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freedomfireflies · 2 months

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Teenage Dirtbag*

Summary: The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.

Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, gag, exhibitionism if you squint, fratrry, not suitable for Ramadan!

“Okay, next question. What is the Albedo Effect?”

“27.”

“Harry, come on.”

“What?”

“I need an answer.”

“That is an answer. Maybe not to this question, but it’s an answer to some question.”

Your expression falls flat as you toss a piece of popcorn at him. “H, seriously.”

“What?”

“We’re supposed to be studying.”

“We are.”

“No, actually studying.” You toss another piece at him, which he catches in his mouth. “Harry—"

“The Albedo Effect is the reflectivity of the Earth’s surface,” he finally says before grinning smugly. “There. Happy?”

“Mm.”

“Since I got it right, do I win a kiss?”

“No. You win another question,” you say before switching to the next notecard. “Okay, what is the average temperature of the Earth’s surface?”

“27.”

“Harry.”

He laughs before he’s reaching across the bed to grab the stack of notebooks, cards, and books all over your lap. Effortlessly discarding of them while leaning toward you to ghost his lips over yours. “59 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Your lashes flutter. You want to argue. Want to fight him and demand your things back. But it’s hard when he’s this close. “Um…right.”

He smiles, mouth dangerously tempting as it dances along the curve of your jaw. “Give me another.”

“I…” You swallow. “I can’t. You stole my cards.”

“Oh, did I? Oops.”

“You’re mean.”

“Yeah. But you like me.”

“Not right now.”

“Yes now. Always.”

You huff. “I’m not…I’m not kissing you until we finish studying—”

“Well, I’m not studying until you kiss me.”

“Harry—”

“What, angel?”

You fist his shirt. You mean to push him away and yet somehow, he ends up even closer. “I didn’t invite you over for this.”

“I know.” He smirks again. “This is just a bonus.”

“We agreed to study.”

“We are.”

“Jessica’s gonna be back soon—”

“So?”

“So, you know you can’t be here when she gets here,” you remind him, finally finding the strength to shove him back. “Come on, a few more questions and then we can take a break.”

“You said that a few questions ago,” he argues.

You grab the cards. “Oops.”

Fifteen minutes go by before you finally reach the end of your notes, earning a loud sigh from your study buddy as he flops onto his back in defeat.

“That was awful,” he declares. His head rolls until his eyes find yours. A soft green beneath those long lashes. “You take way too many notes.”

“I like to be prepared,” you pout as you stand and put them back on your desk. “You don’t take nearly enough.”

“Because I have you.”

“Yeah, well…that’s cheating.”

“It’s not cheating if I’m helping you use them.”

You turn around and place your hands on your hips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He sits up and reaches for you. Easily tugging you between his legs as you try—futilely—not to fall for that gorgeous grin. “And yet you keep me around.”

“Mm…for now.”

“For now, huh?” His large hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you do nothing to stop him. “You just use me for my cock, is that it? Cause I’m a good fuck?”

Your skin grows warm as you look away. “Stop it, don’t say it like that.”

“What? M’I embarrassing you, pretty girl?” he whispers. He squeezes your sides, palms soft against your stomach. “Which part did it? Cock or fuck?”

You close your eyes and groan. “Harry—”

“What? They’re just words, baby.”

“Yeah, but they’re dirty words.”

He’s grinning again. Arrogant and far too smug. “I’ve seen this pretty mouth do far dirtier things—”

You bury your face in your hands to hide. “Please don’t remind me—”

“Why not? Hm? You don’t wanna remember the way you took me down your throat like a good girl?” He lifts your shirt and presses a gentle kiss just below your belly button. “Or what about the way you scratched your nails down my back as you came? Crying my name until your voice went raw?”

“Harry…”

“What about when I fingered you under the table?” he murmurs, then moves his kisses up your torso. One after the other. Slow. “And you had to bite your cute, little lip to keep from moaning?”

You start to squirm. “H…H, please—”

“What about the time I bent you over that desk—” He nods his chin toward the table in the corner of your dorm room. “—and made you cum so hard, you squirted.”

You make another noise and melt into his touch. They’re good memories, you know that. But they do unspeakable things to your anxiety. Just the thought of what someone might say…the idea of what the two of you have done. You weren’t raised to think or feel so freely and Harry is a master at making you nervous.

You’ve done more with him than you ever have anyone else. More than you imagined you’d ever do. And even if you wouldn’t trade it for the world, you can’t say you really welcome the reminder.

His kisses reach your chest. Naked and bare and begging to be touched. “You can be dirty, too, pretty girl.”

Your hand finds his hair. Fingers sweeping through his soft curls that are normally restrained by some sort of beanie or bandana. “H…”

He hums. He knows he’s embarrassing you. But you suppose that’s why he does it.

The small room falls silent, save for the gentle sounds of his kisses as they move toward your breast. His tongue is dangerously close and you know if he gets his way, you’ll never get anything else done.

However, just before those pretty pink lips can make contact, you hear the sound of your roommate’s voice down the hall. Loud enough to startle you and pull you out from between his legs.

Quickly, you’re tugging your shirt back down and grabbing his hand to lead him to the window. Nearly shoving him out onto the fire escape before he’s even had a chance to catch his breath.

“Go,” you whisper as you toss his flannel at him. “Hurry.”

“You know, as much as I like being your dirty little secret, you know she’s gonna find out eventually,” he says while dipping beneath the window frame until he’s completely out of the room.

“I know. But today is not that day.”

Once you’re sure she won’t see him, you get ready to close the curtains. But you’re stopped by his large hand slipping around the back of your neck as he yanks your mouths together. Finally getting the kiss he so desperately wanted.

“You’re still coming to the party this Friday, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

You kiss him back just once before you’re shoving at him again. “We’ll see,” you call.

He winks.

With that, the window slams shut, and he disappears into the darkness. Right as Jessica slips inside the room and begins to tell you about her incredibly long day.

And every trace of Harry has gone.

“Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. And if we hate it, we can leave.”

“All right, fine,” you agree, begrudgingly following your friend into the large, familiar house that sits a few miles outside of campus. “Ten. But if I get a single drink spilled on me…I’m out.”

“Deal.”

You laugh as Jess throws her arm around your shoulders to lead you inside, shoving past the group of college students already gathering in the living room.

Every inch of the house is packed full of people. The music is loud, the smell of weed is strong, and a lively game of cup pong is being had down the hall. Truth be told, this scene always tends to catch you off guard. No, this isn’t your first party. But you were raised in a world and in a home where drugs and alcohol were never present.

You don’t mind being around them or watching people participate, but the concept is still rather foreign to you. Even if Harry’s presence in your life is beginning to change that.

Speaking of, you can’t help but search for him as Jessica drags you from room to room. You imagine he’s around somewhere. After all, this is his frat house, and you’ve never known him to miss a party.

But with the football game happening tomorrow night, you wonder if he’ll be out practicing or if he’ll be here with his teammates, pre-gaming.

You catch a glimpse of his red, backwards baseball cap as you’re leaving the kitchen. He’s across the house, clad in a black, graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, leaning against the wall as he talks to one of his friends.

He’s nodding along to something they’re saying, taking slow sips of whatever’s in his solo cup while lazily looking around.

And that’s when he finds you.

Even with all these people, you feel like the only two in the room. And you catch the way he smiles. A soft, secret smirk meant just for you. And a gleam in his eye as he takes another sip and returns to his conversation.

He’s glad you’re here and honestly, you think you are, too.

“Oh, Zack, there you are!” Jessica suddenly exclaims before she’s yanking you toward one of the guys on Harry’s team. “Zack, this is the friend I was telling you about.”

A bit confused, you and Zack exchange a nod as your roommate begins the excited introductions.

“This is the guy I wanted to set you up with,” she whispers under her breath before straightening up. “So, uh, Zack! You’re single, right?”

Even more surprised, Zack blinks as his attention drifts to you. He hesitates, and for just a moment, you wonder if he recognizes you.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this house. And it’s not the first time you’ve met Zack. However, you and Harry have been rather diligent about keeping your visits a secret, even from the other boys that live here.

Still, Zack almost caught you once when you were forced to hide in the shower as he brushed his teeth. And even though he didn’t seem to notice, Harry mentioned that he did see the earrings you accidentally left behind. The same earrings he proceeded to tease Harry about for the next week.

And the same earrings you’re wearing now.

But, if he’s begun to put two and two together, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m kind of seeing Annie. I guess.”

You smirk. “You guess?”

“I mean, we’re fucking,” he argues. “But, like…I wouldn’t say we’re together. But she would. I don’t know. But she’d be fucking pissed if I went out with someone else.”

To your surprise, Zack seems to be covering for you. Because you happen to know Annie is actually seeing Derek. She and Zack never got past the drunk-fuck phase, but it seems Jessica doesn’t realize the lie being told. That, or she’s lost interest.

“Oh, boo,” she pouts before turning to you. “Well, I tried. Sorry, babe.”

You laugh. “More than all right. I’m…I’m gonna go use the bathroom and maybe look for some water. I’ll meet you here in a bit?”

“Yes! Text me! Or call me. Or…just yell my name really loud,” she says, already slipping into the next room. “Whenever you wanna go, we will, okay? Seriously.”

“Got it,” you call. And with that, the two of you split. Leaving you to look for the only man you really care to see.

He’s no longer talking to his friend and doesn’t seem to be in the lower part of the house. So, you make your way to the next floor. Shoving past couples making out on the staircase and groups doing blow in the bathroom.

He might be in his room, although that’s perhaps a little too obvious. You still aren’t ready for people to know that the two of you are…well, whatever you two are. And you can’t imagine he is, either. Not considering his reputation and the other girls he’s been with before.

Compared to them, you’re just…you.

Swallowing your own disappointment, you continue down the hall in search of him when a large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm and yanks you into a bedroom.

You aren’t surprised that it’s him. You aren’t even surprised that he’s brought you back to his room. You are, however, rather confused by the giddy grin on his face.

“You came,” he whispers before he’s shoving you against the closed door and kissing you hard. “Been waiting all fucking night to see you.”

You’re breathless. You always are when you’re with him, but this…now. His kiss, his touch, his voice. The sultry way he speaks that goes straight to the place between your thighs.

“Missed you,” he says. He sucks on the spot below your ear. “God, I really fucking missed you, angel. You have no idea.”

“You saw me this morning,” you remind him. “And for lunch in your car.”

“S’too long,” he argues. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”

You grin. Even if you know he’s merely being cute, you can’t help but believe him. “Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it. Besides, you think I wanna watch Zack fucking hit on you all goddamn night?”

You lean back. “You saw?”

“Course I fucking saw. Could hear that shit-eating grin from outside,” he huffs before he’s kissing you again, as if to prove a point. Either to you or to himself. “But he wouldn’t if you’d just let me take you on a proper date.”

“H…”

“Yeah, I know.” His kisses get softer. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, I…I get it,” you sigh against his cheek. “I just…it’s hard—”

He takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “I know, angel. M’not pushing, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

You squeeze his wrists and smile. You sometimes find yourself surprised by how willing he is to be seen with you. You aren’t sure why, but you always assumed he’d be ashamed. That he’d be the one to want to hide. To lock you away and keep your rendezvous a secret.

And maybe you like it this way because you’re afraid. Because you’re worried that once he sees how odd the two of you look together, he won’t want you anymore. That the relentless teasing and comparisons will drive him to end things.

And you’ll be devastated.

Perhaps sensing where your mind has gone, Harry resumes his work on your throat, efficiently distracting you. You happily relinquish your overthinking to him and his intentions, and it feels good. You used to be scared of being touched, of being loved. But it’s becoming easier with him. A routine you wouldn’t trade for the world.

He begins to pull you toward his bed. It’s made for once, which you have to admit impresses you. Harry doesn’t tend to devote his time to things he doesn’t think matter. Like cleaning his space, taking notes, or worrying about his classes. Somehow, he manages to pass every semester, keeping his spot on the football team, while you struggle to keep up even with all the time in the world.

Half the time you suggest studying together, it’s because you’d actually like his help.

“Wait…wait, Har,” you murmur as he sits onto the mattress and begins to pull you in a straddle over his thighs. “Wait, not…not when you’ve been drinking—”

“Haven’t,” he exhales against your mouth. “S’just Sprite. Coach doesn’t let us drink before a game.”

Almost relieved, you lift a brow. “But he doesn’t mind a wild party?”

He smirks. “Technically, we’re not supposed to do that either. But…I kind of live here, so…”

“Ah.” You dip down and press your lips to his softly. “Then I guess you just don’t have a choice, huh?”

“Nope.” He moves his hands to your waist, subtly grinding your body over his until you both groan. “Besides. I’d much rather be here with you than down there with them.”

“Mm. That’s the right answer,” you tease as he laughs and slips his fingers under your dress.

You know this dance by now. You even enjoy it when Harry’s at the lead. He knows what he’s doing, even if you don’t. And he knows just how to teach you. Show you. Guide you.

You take a deep breath and let yourself submit. Let his hands roam, his thighs flex. Let his mouth travel down your neck and to the curve of your shoulder. He slips the strap down until he has more room and then he moves for your chest. Hungry kisses meant to devour you.

“My pretty girl,” he whispers, tongue licking a stripe along the top of your breast. “Wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?”

Your lashes flutter. “Thought…thought it would be easier.”

“Easier?” He glances up, smirk devious. “You wanted me to have easy access to your pretty pussy?”

The vulgar language brings a fervent heat right to your face. You glance away out of habit, but he doesn’t let you this time. Instead, he pinches your chin tight between his fingers and forces your attention back.

“Is that right, angel?” he asks again, firm.

You swallow. “…yes.”

“Mm. Good girl,” he mumbles before moving his hand to your tit. Squeezing it gently while wrapping his lips over your nipple. “Or maybe you’re my naughty girl tonight. Yeah? Wearing something so sinful. Just for me.”

You nod quickly as your nails scratch down his scalp. “Just for you.”

“Mhm. Not Zack.”

“No. No, not Zack.”

He simpers at the sound of your breathless whines. Enjoying the way your hips roll against his. The way your naked thighs feel against his clothed ones. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Let me have a little taste?”

Your stomach flips. Harry has introduced you to a world of pleasure you never knew possible, but you still can’t deny that it makes you feel vulnerable. The way your body is put on display for him. Accessible to his tongue, his hands, his…

You close your eyes and force a nod. You just won’t think about it. You’ll let him have his taste and then he’ll start. You understand the science behind it. Your body needs to be properly lubricated before he can begin. And it’s not exactly a step you care to skip, even if it does make you nervous.

He grins at your reaction before he’s leaning back onto the bed and dragging you up toward his face, that bright red hat falling off in the process.

He’s mentioned this position before. Apparently, it’s his favorite, but it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. You don’t understand the mechanics. How you’re meant to surrender control but also keep from crushing his pretty face beneath your weight.

“Angel,” he calls, pulling you back. “What did I say last time, hm?”

“I…I know, I just…” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you—”

“You won’t,” he promises yet again. “You can’t. I know what I’m doing, yeah? Trust me. Just let me do this, I’ve got you.”

And you know that he does. So, surrendering your inhibitions, you let him place you just where he wants before he nods at you to pull your underwear to the side.

You do. Fingers shaking as you drag the damp fabric away and present yourself to his tongue. You want to look away. Want to hide from the growing look of hunger in his eyes, but he’s already sucking on you before you can.

And once he starts…things don’t seem so bad.

His tongue is magic. His lips are divine. Even his hands are wonderful with the way they hold you still.

You think you could spend a lifetime against his mouth. Live here, die here. Do anything and be anything he wanted so long as he never stopped.

“Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” he says after a moment, and you almost miss it over the faint thumping of music outside his room. “You okay?”

You nod, fingers back between his curls as you brace yourself. “Yes…yes, I’m…I’m all right. Am I…am I too—”

“No,” he says simply. “No, you’re perfect. Don’t move. M’having so much fun.”

And you don’t doubt that he is. His eyes are closed and he’s feasting on you like he’s been starved his whole life. His entire face is between your folds, licking, sucking, nipping. Wet sounds that are somehow louder than the noise outside.

You can’t help the way you groan. The way you say his name and shake in his hands. It’s too much and you’re still unsure how to handle so much ecstasy.

But he knows. And he keeps you planted on his tongue until you’ve nearly soaked his entire face. And then…he stops. Seconds before you can find that sweet release and you gasp as he pops off and scoots you back.

“What…what did I do?” you pant.

He laughs while he sits up, cupping your cheek in his palm before pulling you forward for a kiss. “Nothing,” he whispers, and the taste of you on his lips makes your insides twist. “I told you, you’re perfect. I just have something else in mind.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twist together. “Do you…do you want me to…?”

He smiles again then shakes his head. “Not this time, pretty girl. You know I don’t always expect that, right? I don’t eat you out just so you’ll suck me off.”

“I…I know.”

“Good. I eat you out because I fucking love it.” Another kiss. “And not just to get you wet.”

You feel your features scrunch, the urge to hide much stronger. “I know.”

“And I don’t want you to forget. I love watching you take me down your throat, but only when and if you want to. Tonight, I thought we could maybe try something we haven’t yet.”

“Oh…”

His eyes settle on yours. “I want you to ride me.”

Your lips part. “You…oh.”

“We’ve talked about that before, yeah?” He sweeps his thumb across your cheek. “About if you think you’d be comfortable?”

“Yeah, we…yeah. I…I don’t mind. I just…I don’t know…”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll show you, hm? We can just try it and see how you feel. And if you don’t like it, we can do something else.”

It’s a good plan. A solid plan, and even if you’re unsure, you can’t help but feel excited. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats happily before scooting back toward the headboard. “All right, can you take me out, angel?”

Eagerly, you agree, crawling after him until your fingers find his jeans. Seeing such a massive dick always tends to surprise you, but you find that you feel more confident now than you did before. He’s beautiful, every inch of him. And he seems to love the way you touch him. The way you look at him, admire him.

And that’s your favorite part.

“Good girl,” he coos as you reach inside his boxers to wrap your palm around him. “Not so shy anymore, hm?”

You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you release him from his pants.

He laughs. “I can see that. Can you give me your hand, pretty girl?”

You oblige and he pulls your palm to his mouth before he’s spitting directly in the center. A large wad that sits snugly in your hand before he drops it back down to his cock and nods at you to continue.

You drag the wet substance up and down his rather impressive length until he’s glistening. He’s already quite hard, but your delicate strokes seem to get him the rest of the way. Until he’s standing straight up and nearly leaking.

“Good,” he says again, a tad breathless. “So fucking good at that, you know?”

You smile. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Mhm.” He chuckles. “Then can you show me how good you are at putting me in?”

You nod fervently. The academic overachiever in you is always anxious to prove yourself to him. To show that you’ve learned, you’ve improved. That you’re worthy of his time and his body.

You use one hand to guide him and the other to keep your panties to the side. He, in turn, makes sure to lift your dress high enough that you can both see and the moment his tip makes contact with your throbbing clit, you whimper.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re all right. Go ahead and tap it a couple times, yeah?”

Forcing your pulse to steady, you do. The heavy appendage seems to taunt you as you pat it against your pussy and the sensitive nerves that make your legs shake. But it feels like heaven and even Harry has to take in a labored breath as he watches.

The two of you rarely use condoms these days. You did when you first started, but after getting tested and being assured that you were the only person he was sleeping with, you decided to try just once without.

And you know the risks. Know it’s rather idiotic to tempt fate the way you do. The pill isn’t a guarantee, and you know neither one of you are ready to be parents.

But after feeling him…feeling all of him…you became addicted. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eager to feel him again. And again. And again.

And now, well…now you don’t think you can go without.

“There you go,” he sighs. “Just like that. S’it feel good?”

“Mm…mhm.”

“Good. Go on, baby, put me in now.”

With his help, you lift up and guide his large head toward your hole. Slowly pushing it in while dropping yourself down.

“Fuck,” he exhales through a groan. “Shit, just like that. You okay? S’it hurt?”

You shake your head. You don’t have the strength to speak.

“Okay. Keep going.”

You do. A steady pace that seems to torture you both until the whines and cries slip out before you can stop them.

“Goddamn, angel,” he grits. “Shit, you feel so fucking good. You still all right? Know what to say if you’re not?”

“Ye—yeah.”

“Attagirl. Okay, baby, I want you to lift up now, yeah? Nice and slow.”

Doing your best not to tremble, you raise back up and feel the way his thick cock seems to stretch you open. The way it travels through your body, making you feel empty without it.

And once you’re near the tip, he pulls you back down, and you start again.

The speed is tediously languid. It almost hurts and the noises tumble from your lips one after the other without pause.

Your thighs burn. Your core burns. Every inch of you seems to be screaming, yet Harry doesn’t break a sweat.

“Doing so good,” he praises again. He pulls at your jaw until you kiss him. “Know it’s hard, but you look so good riding my cock right now.”

You only mewl. Loud and incoherent.

He releases your cheek to reach for something on the nightstand beside him. Something you don’t see through your hazed vision until he begins to unwrap it and bring it to your mouth.

His bandana.

It’s his favorite one, too. The white one, with little back details on it. But you aren’t exactly sure what he expects you to do with it now…until he smirks.

“M’gonna put this in your mouth,” he says before resting it on your lips. “Gotta keep you quiet since I didn’t lock the door. Don’t want anyone to hear you and come lookin’, hm?”

Your eyes widen as you gape at him. “Harry—”

“Sorry. S’just too distracted.” He grins. “Open up, pretty girl.”

Rather excitedly, you obey. Giving him just enough room to slip the fabric between your teeth until you can clamp down and he can fasten it in a knot against the back of your head.

“There you go,” he declares when he’s through. “Now you can be as loud as you want, yeah?”

You nod.

“Mm.” He dips down to start kissing at your chest. “Can you keep going, baby? Or do you need me to take over?”

Your lashes flutter.

“I know,” he coos when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. “S’hard, isn’t it? My angel’s getting tired, huh?”

Another nod, slower.

“Okay,” he chuckles. He grabs onto your hips and straightens up. “Okay, I’ll fuck you.”

Just like that, he resumes the pace you set. Using every muscle in his thighs and abdomen to fuck his cock up into you and leave you a wilting, blubbering mess.

The poor bandana becomes soaked as he pounds into you. Faster and faster while your body shakes and drool pools at the sides of your mouth.

Your whimpers sound shuddered now. In tune with his fast thrusts and the wet, lewd cacophony of your bodies connecting. Pornographic in nature yet somehow…euphoric.

He sucks your tit back into his mouth and you clutch onto his scalp. Nails scratching at his neck, shoulders, and chest until you feel your orgasm coming up on you once more.

And he feels it, too. Features twisting at the way you clench around him. The way your body draws him in, treats him right. He’s obsessed and he’s told you as much. Even with the level of stamina he possesses, he can never seem to last all that long when it comes to you.

“Fucking hell,” he groans before he’s tightening his hold on your waist. “Shit, s’it feel good? Like being on top, angel?”

You nod and press your forehead to his. Even if it’s rather exhausting, you can feel him in places you couldn’t before. Nudging against your g-spot until you see stars and have to physically fight the urge to cum.

“No, don’t,” he pants, seeming to sense it. “Want you to cum. Right now, baby. Okay? Let me feel you first.”

Even if you wanted to argue, you can’t. The low, graveled instruction goes straight to your cunt and you cum before you can stop yourself. Drenching his cock, his thighs, your thighs. You sway, go limp in his hold. Until you’re slumping against his chest as he fucks you through every second of it.

“There,” he praises, large hand rubbing up and down your back. “God, you’re fucking good at that. Love the way you cum for me. S’fucking heaven.”

You know he’s close. And you know he won’t finish inside you, instead wasting his offering on his stomach or somewhere else.

So, you get an idea. You pull off him as best you can while he hisses and resists the temptation to release inside you before you slip the bandana back out and crawl down his lap.

Then, you take him in your mouth. It only takes two sucks before he’s grabbing at your neck and finishing down your throat. The warm, sticky substance familiar and far too thrilling.

He cums and he cums until you’ve nearly sucked him dry and his tired body melts into the bed.

He whispers your name and fights to keep his eyes open so he can gaze at you. Then, he tugs on you. “Come here.”

He kisses you. Tongue and teeth clashing in a messy exchange, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Moans into your mouth and pulls you against his heart until you can both catch your breath.

You revel in the post-orgasm glow. Body’s abuzz and slightly sweaty from the workout. But you wouldn’t trade this ache in your joints for anything.

And you realize you wouldn’t trade him, either.

“You okay?” he murmurs after a moment.

You hum. “Yeah. M’tired.”

“Yeah,” he echoes with a gentle laugh. “It was fun, though, right?”

“Mhm. Very.”

“Think you’ll wanna do it again?”

“Maybe,” you admit. “As long as you do all the work again.”

His laugh is louder this time. “Deal. Or maybe we’ll just have to work out your muscles until you can do it all on your own.”

“Mm…unlikely.”

“But maybe.”

“Maybe not.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.”

“Might hurt.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He smiles. “Can you stay tonight?”

“I don’t know. Jess might be looking for me.”

“Tell her you’re staying.”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have to tell her who you’re with.”

“H,” you sigh. “She thinks I’m a virgin prude. If she knows I’m staying, she won’t let it go until she finds out who I stayed with.”

The room falls silent. You feel him sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

You glance up. “I’ll tell her one of these days, I promise. I just…I wanna keep you to myself. Just a little longer.”

His grin splits his face. “Good. Think I might wanna keep you, too.”

He kisses you again. Soft, slow, sensual. Filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say out loud. And long enough to leave you breathless.

Until the door opens.

And Zack walks in.

God I love fratrry 😭💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

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p4p1l0nn · 5 months

Text

you and me, bed?

pairing: fwb!haechan x fem!reader

content warning: 18+, riding, pussy eating, established relationship, strong language, mdni

a/n: for the devoted fullsun enthusiasts, including the author herself — this is for you. winks and kisses xx

“ah, hyuck, please stop,” you moaned, face flushed as you shielded it with your hand. the embarrassment overwhelmed you, making it impossible to meet haechan’s gaze, your roommate who was deeply engrossed between your trembling legs.

another moan escaped from your lips, a bit louder this time, as haechan skillfully continued his actions. haechan's hands held onto your thighs, keeping you still. you couldn't move even if you wanted to, but in that moment, you wouldn't have dared.

overwhelmed by days of piling work, stacks of papers seeming never-ending, haechan, your roommate and a friend with benefits, sensed your stress. offering a way to unwind, he suggested, “why not let me help you forget all that stress, babe?”

with your heart secretly longing for him, you swiftly agreed to his proposition.

curious and wanting to spice things up, haechan decided to try something different — opting to provide you with some intimate attention. time seemed to blur as you found yourself gripping haechan's bed sheets, moments of relief unfolding in a way that transcended any sense of time.

feeling a rush of adrenaline, warmth spread, leaving drops over your thighs. tempted to let go completely, you hesitated, not wanting to come just yet. you warned haechan, struggling to form a coherent sentence that ended up sounding more like a cry.

“h-haechan, i might . . . if you don't stop,” you managed to express, your words a mix of desire and restraint.

responding to your plea, haechan paused, lifting his eyes to gaze at you. your hair tousled from the previous make-out session, you yearned for him to lean in again, pressing the softness of his lips against yours.

playfully, haechan's teasing voice filled the air, “with the way you respond to my touch, it's tempting to make you come just from the skill of my tongue on you. but, you know what would be even better? feeling you come on my dick,” accompanied by a mischievous grin. unwrapping his arms from your thighs, he shifted to a kneeling position, the outline of his hard cock visible through gray sweatpants.

lying over you, your bare chests now touching, you marveled at the perfection of haechan's warm skin against yours.

as your breathing steadied, the rapid pounding in your chest persisted, heightened by haechan's closeness. however, you felt composed enough to speak.

“how do you want me, hyuck?” you asked.

“ride me, baby.” haechan's casual nickname flowed effortlessly from his lips, seemingly normal for two friends, yet the repetition leaving you pondering its intention. the blurred lines of your relationship added an element of confusion.

what you do know is that if this continues, it might seriously affect your well being.

haechan shifts, laying on his back, extending an invitation for you to climb on top. before straddling him completely, you skillfully lower haechan's sweats along with his boxers. his hard cock is eagerly waiting, and you can hardly wait to feel it inside you again. his tender fingertips guide you, tracing over your waist as you prepare for the intimate connection.

“fuck, you look beautiful,” he remarked.

you ran your fingers over your sensitive area, adding warmth before grasping haechan's cock. with a deliberate pace, your hand glided along his length, from the tip down to the base, blending the sensations with your arousal.

“ah y/n . . .” soft breaths escaped haechan's lips, building anticipation to feel him inside you once more. excitement and warmth filled your being, realizing that you were the one causing these pleasure-filled sounds from haechan.

moving forward, you held haechan's cock to you. he placed his hands on your ass, gently spreading them to help in guiding his cock to the entrance. trying to relax, you gradually took the head of haechan's cock inside, slowly sinking down onto it.

moans echoed as haechan's full length entered you, a familiar explosion of sensations washing over you. every time you and haechan shared this intimacy, it felt like a burst of euphoria, butterflies fluttering from your stomach throughout your relaxed body.

“fuck, yes. you good, love?” haechan asked breathlessly, his hands tenderly gripping your waist.

“just need a moment to catch my breath. feeling a bit sensitive,” you responded, the aftermath of pleasure lingering in the air.

“it's perfect. you're doing amazing,” haechan praised, his words echoing in your mind with the resonance of his deep voice. his hands, once at your waist, now explored the exposed skin, reaching up to your hardened nipples. “so, so fucking good.”

the desire swelled, and you felt a mix of emotions. ready to move, you initiated slow rolls of your hips. the sensation of haechan's firm cock inside you was exquisite, perfectly fitting in the tightness, reaching every sensitive spot that heightened the pleasure.

“oh fuck, hyuck. you feel amazing inside me,” you expressed, the words a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that enveloped your senses.

haechan's hands found their place on your thighs, intentionally avoiding your neglected clit. firmly gripping the flesh on the back of your thighs, he aided your movements, encouraging a faster pace.

“i know, baby.” haechan's husky voice resonated, a low, rough grunt escaping him.

leaning forward, your hands landed on haechan's chest. your motions on his cock became more fervent, a determination to reach both your orgasms as fast as possible.

“ahh” you let out a quiet cry.

haechan's breaths quickened, mingling with the heated air. his open mouth controlled the symphony of pleasure that danced between you two. unlike his restrained approach, you relished the freedom to express your vocals, well aware that haechan enjoyed the symphony of your moans.

“just like that, baby. keep it going,” you whimpered in response to his praise.

as haechan's cock twitched with anticipation, you felt like you were on the brink of an otherworldly pleasure, the intensity building between you two reaching a crescendo of bliss.

tears of ecstasy welled in your eyes as you locked gazes with haechan, finding him already fixated on you. it seemed like he hadn't blinked since the intimate dance began. in his eyes, there was something more than just lust, something elusive that you dared to believe in for a fleeting moment.

you shifted to lie on haechan's chest, your chests pressed together. leaning in for a kiss, your breaths mingled in a shared rhythm. the kiss evolved into an exchange of breaths, prompting haechan to bridge the gap, closing it with a passionate kiss. you welcomed the play of tongues, lost in the intensity of the connection.

lying on haechan's chest, your neglected clit found the attention it craved between your bodies. the friction against his lower abdomen added a delightful sensation, and you reveled in the newfound pleasure.

as the intense kissing paused, you shifted back to your previous position, stealing a moment to appreciate haechan's soft, plump lips.

“hyuck-ah . . .”

“yes, baby?”

“i'm close. can you, um, touch me?”

“when my baby ask so nicely, how can i refuse?” haechan responded playfully.

granting you control of your movements, haechan pressed his thumb to your clit, skillfully circling it, heightening the pleasure between you two.

your head tossed back, hair moving in sync with each motion. the lewd sight before him stirred haechan, making him swear he'd gotten hard again. your exposed, sweat glistened neck adorned with red marks of earlier passion served as a tempting cherry on top.

“that's it, baby. make yourself come on my cock,” haechan commanded, his voice low and demanding.

whining, you were beyond words, riding yourself up and down on his cock, your hands forming fists on his chest.

“hyuck, babe, please . . .”

“hush. i've got you,” haechan assured, feeling your pulse quicken.

“i'm coming. can i cum? please baby—” you questioned, your plea lingering in the heated air.

“do it, baby. you deserve it.”

a wave of heat spread from your stomach, like a firework forming within. your climax surged as haechan's throbbing cock remained nestled inside you. goosebumps tingled on your skin, thighs trembling, and your core clenching around haechan’s cock.

“hyuck . . . hyu — ah, fuck, fuck, fuck . . .”

“come here,” haechan signaled for you to rest on his chest again, circling your clit gently in the aftermath of your euphoria. sticky with sweat, you laid on haechan, normally self-conscious, but in his arms, nothing else mattered.

listening to the rhythmic beat of haechan's heart, his touches soothing the shivering skin on your back, you gradually calmed down.

once assured you were ready, haechan shifted beneath you, adjusting his position to resume thrusting into you.

“mhmm, i'm still sensitive,” you whined into haechan’s neck.

“i won’t last long, baby. i know you still have it in you,” haechan continued to pound into you, the rhythmic slap of skin echoing. “such a good girl for me yeah?”

a choked moan escaped you as sleepiness started to invade your blissful mind.

“hyuck . . . come inside me, will you?” you managed to ask.

“shit, y/n . . . yeah, i can— ngh— no need to ask me twice.” haechan responded. as if those words triggered a switch in haechan’s mind, he fervently thrust into you. it didn't take long for his orgasm. an electric spark surging through him as his release painted your tight walls. his body tensed before relaxing completely, with you securely in his embrace.

a serene silence enveloped both of you, lying there, attuned to the symphony of each other's calming breaths.

aftercare with haechan proved to be the highlight, an intimate atmosphere created by his soothing hands caressing your flushed skin. whispers of sweet praises lingered in the air, and stolen kisses sparked daydreams of turning these cherished moments into an everyday reality.

usually, after reaching the pinnacle of pleasure, you'd part ways. haechan retreated to his own room for sleep, and you took it as a cue to leave, a familiar routine etched into the aftermath of sex within the walls of haechan's room.

feeling a bit self-indulgent today, you luxuriate in haechan’s fingers weaving through your hair, their tender journey down to massage your shoulders.

“hyuck?” you murmur, resting your chin on haechan's chest to meet his gaze.

“yes, my love?” haechan responds with a curious glance.

“can i stay here with you in your bed tonight?” the question hangs in the air, your brief moment of doubt heightened by haechan's gaze.

but that flicker of uncertainty evaporates in an instant. haechan, captivated by the woman of his dreams before him, embraces the offer without hesitation, drawing you closer in the warmth of the moment.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct hard hours #donghyuck smut #nct 127 smut #haechan hard thoughts #haechan hard hours #lee haechan smut

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ozzgin · 7 months

Text

Pyramid Head x Reader

Featuring Pyramid Head and a reader with amnesia lost in Silent Hill. This is Pyramid Head as originally intended for Silent Hill 2, so expect a lot of game-based immersion. Warning: NSFW, dubious/non-consent, violence, gore

[Horror Masterlist]

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

You grunt and slap the wheel, hoping your defiant act of violence will somehow convince the car engine to start again. It remains quiet. You run a hand through your hair and sigh. The palm is mildly sticky with moisture and you realize you've been sweating a fair amount. No wonder, you're stuck in this shithole. You couldn't see a damn thing ahead with all this fog. The only discernible object was a rusty, run-down sign showing "Silent Hill". You've never heard the name before, but reading the letters and allowing the words to escape your lips has brought you an unexpected wave of panic. You quickly began hyperventilating and your arms involuntarily twitched and twisted, pulling the wheel of the car along with them and causing the car to swerve into a street barrier. And now it refuses to turn back on. Fantastic.

You hesitantly grab the door handle. After a deep breath in, you open the door and step out. Given the car crashed sideways, you can no longer tell which way is back and which way is forward. You can only see the first few inches of the barrier in both directions, but everything else vanishes under the thick clouds of mist. You rub your temples, becoming increasingly upset with yourself. What were you even doing, driving all the way to-

Wait. Where were you going in the first place? You recall leaving from...home? But where is that supposed to be? No, don't do this. Not now. You walk back to the car and open the glove compartment, angrily pulling out a thick stack of documents and spreading them out onto the chair. You scan over them, growing more impatient. You don't recognize anything. The names and words and addresses don't hold any meaning. You glance up to the rear-view mirror in an attempt to detect some trail of blood seeping from your scalp, as a concussion might explain your sudden memory loss, but your appearance is fresh. Almost as if you didn't just crash your car in a strange place in utter confusion.

You check your phone. Even if you can't remember, there has to be someone in your contacts that will come to your aid. The screen glitches briefly when you unlock it and the menu is empty. No contacts, no messages, no apps. No matter, emergency will do. You type in the digits and lift the phone to your head, but quickly remove it when loud static assaults your eardrums. Why is nothing working properly? You're tempted to just slam the junk into the pavement, but find enough composure to stuff it back in the pocket for now.

All that's left to do now is to find another human. You begin walking. The road has to lead somewhere, that's for certain. And soon enough the barrier is replaced with a different kind of fencing that you use as guidance. It seems to be a small bridge. Just a few steps further and you discover the first signs of modern, populated world: a bus stop. Behind the waiting bench is a brief map of the area and you trace the plaque with your fingers, mumbling the path to yourself. "Now let's see...This is Nathan Avenue...Rosewater Park ahead...Ah, the Silent Hill Fire Station should be very close."

You can't wait to be done with this mess. They'll call for a tow truck and get you out of here. You almost sprint to the next block, expectantly. In fact, you can already spot someone right outside the building.

"Thank God! Listen, my car broke down before the bridge. My stupid phone is also...huh."

Just as you mention it, the same static as previously erupts from the speaker. You're startled and fumble for your phone. You're about to apologize to the person in front of you, but upon lifting your gaze you instantly stop in your tracks.

'Person' is a strong word for it. It resembles one, or maybe it was one long ago. What's crawling towards you, however, is not how you'd define it. The arms are melted into the torso, mimicking a straight jacket of skin. The bony, crooked legs are dragging themselves in an unnatural, unnerving way. The creature has no face, save for a gaping hole, a bizarre cavity deforming what should be a head. Your mouth grimaces with disgust, followed by fear. Terror. You have the choice of returning to your damaged car, or attempting to find actual help deeper into the town. You run ahead, praying that someone's out there. The dissonant sound of a siren can be heard, diffused into the persistent fog.

By the time you reach the next building, you're gasping for air. You didn't expect to run this far. You went all the way around Toluca lake, avoiding the side streets. The center was swarming with those abominations. Each turn and each corner would eventually reveal its revolting murmur, that pathetic shuffle of disfigured limbs. Thankfully they're not fast, nor smart. A little distance and they lose their interest to pursue you. You fall against the brick wall of this small house and read the poster. "Silent Hill Historical Society". Doesn't look too promising, but it's surprisingly devoid of any monstrous being. At this point you'd be more grateful for emptiness. It's safer.

You tiptoe your way in, wary of potential attackers. There's a faint buzz echoing from afar, but other than that no immediate danger. You examine the lobby and notice the paintings and old photos hanging from the decaying wallpaper. It smells slightly rotten. One of the art pieces catches your attention and you stop in front of it. "Misty Day, Remains of Judgement".

The abstract character depicted on canvas reminds you of an executioner. The more you stare, the clearer you can feel some kind of guilt knotting inside your stomach. Your shoulders are heavy and you're overwhelmed by the same anxiety of a child about to be punished. Awaiting the belt. The calloused hand of an unforgiving father. Your throat is dry.

Your musings are interrupted by the static that - as you've since learned - warns you of approaching creatures. The rooms are cramped and the walls are narrow and you dislike the idea of calculating your escape within this claustrophobic maze, but it's preferable to being dead. You jog along slithering paths, unsure of where they lead. The threatening turbulence of your phone goes up and down, like a sine wave, with each turn into uncharted territory. In your frantic efforts to flee you don't see the large hole blocking your way, or at least not fast enough. By the time you figure out the outlines of this pitch black well, you're flooded with the light sensation of gravitational force, stretching and compressing your innards as you fall. Is this how you end?

It's not so easy.

As soon as you open your eyes, a burning pain metastasizes through the head, digging deep into your brain. You grab onto your scalp and press your fingers over the skin, hoping for a small relief. In your debilitating migraine you don't hear the agitated flutter of limbs. They're minuscule, but so many. Thousands of sclerotized joints frothing around your limp form. You lift yourself off the rusted ground and yelp voiceless at the sight. Cockroaches. The pile of vermin lets out a deafening, high pitched screech with every movement. You drag your elbows in an attempt to get away, but the creepers almost ignore your existence. They seem to be running away from something, retreating in masses.

You don't have to wait long in order to witness their source of fear. Heavy footsteps, muffled by the grating friction of metal against metal. A corroded stench invades your lungs and you cough. Whatever is coming has instilled the utmost dread in your very bones. You want to get up and run, until your legs give up and your body collapses of exhaustion, but your limbs are petrified in panic. Your chest constricts and throbs, as if your heart is trashing to escape this prison condemned to unknown doom.

Finally, the fiend comes into view. A tall, large man wearing a leather apron layered with grime and encrusted blood. His skin is scarred and discolored, and a bulky, dense pyramid structure rests on his broad shoulders, concealing his face. He seems to be dragging along a great knife of sorts, although on closer inspection it looks like a halved pair of oversized scissors. The edge is dulled and has splattered visceral leftovers mattifying its surface. You remember the painting you've seen upstairs. Is this what it is? Your Retribution?

You lower yourself until your forehead touches the rusty floor. Like an animal awaiting to receive the final blow from its hunter, like a prisoner resigning to his fate under the guillotine. If only matters could be dealt with so simply! Your neck is clawed into a tight hold by the large gloved hand and you're crudely pulled back up so that you can properly face your Punisher. There's a vague grunt coming from underneath his bizarre helmet.

He carries you to the nearest wall and slams you against it. The great knife drops to the floor with a loud crash, and the other hand, now freed, begins to search your lower clothing. You can feel the seams of the garments tear and snap with no resistance. You want to vocalize a protest, but your throat is crushed under the forceful pressure of his clasp. At best, you can exhale in what sounds like a whispered wail. His apron is nonchalantly flipped to the side and your thigh lifted over his forearm, so that his hand can adjust itself securely under your bottom for support.

Abruptly, a prickling ache crosses your entire body as if you've just been split in two. Tears automatically begin forming in the corner of your eyes and spill down your cheeks and over the pyramid that's now pressing tightly against your quivering form. It's too big and you want to push away, but with each renewed plunge you grow weaker. The small tears and rips that blossom around your abused intimacy turn into bleeding wounds. You want to sleep.

A creature of pure instinct, serving as a reminder of human perversions and immoral desires. Travesty, corruption, sin. And what about it? Before you know it, a small moan escapes your dried lips. You throw your arms around your captor's shoulders. The sharp edges of the helmet scratch your skin, waking you back into consciousness. Your lower muscles start to relax around the massive member and allow for a smoother glide in and out. The numbness is gradually replaced by pleasant sensations. The throbbing reverberates inside your abdomen and your other leg wraps around the creature's hips, asking for more contact. Once your compliance is confirmed, the hand pinning you by the neck wanders to other parts of your body in starved desperation. Your voice returns and more lewd whines roll out one after another. If only you had a mirror so you could look at yourself in this moment. What shameless expressions are you wearing on your face? You're clinging to your violator in feverish depravity. And in return, the creature responds to your cravings with increased intensity. He seems to resonate with your wishes and stiffens his hold on you with newfound obsession. His thrusts become almost feral, with a certain possessiveness to it.

As you're about to reach your peaks, your mind once again travels to the painting. You wonder if you'd be hung and framed just like the prisoners behind their executioner. Pleasure mixed with guilt.

What sin is eroding your entrails?

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #sh2 #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head smut #horror #silent hill x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd pyramid head #pyramid head dbd #slasher smut #yandere pyramid head #monster x reader

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brittscafe · 3 months

Note

this would be very random request but okay- (feel free to delete if you're not comfortable with it and it's lengthy so my apologies 😵‍💫)

How would Shunsui, Shinji, Kensei, (grown up) Toshiro, (young and captain of 10th division) Isshin and Gin would react to f!chubby!reader with big chest who is like 3th seat in their division for some time now and who was incredibly shy, easily flustered, a bit sensitive and introverted (a lot i know, im sorry 😭) at first but slowly become more comfortable with them, more relaxed and less anxious and stiff with everything and everyone, more joking around (reader have dark and silly humor too) and surprisingly more touchy but not in a sexual way, just like-occasional hug, kiss on a cheek, upper front body pressed against his back while she explains something to him, hand brushing with her captain even a massage to relax them when it's he's stressed when they don't have a job to do or paperwork to finish.

to the request finally (😭), what if reader makes tempting, unexpected offer; like they have some work to do (say paperwork or some not so important thing to do-cleaning or something like that) or something more personal like she have to have a dinner with her brother and mother and she lied she have a boyfriend so she just say.

"I need your help ! I'll do anything in return!! I'II write every one of your reports! I’ll even cook for you! I'II even suck your d-"

and she immediately slaps her mouth shut, shocked by her own words, room was pure silence, and of course just breathed of both of them is heard. (let’s say it’s already very late in their shared office, so they are free to do anything)

Make it just humor and suggestive or make it more, if possible make it in form of headcanons! Thank you for your time! Sending lots of love and hugs! ❤️‍🩹

omgggg haha I love this! Much loveeeee 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Shunsui: You walk into your captain's office and his soft, husky eyes flicker up to yours.

"Hey, I've got some paperwork for you," Shunsui chimes out, a smile on his face and holding out a stack of paperwork. Your eyes widen and you let out a heavy sigh.

Shunsui cocks an eyebrow at your heavy sigh. "I have plans, captain Kyoraku," you explain and he chuckles slightly.

"I understand that, but just do these and then you may leave," Shunsui explains with a calm voice and you walk up to him, swiping the papers from his hand.

Your eyes rake over the papers and you chew on your bottom lip. You will never get these done in time for dinner.

"Will you help me with them, please?" you pout and Shunsui runs his tongue over his bottom lip, shaking his head.

"No, y/n. I suggest you start on them now so you may go attend your plans for the evening," Shunsui speaks softly and you press your lips together.

"Please, Shunsui! I'll do anything in return! I'll write every one of your reports, I'll buy you an endless supply of sake, or I'll even suck your d-" your voice rambles on and Shunsui's heart skips a beat at the last sentence that you don't finish.

You slap your hand over your mouth as your stomach twists into uneasy knots. You lock eyes with your captain and you feel your face go red hot.

Shunsui chuckles deeply, standing up from his chair and you gulp at the way his figure swallows you up. He stands in front of you, mere inches in between your bodies.

"That's a tempting offer, y/n," Shunsui speaks hoarsely, eyes flickering down to your breasts peeking out from your uniform. You feel your body tingle and his eyes lift back up to your eyes.

He reaches his hand up and cups your face, his warm hand making your heart skip a beat.

"I-i'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that," you stutter out and Shunsui's lips curl into a wide grin. Shunsui's thumb brushes over your cheek and he leans his head down.

"You go and do whatever plans you have mind. I'll finish the paperwork. How about you meet me in my office afterwards?" Shunsui whispers, his warm lips hovering above yours.

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to make the tingly feeling go away from your core. Shunsui bites on his bottom lip and you nod your head.

Shunsui takes a step back and you quickly leave his office, giddy and excited for tonight.

Shinji: You're laying down on the couch, your legs resting over Shinji's as he's focused on his phone. You lift your leg up and nudge him slightly.

Shinji tears his gaze away from his phone and he gazes over at you, cocking an eyebrow.

"Are we almost done here?" you ask curiously.

"We've got to clean up the mess the other squad members made with that party," Shinji explains and you scoff quietly.

"Oh, come on, Shinji! I've got plans," you whine out, sitting up on the couch.

"Oh really? With who?" Shinji asks, a sly smirk across his face.

"M-my boyfriend," you shrug your shoulders, glancing away. Shinji scrunches up his nose and sticks his tongue out at you. His tongue piercing glistens in the dim lighting.

"You are a horrible liar. Now, come on," Shinji urges you and your lips curve down into a tiny frown.

"No, Shinji! I'll do anything if you let me get out of this!" you beg him.

"Like what?" Shinji asks, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting you a firm glance.

"I'll do all the paperwork, I'll deal with Hiyori for you, I'll even cook for you, I'll suck your d-!" you immediately stop speaking, your heart sinking into the soles of your feet.

Shinji's breath hitches in his throat and his wide eyes meet yours. You sink down in your figure and the room becomes silent. Shinji feels his cock grow hard inside of his pants at the thought and he adjusts his pants.

"Now...that is an offer I just cannot refuse, my dear y/n," Shinji drawls out his voice, wryly and slyly. A lump gets stuck in your throat as Shinji grabs onto your shoulders and presses you into the couch.

He climbs on top of you and his face is so close to yours. You can feel his warm breath fanning over your lips. Suddenly, Shinji bursts out laughing in your face and you knit your eyebrows together.

"Why are you laughing?" you speak quietly and Shinji snorts quietly, shaking his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just couldn't hold it in any longer. Y/n, that is a lovely offer, but I'm gonna have to take your offer up another time. Maybe, tomorrow if you're free?" Shinji asks, drawing his lips dangerously close to yours.

You open your mouth to speak, but Shinji roughly presses his lips to yours. You groan into his mouth, your heart skipping a beat. His lips are warm and soft against yours.

"So, tomorrow?" Shinji asks, pulling away from the heated kiss and you blink with surprise.

"Sure," you reply, trapped underneath his lustful gaze.

"Run along and go have dinner with your fake boyfriend. I'll be waiting," Shinji shoots you a quick wink.

Kensei: Your gaze is stuck on your captain, unable to be shaken up by anything and focused on the movements of the broom he's dragging along the floor.

Your back hurts and all you want to do is go have a nice dinner with your friends. Instead you're here with your captain, cleaning up the hallway.

Your stomach grumbles quietly and rings throughout Kensei's eardrums. Your eyes widen as Kensei stops sweeping the dusty ground.

"Are you hungry, y/n?" Kensei chuckles out, glancing over at you and cocking an eyebrow. Your face gets hotter by the second as his eyes are on you and you lower your head.

"You have no idea," you sigh out and Kensei smirks widely.

"I would say go get dinner, but we need to clean first. Everyone else seemed to make the biggest mess tonight," Kensei sighs deeply.

"Ugh, Kensei please! I'm so hungry I could literally eat a horse!" you whine out. Kensei throws his head back and lets out a loud chuckle that fills the room.

"After we clean, I'll treat you to some dinner y/n," Kensei suggests and you roll your eyes.

"Please! I'll do anything if you let me go right now. I'll deal with Mashiro and Hiyori, I'll cook you dinner everyday, I'll even suck your di-!" your voice starts to trail off.

Kensei's wide eyes don't leave yours and you gulp. You're glad that Kensei is usually calm and collected.

"Ok," Kensei speaks up and your heart skips a beat.

"What do you mean ok?!" you raise your voice, grabbing a nearby pillow from the couch and throwing it at him. Kensei huffs out and easily dodges the pillow.

"I'm kidding, geez. I'm assuming you didn't mean to say that out loud...you can go ahead and go home," Kensei clears his throat, red spreading across his cheeks.

"Oh, thank you!" you giggle out, rushing out of the office and leaving Kensei a embarrassed puddle.

Toshiro: His head is buried in the paperwork, pen scribbling on the papers rapidly. You let out a heavy sigh that fills the room and catches Toshiro's attention.

He lifts his head up from the paper and sets his pen down. He turns his head towards you and his eyes have a tired gleam over them.

"What's wrong?" Toshiro asks with a firm voice.

"Nothing," you mumble out. Toshiro shifts his weight and shoots you a glance.

"Tell me," Toshiro demands with a harsh tone and you roll your eyes with annoyance.

"I have an important dinner with my boyfriend," you explain and you feel Toshiro's gaze sharpen and darken.

"And you think that dinner with your boyfriend is more important than your duties?" Toshiro asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Of course not, but come on! I'll do anything for you! I'll cook, clean, hell I'll even suck your d-"

Toshiro's breath hitches in his throat and your jaw drops open to the ground.

You can't believe you just said that...out loud.

"Do you really think that's appropriate to say to your captain?" Toshiro scoffs out, raising his eyebrows. Toshiro's snow white hair covers the tips of his ears turning bright red and burning.

"No, Captain Hitsugaya," you mumble out, lowering your head with shame.

"Geez, what an embarrassment. Go home, y/n and have dinner with your boyfriend if you're that desperate," Toshiro scoffs out, hiding back a smile.

You glance over at him and nod your head, mumbling a soft sorry before bolting out the door.

Isshin: You and Isshin steal glances over at each other from across the room. You've been arguing about him letting you go home early and he won't budge.

"Oh, come on, Isshin! I'll do anything for you. I'll cook for you, I'll clean up everything, I'll even suck your di-"

The color from Isshin's face floods away and his cheeks turn bright red. His breath hitches in his throat as he slowly turns his head to you.

You're awaiting for his reaction, expecting a bad one. Isshin starts to burst out laughing and you knit your eyebrows together. He slowly walks up to you and pats your shoulder.

Your body rattles and his laughter rings in your eardrums. "Of course, you can go home early!" Isshin chuckles out and your eyes widen.

You waste no time in leaving Isshin's office, sure to be ashamed of your words tomorrow and everyday until your death.

Gin: You and Gin are relishing in the silence in your shared office.

"Hey, I'm going to head out. I have some dinner plans," you explain and Gin lifts his head up from the pile of papers.

"Ah, I don't think so," Gin speaks up, that stupid sly grin still across his pale face. You scoff quietly and pout, pushing your bottom lip.

"Why not?" you whine out, huffing and puffing.

"I need you for 10 more minutes. You can do 10 more minutes, right?" Gin asks, towering above you.

"No, I really can't! Come on, Gin! I'll do anything for you. What do you want? I'll make you cookies, bring you sake, or I'll even suck your di-"

It's like Gin doesn't even react to the words that just came out of your mouth, he just stands there and stares at you. Your heart is slamming against your chest and you just wish Gin would stop staring a goddamn hole through your head.

"Well, since you're offering," Gin shrugs his shoulders, that stupid sly smile across his pale face. Your eyes widen in awe as Gin's hand slowly reaches into his uniform and down into his boxers.

You quickly spin around on your feet and bury your flustered face into the palm of your hands.

"I'm kidding. Go home," Gin chuckles out, shaking his head with disbelief. His narrow eyes watch as you rush out of the office, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Silly girl," Gin mumbles underneath his breath, running his fingers through his silver hair.

171 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 5 months

Text

The Burlesque Boutique

Astarion x gn/fem!Tav/Reader

Based on this art by @marbledgummi

I could not resist

There are two versions of this fic. Read the male/AMAB version here

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: explicit smut, crying, orgasm denial, swearing, one reference to past trauma, pegging

Word Count: 2,619

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Dove?”

Astarion poked his head into the study. You were hunched over the desk on your side of the room, hands working away at something. The other half of the room (his half) was cluttered with sewing and jewelry supplies, half-made dresses and suits, and a stack of pillows for when he wanted to take a nap without straying too far from you. He never really imagined settling down, owning a house, but now he couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

“Did you order something from,” he glances at the box in his hand, “the ‘Burlesque Boutique’, by any chance?”

“No,” you answered. You look up from your project with a quirked brow. “Why?”

His mouth opens, about to explain. But then a wicked little idea curled around his brainstem, crooking a finger at him and tempting him toward mischief. Instead, he smiled in that way that showed he was planning something. You raise your brows higher at him. “No reason, darling.”

“Mhm.” You turn back to your work. “Don’t catch anything on fire.”

He scoffs, shouting back as he pads down the rest of the hall to the bedroom. “It was one time!” He heard you chuckle in response.

The box wasn’t big - a foot or so wide and rectangular. It also wasn’t much to look at, despite the shop’s name in script on the top suggesting something racy or scandalous. He flipped it over a few times, but there was no name. The mail carrier must have delivered it to the wrong house, or it was a lame prank from some teens.

He sighed. He really hoped it was something more than that.

He cut the silky red ribbon holding it shut with a knife he kept in his bedside table. He almost considered saving it. If the rest of this turned out to be a bust, at least he could tie your hands up with this. But the rope he had for such an act was much softer, and quite a bit stronger. So he dropped it carelessly to the side and lifted the lid.

He chuckled, delighted and utterly amused as he unfolded the tissue paper and revealed a set of pink and white lingerie. The top was a sheer negligee with thin straps and a little bow that would rest prettily between a pair of breasts. Long, white stockings were folded beneath it, with a matching garter belt to keep them up.

Oh, this was… He could just picture you wearing it, all dolled up just for him.

And then the thought turned back on him.

What if he got all dolled up for you? He wasn’t a stranger to wearing feminine clothing - you’d particularly enjoyed him in the Wavemother’s robe. Testing the thought, he lifted the negligee by the straps and held it up to his chest. It looked like it would fit…

He started to lower it back into the box when something else caught his eye. He placed it on the bed instead and moved the stocking out of the way and- Oh. Oh gods. A pretty pair of panties hidden at the bottom of the box, the same pink as the negligee and with a little ribbon of its own.

Now, how could he resist?

You didn’t jump when arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind, so used to Astarion’s habit of sneaking up just for affection. He pressed like kisses to the side of your neck as he peered over your shoulder.

Your hands worked diligently on your project. Astarion pressed another kiss just below your ear, where he whispered, “Can you spare a moment, darling? I wish to show you something.”

You hum, taking in his words but too focused to answer. Once you find a good moment to stop, you set everything down and turn your head to look at him. “What is it, star?”

He grins deviously as he captures your lips, cupping your cheek and keeping you in place. He’d hate to spoil the surprise.

He doesn’t pull away as he sidles around your chair. You sigh quietly into his mouth when he parts your lips with his tongue. The sound alone makes his cock twitch, pressed tightly against the lace of the panties that keep it in place. He groans quietly.

Dexterous as ever, he sits himself on your lap easily, straddling your legs. You automatically reach up to support him, hands landing on his hips to keep him from sliding off, but then your eyes shoot open.

He’s smirking when you pull away with wide eyes as you lean back to take him in. You can’t get enough. Your eyes trail all down his body, looking at his chest and stomach through the sheer pink negligee. The garter belt hugs his waist, straps reach down his thighs to hold onto the tall stockings. The matching lace panties, bulging with his growing erection. A pretty silk ribbon is tied around his neck, just below his Adam’s apple.

You look up at him in awe, all flushed with dilating pupils. “Where did you get this?”

“Somebody left a package at the door,” he explains, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You immediately give in to the attention, tilting your head to the side as you grip his thigh and tangle your fingers in his hair. “No name, no address. I expected a prank, but the temptation was too good to miss.”

He nipped at your pulse and you groaned. “Speaking of temptation.” You tugged at his hair, pulling him away from your neck. A little harder than strictly necessary, but he just grinned as his head was tipped back with the pressure. The ribbon strained against his throat. “Gods, how should I have you?”

“In any way you please, my love.”

You smirk up at him. “In any way?” You tug at his hair again, drawing a grunt of pleasure from your lover. His Adam’s apple bobbed, fully exposed and prominent. You release his hair and slide your hand to his throat. He watches through lidded eyes. With deft fingers, you pull at one end of the ribbon, and it comes apart, falling from his neck. You tap his thigh. “Get up.”

He gives you an uncertain look, almost a frown, but he complies. You stand and push him back until his ass hits the edge of the desk. He blindly reaches behind him to push your stuff back carelessly. You’re too entranced with him and the lewd images racing through your mind to care.

You grab his hip and push lightly, telling him without words what you wanted him to do. He lifts himself onto the edge. You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Good boy.”

You step back to take him all in. Such a pretty little thing, all dressed up in someone else’s lingerie just for you.

You don’t take your eyes off his as you kneel down before him. The sight of you on your knees, face so close to his aching cock, sends a thrill down his spine. He grips onto the edge of the desk to retain some self-control.

You hold onto his legs as you begin trailing kisses along them. You kiss a line from his knee, up along the stocking, until you finally reach skin. There, you nip at the soft flesh. Closer and closer to where he needs you.

He groans above you. “You’re going to kill me at this rate,” he whines.

You grin against his skin, but don’t immediately act to provide him any relief. Instead, you kiss and bite your way to the edge of the panties. And, devil that you are, you kiss over the bulge. It twitches under your lips as Astarion hisses. You lick a stripe against it and he tenses with a strangled moan.

“Gods, please,” he begs, voice airy. “Too tight. Too tight.”

Mercifully, you pull the lace down, freeing him from his prison and tucking it under his balls. His dick was hard and sensitive. A small bead of precum already shined at the head.

“Desperate?” you tease.

He glares down at you. “Excited,” he corrects sharply. “To have your pretty little mouth around me.”

You hum, studying his dick. The longer you did nothing, the more it strained, eager to be touched, tasted, teased. You press a little kiss at the head, kitten-licking the precum away as his hips buck for more.

And then you stand. He whines.

“Bedroom. I want to take you properly.”

He wastes no time, leaping up from his seat and rushing to the bedroom. You follow after, leisurely. He sits at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the covers to stop from touching himself. You walk around to your bedside table. “Lay down.”

His eyes never stray from you as he crawls back to the center of the bed. He swallows excitedly as you pull out a small container of oil and your strap-on. You had it specially made - everything the strap feels, you can feel, as though it is an extension of your own body.

Truth be told, Astarion doesn’t bottom very often. It can bring back bad memories, of being used, but he enjoys this immensely, and he can’t wait to be fucked by you.

You kneel by him and lean down to kiss him. It’s hot and eager, Astarion nipping and sucking as he tries to distract himself. Your hand finds his inner thigh and his hips jerk to find friction. You don’t provide him any, of course.

You pull away to kiss his neck, massaging his thigh and hip as you mark him up. “Such a good boy,” you whisper into his skin. He whines, pressing his head back into the bed. He loves your praise.

His cock is weeping and red with need when you pull away. You stand and make your way to the foot of the bed. “Back or stomach?”

Gods, thinking about either makes him keen. He has to bite his lip to form a coherent thought. “Stomach.”

“Flip over.”

He does immediately. He gets on his hands and knees, back arching in anticipation. His cock dribbles onto the sheets, but neither of you can care in this moment.

He feels the bed shift as you climb back on behind him. He tries to look back, to see what you’re doing. It’s futile. All he knows is he needs to be touched so fucking bad. It consumes his entire mind.

You slide the panties down until it’s bridging between his thighs, unable to be fully removed with the garter belt holding up the stockings. You caress one of his ass cheeks, pulling it to the side to reveal his tight asshole. You bite the other cheek, quite hard, enough to leave a slight imprint of your teeth. He lowers down to his elbows so he can press his face in his arms.

“Good?” you ask, pressing a light kiss over the reddening mark.

He nods frantically. “Don’t stop,” he whimpers.

Your hand leaves him for a moment, but he can hear the sound of the oil bottle opening. You slick your fingers and spread his cheeks once more. He can’t help the keening moan that erupts from his mouth when you rub and prod at his entrance. He tries to rock back into your fingers, to fuck himself on them, but you hold him in place.

You take your time to gently stretch him, adding one finger at a time and never going deep enough. At one point, you push your fingers as deep as they can go and he sobs into his arms.

When you think he’s ready, you slick your strap with more oil, sitting up on your knees and grabbing onto his hips with both hands. He’s a mess, pressing into you against his will. He needs you inside him.

You coo sweetly to him. “Don’t worry, my love, I’ve got you. You’re so pretty like this.” You line up your strap with his asshole and slowly, so fucking slowly, push in. He groans and keens and makes all sorts of lovely noises. He grips at the bedsheets and squirms slightly as you fill him. “So fucking gorgeous. My good boy. So good.”

You still when your hips are flush with his ass. He whines and tries to press back again, but there’s nothing more to take. He is completely full of your cock.

You roll your hips and he gasps, babbling to beg you to move, to fuck him. You shush him as you slowly pull your strap almost all the way out, and press in again. There’s less resistance each time, until you can set a good pace without hurting him.

He moans and whines your name, gasping when you sharply thrust into him. The negligee slips down his body with the rocking motion until it pools around his chest and bunches at his shoulder blades.

“You look so good in pink, baby,” you tell him. You lean over his back and press loving kisses on his neck and shoulders. He turns his head to try looking at you, to try to say something playful. But he can’t open his eyes, and none of his words come out as words. “You’re being so good for me, pretty boy. I’ll take care of you.”

You sit back up and grab his hips tighter, pulling them toward you with each thrust. He cries out as you pound into him, speeding up as you feel your own orgasm approaching. Your movements become sloppy and lose the rhythm, but you only fuck him harder and faster to compensate. You can tell he’s close. He gasps breathlessly against the covers, hips rocking for friction against the air. He’s so fucking close.

You lift a leg to be effectively kneeling behind him. It changes the angle just enough that you rub against his prostate with each thrust. He moans loudly, the sound choking in his throat and coming out as a desperate whine. He doesn’t last.

A few more thrusts and his orgasm tears through him. He cums hard, body trembling and cock twitching as he finally finds the release he longed for, without hardly being touched.

His asshole clenches around you, squeezing your strap with each spurt of cum. You don’t stop fucking him until you orgasm, buried deep inside his ass. You’re both panting, whimpering messes as your legs tremble, as he stains the blankets and coats his stomach. The negligee is just barely out of reach, unstained by just a hair.

When you’re both spent, you sit there a moment, catching your breath. You slowly ease out of him. He whimpers softly, but sighs contently once the pressure is gone. His legs are unsteady, hands merely resting on the blankets instead of clutching for dear life.

You get up from the bed and go to the side to help him roll over and lay on his back without laying in his own spend. He clumsily finds your hand where you held his waist and holds it.

“Good?” you ask again. You push his matted curls from his forehead and kiss his brow. He nods against your lips. He still can’t quite find his words. You kiss his cheek. “Bath?”

He nods again, but holds tighter to your hand when you try to pull away. “Not yet,” he mumbles. He draws your hand up to his face, holding it to his cheek as he leans into it with a quiet sigh.

You press your head to his, kissing his temple and the length of his ear tenderly. “Take your time, my love. I’ll take care of you.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @godoffuckedupcats

151 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 1 year

Text

Five Fuck Friday

You and Namjoon pack up the apartment you used to live in. Part of the Love series.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Your ex-husband Namjoon shuffles up to you, eyes barely open, hair rumpled, hood up.

‘Here,’ you say, handing him the coffee you’d picked up on the way.

He accepts with a mumbled ‘thanks.’

You know better than to try to engage him in any form of interaction before he’s been caffeinated, even though it’s not that early on a Friday morning.

You fall into step beside each other as you head up to the apartment you previously shared when you were married. He adjusts his longer stride to match yours, hits the lift button.

You sip coffee whilst you wait.

The lift takes longer than it should, the mechanics of it always mystified you when you lived in this building. To be fair, at least it seems to be working, it used to be broken down half the time.

You fumble with the keys as you reach your old front door. There’s a knack to it, an eccentricity of the lock that you’d mastered whilst you lived here. You’ve forgotten it.

You’re frowning at it, trying to remember, when Namjoon mutters a ‘here’.

His warm hand closes over yours, and with a flick of his wrist, the key turns in the lock and the door opens.

There’s an air of abandonment about the place now, it’s clean but empty, unlived in since you moved out.

If you let yourself feel it, the sadness would be unbearable.

You wonder if Namjoon’s awake enough to feel it too.

You glance at him, and he’s brighter now, more awake.

‘We need to be done before this evening,’ Namjoon says. ‘I have plans tonight.’

Your ex-husband is incomparable in bed and someone you’d want in your corner in a fight, but sometimes, he has the emotional depth of a puddle.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

‘Wouldn’t want cleaning out our emotional baggage to impinge on your Friday night,’ you say, unable to curb your sarcasm.

Namjoon blinks at you. ‘It’s five fuck Friday,’ he tells you.

‘What?’

It’s Namjoon’s turn to roll his eyes, you don’t even think he tried not to.

‘Five. Fuck. Friday.’

‘That’s not a thing.’

Namjoon just shrugs, starts stacking boxes in the living room.

‘What even is five fuck Friday,’ you mutter to yourself.

Namjoon’s got his back to you as he picks books up off the shelf, arranges them in neat stacks in a box.

He doesn’t answer.

‘Is it five fucks with the same person?’ you wonder as you pick up a box and head into the kitchen.

You think about it as you pack up the kitchen junk drawer.

Namjoon pops his head round the kitchen doorway.

‘Is it fucking five different people?’ you ask.

Namjoon just gives you a look as he takes the packing tape and black marker off the kitchen counter and disappears into the living room again.

You wrap glasses in paper, arrange them carefully in the box in rows.

‘Is it the variation? Fucking five different ways?’ you say, as you step past him to stack your filled box in the hallway.

Namjoon’s worked up a sweat, he’s shucked his hoodie and his thin white t-shirt’s sticking to his back as he arranges boxes neatly, one against the other.

‘Wait!’ you exclaim as he tosses a box on top of your glassware.

The resulting crunch of broken glass makes you flinch.

Namjoon, a veteran of broken crockery, is unmoved.

‘Sorry,’ he says, indifferent.

‘I think your aunt gave us those.’

Namjoon raises a brow, takes a swig of water.

‘Yeah?’

‘Never mind.’

You’re glad Namjoon’s being so businesslike and practical about packing up your apartment, at least you’re not tempted to dissolve in an emotional heap over the life you once had.

You’re trying to reach up to the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard when Namjoon says, ‘I can do that.’

He doesn’t even move you out of the way, instead steps up close to your back, arms over your head as he grabs the last glass.

For a moment you’re completely enclosed by his body, his chest pressed to your back, hips against you. He presses his face into your hair and breathes in, so quick you almost miss it.

You turn into his chest.

‘Joon-ah,’ you say.

He leans down, plants a kiss on your lips, then hands you the glass.

You reach for the front of his t-shirt, but he’s already stepped away.

‘Want me to pick up lunch from the deli?’ he asks, as he leaves the kitchen.

‘Sure,’ you say.

It’s only when the front door closes behind him that you can take a breath.

***

‘Is it a metaphor for what Friday’s like in comparison to the rest of the week?’ you ask.

Namjoon reaches out, thumbs mustard off the side of your mouth, licks it off his thumb.

He follows it up with a big bite of the sandwich he got from the deli, ignores your question.

You swipe his drink away as he reaches for it.

‘Oh my god, tell me what five fuck Friday is!’ you exclaim, exasperated.

Namjoon takes your drink instead, drains it empty with an obnoxious slurp.

He tosses it in the trash bag, gets up from his seat.

‘I’m gonna start on the spare room, ok?’

You glower at his retreating back.

***

The sun’s starting to set when Namjoon reappears.

He hasn’t said much to you all day, just focusing on packing. You guess he meant business when he said he had plans.

‘We can finish this tomorrow, can’t we? Most of it’s done.’

You look up guiltily from the album of old photos you’d been looking through.

‘Yeah, sure.’

If he notices what you’ve been doing, he doesn’t say.

‘I need to go take a shower before I go out,’ he says. ‘Do you need a ride home?’

‘Nah, I’ll finish off here and then go.’

He’s already leaving.

‘Hey, Joon,’ you call after him.

He turns. ‘Yeah?’

‘I’ll text you - if I finish up tonight we won’t have to come back tomorrow.’

Namjoon shrugs. ‘It’s up to you.’

He doesn’t look like he cares one way or the other.

***

It’s past midnight by the time you finish. You hadn’t intended to stay so late but you couldn’t bear the idea of another day with Namjoon being distant and indifferent when you’re an emotional wreck.

You take one last look around, partly to check you’ve packed everything, mostly because you want to remember.

The kitchen counter Namjoon and you christened the afternoon you moved in.

The crack in the kitchen window you made when you threw a fork after Namjoon forgot your first wedding anniversary.

The shower panel you once watched Namjoon masturbate behind. He’d put on a show for you, hadn’t let you touch him. It’s still in your memory as one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

The dent in the plaster hidden behind a picture where Namjoon had slammed his fist and accused you of cheating on him.

The turbulence of your relationship etched into the walls of the two bedroom you’d once shared.

The store cupboard where Namjoon and you had once hidden for twenty minutes at a dinner you’d been hosting for your families.

The conspiratorial smile on Namjoon’s face. The warmth of his mouth, and the weight of his body as he’d fucked you standing up, against the wall.

You’d come once, would have come again if Namjoon’s mother hadn’t come looking for you.

You swipe at your face, realising you’ve been crying.

Shit. You’re exhausted.

There are no sheets on the bed, not anymore, so you pull on Namjoon’s hoodie instead, curl up and cry yourself to sleep.

You’ve always found his scent comforting.

***

You wake, disoriented, in the dark.

Namjoon’s spooning you, arm over your shoulders, face buried in the back of your neck.

He says your name, pulls you against him so you can feel how hard he is.

You help him pull your jeans down, pull his hoodie up, and then you’re bare skin against bare skin.

You can hear him spit in his hand, the slap of his palm against his cock as he touches himself.

Getting himself as hard as he can for you.

By the time he pushes into you, you’re ready.

He slides into you, coming back to you like he’s always belonged with you.

You can’t see his face.

‘Baby,’ he says.

There’s an edge to his voice, like he’s holding back.

His hand’s splayed over your abdomen, holding you taut to him.

You put your hand over his, knit your fingers through his, and he holds you tight, like he’s drowning, as you fuck.

He comes before you do, spilling inside you but still hard enough to make you come, gasping, face in the mattress as he strokes your clit.

Namjoon stays snug inside you, holding you so tightly it’s hard to breathe.

You’re scared to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.

‘Five fuck Friday is made up,’ he tells you, mouth against your skin.

‘I thought so,’ you say, too fucked out to muster any more words.

There’s a long pause, you think maybe he’s fallen asleep.

Then he says, ‘I don’t know how to be without you.’

The sadness in his voice punches a hole in your chest.

You turn over, face to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as you hold him.

You comfort him the only way you know how.

He’s so dear to you, even after all this time.

After a while, his brow unfurrows, the lines in his face smooth out.

He sleeps in your arms.

When you wake in the morning, he’s gone.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfic

433 notes · View notes

actually-safer-to-kiss · 1 year

Text

Love in the Time of Strudels

Summary: Reader tells Spencer she loves him and it brings back some memories.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: fluff

Content warnings: Reminders of death and mourning of a loved one (Maeve)

Word count: 1.3k

Spencer woke up to two things this morning. One, the smell of apples baking with traces of brown sugar wafting in the air. Two, his phone buzzing on his nightstand. He perks up, for which he couldn't say. But when the text is from J.J. calling him in early, he wants nothing more than to pretend that the text doesn't exist. Because it’s you responsible for the delicious smells gracing his entire one-bedroom dwelling.

He sat up, pushing the covers off. Sunlight peeked through the curtains behind him, making it harder to open his eyes. He rubbed them until he could. He doesn’t remember how long you both stayed up last night. However, considering your clothes are strewn together, ending at his feet and he was in fact, quite naked, he could work up some theories.

He didn’t have the energy for that though. Instead, he pushed himself up on his feet, immediately putting away his clothes and folding yours to place on your side of the bed. He grabbed a button-up, vest, and tie combination, along with matching pants and an overcoat. He dresses quickly because he knows an unanswered text leads to a phone call within five minutes. He needs to use those five minutes at least. He grabs his phone.

When Spencer enters his kitchen, he finds you at the sink. Dishes were collected there and ingredients that matched the air were grouped near the stove. The sounds of you scrubbing attentively almost drowned out when he said, “Well good morning.”

You turned around. Your bedhead is poofy and your lids look just as heavy as his, but your smile is still sweet. You’re wearing his robe, and he’s reminded that your clothes are on his bed. He’s tempted to let you keep it because he never thought you looked so beautiful. "Good morning back," you say as you cock your head. “You’re already dressed.”

“Yeah,” Spencer simply lifted his phone. The screen isn’t even lit.

You know. He studies your face, wondering how much he’s disappointed you. You’ve been around long enough to know how this works, but Spencer continues to learn the hard way that leaving you abruptly never gets easier. Especially when you’ve tried to make something special for him. And even more when your effort is displayed aesthetically in the form of apple strudels stacked on each other, topped with powdered sugar. You even used one of his fancy plates; the golden border complements the golden-flaked treat.

You suck in your cheeks like you taste-tested the lemon juice you used. “Okay.”

“You can be mad.”

“I’m not.”

“You sure?” He knows you’re not happy.

You push yourself off the counter you are leaning against and step forward. “Your job requires helping people who need you.” You stop when your toes meet his shoes. “We can’t control when that happens.”

Spencer takes your hand. “I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

“I know.” Your smile is slight.

Although the team profiles each other regularly, he doesn't speak the results aloud when analyzing you. Before he can say anything unrelated to what he’s thinking, you’re reaching across the kitchen island to grab the fancy plate, sliding it to your side. “Will you take these to your people?”

“What?” Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed. “You made them for us, though.”

“You’re getting called in now and you haven’t eaten. Your team likely hasn’t either.”

Spencer clamped his lips shut with his teeth. He knows you’re right.

You take the top strudel off the stack. Spencer didn’t even notice you had two smaller plates out for both of you. You take some powdered sugar off the big plate and sprinkle it on the one you give him. It somehow makes him feel awful. So before you can reach for the saran wrap, Spencer takes the plate from your hand. “I should at least compliment the chef before I leave.”

“Spencer.”

He takes a bite. The crispy crunch is almost melodic. “Oh, my god.” His words blend with his thoughtful chewing. Powdered sugar collects around the corners of his mouth. He takes another bite. “You’re brilliant.”

“I try,” you joke while wrapping the big plate. When done, you wait to wrap his, but he keeps it close to his chest, insisting through a full mouth that he wants to finish his breakfast here. He eats fast. He has maybe three minutes.

When he’s done, Spencer puts the plate down, then uncharacteristically wipes his hands together and calls it clean. Then those hands are put around your waist. He pulls you close and hugs you, his chin on your shoulder. “Thank you for this," he says to you. “Thank you for making me feel special.”

You follow, your arms instinctively rubbing his back and eventually settling around his neck. You hug him a bit tighter, and Spencer recognizes the small but noticeable squeeze. He relishes your press into his chest.

When you pull apart, your hands don’t leave. He keeps his at your waist while looking at you. “You gotta go.” You say.

He sighs, “I know.” He leans down to kiss you gently. “I’ll call you before we fly, okay?"

“Okay.” You push yourself up to kiss him again, mimicking what he did.

Spencer grins and lets you go. You hand him the big plate. “Bye.”

“Bye, love you.”

“Wait, what?” That is all he can say. Other than that, Spencer’s frozen in both action and brain activity. The phrase you just said, however, echoes throughout the room. Or it’s just him. He can’t ask.

“Bye, love you.”

You’ve been around enough to understand how his job works, and this isn’t the first time he’s trusted you alone in his apartment when he’s called in. But you don’t know about Maeve. Spencer knows his way through complicated theory and equations, but he can’t figure out how to bring up his ten-month relationship that ended abruptly due to not-so-common circumstances.

Yet with those three words, it’s as if you palmed him on the forehead with the memory of hearing Maeve speak it for the first time. He remembers thinking it was a slip. Then he remembers how she couldn’t see his reaction over the phone.

Heaviness is between you two right now, literally separated by a foot. Spencer’s sure the seconds have been long. The plate has already been put down, so you’ve definitely felt rejection at this point. Nevertheless, you repeat yourself. “I said I love you.” And he hears you swallow. “I-it’s okay if you don’t. I just wanted to say it. I’ve wanted to for a —”

“I love you too.”

He didn’t think your eyes could get wider. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He exhales, the corners of his lips turning upward. “I’m glad you told me.” Spencer also remembers that he didn’t get the chance to say it back. Maeve hung up before he could even think about it. His feelings were obviously there. It took time (and books and therapists) to cope with them, questioning for months if he would ever be able to express them again, fully and without fear.

Now he’s standing here, in his kitchen, in front of you. And he’s admitted he loves you.

Spencer bridges that foot of distance and puts his arms around you again. His hands are open on your back and the fleece of his own robe is suddenly the most delightful feeling in the world as your warmth continues to bloom through it. He presses his nose into your shoulder.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket. The phone call is here.

“They need you.” You say.

“They can wait.”

“You have to get on a plane.”

“I don’t care.”

Spencer silences the phone. He puts it on the island and pushes it to arm’s length. And he returns to you, fully present and in love.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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stellamancer · 2 years

Text

notes: uh. well. i considered writing this with todoroki and deku but. uh. i wrote bakugou instead. ahaha.... anyway, i’m not gonna say i endorse eating ice cream for breakfast but.... well no one stopped me today. :D i’m sorry i’m always writing about food. but.... i can’t help it. i love food. also not proofread. oops

word count: 786

When you turn around and find Katsuki standing behind you in the kitchen, you nearly drop your breakfast— three healthy scoops of vanilla ice cream sitting in a small ceramic bowl decorated with bunnies.

Maybe he won't notice, you think— you hope. You scurry past him, doing your best to seem nonchalant, like having ice cream at eight o'clock in the morning is the most natural thing in the world.

"Oi!" he half-yells and you jump, knowing from the tone of his voice that you've been caught. "What the fuck is that?"

You whirl around and find him glaring at your bowl like it’s done something to offend. Actually, knowing Katsuki, it probably has. You smile sheepishly, "Breakfast?"

Katsuki's eyes flicker up to yours, then back down to your bowl. His mouth twists into a scowl as he says, "That's fucking ice cream."

"...and?" you ask, tempting fate itself with your question.

"That's not fucking breakfast," he grounds out as if it should be obvious.

At this moment, there are two choices left open to you: concede and probably put your ice cream back in the freezer to be enjoyed at a more Katsuki approved time or to defend your choice.

You choose the latter.

"Sure it is," you argue, your tone light in an attempt to make it seem like you're not picking a fight with Katsuki who is most definitely a fan of the traditional Japanese breakfast. "Whatever you eat first thing in the morning counts as breakfast, right?"

He growls and you really should have known that he wouldn't let you off the hook with that kind of explanation. "You know what I mean, brat!"

You frown and shoot back. "I wanted something sweet!"

"Then fuckin' make pancakes or something!"

"No! That's too much effort!" you argue. While you can agree that some American breakfast offerings would definitely satisfy your sweet tooth, all of them require way more effort than you're willing to put in on a weekday morning when you have work.

Katsuki scowls and you wonder if maybe, just maybe he'll make you pancakes. If he makes you pancakes, that would be the best thing ever, actually. You wouldn't mind giving up your ice cream for a taste of Katsuki's amazingly fluffy and soft pancakes. You know he knows this too, with the way he grins menacingly at you. Were you in the right mind, and not thinking of Katsuki's delicious homemade pancakes, you would have realized the truth of what's about to happen, but you're not and Katsuki lifts the bowl from your hands and deposits it in the freezer.

In your foolishness, you make your way to the table and wait, your mind filled with images of pancakes— stacks of warm pancakes slathered in slabs of melty butter and drenched in luscious rivers of maple syrup. You’re practically salivating at the thought. A few moments later Katsuki deposits another bowl before you and…

It’s yogurt.

A modest amount of creamy white yogurt in a bowl, topped with an arrangement of fresh berries topped with a glimmering drizzle of honey with a sprinkle of granola. Katsuki’s not the type to go all out on plating, so you know that he tried here, but…

“These aren’t pancakes,” you say flatly, betrayed.

"Y'really think I've got time to make fucking pancakes?" Katsuki retorts, ready to dig into his own bowl of fruit and yogurt.

You glance at the clock and he's got to leave in the next hour and you know that Katsuki's homemade pancakes are at least a two hour affair.

"...guess not," you grumble, pouting. You lift the spoon and thank him for the breakfast but before you take a bite, you decide to ask. "...what's the difference between this and ice cream anyway? Other than the toppings."

" 's healthier, you idiot!" he hisses. "Now shut up and eat or you'll be late!"

"...but Katsuki," you whimper pathetically. "I want pancakes now. Take responsibility for deceiving me with the promise of pancakes."

He shoots you a glare but you ignore it and give him your best puppy dog eyes. The two of you have a staring contest that lasts a couple minutes and finally, finally, he rips his gaze from yours with the annoyed click of his tongue and you know that that means he's lost.

"Fucking fine! I'll make you pancakes on our next day off!" he relents and you cheer. "But I better not fucking catch you trying to have ice cream for breakfast again!"

"Okay!" you agree cheerfully, finally digging into the yogurt bowl Katsuki’s made for you, pleased that there will be pancakes.

Even though it’s going to be a whole week until you get them.

#bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #nikuniku fics #i really want pancakes now omg #i don't have stuff to make them #alas #finally not an emotional support bakugou piece lmao

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

Text

@marleysfinest tempted me. but have a bit of southern reiner!! from me to you 🫶🏾

all you needed to do was tend to the haystacks; count the barrels, mound the stacks and document them down so you knew how much to order for the next month.

yet, your dearest husband seemed to have other plans, and without the responsibility of ‘haystack duty’, he found it a lot more easier to distract you.

“fuck rei.”

with your legs drapped over his shoulders and his face smouldering over yours, reiner viciously plowed into your already creaming cunt. there were no breaks between thrusts — each one was fiercer than the other and with each fierce slap of his abdomen, you could imagine the bruised meat of your lower region that was definitely going to get you waddling for the next few days.

“boo. y-you’re so rough today.” you strain against your arm over your mouth. your skin was already littered with crescent shaped bite marks.

although, even with your overalls discarded and the rough hays of the stacks prickling against the skin of your back and ass, the sensation of being fucked within the open barn was more thrilling than uncomfortable.

“sorry, baby.” reiner haggars. “you know best how i get once i see you in them drawls. aint no stoppin’ a beast when he’s hungry.”

and you believed him, because with the animalistic thrusts reiner was fucking into you, it was nothing short of what you’d expect from inside an animal’s home.

as reiners fingers dug into the soft squidge of your hips to keep you in place, he bent down to land a half-missed messy kiss just over your philtrum.

“you’ll tell me if it really be hurtin’ you now, wontchu?” he mumbles against your lips.

you couldn’t even form a sensible reply at first. the only words on your brain for a hot minute was simply ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ and the overbidding sensation of reiner’s fat cock marching up your ribbed canals. but pain wasn’t your concern no more. like yeah, you were pretty sure you were getting hay strays within the crack of your ass but it didnt matter anymore. none of it did.

“o-of course.” you push out, your head unable to lift from its position as your lips were slack and glossed with spit.

reiner grunts a positive reply as he leans back to prop one of his legs onto the surface of a haybail, the new angle causing a long throaty moan to escape your mouth as his cock started to poke repetitively at your cervix.

“good.” he says, hazel eyes glistening with a menacing gleam. “coz i aint gonna let up coz ofa lil whining.”

#reiner braun #reiner aot #reiner smut #aot smut #reiner x black reader #reiner x reader #aot x black reader

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eskawrites · 4 months

Note

23 👀? (if ur feeling up to it ofc 💖)

23. "Just a little longer."

(oh i was hoping i could do a lil cfdau for one of these)

January 1998

Robin's house is cold.

It's a nice place. It really is. It has the coziness of her place with Steve, with Robin's favorite blankets and too many couch pillows and the lamps always on instead of the overhead lights. There are touches of her here that didn't shine through as much in her old apartment. More photos on the walls, more vinyls piled on the shelves, way more candles. A stack of comics that Steve has certainly teased her about--obscure titles that Nancy suspects are Will's influence, given how close he and Robin have gotten lately.

It's nice. It's so Robin, so of course it is. But it's also cold.

It doesn't help that the winter has been bitter so far. They've gotten more ice than snow. The wind has been brutal, the sky pale and sunless. Every day since Christmas has been in the single digits.

They go out anyway, holding hands while they wait for coffee or meet for dinner. Paparazzi photos keep showing up of the two of them, and though no one ever dares to say something for certain--girlfriend seems to be a dirty word to the press--everybody loves to speculate.

It's not just the press, though. Nancy had a meeting scheduled over dinner just last night. It had been a big deal, with big names she'd been looking forward to potentially working with. An assistant had called her last minute to cancel. There's no way to know for sure why, but one look at Robin when Nancy had told her confirmed that they were thinking the same thing.

Robin had offered to take her out, to take care for her, to do anything she could to cheer Nancy up. They'd ended up curling up in Robin's bed, huddled beneath the heavy comforter, Robin's arms strong and warm around her.

They're there still, because even though the morning is half gone, the house is so damn cold, and the world beyond it is even colder. Nancy burrows further into Robin's embrace, pressing her cold nose against Robin's warm collarbone, and pretends like she can weather the winter if she just stays here forever.

"I'll make us breakfast," Robin offers, though she makes no move to dislodge Nancy and get up. Nancy makes a soft sound, something pathetically akin to a whimper, and digs her fingers into Robin's sleep shirt to keep her in place.

Robin's sigh is soft, understanding, but she tries again. "And coffee. Warm coffee, Nance."

Robin knows exactly how she takes her coffee, makes it so perfectly that Nancy will sometimes drag her feet in the mornings just so Robin will make it for her. Robin sees through her, of course, but she always presses the mug into Nancy's hands with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, so Nancy supposes she doesn't mind.

It's almost tempting, but it's not enough to make her want to move. So she doesn't. She lies there, eyes closed, not even trying to summon the energy to shake away the hollowness that has been in her chest since last night.

Robin rubs her hand up and down Nancy's back. "I'm sorry, Nance. I really am."

That makes her stir. She lifts her head to press against Robin's neck instead.

"Not your fault," she says, quiet but firm. She presses her lips against Robin's skin, just as soft, just as certain. Robin sighs again.

"It still sucks, though."

Nancy hums in response. Hence the moping in bed.

"But we both have the day off," Robin continues. "We can do whatever we want."

"Don't want to," she mumbles. She's distantly aware that she's pouting now, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when Robin is all she wants, and Robin is all she has, and Robin is the only person who really, truly understands.

"Nance..."

"Can we just--can we stay here?" Nancy pulls back to look up at her pleadingly--desperate, suddenly, to cling to this moment beneath the covers, this one chance to shut out the chill of the world. "Just a little longer?"

She's never had to ask, though. Not really. Robin's eyes are soft when she nods. She pulls gently on Nancy, and Nancy rises enough to kiss her softly, slowly, with all the warm, steadying assurance she's still getting used to having.

"We can stay as long as you like," Robin whispers when they part. Nancy hums again and settles back against her. Her fingers come up to comb lazily through Robin's hair.

"Will you still make breakfast when we get up?"

Robin smiles. "I'm sure I can be convinced."

#asks #fishwear #ronance #celebrity fake dating au #it feels weird posting this before nancy pov is finished but like. it's not a spoiler y'all know how their story ends

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virescent-v · 3 months

Text

Part One

Summary: Tragedy strikes Emily, leaving her with a life or death decision. Tempted by a stranger, enticed by a life she knows nothing about, Emily has twenty-four hours to decide. What fate beholds our beloved agent?

Word count: 1.3k

Warning: Nothing for this, I think? Light talk about restraints, maybe a little blood/gore if you squint?

A/N: I've been dreaming of a vampire!Emily fic for ages. I'm taking the stake to the heart and writing it myself lol. This is Emily x OC. I'm curious how everyone will feel about it, so leave me some comments! This first part is going to be kinda short, just a glimpse of what is happening in my head. Lmk what you think!

A quick, shadowed, blur brought a searing pain across Emily’s abdomen. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the pain took a few seconds to hit her. A draft in the darkened, damp, warehouse highlighted the fact that her sweater had been sliced across the middle. Putting her hand across her belly, however, made her aware that there was blood.

A lot of blood.

She tried to take a few more steps, push further into the warehouse to meet back up with her team, but the pain caused her to crumple to the floor.

“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to put pressure on the bleeding. Emily could feel it ooze from around her fingers, dripping steadily onto the floor below.

Trying to keep her voice down to not alert the unsubs they were chasing, Emily brought her wrist up to her mouth, trying to communicate through the mic that was hidden in her sleeve. “Officer down. I’ve been stabbed. I repeat, officer down.”

She wasn’t sure how exactly the team had ended up separated, other than the warehouse being a maze full of shipping containers stacked almost to the ceiling. She could’ve sworn Derek was behind her, but when she turned around, she was alone.

“Emily, where are you?!” Hotch’s voice came through on the ear piece.

There were echoes of hurried footsteps all around her, becoming more and more indiscernible as seconds ticked by. She wasn’t sure if they were her team trying to find her or assailants trying to escape.

Emily blinked rapidly, her vision becoming blurry around the edges. With a groan, she lifted her arm to speak into the mic. It took more effort than she cared to admit, each breath feeling like fire in her lungs. “Gah, I don’t know, Hotch!” She laid down on the floor, the coolness seeping into her overheated body. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

She was vaguely aware of Hotch’s panicked voice in her ear, her brain refusing to focus on the words.

The echoes of footsteps were getting louder, but she had the sinking feeling it wasn’t her coworkers. She tried to drag her weakened body across the floor, push herself against the shipping container to hide as much as possible. Trying to give her team more time to find her.

Another shadowed figure appeared, staring over her body with their head tilted. The body was slim, and couldn't be much bigger than her.

The hairs on Emily’s body stood up, a warning. She didn’t know this person, but something about them felt almost familiar. Like she could trust them. Not that she had much choice, her muscles in her extremities falling limp, buzzing with the loss of electrical impulses as her body tried to save the major thoracic organs.

“Grab her,” the figure said. “She won’t make it before the ambulance arrives. Leave the others.”

From the darkness, a taller, broader, more defined body came into view. Emily tried to focus on their features, but the spots in her vision made it impossible.

A rush of wind, the feeling of floating before a hard surface at her back. The slam of a door. A car? Her breath coming more slowly, her pulse faintly drumming in her chest.

The last thing Emily remembers before darkness is a pinching sensation at her lower neck.

With a grimace, Emily shifted, her body heavy, like trudging through a thick layer of mud. Overwhelming sensations prickled across her skin, almost as if she could feel each fiber of her shirt against each single cell of her body.

She tried to blink, but her eyelids felt glued shut. She went to rub at them, only to find her hands tied down.

As the panic started to overtake her, a slam of a door thudded in whatever room she was in.

Slow, steady footsteps �� heels? – echoed on what seemed to be marble flooring. She tried to slow her breathing, but realized she was already holding it.

Where was she? What was happening?

The last thing she remembers is the warehouse, all-consuming pain, and then nothingness.

“I know you’re awake,” the voice said. “I can almost hear your thoughts.” The voice chuckled, a melodic sound definitively belonging to a woman. “You need to open your eyes. We have much to discuss.” ‘

Emily swallowed dryly, utterly confused. She tried again to open her eyes, to no avail.

“Oh, sorry. They’re still taped. Gimme a second.”

Emily flinched as extremely cold hands lightly touched her face, slowly peeling tape from her eyes. Cautiously, she opened them, her eyes focusing sharply.

“Where am I?” She said, tilting her head around, trying to figure it out, but nothing looked familiar. Marble floors, expansive windows, decor that even she couldn’t afford.

“Agent Prentiss, you need to listen to me. I will answer all of your questions, but we’re running on a tight time frame right now.” The woman moved closer, staring directly into Emily’s eyes.

Emily’s brow furrowed at the color of the stranger’s eyes; a deep cognac color, hints of a golden honey. Unnatural. Contacts, maybe?

The woman smiled. Somehow, this put Emily at ease, her tense muscles relaxing slightly.

“My name is Adelaide Turner. You may call me Addie. Two nights ago, you were stabbed in a warehouse in Boston. You had gotten separated from your team trying to catch a prolific serial killer.”

Memories flooded Emily’s mind, the vision of a darkened blur, the feeling of the cold, wet floor beneath her. A slight, hooded figure and a larger henchman.

“The wound across your abdomen was extensive. Your organs barely kept inside by the fascia. You would not have survived if I hadn’t found you when I did. No living medical person would’ve been able to save you.”

Emily’s eyes cut to Addie’s. “Living?”

Addie smirked. “Caught that, did you?” She cleared her throat. “Stay with me, Agent. What I’m going to tell you is absolutely true, no matter how unbelievable it may seem.”

Emily felt her walls go back up, distrust starting to overtake her. Who was this woman?

Addie took a deep breath. “I bought you more time. I–,” she faltered for a second, eyes downcast. Emily watched her steady herself, before catching her eyes again. “I am a vampire. I bit you to buy you time.”

Addie watched as Emily processed her words, stopping her before she could object. “You know it to be true. You remember the bite.”

Another glimpse of a memory. A pinch at her neck.

Addie nodded. “I know it sounds made-up. Trust me, I’ve been there,” she rolled her eyes. “The only thing keeping you alive right now is the virus coursing through your veins.”

At this point, Emily finally felt a slight burning sensation continuously running up and down her body, flowing with her blood. She winced, not enjoying the way it felt in her toes and fingers.

“The virus takes time to take hold. If I leave you as is, you will turn into a vampire, just like me,” Addie said, smiling. She waited for Emily’s full attention, opening her mouth and letting her fangs descend, the sharp points overtaking her canines. They weren’t much longer than her other teeth, but definitely noticeable.

Emily struggled to believe what was clearly in front of her. Vampires were supposed to be myths, legends, costume ideas for kids at Halloween, and fun, action-packed horror movie characters. Not real beings.

Trying to wrap her head around the new information, Emily paused. “What do you mean if you leave me as is?”

Addie shrugged. “I could give you the antidote to the virus and you could die.”

Emily scoffed. “That’s it? I have two options?” Her brow furrowed deeper. “Dead or deader?”

Addie darkly chuckled. Emily tried not to bristle at the noise. “I know, neither are great. It’s up to you.” Addie turned and started walking to the door. She paused, her hand on the handle. “You don’t have long to decide. The virus will completely take hold in two days time. After that, you will become one of us.” She turned and looked back at Emily, still strapped to a table in the middle of the room. “You have until tomorrow morning to decide, Emily. I’ll come back in a few hours and answer any questions you may have,” she said, closing the door quietly behind her.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x oc #virescent v fanfic #secrets and stakes #already have like half of the next chapter heheheh #also naming OC? garbage #i hate doing it lmao #also emily would be a hot vampire my GOD #guys this is going to be a long series if youre interested!!

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