this one and it’s finally here!! sorry that the smut is shitty, it’s past my bedtime so i was in a rush, but please enjoy!!!
main masterlist
Harry is sure that he’s seen (Y/N) more this past week than he has all semester. 
It’s like he can’t stay away from her. She’s everywhere. Or maybe he’s just never really noticed her as much as he is now. Because outside of class, he never saw her that much. Maybe in the dining hall a few times or on his way to their only shared class, but that’s it. And he wants to be annoyed at these new sprung feelings, but he’s not. He’s far from it. And that in itself is frustrating. 
Like right now, (Y/N) is about five steps ahead of him as they leave class. She’s wearing one of her cozy knitted sweaters and leggings and he should be walking in an entirely different direction but he can’t. He’s following behind her like some sort of creep just so he can see her longer than their usual allotted fifty minutes. He didn’t even get to talk to her today, much less ask her for a pencil that he didn’t even need. 
He had another class to get to, so he didn’t see exactly where (Y/N) walked off to, but that was okay. His mind doesn’t need to be completely flooded with thoughts of her and what she’s doing and wondering if she’s thinking about him. He bets that she does from time to time. Just because she seemed to be so elated and relieved after they had sex for the first time. And now that he’ll be forever known as her first, she’s almost guaranteed to think about him. That thought alone caused him another bout of tingling in his abdomen, but he tried to ignore it. It isn’t as deep as he’s making it out to be, he just did her a favor. 
His other class finished and while it was very uneventful, he just sketched away in his notebook. He generally will look over the section they’re going to be going over in class the night before, so he doesn’t have to pay much attention. It just gives him time to sketch instead of listening to a professor explain something he won’t understand anyway. He prefers to learn things himself first and then maybe slightly listen when they get into the specifics of whatever it is in their lectures. 
When he finally did make it back to his room, he finished up some homework from the night before and then sank into his bed to stare at the ceiling. It was hard not to think about her when his mind sat idle and while he did try to occupy himself with other things not concerning her, it never lasted for long and he went right back to imagining dozens of scenarios, each starring (Y/N). 
The next time he saw her was at the pub right across the street from campus. Usually when big sports games come on, everyone flocks to the bars to watch them on the large screens. He doesn’t care much for sports, he only goes along with his frat brothers to hang out. It’s never too much fun, but he tries to keep his spirits high anyway.
He didn’t expect it in the least to see (Y/N) sat at a table in the corner, chatting away with her friend. He’d never seen her at this pub in particular and he’s not sure why she’d even come. It doesn’t seem like her scene. 
Harry tried. He really did. He sat at the table with his friends and kept his back to her to discourage himself from looking at her. But that only made him glance over his shoulder every ten seconds to make sure she was still there and hadn’t run off anywhere. Not that it’s his responsibility to look after her, he’s sure she can do that on her own. It’s just that he can’t help staring at her. (Y/N) probably has no idea he’s here. Yet. 
“(Y/N). Oh my god. Isn’t that Harry?” 
She sighed, hoping that it wasn’t true. Her back was facing the entrance to the pub just in case something like this happened. It was exactly what she was trying to avoid. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she confirmed that it was him with a nod of her head. 
He was dressed as casually as he always is in all black. She’s not sure how he can make the simplest outfit so mesmerizing. It’s like he doesn’t have to try. From here, she can see that he’s sitting with a few of his friends at a table with his back to her. She only allowed herself a few seconds to look at him before facing Maya again. 
(Y/N) spilled everything the day after the party to Maya. She couldn’t keep it in. Plus, Maya noticed something different about her and when she asked, she couldn’t keep it under wraps. She told Maya all the details. Down to the most specific bits and Maya was so proud of her and trying to convince her that Harry has a crush on her or something. He doesn’t. Maya just loves to romanticize anything she can. But that’s not at all what happened.
And since then, Maya has made it her mission to try to pry more details out of (Y/N) about Harry. She doesn’t know much to begin with and even though they did have breakfast the next morning which Maya said was definitely not normal for one night stands, he didn’t offer her much about himself, instead asking her questions about everything under the sun. 
“That’s him.” She hasn’t had much contact with him since. It’s only been a week and not that she thought that they would start talking more. It’s just that there hasn’t been many opportunities for them to interact in class. Finals are on their way and all the professors are buckling down for that. 
“So? Are you going to talk to him?” Maya is practically bouncing in her seat, too excited about (Y/N) possibly having a crush. For the record, she doesn’t have a crush on Harry. He’s cute but that’s as far as she’s willing to go. Any further and it would just be delusional. He’s not into her like that and she is so far from his type it’s not even funny. 
“Yeah, right. Why don’t I just get up and go over there now?” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water. They came to the pub to eat greasy food and watch the game. Well, they weren’t there for the game, but more so the environment around the game. (Y/N) is positive she’s looked at one of the tv screens in here once for a total of three seconds before going back to chatting with Maya. 
“Come on. Go say hi.” Maya nudged her foot under the table and she shook her head. No way in hell is that happening. It would be so awkward to approach him with his friends who probably have zero clue who she is. Now is just not the time. 
“I’ll see him in class on Monday. It’s okay.” (Y/N) decided that the next time she checked over her shoulder for him would be the last. She can’t be this caught up in him when they barely know each other. Even if she does find him a bit dreamy. But it’s unrealistic and she’s not going to try to convince herself otherwise. 
When she finally did look over, she wished she hadn’t. A girl that she has seen around on campus a few times, has her arm draped over his shoulder and is leaning into him like it's something they do all the time. (Y/N) watched as her hand traveled up from his shoulder and into the hair at the nape of his neck. And that was plenty for her to see for the night. She took another gulp of her water after swearing to herself she’d never turn around again. 
She doesn’t know why the sight of that alone is enough to make her feel ill but it just is. She wishes it didn’t because it’s not like anything they did had any meaning behind it. It did for YN, only because losing her virginity is kind of a big deal, but for Harry, it was probably just another night. She’s been trying not to think too much about it because it’s not as serious as she’s making it seem. 
“Oh, that’s Allison. We have that one class with her on Thursday. Are they still dating?” 
“Dating?” 
Sure, (Y/N) had seen Harry around with a couple girls a few times, but it had never been anything that seemed long term. She knew of Aliison, but had no idea she had ties to Harry. And if they’re dating, it must be very new because he was just with (Y/N) a week ago. Something is not adding up. 
“Yeah. They’ve been on and off for a while.” Maya shrugged it off, not aware that (Y/N) was starting to panic on the inside. She doesn’t want to be in the middle of anything. And if Harry put her there, she’ll have to have a few words with him. 
Maya changed the subject then, which she was thankful for, but that didn’t mean she was paying attention while her mind was spiraling. She didn’t take Harry as the type to sleep with someone else while he had a girlfriend, but maybe she really does know nothing about him. Maybe he would do something like that.
Eventually, she tuned back into the conversation and was able to let herself relax about the situation for a moment. The food was exactly what she needed after a long day. It really hit the spot and she can’t wait to go home and cozy up under her blankets. Maya was almost ready to go when a group of her friends showed up and stole her attention for a moment. She politely interrupted them and said she was running to the restroom. Really, she just needed a break from the noisy bar and the view behind her. She hadn’t looked in fifteen minutes but she can guarantee it’s worse now than what it was. And she really doesn’t want to know what’s happened since. 
Locking the bathroom stall behind her, she took a deep breath. It was starting to get warm in the pub and she’s considering leaving, even if Maya isn’t ready to go. Their apartment is just down the way, so there won’t be any issues making the short walk by herself if she has to. 
She left the bathroom after washing her hands and when she pulled the door open, she gasped. Harry was right there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. She really didn’t expect him to interact with her at all and now that he’s here, after a week, she still has no idea what to say to him. 
“Hi.” She blurted out, stepping out of the bathroom and letting the door swing shut behind her. 
“Since when do you come out after eight pm?” She wanted to roll her eyes because he’s clearly teasing her like he enjoys doing so much. 
“I’m leaving anyway.” Being in his presence now is making her skin feel hot. Maybe because he saw her in one of her most vulnerable states or maybe she has more feelings about him than she thought she did. It’s easy to say she doesn’t have a crush on him when he’s not standing right in front of her. But now that he’s here, there’s a weakness starting in her knees and she really has to leave. She’ll text Maya on her way out. 
Not caring to have to walk through the crowds of tables to the front door, she spun around, making her way to the back exit off the hallway leading to the bathroom. It was the perfect getaway and she knows that even though Maya initially wanted to leave, she probably wants to stick around a little longer. And (Y/N) is just not interested in that right now. 
She pushed the door open, seeing exactly what she expected. An alleyway that leads back to the main street. Thankfully there was a light above her head, even though it wasn’t providing much help to the rest of the alley. But it was enough to get her walking. 
She didn’t get too far because her arm was grabbed and she was dragged right back into his chest. She could’ve sworn she left him in the hallway because she didn’t hear him behind her. 
“Where are you going?” His arms are enveloping her completely and it was almost chilly outside before he grabbed her but now she can’t even think about being cold. 
“Home. I have to be up early.” A complete lie but he doesn’t have to know that. He took two steps forward, taking her with him until her back was pressed to the brick wall behind her. 
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He said it like it was fact. Which it may have been but it wasn’t something she was consciously doing. She just thought that everything should go back to normal, business as usual. They barely talked before they slept together, why does that have to change anything?
“No I’m not. We’re not friends.” He’s pressed against her, so much so that if she thinks about it too hard, she can feel him through his pants. But she’s not letting her brain take her there. Because she can’t. 
“So, you get to fuck me and then tell me we’re not friends? That’s very cruel, (Y/N). I didn’t know you could be so cold.” She huffed, leaning her head back against the wall, not wanting to look at him for longer than a few seconds at a time. His gaze is smoldering and she’d already felt her stomach stirring as soon as she saw him outside of the bathroom. 
“I already thanked you for that. It doesn’t mean that we have to be best friends, does it?” 
“Guess not. Just thought you’d be a little nicer after begging for my cock like that. That’s all.” She shoved his chest. 
“That is not at all what happened.” She scolded him, wanting to get out from under him. His hands are now on either side of her head and he’s inches from her face. 
“Then what did happen, (Y/N)? Refresh my memory.” 
“There was nothing memorable about it. I wanted to get it over with and I did.” She watched as he scrunched his eyebrows and pulled back from her the slightest bit. 
“Really? Nothing memorable? After the way you were screaming for me? If that’s true then I guess your panties will be dry right now, won’t they?” Fuck. She nodded anyway, trying to be discreet about squeezing her thighs together more than they already are. “Let me feel.” 
“There is no need for that—”
“Then stop lying. Let me feel anyway. Missed it.” 
(Y/N) would’ve never guessed that she would ever be in this situation in an alley, but she always surprises herself and Harry does too. The fact that he wants to touch her now is only adding to the fluttery feeling in her stomach. 
“What about Allison?” 
Something else that made his face twist up. His hand left the wall and sat on her waist.  
“What about her?” 
“Aren’t you together?” He chuckled, shaking his head. 
“Not even close. She wants to be but I’m not interested and never have been.” 
“Then why was she all over you in there?” 
“You see everything, don’t you? Even when you pretend you don’t,” (Y/N) doesn’t know why she even brought that part up. She wishes she didn’t see it and she wishes she didn’t mention it either. Because if he does like Allison, what does that have to do with her? “She’s so far from relevant, I don’t even know why you’d ever think she’d have a chance with me.” 
(Y/N) wanted to die. Because if Allison, pretty, super cool, smart Allison didn’t have a chance with him, then she definitely didn’t. And she should just walk home now and save herself from overthinking later. 
“Good to know. I have to go now.” She didn’t even try to move because of the way he was holding her against the brick wall. She would’ve moved as much as she just did if she tried. Not that she doesn’t want to be exactly right here on a Friday night, but she’s trying to use common sense. 
“Can I walk you home then?” 
“No.” 
“Why not?” 
“It’s just down the street here, I don’t need a chaperone.” He laughed, still not moving. 
“Okay. Fair. Have you got a minute though?” She squinted at him. She’d already given him so much time standing here so she’s unsure what he wants now, after ten minutes of holding her hostage. 
(In no way does she feel like she’s being held hostage, she actually feels so incredibly sparkly inside, she has no idea if she’d make it home herself. And that’s just with his hands holding her waist and having him standing right against her.)
“For?” 
“You’re being a little mean, (Y/N). Do you know that? I’m just trying to catch up with you and it’s like you wanted to fuck me and never talk to me again. Is that true? Be honest.” Harry is stalling in every sense of the word. He has no real reason to keep her here in this dark alley, but he knows if she leaves, he won’t get to talk to her again until the new week starts. And that just won’t do. 
“That’s not true.” He certainly is teasing her and he’s loving every second of it. But it’s almost like they’re in grade school and all he can do is be mean to her because he can’t quite get out that he likes her so much and he’d do anything just to be around her. He’s working on it though and hopefully she’ll get the picture soon. 
“I was just going to say I owe you.” He shrugged, trying not to smile too hard at her. He has no idea how she’s going to react to his proposition, but he just knows it’s going to get her red in the face. 
“You don’t owe me anything, Harry.” Now (Y/N) is thoroughly confused. What could he possibly be talking about right now? If anyone owes anyone anything it would be her. He’s the one that paid for breakfast and everything. 
“Remember when I told you about foreplay? How important it is?” She watched as he finally took a step away from her but with a hint of a smirk on his face. She’s not sure what he’s up to but she doesn’t like it. 
“Mhm.” 
“Good girl. And do you remember how you refused to let me touch you because you wanted me to hurry up and fuck you?” She nodded anyway, just wanting him to get to the point. “Pay back. Lucky you’re wearing a skirt.” 
Her jaw dropped as she watched him get to his knees right there on the cold concrete. He didn’t even seem bothered at all but how hard or cold the ground must be. His hands were now rubbing up and down her legs as he was seemingly waiting for her permission. 
“What?” 
“You heard me, pet. Why are you wearing a skirt anyway? It’s like you read my mind or something.” 
“I thought it was cute?” 
“Sure. Now are you going to let me eat you out or not? I’ve been dreaming about it all week long.” (Y/N) took a deep breath before trying to think of why she shouldn’t do this right now. Because she knows all the reasons why she should. 
He’s pretty much asking to do it, right? And it’s not like he’s being a dick and only asking for a blowjob. So he’s not completely in this for selfish reasons which kind of makes her wonder what his motives are. Because she’s sure if he was really concerned about giving head, he could find twenty other willing girls who are not (Y/N) in under five minutes. She considers asking him flat out why he’s doing this, but she’s never done this before. And what better person to be her first time again than Harry? He’s already seen every part of her. 
“Hm. I don’t know.” She can’t lie even if she wanted to. She’s squeezing her legs together (hopefully discreetly) and she can feel just how wet her underwear are. 
“Looks like you want me to beg then. Is that it? You want me to beg for your pussy in an alley, on a Friday night, after nine pm?” 
“Yeah. I think so.” He sighed, though he didn’t look like he was too annoyed with having to do it, and rested one of his hands on the back of her knee. 
“(Y/N)?” 
“Yes, Harry?” 
“I would really, really like to make you cum and you’re playing hard to get.” 
“It doesn’t sound like you really want it and I have places to be.” She shrugged like she could care less if he did it or not. And she could tell that it made him a little on edge. Like she really was going to deny him. 
“Pet?” 
“Mhm?” 
“You’re driving me crazy and I’m so hard I’m going to die. I don’t think you get it. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do your homework in Smith’s for the rest of the semester if you just let me taste you once.” And there it is. His voice got a little whiny like he really was going to die if she told him no. And that’s all it took for her to lift one of her legs over his shoulder and place her hand on the back of his head to pull him closer. 
His shoulders seemed to have relaxed before he brushed her underwear to the side and started licking into her. (Y/N) really didn’t know what to expect when she agreed to this, but it felt much better than she imagined it would. She wasn’t able to keep still, especially when he brought his fingers in and pushed them right inside of her so easily. One of her hands was glued to her mouth to keep herself quiet. She had to remember that they were still very much in a public space, no matter if they are out of view, and that she really didn’t want to get caught doing this here. Her other hand was clutching Harry’s hair so tightly that it probably hurt. But he didn’t act like it bothered him at all.
Harry knew that he couldn’t physically get any closer to (Y/N) than he already was but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. Everything about her was so pretty. The moans she tried to muffle with her hands only encouraged him further. He can tell that she was just playing earlier (thankfully) and she really was so wet for him her underwear are ruined for good now. 
He thinks that after she cums, he’s going to thank her for letting him do this. Because if he thought he was hooked  before, he’s never going to be able to get her out of his head now. Not that he wanted to, ever, but her allowing him this only solidified the feelings he had for her.
He had spent up until now just messily circling his tongue and thrusting his two inner fingers inside her and while that would be plenty for her to cum from his mouth, he wanted to give her a little more. Since apparently the last time wasn’t so memorable. He wanted it to be so good that he’d have to carry her home. And he wouldn’t mind it one bit. 
So he switched to sucking her clit between his lips and that was enough to make her drop her hand from her mouth. 
“I hate you, I hate you.” Her chest was heaving and although she didn’t mean that in the slightest, it was the only way to describe how she was feeling in the moment. She couldn’t bring herself to look down at him because then she’d cum. And she wanted to feel this for just a little bit longer. 
Except, in the small bag resting against her hip, her phone started ringing. She wanted to ignore it in favor of continuing with Harry but it might be something important. 
“Wait. My phone.” She forced out. He was nice enough to slow down a little bit but when she pulled her phone out and saw Maya’s contact, she sighed. She completely forgot to text Maya to let her know where she went. 
“Answer it. Now.” She rolled her eyes at him and put the phone to her ear, thinking that Harry would give her a break, but she’d been mistaken. Right as she said hello, his thumb was swirling over her swollen clit and she might’ve made a noise right into the phone. And Harry just laughed. 
“Um, are you okay, (Y/N)?” Maya spoke up, probably utterly confused. 
“Yes, yes. I’m so okay, Maya, right now. What’s up?” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to focus too much on what he was doing to her. 
“You never came back from the table. Are you okay?” (Y/N) is not interested in small talk right now but she knows that Maya is only watching out for her, so she tried to keep it brief. 
“Oh. I decided to just go—oh my god—home.” She hurried to slap her hand over her mouth. She’d accidentally let her eyes slip down to Harry and he was licking into her again and it was too much for her to take at that moment. 
“Oh. Well I was going to head to another bar with the girls. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Are you sure you’re good?” (Y/N) grasped Harry’s hair tighter making him moan against her. 
“Uh huh. I’m good.” She said between gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice level. 
“Okay… are you with Harry? Because he’s not back at his table either.” She cursed to herself and looked down at Harry who seemed to have heard Maya’s question and was all too delighted by it. 
“Let me say hi.” He whispered, reaching for the phone. She slapped his hand away and shot him a look. 
“No,” She whispered back before shushing him and placing the phone to her ear again. “Uh, something like that.” 
“Hi Maya. I’m taking very good care of (Y/N) right now in case you couldn’t tell.” He spoke just loud enough for Maya to hear, but (Y/N) didn’t let it get too far and hurried to get off the phone. 
“I’ll be home soon, see you in the morning. Bye,” Then she hung up and shoved her phone back into her bag with shaking hands. “You’re the worst.” 
“You’re lying. You love it.” 
He pulled away, still curling his fingers inside of her. She could see her wetness glistening on his mouth in the very scarce light they had from a couple of feet away and it was almost enough for her to confess now that she needed him. But he decided to tease her again instead. 
“You tried to act like you weren’t soaking for me and look at you now. Crying over just my fingers. Isn’t that something?” (Y/N) decided the best thing to do was put her hand back over her mouth because she really doesn’t feel like arguing with him when he could be making her orgasm instead. 
“Come on, pet. Tell me how much you like this. You don’t have to be that quiet.” 
If she moves her hand again, she’s not sure what will come out of her mouth and she’d rather it not be how much she loves this right now and how she never wants to stop. He’s just being mean. 
“I’ll have to stop if you don’t tell me something, pet. You either like it or you don’t.” 
“It’s good,” That’s all she could manage to say before she started slipping down the wall. He didn’t say anything about it, he just used his other hand to try and help her stay upright. “It feels really, really good and I’m about to cum. Thank you.” 
“There’s my sweet girl. So thankful, always. Wanna cum now?” 
“Please.” 
(Y/N) is pretty sure that he added another finger but she really can’t remember because her eyes were squeezing shut with how he was once again sucking and licking at her clit. It was like he knew exactly what she wanted without her saying it. 
He took his fingers out, instead switching between delving his tongue inside her for a taste and then going right back to her clit. It was a combination she’d never thought of before and it was doing wonders to draw her closer and closer to the edge. 
And since he didn’t want her to be so quiet anymore, all she could do was breathe out his name after a series of yeses. But she can’t help being a little concerned about him kneeling on the ground so long, even if he looks unbothered by it, so she’s really trying to work herself up enough to cum. All it took was one glance down at him licking through her folds like he’d been starving for it and she came. 
He pulled back and caught her as she was sliding down the wall, trying to remember her own name. She was settled in his lap, legs on either side of him, holding him tightly around the neck. Perhaps the alley wasn’t the absolute best place for this, but she just needs a few minutes to regroup. 
“How was that?” He held her back just as tight while resting his chin on her shoulder. 
“Give me a second.” He chuckled, moving his face into her neck and pressing his mouth to the column of her throat. She leaned further into him and gently tangled her fingers into his hair. She really cannot believe she’s sitting behind a pub on the ground right now with Harry. And she really, really cannot believe that he was just eating her out seconds ago. 
“Can you stand?” 
“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit again.” The reason she didn’t leave his lap quite yet was because she didn’t want to. Not because he’d given her one of the best orgasms of her life and her legs had turned useless. Definitely not that. 
Managing to find her footing again, he stood up with her and shoved his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t know what to say right now. She’s so beautiful right here and he wishes he could communicate that without fearing how she’d react. 
“I know you said you don’t need a chaperone but do you mind if I just walk a few blocks with you?” 
That’s how they ended up in front of her building. And neither of them knew what to say to the other. He did walk with his arm around her waist the entire time and she did lean into him but that was only because it was so much chillier than it had been a couple hours ago. 
“I’ll see you Monday then?” (Y/N) managed to say, just trying to keep the conversation going. 
“Sure, yeah. Monday. Okay,” He paused for a second and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Would it be alright if I kissed you right now?” 
She blinked at him. It hadn’t been expected. He wants to leave her at her doorstep with a kiss? This entire thing just got a little bit more complicated  
“I would like that.” She said softly, not wanting to disturb how quiet her street had gotten all of a sudden. She let him gently tilt her head up to connect their lips and she melted right into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him back. It was much smoother than she anticipated but she didn’t mind it. 
It ended right when she considered offering for him to come inside. He pulled away so they could catch their breath and then pressed his mouth to her cheek. 
“I’ll let you go in and get back to studying.” She scoffed and shoved him away by his chest. 
“That is not all I do, you know.” 
“I know, trust me. Goodnight, (Y/N).” 
“Goodnight, Harry.” He couldn’t leave without pressing another kiss to her mouth. And then he had to force himself let her go inside, not without waving to him, and then he started off down the street, back to the pub. 
Except, he doesn’t remember the walk there at all. Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of what (Y/N) could be doing right now. Was she as hung up on him as he was on her? 
When he sat back at the table next to his friends, still with the taste of (Y/N) on his tongue, he couldn’t help smiling. He’s going to ask her out. At least, he wants to. He has to find the courage somewhere because the sooner he does, the sooner that she can be his and that’s all he wants. 
(Y/N) had silently gone into her room and shut the door behind her. And then she changed into more comfortable clothes and sat on her bed, trying to find something to watch that’s going to put her to sleep. Once she was laid back in her pillows and relaxed, she put her hands over her face and squealed into them. 
She really can’t believe that what happened, happened. And she can’t wait to tell Maya in the morning.  
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Sitting in front of Harry again on Monday morning, (Y/N) was trying really hard not to blush. She couldn’t believe what they had done honestly. 
She told Maya all the details the next morning and she was practically screaming so (Y/N) had to quiet her down so she didn’t disrupt the neighbors. She tried to play it off like it was no big deal, just because she didn’t want to make it one. But Maya reassured her that it was a big deal and that she was proud of her for it. Even if she felt like it wasn’t something to be proud of exactly. 
So, now as she sits in front of Harry, every so often she’ll feel him tug on a strand of her hair. She tried to ignore it but that just meant he was recruiting a line of people in the seats next to her to pass her a note. She shot a smile to the girl one seat over from her that passed her a piece of folded paper and then quickly opened it. 
Stop ignoring me and give me your phone number. 
She shook her head, forcing a smile from her face and wrote him a message back. 
You’re so demanding today. Maybe if you ask nicely. 
She tried to be discreet as she held it over her shoulder for him to grab. She’d seen others get called out for passing notes and she really didn’t want to be one of them. 
This time a balled up piece of paper landed on her notebook. She wanted to glare at him but she was more interested in what he had to say. 
May I please have your phone number? 
(Y/N) was lucky that the professor was changing subjects because there was enough noise around her so that she could snicker without disturbing the room. She wrote her number down on the sheet and passed it back to him. She was going to give it to him anyway. 
Seconds later, her phone was buzzing in her pocket. She really doesn’t want to be someone who texts in class but she wants to see what he sent her more. So she kept her phone under the desk and quickly looked at his message. 
XXX: Can I walk you home after classes? 
And how could she ever say no? 
She sent him a quick sure in return and tuned back into the lesson. But now that she knows she’ll be seeing him later, she couldn’t pay attention for the rest of the period. 
When class let out, he followed her out of the lecture hall and didn’t let her get too far before pulling her to the side to talk to her. 
“I’ll meet you in the courtyard at three?” She’s not going to ask how he knows when her last class of the day finishes, so she just nodded. 
“Okay.” 
“Okay. See you in a bit, pet.” He kissed her cheek and then he was gone, on his way to another one of his classes. 
The rest of her day was spent daydreaming, with her picturing what would happen when she met him in the courtyard. Maybe she’ll finally get to invite him inside her apartment and they can hang out there. She was so eager to leave the class that she had her things packed before the professor finished with the notes. She’d gotten the majority of them, so as soon as class was dismissed, she was out of her chair and making her way across campus to meet Harry. She didn’t know exactly where he’d be, so it took a little searching since he really could be anywhere. 
When she did find him, he had Allison hanging off of his arm. He didn’t see her yet because she’d come from the side, so she stopped where she was and just watched the two of them, feeling a little disappointed. 
Harry’s face was a mix of almost impassive and almost annoyed. And it wasn’t very different from the expression he usually has around her. She wanted to think that he was annoyed with Allison, like he said he was. But he’s not too convincing right now. Instead, he looks like he always does when he’s with her. Does that mean that he’s really annoyed with her or is that how he always looks? He always appears to have a good time with her, but she doesn’t want to get too wrapped up in thinking about it. She was now confused and a little upset, so when she turned to leave and headed towards home herself, she hoped that he hadn’t caught sight of her. 
As soon as she walked into her apartment, ready to tuck herself into bed and forget about today, her phone buzzed. 
Harry: I think you just stood me up (Y/N). 
She groaned and walked back to her room and shut the door behind her before trying to think of a response. She was sure that he was going to be too distracted by Allison to give her a second thought. But she guesses she’s glad he remembered that he was supposed to walk her home. 
(Y/N): Oh my goodness, I completely forgot!
(Y/N): I just got home. Maybe next time? 
So she lied a little bit. It was for the best. She has homework to do anyway. Bringing him inside would have only prevented her from getting it done. 
Harry: Oh. That’s cool. 
Harry: Are we okay?
Harry was slightly panicking because he knew (Y/N) didn’t just forget to meet him, but he wasn’t going to press her if she didn’t want to talk about it. He waited much longer than he anticipated for her to respond back to his question. 
(Y/N): Yeah, we’re okay :) 
He sighed in relief, glad that he hadn’t done something to make her want to avoid him again. 
(Y/N) spent the rest of the night with her face in her pillow, trying not to think too hard about what tomorrow will bring.
She should’ve known that Harry would track her down early next morning and demand to know why she didn’t meet up with him. Because that’s exactly what he did. 
Standing outside out of her first class for the day was Harry, leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed and not looking too pleased. She could’ve raced right past him and she did try, though she wouldn’t admit it to him, but he grabbed her wrist before she could get too far. 
“Did I do something?” He asked right away. He’d been up all night fighting the urge to text her again and try to lighten the mood a little bit. He can tell despite her saying everything was fine, it wasn’t. She seemed surprised he was there but he was so exhausted from the night before that he needed answers and he needed them now. 
“What?” 
“(Y/N). I was supposed to walk you home yesterday and you acted like you forgot. What happened?” The halls of the building were still kind of busy and she really didn’t want to have this conversation here. When she’s probably just making stuff up in her head anyway. 
“Nothing? Are you alright?” (Y/N) doesn’t think flat out admitting that she thinks he can do better will solve anything. So she’d rather deflect until he gets a good enough answer without her having to tell him everything. Plus, she doesn’t want him to know how pathetic she really is. 
“No I’m not. I want you to be honest with me. Right now.” His hand still had a gentle hold on her wrist and no matter how slight the touch, she still felt a fluttering in her stomach. But it got overshadowed by how serious the conversation had turned. He wanted her to confess to liking him so much and then to not feeling like she’d ever be enough for him.  
“Okay. Can we go outside or something? It’s kind of crowded here.” He didn’t reply, he just led her to the nearest door and as soon as they stopped at a bench, his expression once again appeared as if he was waiting for something. 
“If you want me to back off, just say that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. But tell me if I did something you didn’t like.” 
“It wasn’t anything like that. I just, you were with Allison again, so I thought that maybe you were busy with her and changed your mind about walking me home.” It was close enough to the truth without making her seem too insecure. 
“I don’t want anything to do with her, (Y/N). Please know that. She’s everywhere and always talking to me like I give a fuck but there is nothing going on there. I promise you,” He grabbed both of her hands this time. “Now tell me how much you missed me already. Because I know you did.” 
After she denied him a few more times, she finally gave in when he pouted at her and said that she was making him sad. And that was plenty for her to hide her face in her hands and eventually tell him that she missed him a little bit, even though it had been less than a day since they’d seen each other. 
He walked her to her next class and left her with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see her very soon. 
And while that did make her feel so much better about everything, she still was a little uneasy. But for now, she has to take his word for it and none of it means that he likes her the way that she’s beginning to like him. So, she’s going to tread lightly for a little while and try not to put too much faith into anything. 
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Harry didn’t exactly plan to overhear (Y/N)’s conversation with Maya. He was walking a few paces behind her like he always ends up doing somehow. They’d just gotten out of class and Maya had been waiting for her outside of the room.
He didn’t speak much to her today, or the past week, just because they had exams coming up, and there were revisions so couldn’t tap her on the shoulder like he normally does. In fact, when he saw her flip to the last page in the packet, he was rushing to answer the rest of the questions on his sheet so he could get out when she did. 
He kept trailing behind her because their conversation instantly intrigued him and he secretly wanted to know if they were going to mention him. 
“Everyone’s going to that huge party tonight. Will you go with me?” Harry did hear everyone talking about a party, but he wasn’t planning on going, just because he had some work to catch up on. But if there’s even a slim chance that (Y/N) might be going, he’s there. 
“Uh, sure. Sounds fun.” He knows that she knows it doesn’t sound fun at all. Unless you’re drinking. Otherwise it’s just an obnoxiously loud party full of drunk college students. 
“Great! Don’t worry, there will be plenty of cute guys there.” He watched as Maya nudged (Y/N) with her elbow and he swears his eye twitched. From then on, he went in the opposite direction. He doesn’t want to hear anymore of what they’re going to say. 
Maya started laughing seconds later and (Y/N) was confused. 
“You didn’t see him did you?” 
“Who?” 
“Harry was right behind us when I said that thing about cute guys. I could tell he was mad from here.” She laughed again, leaving her more confused than ever. 
“What do you mean?” 
“I only said that so he would hear. He’s so into you (Y/N). Please just go out with him already.” (Y/N) couldn’t help checking over her shoulder. Of course Harry was nowhere in sight, but she cannot believe Maya just did that. 
“He’s not interested.” She’s dragging her feet now, just thinking about it. The past weekend was just fun for both of them. It doesn’t have to make things complicated. 
“You and I both know that’s not true. We should start planning your outfit now!” She dragged her off in the direction of their apartment even though she has class in another hour or so. She’s just thankful the walk back will be quick. 
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
“He’s going to be so pissed.” 
After classes were over for the day, Maya made it her mission to dress (Y/N) up in a way that she, once again, never would’ve thought of. This time it was another short skirt that almost felt shorter than the last one, but denim this time. And the top she was wearing was a baby pink sweater that tied in the front. But the fun part was that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Which is quite bold for her because she really can’t remember the last time she went anywhere without a bra on. She just hopes it’s not windy on the walk there. 
Her sneakers were a must again. She just can’t see having her feet squished into shoes that are going to make her feet ache the next day. She’d rather be somewhat comfortable in an outfit that’s really out of her comfort zone. 
Maya’s plan was to try to get Harry’s attention to make him confess his feelings to her. And while that sure would be a sight to see, (Y/N) just doesn’t believe that it’s ever going to happen. They slept together once. It’s not like they got married and they’re now bound to each other for eternity. She just wants to let it go. Harry is not interested and even if he was, she’d still not be certain of his intentions. And it’s just too much work to have to sift through that. 
(Y/N)’s plan is just to find someone else for the night and forget about Harry for the time being. Because maybe that’s what this is. He was her first and now she feels this tiny, tiny attachment to him. Not that it means anything too deep, but that’s just how it is.
Sure, they had that moment in the alley that made her think otherwise, but it really just wouldn’t make sense. They don’t belong together and they never will. And it’s just easier to turn her attention to something or someone else.  
It took way less time than she thought it would to get to the frat house. It was one a couple streets over from Harry’s and she’s so, so glad that it’s not his frat because she’s not sure she would’ve come. She hopes that Harry is nowhere near here tonight. It’ll just make this whole thing easier. 
“Do you think Harry will be here?” She still asked Maya, just wanting to know what she thought. 
“For sure. He thinks you’re going to get with someone else. He has to be here to stop you, duh.” She released a sigh, unheard by Maya as they walked past the threshold and into the noisy party. 
Harry saw (Y/N) right as she walked in. He got to the party early enough for them to still be setting up the drinks and the music so they tasked him with helping set up chairs in the backyard. He knows the members of this frat pretty well and has a lot of classes with the other guys in it, so it was no big deal helping them. He just didn’t want (Y/N) to get there before him. Because he’s not letting her leave his sight tonight.
He had plenty of time after his classes to imagine (Y/N) getting swept off her feet by some guy and all it did was anger him to another level he’s never experienced in his life. And it almost scared him. But it’s not like it doesn’t make sense. If he ever knew that (Y/N) was with someone else, he’s not sure he would make it through the rest of the semester with her. He’d have to take academic leave and go cry to his mum about it. And that’s not an exaggeration. 
Harry watched it happen in real time. (Y/N) walked in the house and he saw dozens of people turn to look at her. Because she’s gorgeous and perfect and no one in this house could ever meet her standards. Not even him but he’d like to think she likes him a little bit more than a stranger.
And he tried not to rush right up to her and drag her away from all the people staring at her because he didn’t want her to think he was trying to keep her all for himself. Even though he most certainly is and he will continue to do so until she knows that he’d do anything short of giving her the moon. But he doesn’t want to overcrowd her. So, he’ll let her have her fun for now. 
That lasted for all of ten minutes. Because a guy, who is not even remotely her type by the way, walked up to her and Maya as they poured themselves drinks and he was touchy right away. Harry knew that wasn’t (Y/N)’s favorite thing so he promptly got rejected by both her and Maya. He silently cheered to himself, trying to stay out of her line of vision so she doesn’t know he’s watching her yet. He doesn’t exactly want her to know he’s there. Just because he wants to see what she’ll do. If she really is interested in someone else. If she really would hook up with someone else while he’s not there. 
Not that he has any claims on her but he can’t lie and say he wouldn’t be crushed if he found out something like that. Just as another loser walked up to (Y/N), he was dragged away by one of his frat brothers, Brett to the backyard. Apparently, he doesn’t know how to change the fucking keg. But Harry just wants to know how the keg is empty in the first place. 
It took much longer than he anticipated. Everyone was in the way and they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing so he was pretty much clenching his fists the entire way back into the party. If he sees (Y/N), everything will feel so much better. He walked in expecting to catch a glimpse of her still talking with Maya and smiling the same pretty smile she always has on. But that is not at all what happened. 
He didn’t see (Y/N) anywhere. And while he tried not to be so panicked searching around for her, he was totally shoving people out of the way and apologizing after. He saw Maya flirting with another guy but (Y/N) was nowhere in sight. So he thought the absolute worst. Someone had taken her upstairs while he was gone and now she’s probably having the time of her life with someone else. Well, he wouldn’t go that far but she thinks she’s enjoying herself. She’s not. 
Harry doesn’t want to completely overdo this. He doesn’t want to kick every last door in until he finds her and rip someone off of her. But he doesn’t see another way around it. So, he stomped up the stairs and when he got to the first door, he shoved it open, not caring one bit. 
“Sorry.” He wasn’t. It was a random couple about to have their own fun but it wasn’t (Y/N). He kept searching. He was just about to push another door open when he heard her laugh. It was muffled by a door but he still heard it when there had been a lucky break in the music. And now he’s fucking fuming. Because not only does whoever is in that room think they’re about to sleep with her, but they’re making her laugh too? Not on his fucking watch.
He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to shove the door open and see what the hell was going on in there. When the door swung open, she gasped and he was a little confused. 
There was no one in the room with her and she was sat at the edge of the bed with her phone in her hands. He still gave the room a once over, making sure he didn’t miss something. But she really was in here on her own. 
“What are you doing?” 
(Y/N) is not eager to admit that she left in the middle of a party to a vacant room to watch funny cat videos but she doesn’t think that Harry will expect anything less from her. So she just shrugged, leaving that part out. 
“Bored,” She watched as he walked closer and then knelt right down in front of her only to lay his head in her lap and wrap his arms around her. Now she’s confused but she didn’t bother saying anything about it. “You okay?” 
“Mhm.” He rested his cheek on her bare thigh and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes. He’s never felt so relieved. When he pushed that door open, he had no idea what he’d be walking into, he’s just glad it was (Y/N) and she was alone. 
“Want to see something funny?” She held her phone down by his face and showed him the video that made her laugh. It was just a cat chasing a laser and it was the first one that came up when she searched “funny cat videos” but it made her laugh. And it made him chuckle a little bit so she’ll call that a win. 
“You’re silly. Ready to get out of here?” He sat up a little bit to meet her eyes and she nodded. 
“Yes, please.” 
It was like they made plans without actually making the plans. Because Harry and (Y/N) walked hand in hand out of the party and she waved to Maya on their way out, silently letting her know where she’d be for the rest of the night and all Maya did was raise a cup at her. 
With their hands still intertwined, he led her in the direction of her apartment, even though his house was much closer. 
“There’s a party at the house tonight so we can go to yours if you’d rather do that.” She nodded, feeling his thumb rub over the back of her hand. She was slightly curious about that but she let it go, saving it for later though. 
Harry had never been in her apartment, so she was a bit nervous about him seeing her room for the first time. It wasn’t a total mess, thankfully, so when he did come in and sit on the bed, she didn’t have to be concerned about it. 
“This is, um, this is me.” 
“Cute.” 
She could feel her skin getting hot. It may just be her brain getting ahead and jumping the gun, knowing that something is going to happen, she just doesn’t know what. 
Sitting next to him on her bed, she twiddled her thumbs, trying not to appear so eager. But they don’t really have to do anything physical, having him here is enough for her. 
“Are you hungry?” 
“Not particularly.” 
“Oh.” 
She tried to think of something else for them to do. But nothing was really coming to mind. 
“I have a few movies I’ve been wanting to watch, we could do that—”
“Please just be quiet and ride me already, will you?” Harry didn’t mean to be so blunt about it, but she was clearly dancing around them fucking and his cock was already starting to get hard in his pants. 
“Oh. Okay. I’ve never done that though.”
“I know, pet. Come on,” They both stood up so they could undress. (Y/N) was a bit shy about taking her top off but Harry just plucked at the tied string and pulled it down her arms. “There. Pretty. I’ll lay down first, okay?” 
She nodded, watching as he laid back into her pillows in just his boxers. He got comfortable and then patted his lap. 
“I’ve got a condom in the pocket of my jeans. This isn’t like the pornos you watch. Safety first,” She rolled her eyes to herself and picked up his jeans. “Hury.” 
Harry didn’t exactly plan on this part either and that’s not why he had a condom, he was just feeling hopeful and it paid off. 
She found the condom and a few moments later was sitting in his lap, trying not to think about how hard he was under her. 
“Now what?” 
“You’re probably already dripping all over, so we won’t have to do much there, will we?” 
“Hey—”
“I’m this fucking close to making a mess of my underwear, so I think we’ll just stretch you out a bit and I’ll let you try it. Is that good? Since you’re probably in a rush again.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. 
“I’m not in a rush. I just can’t wait for you to be inside me again.” She blurted out, causing a smirk to rise on his face. 
“Interesting. Sounds like the definition of in a rush to me. Maybe go pick up your pocket dictionary and get back to me on that.” 
“Can I just try? Please. I don’t need you to stretch me out, I can take it, I promise.” (Y/N) didn’t wait for another one of his smart responses, she just molded her mouth to his and tried to get him to shut up for a second. “And I don’t even have a pocket dictionary.” 
“Sure you don’t. Fine,” He muttered against her mouth and she smiled, sitting back on his thighs and waiting for him to tell her what to do. “It’s only your second time (Y/N). Who knew you’d be such a cockwhore.” 
She shushed him, sitting up slightly so he could push the band of his briefs down. As soon as she caught sight of him, she was reminded of nearly two weeks ago when that was in her mouth and he told her she was making him feel so good. She never thought she’d be good at it but clearly she was wrong. 
“This goes on, right?” She held up the condom and he nodded, taking it from her hands to tear open the packaging. And then he handed it back to her. 
“Go ahead.” 
“But how do I—” He took it back from her and pulled it out, showing it to her and then placing it correctly over him. 
“Just pull it down, okay? It’s easy.” She tried and he winced immediately. “Can your hands get any colder, christ.” 
“I didn’t know!” She laughed a little but managed to get the condom over him completely. He shook his head and set his hands on her hips. 
“Are you ready?” 
“Yes.” 
He helped her lift up so she was hovering over him and he held her there until she just started to press down on him. And ever since the last time she was right here in this situation, she’d been chasing the feeling. To be as full as she was and for him to make her feel like she’d never felt before. (Y/N) should’ve known from the start that she was ruined for anyone else. 
But now that he’s completely inside of her, she has a tiny idea what to do, but she is kind of lost and doesn’t want to do anything wrong. Or hurt him because she has heard of that happening. 
“Can I move?” 
“Oh. I thought you were waiting until the new year,” He shot her a look. “Of course you can move. What’s wrong?” 
“Will it… hurt you?”
“No, love. You’re already fucking squeezing me, I’m not going to last long anyway.” 
“Oh, sorry.” She tried to relax so maybe she wasn’t “squeezing” him, but all he did was pinch her waist and shake his head. 
“Felt good. Why are you saying sorry?” 
“I don’t know.” 
“Don’t be afraid you’re going to break my dick. It’s fine, I promise,” He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs and then nodded at her. “You can move now. Need help?” 
“Yes, please.” 
“You feel okay and everything?” 
“So good.” 
“Good. Just move up a little and come back down. Not hard, right?” She did as he asked and when she came back down on him, she gasped. Because she hadn’t expected it to feel like that. “That’s it. Keep going.” 
His hands rested on the underside of her thighs to keep her steady while she tried to stay at a nice pace. She could tell that he was enjoying himself from his hooded eyes and the way he kept groaning softly. 
“Am I doing okay?” 
“More than. Try to go a little faster.” This time she placed each of her hands on his chest to help push herself up. She knew that she was probably going slower than he wanted, but she was really trying her best. 
Her legs were already starting to burn and she hasn’t been on top of him for more than five minutes. But there is not one part of her that wants to stop, even if her legs are aching already. 
She really liked being over top of him. It was so different from last time and it felt much different too. Like he was pressed against that one spot deep inside of that only he could reach. And he had given her all control to whatever she pleased with him. 
“My legs hurt.” She only mentioned it because she thought that he might want to take over. Just in case she wasn’t doing it how he wanted, but instead, he tsked at her. 
“Told you I was too big. But you don’t listen.”
“You’re not that big—”
“Hey. Watch your mouth, sweetheart. I’m being really nice to you and letting you get off on my dick and you just insulted me,” He patted her hip gently and sat up a bit. “Kiss first and then I’ll help you a little bit. I know you’re just kidding.” 
She tried not to kiss him so sloppily but she couldn’t help it. Right as their mouths touched, he was slamming her down on him repeatedly. Enough for her to feel like she was going limp. Hanging onto his shoulders was the only thing keeping her upright. 
(Y/N) hopes that Maya will not be home anytime soon with noises she’s making. She sure it’s obnoxious and probably over the top but she can’t help it. She’ll never live it down if Maya comes in and hears her. 
“Harry—” She was barely doing anything anymore, he was moving her the way he wanted and it felt so good, she couldn’t help digging her nails into his back or the fact that her eyes kept falling shut. 
“You’re so good, (Y/N). Cum for me now.” And she had no choice not to because she was so close to the edge before he even touched. Just the thought of having him had her already halfway there. 
With the sound that (Y/N) just let out, she’s sure that the neighbors know exactly what’s going on by now. And she would feel bad but if any one of them had a chance to be in her position, they would’ve done the same. 
He carefully laid them back, still not quite pulling out of her yet and she sighed, resting her cheek on his arm. 
“I need to just lay here for a second. I can’t move.” He chuckled, brushing her hair back. 
“That’s fine.” He kissed her forehead and rested his other arm over her waist. 
“Did you, um, you know?” She tilted her head up to look at him and he shook his head. 
“What ever are you referring to?” She whined at him, hiding her face away in his chest. He knew precisely what she meant, he just wanted her to say it. 
“You know what I mean!” 
“I came like ten minutes ago, I couldn’t hold it anymore. You’re too pretty.” His hand came down to lift her chin so they could meet eyes and he kissed her once. And then two more times, unable to stop himself. 
“Will you stay?” 
“Yeah. You were going to have to kick me out if you wanted me to leave.” She shook her head at him before snuggling back into his chest. 
“We have class tomorrow.” She reminded him and he shrugged. 
“We’ll skip and stay right here all day long.” Harry knows that (Y/N) has probably never skipped a class ever but she’s probably so far ahead on the syllabus, she could miss a month of class and still have a perfect GPA. 
“I don’t know about that, but I only have two classes tomorrow so maybe—”
“Please, pet? I’ll take such good care of you here if you stay. I’m sure Maya can get your notes for you.” 
“I don’t know.” She trailed off. It wouldn’t be terrible if she missed a day. There wasn’t much going on except for exam review that she already knew forward and backwards. And it was true. Maya could fill her in on whatever happened in class if she decided to stay in with Harry. The idea is sounding more appealing the more he pouts at her. 
“Come on, baby. You deserve a break. I’ll help you study tomorrow, okay?” 
“I’ll think about it.” He groaned, pulling her closer to him and tangling his legs with hers. He really liked how cozy her room was and he had no plans to leave it tomorrow so he really needs (Y/N) to be on board. Because if he has to leave her side tomorrow, he doesn’t know if he’ll survive.
There was something (Y/N) had been thinking about ever since they were on their way to her apartment and she just can’t get it out of her head. So she has to ask him and see what his answer is. Because it will say a lot without asking too bluntly. 
“If there was a party there, why did you come all the way to that other one?” Harry knows that (Y/N) asks excellent questions. She’s so smart and pretty and she’s basically making him spell it out for her. 
“I knew you would be at that one so I came there. I had to see you,” She felt herself smile, really liking his answer. She’s so glad he did because she wanted to see him too, even though she was trying to convince herself she didn’t earlier. Now she feels like she could spill her guts to him and she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed about it all. Because it’s pretty clear that her feelings are being reciprocated. “If you couldn’t tell already, I’m crazy about you and I want to take you out sometime. So please say yes because my stomach hurts right now.” 
She laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. She’s glad that he finally said it out loud and she doesn’t have to guess anymore. And while she could’ve said something first, she’s just happy that one of them did, so the back and forth can stop. 
“I’d love to. And I really, really like you too.” He sighed in relief and kissed her cheek just like she did to his. 
“Good.” 
“How’s your stomach now?” 
“Be quiet. It’s better.” She couldn’t help smiling again because it’s like everything is falling into place. And it came completely out of nowhere. But she’s thankful that things turned out the way they did. 
“Can I kiss you again?” 
“I’d die if you didn’t.” 
“That’s a little overdramatic, do you know that?”
“And you’re not leaving this room for a long, long time. Do you know that?” She rolled her eyes but she was obviously okay with that. She wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else. “You’re mine tomorrow?” 
“Fine.” She pecked his lips twice but that wasn’t enough for him so he rolled over on top of her, making her laugh and go back to kissing him. 
Just like last time, Harry is fucked. But in the best way possible. Because he has (Y/N) here now and he’s not letting her get away without letting her know how much he adores her. He hopes he gets to tell her for the rest of his life, but for now, they’ll just see how it goes. 
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Damn. I hope you liked it!!! Sorry this is all over the place, I’m sleepy ☺️ but thank you for reading!
tags: @vamprry @1un4zsq @marzhshaim @sunflowersloverr @tenaciousperfectionunknown @caynonmoondreams @elidoho @peterbenjaminparke07 @daydreamingofmatilda @kissitnhekitchen @amberbambridge @danaehldy @straightontilmornin @forgetdelaney @harrysonlylover @idrawshapesonpeople07 @me-undiscovered @llina01 @80s-outsiders @littlenatilda @outofthisworl-d @butdaddyilovehim-hs @cherrys4suckers @harrystylessslut @sceleratuspoeta @hssunflowervol6 @indierockgirrl @honeyharlows @satellitelh @daphnesutton @tfharries @opheliaofficial07 @hermionelove @nathalielovesonedirection @velvetballaspark @watermelonlover @kathb59 @theofficialprongs @myloveforrreadingspost @harryshousewhore @harrysolaf @szoszi2004 @buckyssbestgirl @ellaorchard @trooooye @daylighthazzz @prettytulips @stylesfever @mayamonroem @allabouthappiness @madilee7802
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luminnara · 15 days
Text
Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)
PART ONE
Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.
MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!
Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang
Word count: 4.6k
Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye
Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25
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It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.
“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.
“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.
Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.
“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.
“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.
You returned it.
As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.
You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.
Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?
You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.
Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.
Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.
How strange the wheel of fate was.
“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.
“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.
“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.
“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”
“I do not look Harkonnen.”
“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.
“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.
“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.
“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.
You did not know if you wanted that to happen.
You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.
You hoped today would be no exception.
“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”
“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”
You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.
When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.
You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.
He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.
Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.
“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.
One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.
Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.
It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.
This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.
Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.
“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”
Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.
When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.
“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.
“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.
“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”
He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.
As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.
When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.
His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.
And you enjoyed being caught.
“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.
He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.
Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.
She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.
“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”
You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.
His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.
But he wouldn’t kill you.
You were his.
And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.
As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.
“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.
“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.
He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.
Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.
“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”
You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.
He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.
“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”
You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.
Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.
You did not care.
You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.
He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”
Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.
How strange, the things you appreciated now.
-0-
“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.
You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”
“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.
He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.
“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.
His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”
“I know, but—“
“I was worried.”
His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.
“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.
“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”
“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”
“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”
“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.
“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”
“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”
“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”
“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”
“You are a target.”
“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“
“Feyd.” He growled.
“Wh-what?”
“Call. Me. Feyd.”
You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”
“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”
He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.
“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”
Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.
“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.
He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”
“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”
You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”
He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”
His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.
“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”
“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.
He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”
“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.
“Am I?”
“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.
A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”
“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”
Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.
“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.
“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”
“Answer me,” he purred, amused.
“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.
“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.
And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.
As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.
“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.
Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.
“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”
Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.
“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.
Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.
“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.
“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.
“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”
And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.
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mellowsadistic · 1 month
Text
The Succubus - Valentine's Day
A sequel to The Succubus.
***
“Good morning, little cucky,” the monster cooed, peering over the bars of the crib. “Happy Valentine’s Day! Could you hear the grown-ups having their fun earlier, sweetie? I hope we didn’t wake you…”
Debbie glowered at her, all too aware of how ridiculous she must look trying to be intimidating with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth, lying at the bottom of an oversized crib beneath a set of Disney princess bedsheets. Her eyes were red, and there were tears drying on her cheeks as well. She had indeed woken up to the loud sounds of lovemaking coming from her former bedroom.
The Succubus laughed. “Oh dear! Someone’s a very grumpy girl today! Looks like we did wake you after all, huh? I guess you’ll just have to have an extra-long nap this afternoon to make up for it. But right now it’s time to get you up and dressed, little one!” She flung back the princess covers to reveal Debbie’s body, nude but for the thick disposable diaper around her waist.
Debbie slipped out of her crib, her nappy sagging heavily between her legs as she got to her feet. Her bottom lip trembled behind her soother. She’d woken up wet again.
The Succubus reached out, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and put her hand on Debbie’s crotch. Debbie could feel the cold, soggy padding pressing against her pussy. “That’s my little bedwetter,” said the Succubus softly. She slipped a finger past the leak guards, her eyes not leaving Debbie’s face. “Soaked again... Mummy’s poor widdle baby just can’t contwol herself, can she?”  Then she spun her around and pulled out the back of her diaper. “But you’re still not pooping at night.” She turned her back around, smiling horribly. “Don’t worry though. Sooner or later you’ll start waking up stinky.”
Debbie imagined waking up every morning to a yucky mess in the seat of her pants and no memory of how it had got there, and felt sick at the thought. The Succubus wanted her to be fully incontinent. Her horrifying voice power had served to strip Debbie of most of her daytime control, but her commands didn’t work as well when Debbie was sleeping. It had taken weeks of ‘special medicine’ in her baby bottles, but now she was starting to reliably wake up in pissy Pampers. Yet the creature who had stolen her adulthood clearly wouldn’t be satisfied until she was doing the most babyish thing possible in her pants while she slept.
Once her hair was tied up in pigtails, frilly socks had been pulled over her feet, and she was dressed in a pale pink frock that failed to reach past the drooping, discoloured seat of her nappy (her overnight diaper was never changed before she made her morning poo-poo), Debbie was ready to head downstairs for breakfast. Mealtimes had been bad enough from the start, when the demon liked to cram her body inside a tight highchair, tie a bib around her neck, and feed her jar after jar of bland, mushy baby food – but things had become even worse ever since she’d realised there was another, better way to feed her ‘baby girl’.
They headed into the living room rather than the kitchen once they’d gone down the stairs, to find John lounging in an armchair having just finished his breakfast. His empty tray was sitting on a table beside him.
“Go and kiss Daddy good morning,” said the Succubus, patting Debbie’s diapered bottom to send her on her way.
Debbie hurried over to her husband. She wasn’t really allowed to kiss him, she knew. Instead she pressed the shield of her binky briefly against his cheek and let him pat her on the head. “Good morning, pretty princess,” he cooed, and Debbie’s heart did a little flutter despite herself.
She turned around and felt her stomach roll, as it always did, at the sight of the Succubus sitting on the sofa with her large, heavy tits out of her top. A droplet of milk was glistening on the end of one of her nipples. “Come to Mummy, baby,” she said seductively, her dark eyes burning like coals. “Time for your feeding.”
Debbie toddled to the sofa, diaper crinkling noisily, and lay herself across the monster woman’s lap. It had taken a while for her milk to come in, but now she produced enough that Debbie had three meals a day from her boobs, supplemented in the evenings by oatmeal and store-bought baby food. With a wet pop, the Succubus removed the dummy from her mouth and guided her lips slowly towards her waiting breast, clearly savouring the look of revulsion on her victim’s face.
Debbie felt the warm nipple enter her mouth, and her lips closed around it and began to suckle instinctively, enthusiastically, against her will. Hot, creamy breastmilk ran down her throat at once. It had a rum-like sweetness to it that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but no matter how hard she tried, Debbie couldn’t ignore the fact that she was guzzling milk from another woman’s tits. It didn’t help that the Succubus cooed to her in a sickening sweet voice while she fed.
“Good girl, Debbie! Drink up all your milkies, that’s a good baby. Isn’t it yummy-wummy? Straight from Mummy’s boobies to baby’s belly.”
The milk seemed endless, and Debbie’s stomach already felt full to bursting when she was moved onto the second breast. But she knew better than to try and fight. That would just make the creature use that cold, awful voice, and Debbie would simply end up doing as she was told anyway. She may even earn herself a spanking to boot. At last she finished her breakfast, and after being briefly burped with her head over the Succubus’s shoulder, the monster kissed her on the forehead, shoved her pacifier back between her lips, and got up. “Time for Mummy to have her breakfast too,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think pancakes sound tasty. You stay here and behave yourself, okay sweetie?” And she left Debbie sitting on the sofa feeling heavy and tired, with her tummy full to the brim with breastmilk.
But Debbie knew she had a rare opportunity. It wasn’t often that the Succubus left her alone with her husband. John was still in his armchair, reading the paper, and the moment the demon left the living room, Debbie got off the sofa and waddled over to him as fast as she could. She could feel the milk sloshing around in her stomach. John looked up from his paper at the sound of her rustling diaper just as she reached him. Pushing aside his newspaper, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, Debbie clambered into her husband’s lap and straddled one of his legs. She bounced impatiently on his knee, and John wrinkled his nose at the pee-pee smell, but he chuckled indulgently all the same. “Do you want a horsey-ride, little missy?”
“Yes please,” Debbie whispered breathily, her soother falling from her mouth and dangling on the end of its chord. It had been over two weeks since she’d last had the opportunity for a ‘horsey-ride’ on his lap, but she felt that if the two of them could just have something resembling an intimate moment today, on Valentine’s Day, it would somehow undo the Succubus’s brainwashing and make John see her as a woman again.
John raised his eyebrow at her.
“Yes please, Daddy,” she corrected, hating the monster that had done this to her loving husband.
John nodded, satisfied, and started to bounce his knee. “Horsey, horsey, don’t you stop,” he sang, “just let your feet go clippety-clop!”
Debbie suppressed a moan of pleasure as her padded pussy was pressed hard against his knee with each bounce. If she closed her eyes and ignored the singing, if she pressed her body against his chest and pretended her pants weren’t full of pee-pee, she could almost pretend that they were making love.
“Your tail goes swish and your wheels go round!”
Her clit was pulsing delightfully. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. She was so desperate these days. She was almost there… She was right on the edge…
“Giddy up, we’re homeward bound!”
“I think that’s enough of that!” came the Succubus’s amused voice, and Debbie felt arms loop around her middle and lift her effortlessly off her husband’s knee.
“Noooo!” she shrieked, kicking her legs and humping the air desperately. Her pussy was spasming, tantalisingly close to relief. “No! No! No!”
Her feet hit the floor and there was a sharp smack on her bottom. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, getting to play on Daddy’s lap for a bit!” the demon crooned darkly. She swatted Debbie’s bottom again. “But settle down now, babykins. You can’t play horsey forever, and Daddy doesn’t want you rubbing your disgusting, piss-soaked diaper all over him.”
“Pleeeease…” Debbie begged, tears welling up in her eyes. She pressed her hand against the front of her nappy and started to rub. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed release.
“Bad girl, Debbie!” the Succubus scolded, pushing her hands away from her crotch. “Is that what Mummy’s taught you to do when you’re feeling naughty tingles in your no-no spot?”
Debbie whined. She clenched her fists at her sides and bounced on the spot. Her pussy was so achy. She hated asking, hated what it involved, but it was the only time the Succubus ever allowed her to orgasm. Most of the time the monster refused her. But occasionally, just frequently enough, she’d say yes.
“Mummy…” Debbie said through gritted teeth. “Please can I have sex?”
“Keep going, baby,” the Succubus said, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Ask properly.”
“I know… I know I’m too silly and little for real sex,” said Debbie, glaring at the floor, “but I want to play pretend. Please can I have sex with my teddy bear?”
The Succubus ran her fingers through one of Debbie’s pigtails, considering, letting the silence drag on. “Yes you may, baby,” she said finally. “Go get teddy.”
Debbie rushed over to the toybox that sat in the corner of the room and pulled out an enormous teddy bear, disentangling him from some of her dress-up clothes. But she’d only gone two steps back towards the Succubus when she stopped dead. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then a soft grunt escaped her lips. Her knees began to bend, and she found herself sinking into an uncontrollable squat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No…” she sobbed.
“Uh-oh!” sang the Succubus, and Debbie could hear the grin on her face. “Looks like it’s time for someone’s morning whoopsies!”
John laughed. “I’m just glad she waited until she was out of my lap!”
Debbie let out a loud, unladylike grunt, following by another sob, and then she got to work pushing last night’s din-dins into her pants. Her diaper drooped even lower beneath the hem of her frock as a heavy, smelly mess dropped into the back. Her face was scrunched up as though she was straining with all her might to make as big of a poo-poo as she possibly could in her Pampers, although the truth was that she was quite out of control of her own body. Her nappy sagged again as she dumped another load into it, accompanied by a fresh wave of wee-wee, so that her baby pants hung so heavily between her thighs they were halfway down to her knees. Then, with a final grunt, Debbie straightened up.
“Mummy…” she whimpered. “Please can I have a change before… before…”
The Succubus’s face was as full of delight as Debbie’s was with horror. She approached the quivering baby woman like a predator. “No, little one,” she said, her tone mocking. “If you want your special rub-rubs today then you have to have them now, in your dirty diaper.” She shoved Debbie’s dummy back between her lips, took her by the hand, and led her over to the centre of the room. “Put teddy down here,” she said, pointing at the floor. Arms trembling, Debbie did as she was told. She felt sick with shame, but even with the horrible, babyish mess in her pants, her pussy was still burning needily. “Good girl,” said the monster, flushed with arousal. “Now you can have sex with teddy, and I can have sex with your husband.” She looked over at John. “Ready for round two?” she asked, smirking.
John grinned back and started to undo his belt as his lover strutted over to him, stripping off her clothes as she went. Meanwhile Debbie lowered herself gently to the floor, on top of her teddy bear. She nearly gagged when the poop in her diaper squished against her bottom, but she was almost too horny to care. The first thrust against teddy sent a wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and she couldn’t stop herself moaning like a slut. She heard John and the Succubus laugh, but she kept going, grinding her aching, diaper-clad pussy against her bear, picking up speed. But then she made the mistake of looking up, and although she didn’t stop humping, Debbie started to wail at the sight of the demon riding her husband’s cock. She was straddling his lap, bouncing up and down on his manhood with her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Oh, oh, ohhh!” she moaned.
Debbie felt her orgasm getting closer and closer, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmare happening before her. She sucked frantically on her binky and went cross-eyed as she thrust against her teddy bear, her head dizzy with need. She was right on the edge. And then she was over it, she was cumming in her stinky, sopping wet diaper – and as she did, the Succubus looked over her shoulder with an evil smile and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl…”
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A Forgotten Birthday | Bradley “Rooster”  Bradshaw
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A Bradley fic! I hope you like it. I’m really nervous about it. 
Thank you to @there-goes-thefighter for helping me to decide on the title! Ended up with a mishmash of the suggestions :)
You can read part 2 here
Disclaimer: I’ve never been in a relationship (or anything close) so please take this with a pinch of salt. Trying my best. 
Summary: You were really looking forward to your birthday party and for Bradley to meet the rest of your family. Until Bradley isn’t able to make it and completely forgets about it being your birthday in the first place. 
Warnings: Angst, insecurities, sad, arguments, swearing, metaphorical mention of an injured animal. Out of character Rooster?
Word count: 4k +
You were excited, but also had nerves running through you. Bradley was finally going to meet some more of your family and friends from home.
It wasn’t going to be a milestone birthday, but you were still having a party because it was good excuse to have all the people you loved and cared about surrounding you. You also had a beautiful boyfriend that you were proud to show off.
A beautiful boyfriend that you were so proud to show off that you checked multiple times that he was free on the date. You planned it with him 3 months in advance and he had agreed with a grin, excitedly agreeing with you and telling you he was looking forward to meeting your family.
You had picked a cake with a design that made you giggle (mainly because of how silly it would be as a birthday cake) and you were excited to show it to him, he’d find it funny too. Right now though, you were putting the finishing touches on a potato salad and singing along to the music playing on your phone.
Your phone rang and you peaked at it to see that it was Bradley and you smiled. Quickly grabbing a tea towel and patting your hands.
“Hey Bradley,” you smile into the phone. “You home now?”
“Hey Sweetheart,” He sighs “Yeah, I’m home.”
“How was today?” He’d been so busy the last month and particularly this week that you’d barely been able to see him, another reason you were excited to see him. You also hoped that he’d be able to relax at the party and not have to worry. You’d even asked your uncle to bring his keyboard in case Bradley fancied playing. It wasn’t anywhere near as fancy as what Bradley was used to playing, but it still did the job well enough.
“Was alright.” His words are slow and tired, “Look, I’m gonna be honest- would it be alright if I didn’t come tomorrow? I’m so tired and I just want to spend the day catching up on sleep and watching TV you know?”
“Oh.” You stopped taking things out of your cupboard to get the next dish ready.
“I know you were looking forward to me meeting your family and all, but there’ll be other opportunities won’t there? It’s not as though it’s meeting your mom and dad for the first time.”
He had already met them and they really liked him. 
You played with your top a bit and walk into the living room,
“If-if you’re really feeling that tired.”
“Baby, I’m exhausted. The last thing I want to do is be at a party.”
It’s not personal, you tell yourself. Maybe you could find some kind of solution?
“Do you want to maybe stay over tonight and then you could maybe go home tomorrow morning?”
“I’m going to be heading straight to bed, I’d barley speak to you.” Good to know.
You suck your tongue for split second in thought before speaking,
“What if you came over for just a couple of hours later on in the day? You wouldn't-”
You hear let him let out a frustrated sigh. He’s just tired.
“Baby, please.” He begs for you to lay off a bit. “I can try and see you Sunday, if you wanna see me that bad.” If you wanted to see him. He made it sound like you were chore.
He had been socialising with a lot of people lately and it was probably all to a high standard. You’d supposed you’d want to be alone too. But it still upset you.
“I’m out Sunday.” You had a meal with your best friend planned. She wasn’t able to come on the Saturday, but still wanted to be able to spend some time with you. He knew that. You nibble your lip, trying to come up with a solution. It wasn’t as though you wanted to see him because you wanted a gift or anything like that. You just felt a bit weird on your birthday sometimes and you wanted to feel loved and Bradley made you feel loved. “How about I-“
“I said I don’t want to go to this stupid fucking party. I’m tired and not in the mood to see anyone. Stop nagging.” His tone was harsh, sharp and went straight to your heart. It flipped the switch from you being upset to being irritated.
“Fine” You snip and you can feel your jaw tense up “I’ll let you go. It’s not as though you’ve known about it for weeks. Have a good night.”
“You too.” He says shortly and hangs up.
You try and force your chin up to stop your lip from wobbling, but it still goes and you sit down on the sofa. You shouldn’t feel guilty but you were and you were also sad that after so excitedly telling people that your boyfriend was going to be there, he wouldn’t. You were probably going to look stupid. At least the rest of the Daggers were going to be there.
Your phone buzzes:
Bradley <3: I’m sorry for snapping. Thank you for understanding, I’m just exhausted. Have a good time tomorrow, I love you x
Stupid Bradley. It’s not as though he had no idea. You quickly wiped a tear from your cheek, that you hadn’t realised was there until it tickled your cheek.
You didn’t want to fight with him though. Especially after the day before your birthday. So you push it under the rug. It was either that or spend however long letting it eat away at you.
You: I’m sorry if I was pushy, I love you too x
Bradley <3: <3 <3 <3
You give yourself a moment, let out a big sigh and stand up. You had a couple of pies to get ready.
--
You felt a little sad without Bradley there and you felt guilty for imagining a birthday morning with him, wishing for a couple of cheek kisses to wake up to, maybe some breakfast in bed and he’d help you get the food set, but the reality was, you hadn’t even received a birthday text yet and it was 14:00.
All your family had been asking about him and you had to tell them that he was too tired. (Although, to be honest you had embellished it a little bit, saying that the Navy had worked him really hard, but he needed to recover, but he wished he could have met them.)
You check your phone again, still no messages or calls from Bradley,
“Nat!” You cheer as you see her face walking through the house.
“There you are” She grins and wraps her arms around you. “Happy birthday.” She whispers into your ear you thank her and pull away, then going to greet the rest of the squad. All giving you a similar greeting.
“Where’s Bradshaw? I need to tell him my time from yesterday.” Jake says looking over the small crowd, you can see one of your relatives looking at him in awe.
“Oh, he’s not here.” You comment, trying to sound light hearted and unbothered.
Nat narrows her eyes while Coyote pipes up, “Is he back at base? Could’ve given him a lift.”
“Please if that man has an opportunity to drive his car, he’s taking it.” You take in a brave breath, this was fine. You were fine. “He’s just not coming. Said he was too tired.”
“You want me to go kick his ass?” Nat says brows now turned down. Looking thoroughly unimpressed.  
“No,” You chuckle “It’s fine. I’ll…hopefully see him soon.” It didn’t feel as though he was in a rush to see you though “I’d rather him feel better.” Your smile is weak.
“But-“ “Doesn’t matter Nat.” You didn’t want to get upset in front of them, they were his teammates.  “Not my problem right now, I’m not letting him ruin the day.” You insist and then turn to the rest of the guys, as Jake slings an arm around your shoulders,
“You’re right. Don’t worry about it, darlin’.”
It does a bring a little smile to your face as your hand rests on Jake’s backs as you continue to look at each of the guys.
“So what’s been going on with you lot?”
 --
Bradley felt pretty good overall. He’d had a great sleep and there was so much peace and quiet he was loving it. He was doing everything at his own pace for the first time in what felt like months.   He did feel a little bad about missing your party, but there’d be others.
He finished a re-run of a random sitcom and stood up, deciding he could do with a little fresh air and a gentle walk around the block wouldn’t hurt.
He’s locking the door when he hears a ‘Bradshaw!’
Nat.
He turns around “Hey, enjoy the party? You’re back early.”
“Early start tomorrow.” She says shortly. “Where on earth were you?”
“I just wasn’t feeling it, Nat. I told them yesterday. They were fine with it.” He replies nonchalantly.
“Have you even spoken to them today?”
“I spoke to ‘em yesterday,” He shrugged. “Knew they’d be busy today. Will send a message or something tonight.”
Nat glares and pushes a box into his chest, “For some reason they sent me back with this to give to you. Said it might make you smile after the last couple of weeks you’ve had.”
Bradley frowns in confusion as he takes the Tupperware and looks through the transparent lid. He sees the familiar face of the main character from a sitcom you’d both been watching. He’d seen it before, but the scene that this picture was from had really tickled you and therefore had got him laughing. The both of you had ended up laughing for a solid 15 minutes. It was a good memory and made him feel warm.
His lip lifts to the side briefly before confusion sets in, “Why’d they randomly get a cake?”
“Rooster.”
“What?”
“What do you think this party was for?”
“Just wanted to see their family I think.”
“So,“ Nat says starting to speak slower and she places her hands on his shoulders “If they’ve invited family and friends over, has ordered a special cake and was able to plan this well in advance, what’s the date?”
Bradley frowns in thought at the moment, before his eyes widen and then he closes them tightly, “Fuckin’ shit!” He hisses. “Shit!”
“You’re a fucking idiot Bradshaw.” “I know Nat, I know.” He says running his hands through his hair, “What do I do? I’ve not even sent a message, Nat. Nothing.”
“Oh I know, they’ve been checking their phone regularly.”
And with every check, Nat could see the change in your expression.
Bradley thinks his heart’s going to break.
“Nat all I did was snap at them yesterday for asking if they could spend some time with me today.” He sucked in a breath, “Nat, I said it was a stupid party and that it was the last place I’d want to be.”
“You’re a dick. For multiple reasons.”
You hadn’t mentioned it being your birthday in months, not that it was an excuse, but anytime today was mentioned it was just ‘the party’ no mention of your birthday, he ended up just not connecting the two or registering it. He still should have known though, no wonder you kept suggesting things.
He hadn’t even got you a card or a gift.
“Nat what can I do?”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that?” “Please.”
“You’ll figure out something.”
Bradley looked at his watch, 19:30. “What time does the party finish?” Nat shrugged. “Nat. Come on.”
“Go find out.”
Bradley lets out a quick grunt and turns back into his housing, and rushing to get changed. He puts on a Navy blue shirt and a pair of black trousers before leaving.
He doesn’t put music on as he’s driving to yours, it didn’t bring him the comfort he usually found, he did consider stopping off and picking up some flowers, but it would take a while to find somewhere that was open and selling some good flowers. He’d rather see you right now anyway.
He takes in a breath as he parks up (he had to park a little bit away as other people were parked up), he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he did know that he was going to make it up to you. Well, he would try anyway.
He’s just walking up your driveway when he spots an older man, possibly in his 50s awkwardly carrying an electric piano, he rushes up to them as he slips his keys into his pocket.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
The man sighs in relief, “Yes, please. I told them I didn’t need any help as they were all sat outside and comfortable, but I was starting to regret it.”
Bradley nods and takes a hold of the piano as they both carry it. It’s not as though it was too heavy for Bradley, but it was just an awkward shape. Bradley’s tongue lightly touches his lips,
“Why’d you bring it?”
He just replies with your name, as they reach his car, and he awkwardly unlocks the door. “Said their boyfriend can play and that it would all be fun for us to sing along with him. But he didn’t show, they said it’s because he needed to recover, but I don’t quite buy it.” Bradley’s not sure his heart could sink any lower, but it did. It really fucking did. “I’m sure he’s not a nice young man like you.” He pats him on the arm,
“I’m sure he loves them very much,” Bradley just about manages to say. His tongue heavy.
“Hm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” He slams the door shut and slaps his hands together. “Job well done. Thank you for the help.”
“No problem, happy to help. Have a good evening, sir.”
“You too.”
Bradley makes his way to the house, nerves tripling. He rings the doorbell and waits awkwardly, the door opens.
“You’ve got some nerve.”
“I know, Seresin. Just let me come in, please.” Bradley goes to step in, but is stopped with a hand on his chest.
“Just a second.”
You’re getting a couple of drinks ready when Jake calls out to you,
“There’s a weasel here to see you. Should I let him in?”
“Jake,” you scold with a laugh “Don’t be a dick, who is it?”
You hear some footsteps and so you pad into the living room to meet them and the smile on your face fades, Jake walks past you, patting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“Hey Sweetheart, happy birthday. I’m so sorry I got here late.”
So the reason he wasn’t messaging you wasn’t because he was tired and sleeping the day away, it was because he had no idea what the day even was.
“Oh,” you start raising an eyebrow, “so that means you were going to come earlier? Because I was under the impression that you weren’t going to come at all.” He’s quiet as he looks at you guiltily, “What made you realise to come over? Was it, Nat?”
Bradley slowly walks forwards, wringing his hands together, “Honey, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that I forgot that it’s your birthday. I’ve just been so busy-“
“I know. You made that clear yesterday.”
“I can’t apologise enough, Honey. You mean the world to me, will you let me make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”
You shrug.
Your aunt calls out to you, to check that you’re alright and if you’ll be back out soon.
“Yeah, just coming!” You call out and turn to back to Bradley, “Come on. Some people have already left,  you’ve missed my mom and dad, but we’re all outside.” Bradley follows behind you like a puppy, you pause at the kitchen counter, “There’s some food there, if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you,” he mumbles, but you both already knew that that wasn’t the case.    
You lead him outside and smile at everyone, “Hey, Bradley was able to make it.”
Bradley forces a smile on to his face, all he really wanted to do was sit with you. But he couldn’t.
Bradley shakes everyone’s hand and assures them he’s feeling much better and thanking them for their concern. Telling them all that it’s a pleasure to meet them. Being the image of the respectful, polite boyfriend.
Bradley settles next to you and sees your hand resting on the bench, he tries to quietly reach over to link your little fingers, but as soon as you feel his touch you pull away.
You didn’t want to be upset with him, but you were hurt that he didn’t remember. And you felt a little embarrassed. You’d tried your best to make his birthday special and memorable, took him out for breakfast, done him a intimate party with the rest of the squad and bought him two VIP baseball tickets as well as a couple of other little things you thought he’d enjoyed.
/
“Thanks Honey,” he mumbles into your lips smiling, “this is the best birthday I’ve had in awhile.”
“Glad you’ve enjoyed it.” You say threading your hand in his hair, enjoying the soft strands. You give him a quick peck and can’t help but slightly rub your top lip along his moustache. “Who are you going to go to the game with?”
He rolls his eyes, “Who’d you think?” he tickles your sides playfully and nudges your nose with his, “I’m excited to spend the day with you.”
“Me too. Should be fun.” Your arms slip around his waist and you rest your head on his chest, feeling so content.
 /
“So Rooster" Jake starts, slouching into his camp chair “What birthday gift did you give this year?”
You glared at Hangman. He wasn’t just calling out Bradley here, but you as well. Bradley clearly didn’t have an answer.
“Oh please,” you start “No one wants to hear about that. Didn’t you want to tell him something about the time you got yesterday?” that almost manages to get his attention to change but…
“Oh no wait.” One of your younger cousins says leaning forwards and resting her face in her hands, looking excited. “I want to know!”
What do you do. What do you do. What do you do.
“Well, um. He stayed the night last night,” you swallow. The lie clawing at your throat, “Because I knew we might not get much of a chance to see each other this weekend because he needed to recover alone.” You can feel a slight pressure behind your eyes and you can also see Bradley eyeing you from the corner of his. “So, he gave me a beautiful bracelet that I had been looking at for a few months. I was debating whether to get it so he surprised me with that. It’s needs adjusting slightly to fit, which is why I’m not wearing it.” It was at least half true, you had been eyeing up a bracelet for awhile. Bradley had told you you were allowed to treat yourself, but you couldn’t help but hesitate.
You weren’t using this conversation as a way to ask him for it and you’d never ask him to buy it for you. You just had to think of something off the top of your head that you wanted and that was it.
“Oh wow, how cute.” Your cousin sighed as your aunt smiled.
“He’s a keeper.” Your aunt smiled.
The pain in your throat was getting worse, “Sure is.” You reply gulping the rest of your drink,
“It’s so lovely to have a partner that thinks about you and pays attention. It really makes such a difference.”
“Definitely.” You say quickly “I need another drink. Does anyone want anything?”
A couple of people responded and so you nodded grabbed their glasses and went back into the kitchen, Bradley’s eyes following you.
“I’m uh- gonna go see if they need any help.” He says interrupting Jake’s story, he doesn’t give anyone a chance to reply and jogs after you.
He cautiously enters the kitchen, “Can I do anything?”
“No,” You reply, not looking at him and focusing on pouring a drink. “You can go back outside, I know you’re exhausted.”
Bradley feels himself wince, “Do you think we could talk?”
“We’re talking now.” You state starting on another drink.
“You know what I mean sweetheart, can we talk properly?”
You hum. “I’ve got people here, Bradley.”
“I know, but-“
“But what?” You snap looking up. You couldn't help it. You felt like an injured animal that just wanted to lick their wounds in peace. “Why do you suddenly give a shit? I know you don’t want to be here, so just go.”
He ignores the pang in his heart.
“I’m really sorry I forgot about it being your birthday. You know I would have come if I’d remembered.”
“Exactly. You didn’t remember and you weren’t going to have made the effort otherwise. I’ve planning this for weeks and you know that. You told me this party was stupid!” You’re trying your best to keep your voice low and not alert anyone else. “And then I have to spend the day essentially lying to my family. It’s not fair and you know it.”
“I know.” He says softly “I know I’ve been such a dick, I hate that I said what I said.”
“Good to know,” you reply no longer looking at him again and instead picking up the drinks and leaving.
Bradley rubs his face in his hands before following you back out. Like a lost puppy. He didn’t know what to do and so spent the next couple of hours being the best absolute Best Boyfriend™ asking questions to your family, offering help, complimenting you. And to you, it all just felt fake. Not because he wouldn't be like this normally, but the perception of him being there was a lie.
Finally, everyone had  left and you couldn’t help but feel so relieved. You didn’t have to pretend everything was fine and dandy anymore, you could allow yourself to be upset and tired.
“Are you stopping the night?” you ask meeting him in the living room, where he was looking at a photo of the two of you on your wall. It was his birthday last year.
“If that’s cool?”
You can’t help but roll your eyes. “It’s fine, Bradley.” You’re about to walk off to the bathroom when a hand takes yours, stopping you. A sigh escapes your lips as you turn round to look at him and you finally meet his eyes.
“Baby, please.” He murmurs softly “I can’t bear it that I’ve hurt you and missed such a special day. Let me take you out tomorrow?”
“’m already out tomorrow, Bradley. Day’s over now anyway.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t still do something afterwards or even next week, I’ve been thinking and I’ve come up with some ideas of things we could do. I-”
“Stop.” You whisper “I appreciate it, but are you doing this to celebrate my birthday or because you feel guilty?” He doesn’t answer. He’s not sure how, but he really wants to.
“I feel like I can’t demand anything off you, nor do I want to.” You start “I know how busy you are. Believe me, I do. But I spent months trying to come up with something you’d like for your birthday and trying to include you in today and you had no idea about it even being my birthday. Not just getting the date wrong, but it didn’t exist in your mind at all and I just…I feel like today just made one of my worst fears a reality.” You’re barely looking at him. If you saw his eyes you think you’d cry.
Bradley takes in a breath before asking, “What fears, Honey?” you’re silent and he doesn’t want to find out, but he needs to. Especially when he sees the tears in your eyes that you’re trying your best to stop. “Tell me, please?”
“That I love you a lot more than you love me.” You say it softly. Scared to have it confirmed. “Which I know might have been the case, but I didn’t think there’d be such a large gap y’know?” You blink a couple of times to stop the tears “Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”
“Baby-baby no,” Bradley breathes “I love you. You know I love you. I just made a stupid stupid mistake.”
“I know you love me, Bradley.” You say quietly “I just feel a bit stupid at the moment, thinking we were closer than we maybe are.”
“Please don’t say that.” Bradley whispers as tears come to his own eyes as he takes a step forward, “You’re my best friend. I’ve not felt like this before. About anyone. Please believe me.” You don’t say anything and he cautiously reaches for your hand he’s so relieved when you let him have it. He goes to speak again, but you’re speaking again.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m mainly upset with you because you couldn’t come today. Your job is busy and things happen. I’m upset because I don’t think you wanted to. Yesterday you acted like spending time with me would be the worst way to spend your weekend, that I was just nuisance. And then you forget my birthday. And I feel like if you hadn’t of seen Nat you never would have remembered.”
“I’ve just been so busy and tired. It’s not an excuse, but its what happened.” His words are as earnest as he can make then. “I’ll never let you down again.” He promises
You nod, “Okay.” You whisper “I’m going to go to bed, Bradley. I’m up early.” You let go of his hand and turn away, he puts his hand on your forearm gently. You could have easily pulled away, but you paused.
“I love you.”
“Yeah. I love you too.” It was lacking of any affection and it shocks him and brakes his heart at the same time.
He watches you sadly walk away and decides to spend the next hour on his phone, coming up with a way to make it up to you. To show you how much he loved you. To prove himself. So after coming up with a plan and tidying up the house so you wouldn’t have to worry about it tomorrow, he heads up to your room.
You were already asleep and there was a tissue clutched in your hands.
He’d make it better.
He had to.
You can’t stop the tear that slides down your face as the bed dips and the duvet lifts up. You could only hope that you’d get some decent sleep tonight.
You can read part 2 here
 If you enjoyed this or want me to write more for him, I’d love to know :) 
Have a lovely day/evening :)
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carakook · 1 month
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Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.
╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗
“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”
🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader
Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.
Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.
Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader
Word count: 7.5k+
Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!
⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.
A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!
╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝
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.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.
See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.
You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.
Boy, you were wrong.
Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.
Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.
Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.
You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.
The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.
If only he wasn’t such a dick.
Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.
It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.
Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.
“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”
He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.
“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.
Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.
He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.
“Studio. Now.”
He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.
“You’re not my fucking boss.”
He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.
“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”
You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.
You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.
“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”
No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.
“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”
You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.
But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.
You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.
He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.
He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.
You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.
But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.
“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”
Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.
He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.
But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.
He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.
You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.
“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.
He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.
“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”
Fuck him.
“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”
He laughs. He laughs at you.
Fuck him.
“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”
“No, I-“
You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.
“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”
“Maybe if you-“
You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.
“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”
“Because-“
Again.
Fuck him.
“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”
“Me? No, you-“
Again.
And he’s had enough.
“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“
He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.
You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.
That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.
His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.
The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.
And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.
He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.
And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.
He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.
“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”
You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.
“I-“
“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”
Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.
“Then why-“
“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”
You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.
You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.
You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.
He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.
He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.
“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”
You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.
“Fuck you.”
He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.
“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”
You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.
But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.
He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.
He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.
“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”
You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.
“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”
“Please, just… do it then.”
Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.
He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.
Fuck him.
“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”
You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.
He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.
“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”
You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.
“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.
He tilts his head at you, amused.
“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”
“There are no other men.”
He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.
He is too intense. Never met a man like him.
“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.
“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.
“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”
He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.
“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”
You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.
He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.
“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”
Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.
Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.
What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.
He loses it completely.
“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.
You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.
His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.
Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.
His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.
He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”
You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.
He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”
He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.
Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.
Oh fuck.
He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”
You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.
He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”
Fuck him.
He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.
Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.
He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.
He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.
He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”
If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.
But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.
You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.
You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.
When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.
“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”
Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.
That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.
You can take it.
He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”
Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”
He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…
He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.
He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.
He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.
But none of that matters now, does it?
He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.
His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”
You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.
He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.
He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.
Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.
But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”
His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.
You want him to do something? Oh, he will.
He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”
You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.
Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.
You liked that shirt. Fuck him.
“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”
Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.
But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?
You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.
Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.
He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”
One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.
He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.
Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.
“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.
Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.
One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.
You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?
He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”
You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.
You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.
You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.
You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.
The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.
You’re not complaining though, fuck no.
His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.
Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.
It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.
He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.
“Fuck. Go faster, please.”
Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”
He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.
You asked for this.
How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.
“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”
All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.
Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.
He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”
Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.
The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.
You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.
It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.
His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.
He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.
“Need more?” He pants out.
You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.
The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.
Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.
God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.
You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.
He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”
And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.
Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.
This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.
It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.
The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?
At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.
He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.
It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.
Definitely shouldn’t have happened.
He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.
But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.
You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.
Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.
But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.
“You good?”
He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.
Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.
“I’m fucking great.”
That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.
He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.
His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.
He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.
“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.
Ugh.
He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.
You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.
He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”
At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”
And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.
Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.
But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.
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