#i feel like I was gonna say something else but I’m forgetting what it was so oh well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stylesparker · 9 months

Text

closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester #supernatural

3K notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 5 months

Text

Sugar And Spice

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x reader

Synopsis: Peeta gets jealous when a guy keeps coming into the bakery to flirt with you

Masterlist

“Can you watch the bakery for a second while I frost a cake?”

“I can do it but I have to warn you. I’m super charming so we’re probably gonna get a bunch of customers and sell out immediately.” You said and held up your hands in defense. Peeta couldn’t help but smile as he watched you tie an apron around your waist. Something about you wearing something that had his last name on it made you even more endearing. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that, but he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t doubt your charm but we haven’t had any customers all day.” He reminded you.

“That’s because you’ve been keeping me in the back. Go frost your cake. This place will be packed when you return. Just watch”. You said and shooed him okay.

“Okay.” He replied sarcastically.

You were only alone in the bakery for a few minutes before someone came in. It was a guy around your age wearing a hard helmet so you could only assume he was a coal miner.

“Hello.” He smiled at you as he walked up the counter.

“Hello.” You replied. “Welcome to Mellark Bakery.”

“Do you guys sell bread?” He asked you.

“Here? At the bakery?” You asked and stepped to the side to give him a full view of all the baskets of bread behind you.

“Okay, it was a dumb question.” He admitted.

“It’s okay. It’s probably the only question you can ask that I could actually answer. I just learned what yeast was a little while ago.”

“Oh, so you don’t usually work here?”

“I don’t. My best friends family owns the place. But his brother gave his mom a cold and then the whole family caught it. I’m just filling in until they’re better.” You explained.

“That’s a shame. I thought I’d have two reasons to come in here now.” The boy said with a coy smile.

“Two reasons?”

“For delicious bread and a chance to see the pretty girl working the counter.” He replied. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his flirting before smiling. You’d never had a boy flirt with you so boldly so it made you feel good.

“Well, thanks. How can I help you?” You asked him.

“My mother sent me to get that brown bread but I keep forgetting the name of it.”

“Isn’t all bread brown?”

“Well, yes.” He realized. “But she said this one is browner than the others.”

“I actually think I know what you’re talking about. Is it pumpernickel?” You asked and pulled out a loaf of pumpernickel bread.

“Yes! That’s the one. Look at you being smart. I’ll take a loaf of that.” The boy said. You didn’t really like the way he acted like it was shocking you’d say something smart but you didn’t say anything.

“Surely. Anything else I get you?” You asked as you handed him the wrapped up loaf.

“How about your name?” He smiled as he handed you the money.

“It’s Y/n. You?” You said through a nervous laugh. You weren’t entirely sure you liked the attention anymore.

“Hi. I’m Lycan.” He said and extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Lycan.” You smiled politely and shook his hand.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Will you be filling in all week?”

“Most likely.” You told him.

“Then I’ll be back. Thanks for the help.” He winked at you just as Peeta came out from the back. He saw the much taller and stronger looking Lycan leaving the bakery and stopped in his tracks.

“No problem.” You called after him. Peeta caught the way Lycan’s eyes lingered on you after he left the shop and he didn’t like it. He got a weird feeling in his stomach when he noticed that you were flustered.

“Who was that?” Peeta asked.

“That was Lycan. And he bought the last loaf of pumpernickel so we knead to make more. And that was a baking pun, by the way. But it would’ve worked better on paper.”

“Oh. Do you always learn the customers names?” Peeta asked as the weird feeling in his stomach grew. He was feeling jealous already and now that he knew you learned that guys name, it was even worse.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But he asked my name so I asked his.”

“He asked your name? That was nice of him.” Peeta said through a forced smile. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that you had caught the attention of the attractive stranger. Maybe because you’d caught Peeta’s attention years ago but still hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah. I guess he was nice. He called me pretty.” You said and looked at Peeta as if you were expecting him to disagree with that statement. Peeta clenched his jaw but kept a straight face.

“You are pretty.” He insisted. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess because no one’s ever just called me pretty before. Except maybe my mother. But I’ve never heard it from a boy. It was kinda, I don’t know, nice.” You said as you stared out the window. Peeta was kicking himself for never vocalizing how beautiful he found you because now you had to cling to the compliment of a stranger.

“I think you’re pretty.” Peeta said quietly. Your head turned to Peeta and you had a surprised smile on your face. Peeta turned a deep red as he waited for your answer.

“You’re pretty pretty yourself, blondie.” You replied as you passed by him. You started to rearrange some of the baked goods but Peeta was still hung up on this stranger who called you pretty.

“Did you like that guy?” Peeta asked you and feared for the answer.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “It was nice to be noticed. But I don’t him enough to know if I like him.”

“Right.” He nodded and desperately tried to take his mind off it. You noticed the far off look in Peeta’s eye but didn’t understand what was bothering him.

“So how’s your cake?” You asked.

“Not good. I made the frosting a weird color. Can you go look at it and tell me if I should scrap it or not?”

“Sure. But if you go check on it later and there’s a piece missing, it wasn’t me.” You teased.

“Very funny.” He said sarcastically.

“I know, right?” You laughed and went to the back. Peeta laughed as well but his smile quickly dropped when the door to the bakery opened. Lycan walked back in and Peeta gulped. He’d only seen him through the window before so now he got to see just how tall and handsome this guy was. Peeta nervously fumbled with the tie on his apron and felt a little insecure to be wearing it when this guy was covering in soot and dirt from being down in the mines.

“Hi. How can I help you?” Peeta asked him. Lycan was visibly disappointed to see Peeta there and was ignoring him as he looked around the bakery for you.

“What happened to the girl that was working here just a few minutes ago?” Lycan asked.

“Who’s asking?” Peeta asked without dropping his cheery smile. Lycan looked Peeta up and down and scoffed a little.

“I am.” He replied. “I wanted to ask her where she lives.”

“Why would you want to know that?” Peeta frowned.

“So I could see her again. I was planning on stopping by sometime. I figured she’d like that.” Lycan answered with a smug expression.

“Well I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t want me telling a stranger where she lives so…” Peeta trailed off and let Lycan fill in the blank.

“Hm. You must be the friend she mentioned. I guess I’ll just have to ask her myself. But why don’t you do me a favor and tell her I stopped by?”

“Surely.” Peeta replied. Lycan recognized the same word you had used and narrowed his eyes at Peeta.

“Thanks, baker boy. Bye.” Lycan smirked and left the bakery. Peeta blinked in surprise at the unexpected rude tone. If he was feeling insecure before, he was feeling even worse now that Lycan made it obvious that he looked down on him.

“Who was that?” You asked when you came out from the back.

“No one.” Peeta lied. “How’s the cake?”

“I actually like the grey color. You should leave it as it is.” You told him.

“But it was supposed to be a wedding cake. Won’t the customer be mad?”

“If I was getting married and my cake was baked by you, I wouldn’t care what it looked like because I would already know it was delicious. But you don’t have to worry about that because the cake looked great. Your cakes always look great. You’re the best cake decorator I know. So stop worrying about it.” You said and playfully smacked his chest.

“I’m the only cake decorator you know.” He said with a shy smile.

“That may be true.” You agreed. “But even if I knew more, you’d still be the best. You’re an artist. All your cakes are lovely. I promise.”

“Thanks for saying that.” He blushed. “We can have a grey cake at our wedding then.”

“Oh? Our wedding?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your wedding.” He quickly corrected. “I meant your wedding. I will make you a grey cake for your wedding.”

“What if my groom wants a white cake?”

“He’ll want whatever you want.” Peeta said confidently.

“What makes you so sure?” You asked skeptically.

“Just a guess.” He said quickly. He wasn’t about to tell you that if he was the groom, you’d get whatever and however many cakes you wanted.

“Well he better. My mother is already on me about finding someone and settling down. That’s all she thinks I’m gonna be apparently. A wife.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Oh, yeah? Is there anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” Peeta asked without looking at you.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be against running off and eloping with you to get her off my back.” You joked. Peeta blushed at the joke and hoped there was some truth to it.

“Or maybe I’ll just marry this Lycan guy to shut her up.” You added, making Peeta’s smile drop. He was definitely jealous now and it was only gonna get worse.

The next day, you went to the bakery again and helped Peeta run the shop. He had you handling the customers while he stayed in the back to bake. Even though you had said it as a joke, you actually were bringing in a lot of customers and selling through baked goods fast. Unfortunately, you brought in Peeta’s least favorite customer.

“Oh no.” Peeta said when he saw Lycan through the windows.

“What?” You asked just as the door opened.

“Hello again.” Lycan greeted you and didn’t acknowledge Peeta in any way.

“Oh, hi, Lycan. What can I get for you today?” You asked him.

“How about you get me your favorite thing in the shop?” He asked with that smug look Peeta hated. Peeta rolled his eyes at the lack of manners but held his tongue.

“Well, that’s hard to pick. Peeta bakes everything and it’s all delicious. He’s an amazing baker.” You said and patted Peeta’s back. Peeta and Lycan made eye contact and gave each other tight smiles.

“Oh, so this is your friend who runs the bakery? Did he tell you I stopped by yesterday to see you?” Lycan asked knowing full well Peeta didn’t mention it. You looked at Peeta in surprise and Peeta gave you a sheepish smile.

“Must’ve forgotten to mention that.” He said quietly.

“Right.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I love the cinnamon buns Peeta makes. And we just frosted some so I’ll go grab one from the back.”

You went to the back to grab a cinnamon bun, leaving Peeta and Lycan alone together. Peeta kept his eyes down as Lycan stared at him with a smug expression.

“So how come you had her running the shop all alone yesterday?” Lycan asked with judgement in his voice.

“She was fine. She was only alone for a few minutes but she would’ve been perfectly capable of running the shop all day. She’s great at this stuff. She’s better than me and I grew up in this bakery.” Peeta defended you.

“I could tell.” Lycan snorted. “But running a business is no place for a lady. She should’ve been doing the baking while you handled the customers. A girl like that should be able to sit still and look pretty while you man the place, you know what I mean?”

“Um, no, I don’t know what you mean.” Peeta smiled tightly. “She’s not the type to sit still but you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know her. And we “manned”the shop together all day. I just happened to be in the back decorating the cakes when you came in.”

“Oh, so you make all these? Where did you learn how to do that?” Lycan asked with a condescending smile as he looked at the cakes on display.

“My mother taught me.” Peeta said quietly.

“Oh, I see. My mother taught me that a man’s job involves getting your hands dirty but hey, what does she know?” Lycan shrugged.

“Clearly not how to teach her son manners.” Peeta mumbled. You came out from the back and Peeta relaxed.

“Here. One hot cinnamon bun.” You smiled kindly and handed the treat to Lycan.

“Thank you. It looks almost as good as you do.” He said with a much kinder tone than he had given Peeta.

“Oh. Thank you.” You laughed in surprise and looked over at Peeta. Peeta was too busy staring daggers at Lycan to notice.

“See you tomorrow?” Lycan asked you.

“See you then.” You waved as he left the shop. Once he was gone again, Peeta could finally breathe.

“I don’t like that guy.” Peeta shook his head.

“What? Why not? He’s so nice.” You said. As much as Peeta disliked that guy, he wasn’t about to burst your bubble and tell you Lycan had implied you could not and should not run the bakery by yourself.

“He’s too nice.” Peeta insisted. “And I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me?” You frowned.

“The same way every guy looks at you. Only he looks dumb enough to try something.” Peeta mumbled. You let out a laugh and Peeta was confused.

“What?” He wondered.

“Nothing. I’ve just never heard you call someone dumb before. Here I was thinking you were all sunshine and flowers.” You shrugged with an amused smile.

“I can be tough. You don’t think I can be tough?”

“Well, I’m sure you can be. I’ve just never seen it. I’ve only ever seen your good side.”

“I can be tough. I can be a real tough guy.” Peeta insisted but it sounded unnatural coming out of his mouth.

“Okay, tough guy.” You chuckled. “Show me what you got.”

“What do you mean?”

“Say something mean about me.” You said and gestured towards yourself.

“What? I would never do that.” He laughed but meant it.

“I knew it. You’re too sweet. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. You’re all sugar.” You said and squeezed his arm. Peeta blushed at the contact and felt a little better about himself.

“Here’s something mean. That guy just tracked mud all over the floors. Why are coal miners so messy?” He scoffed and grabbed the mop.

“Maybe because they’re in dirty mines all day? Just a thought.” You teased as Peeta cleaned the floor.

“This is just gross.” Peeta huffed. “And did you see his hands? They were filthy.”

“I didn’t notice them.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, cause you were too busy flirting.” Peeta grumbled.

“Flirting?” You laughed. “I was not flirting with that guy.”

“Yes you were. I’ve never seen you bat your eyelashes like that before. And when’s the last time you warmed something up for a customer? You did that to flirt.” He half joked, half meant entirely.

“That wasn’t me flirting. I was just blinking because of all the dust he brought in.” You said simply. Peeta stopped mopping and looked up to see if you were serious.

“You really weren’t flirting with him?” Peeta asked hopefully.

“With a stranger? Who do you think I am?” You scoffed and grabbed the mop from him. You cleaned up the rest of the mud tracks before handing the mop back.

“Okay.” Peeta smiled. “Good.”

“Why’s that good? You didn’t want me to be flirting with him?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Psh. No. I don’t care who you flirt with.” Peeta quickly explained but even he didn’t believe it.

“Don’t you?” You asked and took a step towards him.

“I don’t.” He gulped.

“All right then.” You smiled sadly and went back behind the counter. Peeta looked over at you and wondered if you had wanted him to say that he didn’t want you flirting with anyone else.

The next day, Peeta was hesitant to leave you alone in the bakery in case Lycan came back to ask you out. If he actually made a move on you, Peeta knew he didn’t stand a chance. There weren’t a whole lot of options for dating in your district so if he asked you out, you’d probably say yes. But Peeta couldn’t stay in the front forever and eventually had to go to the back to frost cakes. And as soon as he was gone, the wolves descended.

“Good morning.” Lycan greeted as he came into the bakery. Your heart started to beat faster when he came in but it wasn’t from excitement. His presence was starting to make you anxious and you didn’t know if you liked the attention anymore.

“Good morning. What will it be today?” You asked politely.

“Some more pumpernickel please. But only half a loaf. I had some of my worker friends over last night and we went through it. We just get so hungry being down in the mines all day. You know how real men’s work is. It’s brutal but hey, someone’s gotta do it.” Lycan shrugged and leaned on the counters that you had just cleaned.

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“A smile. From you.” Lycan added. You gave him a tight smile back and realized you really didn’t like the attention. At least, not from him.

“Have a great day.” He said as you handed him the loaf and he handed you the money.

“Thanks. You too.”

“I already did. Because I got to see you.” Lycan said and pointed to you. You forced a smile back and watched as he tracked mud on the floor as he left. Peeta came out from the back a little while later and saw the mud.

“I see Lycan returned.” He said stiffly.

“He sure did.” You replied. Peeta rolled his eyes and grabbed the mop before looking at you.

“Don’t give me that look.” You laughed. “It’s not my fault Mr. Muddy Boots keeps coming in here.”

“Yes it is. I heard him telling you to smile. He likes you.” Peeta mumbled and mopped the floor. His jealousy was back and in full force so he kept his head down.

“Maybe he was just being friendly.”

“But he wasn’t being friendly to me. Only you.” Peeta pointed out.

“Okay, true. But that still doesn’t mean anything. He might just want to be friends.”

“No way. No guy wants to be just friends with a girl as interesting and funny as you.”

“What about you? You just want to be friends, don’t you?” You asked and smiled at his words but he didn’t see it. He was too busy keeping his head down so you couldn’t see how much he was blushing over what you asked.

“There. Finally clean. But if he comes in here and gets the floors muddy one more time, I’m gonna ban him from the bakery.” Peeta said to change the subject.

“Maybe he’s had enough of your baked goods and won’t come in anymore.” You shrugged.

“He’ll be back. Although he might stop buying things and just start coming in to stare at you.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. When your laughter died down, you thought about what it would mean if this guy actually wanted to be more than friends.

“Do you actually think he likes me?” You asked quietly.

“Of course he does. And I can’t blame him. But I can be annoyed about how often he comes in here.” Peeta said and continued to avoid eye contact with you.

“But him coming in here means you get more customers.” You reminded him. “And what do you mean you can’t blame him?”

“Him coming in here means I have to look at his dumb face while he bumbles around and tries to flirt with you. All while making the bakery muddy. I wouldn’t mind losing him as a customer.” Peeta replied and conveniently ignored the second half of what you said.

“Well we should probably bake another loaf of pumpernickel in case he comes in tomorrow.” You shrugged and started to gather the ingredients. Peeta froze and watched you tie on an apron as jealousy burned a hole inside him.

“What?” You asked when you saw Peeta’s face.

“You want him to come back?” Peeta asked in a soft voice.

“I didn’t say that. But if he does, which I’m assuming he will, we should have bread for him.”

Peeta was quiet again for a minute as he looked at you. He didn’t think you liked this guy back until he watched you gathering ingredients to make something specifically for him.

“Do you, um, do you like him back or something?” Peeta asked you. He didn’t sound angry or anything, just sad.

“What I like is earning money. Which customers bring in. Customers like Lycan.” You said and headed to the back where the oven was.

“Fine. But just don’t bake that with love, okay?” Peeta called after you. He heard you laugh and felt a little better because it reminded him that no one made you laugh quite like he did.

“I’ll try.” You called back.

The next day, Peeta was ready for anything. He asked you to bake some muffins in the back while he dealt with the customers during the evening rush. He had made it through almost the entire day before he saw Lycan coming in to the bakery. He looked around for you as soon as he walked in before walking up the counter.

“How can I help you?” Peeta asked with a forced smile.

“Actually, I was hoping Y/n could help me. She here?” Lycan asked and peered behind the counter.

“She’s busy with the baking in the back.”

“Really? I thought frosting cakes was your job? Tell me, how do you make them look so pretty?” Lycan asked in a mocking tone.

“It takes a steady hand. And a clean one.” Peeta said as his eyes dropped to Lycans dirt covered hands.

“These are workers hands. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you, baker boy?” Lycan said in a low voice as he leaned on the counter. Peeta gulped but was determined to stand his ground.

“I know about hard work. Just because my work is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s any less important.” He replied.

“Are you serious?” Lycan laughed. “I risk my life everyday to get the coal that you use to bake your pretty little cakes. You’re not important. I mean, your work isn’t important. I know that, and she knows that.” Lycan whispered so only Peeta could hear. His words were getting to Peeta and he wasn’t feeling as confident as before.

“She’d never go for you.” Peeta said quietly.

“What other choice does she have? You?” Lycan scoffed. “I asked around about the two of you, you know. Everyone had the same thing to say. That the bakers boy absolutely adores her but isn’t man enough to do anything about it.”

“I could do something about it.” Peeta insisted.

“Oh really? Then why haven’t you?” Lycan asked him. Peeta opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He had no answer to give.

“That’s what I thought.” Lycan snickered. “She’d never go for you either.”

Peeta looked down at the ground and believed what Lycan was saying. You came out from the back and immediately sensed the awkward tension. You first noticed Peeta’s sad expression and then Lycan’s smug smirk.

“Oh, hi Lycan. Back so soon?” You asked as you looked between the boys and tried to figure out what had just happened between them.

“I just needed to get some bread. And seeing your pretty face never hurts.” Lycan said and switched to a nice smile.

“Aw, thanks.” You said with a fake smile.

“You know, being a coal miner is really dangerous. Nothing like the easy job this guy has.” Lycan said and nodded towards Peeta. “When the boys and I go down into the mines, we never know if we’re gonna get to come back out. So I try to take a minute and appreciate the beautiful things in life as much as I can. And that includes you.”

“Aw, thanks.” You repeated in the same uncomfortable tone. Peeta looked up and saw that Lycan was staring at him with a puffed up smile. In other words, he thought he ate that.

“See you around, doll.” Lycan winked at you before leaving the shop.

“That was painful.” You said once he was gone.

“For us both.” Peeta mumbled.

“I think you were right. I think he may be more than just friendly.” You laughed nervously.

“What gave it away?” Peeta smiled sarcastically.

“I just don’t understand what he wants from me. I don’t even know what to say when he talks like that.” You said and grimaced at the memory of his little speech.

“He probably wants a wife. And he wants you to say it can be you.”

“A wife?” You laughed in shock. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“But he wants to. That’s why he keeps coming in here. He probably wanted to ask you out today but wouldn’t with me in here.”

“Well I wouldn’t say yes even if he did. So there’s nothing to worry about.” You shrugged.

“Don’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about.” Peeta snapped. You were both surprised by his tone and stood in awkward silence following his exclamation. Peeta was too embarrassed to look at you so he kept his head down and played with the ties in his apron. He heard your footsteps coming over to him and suddenly, you were lifting his chin to get him to look at you.

“What’s this about?” You asked quietly. Peeta sighed and looked to the side.

“He works in the mines and risks his life. I work in a bakery and decorate cakes. He’s covered in soot and dirt and I end the day covered in flour and sugar.”

“So?” You laughed.

“So, he’s a real man.” Peeta insisted. “And that’s what you deserve.”

“Do you think I don’t see you as a real man?” You asked and wrapped your arms around Peeta’s neck. He turned bright red and finally looked at you.

“Look at me. And look at him. We’re not the same.” Peeta said softly.

“Just because he works down there and you work up here doesn’t make you any less of a man.” You assured him.

“It feels like it does. Especially when…”

“When what?” You asked when Peeta trailed off.

“When I thought you liked him. I assumed he caught your attention because he’s all big and tough and I’m just…soft.” He shrugged and gave you an embarrassed smile.

“He caught my attention because he’s annoying and dirty. And I happen to like that you’re soft.” You told him.

“You do?” Peeta asked skeptically.

“Of course I do. I like that you never have a mean thing to say about anybody. I like that you decorate cakes and smell like cinnamon all the time. And I like that you stop to pick flowers that you like. But you know what I don’t like?”

“What?”

“That guy. I don’t like how he thinks I shouldn’t run the shop by myself. I don’t like how he can’t compliment me on anything but my looks. I don’t like how he thinks his job makes him superior to us. And I don’t like that he made you feel bad about yourself.” You said. Peeta looked into your eyes and saw how serious you were. A smile tugged at his lips as he believed that he didn’t have anything to worry about.

“He made fun of my cake decorating.” Peeta added with a coy smile.

“What? Now that’s too far. Let’s ban him.” You played along. Peeta laughed and pulled you into a hug.

“I never want you to think you’re not good enough ever again, okay?” You said as you rubbed his back.

“Okay.” Peeta reluctantly replied. You pulled out of the hug and rubbed his shoulders.

“If he comes in here again, I’ll tell him to back off. Of both of us.” You assured Peeta.

“Good. Because I’m not much of a fighter.” He said through a relieved laugh.

“I know. You’re a lover. Thats what I love about you.” You told him and went to go clean the counter. Peeta watched you for a minute with a content smile on his face.

“It is?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Amongst other things, but yes.” You replied.

“There are a lot of things I love about you too.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Are there?” You asked with piqued interest.

“Of course. Dozens of things.”

“Dozens?” You pretended to gasp and looked over at him.

“Uh huh. A bakers dozen.” He replied with a coy smile.

“Hey.” You laughed. “Baking humor is my thing.”

“I know, I know. But I think that’s another reason Lycan bothered me so much. I thought he was gonna take you away before I got a chance to tell you any of them.” Peeta said simply. Your expression changed but he didn’t catch it as he went to change the sign on the door from “open” to ��closed”.

“Well. It’s quitting time.” Peeta sighed and looked the front door.

“Right. We should go.”

The next day, Lycan came in bright and early in the morning. He was the first customer and walked in before you had even arrived yet. Peeta gulped when he saw him and hoped you’d get to the bakery as soon as possible. Then he remembered what you had said about what you loved about him and felt a little braver.

“Hey, Peeta. Just you today?” Lycan asked in a condescending voice.

“For now.” Peeta answered calmly.

“These are nice. You pick them yourself?” Lycan asked as he flicked one of the flowers Peeta had in a vase on the counter.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I did.”

“I thought so. Just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore pathetic. It’s no wonder Y/n doesn’t want you.” Lucan snorted. He hadn’t heard you entering the bakery from the back so when you appeared behind the counter where Peeta was, he gulped.

“Oh, hi, Y/n. Good morning.” He said nervously and hoped you hadn’t heard what he just said. You gave Lycan a big smile before turning to Peeta.

“Good morning.” You greeted Peeta before pulling him into a long kiss. Peeta was stiff with shock at first but then kissed you back as his hands found their place on your waist. Lycan watched this with a dropped jaw and angrily cleared his throat when he felt like it was going on too long. You pulled out of the kiss with a big smile and patted Peeta’s red cheek.

“Sorry about that.” You chuckled as you wrapped an arm around Peeta’s shoulders. Peeta and Lycan were both silent as they processed what had happened. You made your choice loud and clear to the both of them and they were both too stunned to speak. Peeta finally smiled and took one of the flowers out of the vase to place behind your ear as a little thank you. You smiled in appreciation before looking at Lycan.

“So.” You shrugged. “What can we get you?”

Tag List 🥖

@ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings @

@ilykitwalker @mayemperess @scenesofobx

#peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark x you #peeta x reader #Peeta mellark jealous #peeta mellark fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Love Me*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Teach Me*

You and your best friend Harry have a few things to figure out.

So, why not figure them out while you're riding his face?

Word Count: 8.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!*

“Watermelon.”

Instantly, you go deathly still, muscles straining as the word echoes around the walls of your mind. Repeating itself over, and over, and over.

You attempt to sit up, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps his arms around you like a vice, caging you against his chest as his heart races beneath your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, a certain ringing in your ears that won’t quiet. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Somehow, his touch constricts even tighter, snaking around your ribcage as if to suffice as his reply.

“Harry?” you ask a bit louder, and you feel him stiffen at the sudden volume. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

He’s quiet. Far too quiet as his chin meets the crown of your head.

“Harry,” you stress for a third time. “What happened? What is it? If you’re gonna use your safe word, you have to tell me—”

“Nothing,” he breathes, fingers digging into the skin on your side. Bracing himself from the truth. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Never mind?” you nearly gasp as he finally lets go, allowing you to scramble upright. “Harry…you can’t say that and then never mind—”

“I didn’t mean to say it,” he mumbles, meeting your eye for only a moment before his lashes flutter and he looks off into the bedroom. “I just…I forgot. It’s nothing. Everything’s fine, okay? Just forget it.”

He pushes himself up as you climb off the bed, but your attention never leaves him. Studying his expression closely to find the real answer.

“Harry…” you venture cautiously, and again, you catch the way he hesitates. “If I did something—”

“No.” His answer is instantaneous, head shaking once before he looks up. “No. I told you, it’s fine. Really—”

“It can’t be fine if you said it—”

“Well, I didn’t mean to—”

“How can you not have meant to? What were you trying to say? Nothing else really sounds like watermelon—”

“Just…forget it, okay?” he sighs as he stands up and reaches for his boxers. “What’s the opposite of watermelon? I’ll say that.”

“Harry,” you huff for the hundredth time. “You…look, if there’s something we need to talk about—”

“There’s not.” The conviction in his voice is final as he proceeds to slip his shirt back on.

You’re slow to do the same, shimmying back into your clothes while also trying to maintain his focus. “We agreed that this only worked if we talked to each other. If we trusted each other—”

“This has nothing to do with trust, Bee,” he insists as he glances over at you. “I told you, it’s fine—”

“It’s not fine.” You nearly want to whine at his stubbornness. You’ve known him long enough to understand his little tricks. His tells. The way he avoids confrontation.

The way he avoids how he really feels.

“It is,” he says again, now brushing past you toward the door. “Okay? So…please. Just forget it.”

“I can’t forget it,” you argue as you follow him to the kitchen. “It’s a safe word for a reason. It means that you can say it and feel safe. That you can tell me what’s wrong, and what you’re thinking—”

“I don’t—” he begins before his eyes squeeze together and his jaw clamps shut. “I’m thinking I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Okay? I just…I wanna drop it. So let’s drop it.”

You watch as he braces himself against the kitchen sink, hands gripping onto the tub as he leans back and aims his glare at the floor.

And it hurts. It hurts to go from happily content in his arms to anxiously dejected a few feet away.

It hurts to know that there’s clearly something wrong that he refuses to share. Hurts to know you can’t help. Even after everything.

You taught him how to touch you.

But not how to talk to you.

You straighten up. “Fine,” you agree. “Fine, we’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

The small space falls quiet as you do your best to ignore the ever-present ringing in your ears.

Dropping it doesn’t fix it.

But you don’t know what else to do.

“I think…I think I’m gonna go,” you whisper, already taking a step back.

His head lifts, lips parting as he watches you move away from him. “Oh…okay.”

Despite it all, you wish he’d ask you to stay.

After retrieving your things from his room, you head for the door to his apartment, your heart dragging behind you on the floor.

He doesn’t move from his spot. He doesn’t chase after you or try to explain. He watches you walk away from him as if he always expected you to.

You pause to glance over your shoulder and find him. To offer him one last chance. “Harry?”

“…yeah?”

You take a deep breath. “Do you regret it now?”

You half expected his answer to come as quickly as the others.

But this one doesn’t.

This one seems to catch in his throat as his expression falls. “…I don’t know.”

And that tells you everything.

You don’t hear from Harry for three days.

He doesn’t text you. You don’t text him.

He doesn’t call you. You don’t call him.

You’re not trying to be petty. You’re not even trying to punish him, you’re just…

Confused.

You and Harry don’t fight. Not once in the fifteen years that you’ve known each other.

Sometimes you’ll get into spats. Or heated arguments. But you don’t ice each other out. You don’t resort to games and the silent treatment.

If that’s even what this is.

You knew opening this door in your friendship would make it impossible to close.

And now, it’s letting in a draft.

And after everything you felt with him, after everything you realized…

Having him so far away, so distant…makes you feel empty.

Incomplete.

As if there’s a missing piece to your puzzle.

You allow yourself to wonder if he’s simply learned all that he’s needed to learn from you. If he’s ready to be a good partner for Tina, and ready to resume just a platonic, non-sexual friendship with you.

Which you’d be more than okay with.

Really.

You would.

You’d have to be.

Because you don’t want to know what happens…if you wouldn’t.

So, you shove all thoughts of Harry and his lessons away. You reject each memory of his hands, and his lips, and his body, and his cock.

And you continue on with your life. You revert back to the way it was before, when it was just you and your vibrator.

But nothing is ever that simple, and you should have anticipated that even before there was a frantic knock on your door.

Confused, you toss your throw blanket aside and stand from the couch.

And when you swing the door open, you find Harry. Standing in your hallway. Slightly out of breath and wearing a curious expression on his face.

Kind of like the day he asked to eat you out.

The rush of deja vu almost overwhelms you as you blink at him. “…uh, hi?”

“Hi.” His greeting is as rushed as his gasp for air, as if he ran all the way up the five flights of stairs.

“What…are you doing here?” you ask hesitantly, letting your eyes trail down his body, cautiously looking for an explanation.

There’s a pause as he seems to study you back before he straightens up and takes a step forward.

“I’m finishing the list,” he exhales before seizing your face between his hands and kissing you.

You don’t have time to grasp onto the concept of his lips as he walks you backward toward the wall, kicking the door shut on his way in.

And he takes. Exactly the way he had before. He takes and he savors, and he owns. He says everything with this one kiss. Everything you know he can never say aloud.

Everything.

You don’t fight him on it. You probably should. Should probably stop him and ask him what he’s doing. Ask him what happened, what changed.

But maybe you don’t wanna know what’s changed. Maybe you’re just grateful it did.

So, you kiss him back. You kiss him, and you whisper his name, and you let your hands scratch down the back of his neck.

And you revel in the way he groans. In the way he drags his teeth down your throat to freshen up the already fading marks from the time before.

Then, his fingers trail down your arm to latch onto your wrist. And he tugs. Tugs you away from the wall he had pressed against so he can drag you toward your room.

“What are you doing?” you murmur as you scramble after him, an excited shiver traveling down your spine.

“You’re gonna sit on my face,” he declares, practically slinging you toward the bed. “Gonna sit on my fucking face and let me taste you.”

Your ass meets the mattress as he towers above. And despite how enthralled the idea has you…you pause. “Harry…I don’t know if that’s—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he interrupts, leaning down to press his palms to the bed, caging you between his arms. “I don’t wanna talk, I don’t want to overthink…I just want you to sit on my face.”

Your lashes flutter. “Harry—”

“No,” he repeats. He offers a single shake of his head. “No. You said this is about trust, right?”

“Right, but—”

“So trust me,” he whispers, dipping closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Trust me when I say it’s fine. Trust me…when I say the only thing I want…is to have you ride my tongue.”

And right now as you stare at him, and feel him, and inhale him…you have no other choice but to trust him, too.

“Okay,” you breath, already desperate to have him touch you. Hold you. Remind you why it felt so right in the first place.

“Okay?” he checks, the corner of his mouth curling up in a pleased smile.

You nod. “Okay. I trust you.”

And he’s overcome with exhilaration as he grabs onto the back of your neck to bring your mouth to his.

It’s only been two minutes—tops. But you’d missed his kisses. Missed having his lips on yours. Missed the way he completely owned you.

Missed the way he made you his.

He guides you onto your back, laying you against the mattress comfortably while allowing him the room to crawl on top of you.

And his frantic touches follow you all the way down, his nimble fingers dancing up your shirt until they can find your bare chest.

You gasp into his bottom lip as he takes you into his palm, effortlessly and expertly caressing you until you’re arching into his touch.

He groans when he feels you. Takes pleasure in having you. Getting to hold you the way he is now. Explore you.

His knee makes a home against your cunt, pressing into you subtly, as if to jumpstart the process. And you squirm against it, lungs aching for air as you tangle your hands in his curls.

And for a moment, you both simply enjoy. Enjoy this rather innocent connection. This innocent sensation of your bodies finding a rhythm together. This harmonious link between your body and his.

Then, he scoops his arm beneath your hips and rolls you both over.

Your knees meet the bed, one on each side of his waist as you brace yourself against his chest.

He grins lazily but he’s far too focused on the task at hand. So, he curls his fingers around your sleep shorts and begins to pull them down.

There’s a bit of awkward shifting and rearranging that follows as you help him toss them aside.

But once they’re off, his palms wrap around the backs of your thighs, and he brings you closer.

You’ve ridden a face before. Have quite enjoyed it, in fact.

But Harry…Harry isn’t just someone. Harry is…Harry.

And riding Harry’s face is a lot different than riding his thigh.

But he doesn’t give you a moment to think about that. And you’re almost positive he knows you are.

Because he shoots you this look of warning before tugging you closer to him, forcing your knees to scuffle a bit closer until you’re exactly where he wants you.

You take hold of the headboard to brace yourself, already tingling from where his fingertips are pressing into your skin.

And you can feel him breathing against you. Soft, chaste kisses being trailed along your inner thigh as he travels his way up.

He might be new at this, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. At least when it comes to you, and you could almost smile at his attention to detail.

“Relax for me, Bee,” he instructs, nose bumping your clit as your breath hitches. “Come on, it’s all right. Just relax and let me taste you.”

You try to do as instructed, allowing yourself to sink down a bit closer.

But the moment he drags his tongue through your arousal, you suck in a sharp breath and straighten up.

“Bee,” he growls, hands already pulling you back down. A bit harder than he had before.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, lids growing heavy as the lust-induced haze begins to wash over you. “M’sorry, just don’t…don’t wanna hurt you—”

“And what did I fucking say about that?” he nearly snaps. “Hurt me. Fucking suffocate me, if you have to. Sit on my goddamn face until I can’t breathe.”

“Harry,” you whisper, eyes screwing shut as he repeats his previous action. “I don’t…I can’t—”

The sharp smack to your ass makes your head drop back. It’s loud, and it’s firm, and it stings more than his previous spanking.

But it’s fucking amazing.

“I’m not gonna tell you again,” he warns. “You’re gonna ride my fucking tongue until I’ve had enough. Is that understood?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing from the dominant tone of voice. Nails already scratching down the wood of your headboard as you try to find the strength to speak.

There’s another zealous slap to your skin, his palm painting your body red with salacious intentions. “Answer me, baby girl.”

“Yes,” you whine. “Yes, I understand.”

“That’s my girl,” he hums, lips ghosting your cunt as he speaks. “You do what I say. Go where I tell you to go. Let me put you exactly where I fucking want you.”

And to prove this point, he tugs on your hips until your pussy meets his mouth.

And suddenly everything makes sense.

It’s fucking magic the way he treats you. The way he tastes you. The way he covers his tongue in your need for him.

He sucks and he swallows, and he pulls you so far down onto him that you’re surprised you don’t disappear into him.

But it’s…

Everything.

The only concept you truly understand in this moment. Him and his mouth and this endless desire to take. To have.

And you let him. Let him have you. Let him roll you over his tongue as he laps at you like he’s an animal.

“Harry,” you breathe for a second time, legs shaking from beside his head. “Fuck…please—”

Another spank lands firmly against your outer thigh. You can’t tell if this is to please you or to punish you, but either way…you enjoy it.

You swallow another curse as you surrender to his instructions, allowing yourself to be guided even further down.

“That’s it,” he says before nipping at your clit with his teeth. “Knew you liked it. Knew you needed me to take care of you, didn’t you?”

Your whimper comes from deep in the back of your throat as you let one hand travel down to his hair.

And when you scratch at his scalp with bliss, he smiles.

“Oh, you did,” he answers for you. “Needed someone to make it better. Needed someone to do it right.”

And those stories you used to tell him about Eric come rushing back as you’re reminded of all the ways he’d never been able to get you off.

And the way Harry has done nothing but get you off since the moment you started.

“Don’t you?” he pushes, clearly wanting to hear your confirmation, and you’re not surprised he has a praise kink. “Fucking needed me—”

“Yes,” you tell him. “Yes, always needed you—”

Another slap. “That’s right. Know you do. Know you need someone to make you feel so fucking good. Make you come the way you deserve. Make you see fucking stars—”

You cry out something resembling his name as his fingers begin to scrape down your legs. Forcing you impossibly closer. Forcing you to give him everything.

And he’s relentless. You truly cannot fathom anything besides the feel of his lips on your pussy or the way he holds you over his face or even the way he speaks to you. The low vibrations dancing right up the back of your spine.

Your mind is blank. Filled with nothing but images and feelings and ideas. Of the pleasure barreling toward you at an alarming rate. At the way he’s been working on you for only a few minutes but already you’re at the mercy of his objective.

“Please, please, please.” The word drips from your mouth like falling rain. Over, and over, and over. You can’t do anything else but beg. Beg him to keep going, beg him to go harder, beg him to never stop.

“So fucking good,” he murmurs, tongue driving inside before curling. Beckoning your release closer. “Aren’t you, baby girl? So fucking good for me—”

You nod, lip between your teeth as you chew.

“Make me so happy,” he says, nails clawing at the base of your spine. “Don’t you? Make Daddy so proud—”

“Shit—” Your forehead finds the headboard as you tug on his curls. It’s almost too much. Yet somehow not enough. “Harry—”

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, guiding you up as your chest just about caves in. “No. Try again.”

“Har—”

“Try again.”

Your eyes roll, half from the pleasure but mostly from the pain of his annoyance before you oblige. “Daddy…please.”

He doesn’t answer with words, instead forcing you back down to continue his ministrations.

He knows you’re close. You know he knows. And his desire to get you there is power in itself.

Because even after everything, even after fighting, even after years of friendship and dad jokes…he wants to take care of you.

Wants to give you exactly what you deserve.

So…he does.

The sound of his name on your tongue is dissolute and depraved. Needy and pathetic and filled with the kind of yearning you yourself don’t even understand.

But you welcome the relief with open arms. Welcome the way he holds onto you as he swallows the rush that follows.

And he fucking groans. In a similarly desperate way that nearly doubles the length of your orgasm.

He’s never sounded so content. So satisfied and pleased. And you do feel good. Feel so good to have made him so proud. To have been the reason for this eager agreeance.

But then…he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop, even after you’ve attempted to squirm up and away from his continued attempts. Even after you’ve whined, “Harry,” and scratched a little harder on his scalp.

He keeps going.

“Har,” you sigh, already too sensitive to form a cohesive thought. “Har…s’okay…I came—”

“I know,” he says simply, palms pressing into your side to keep you exactly where you are. “And you’re gonna come again.”

“Harry,” you gasp, almost as if shocked by the very idea. “Har, I…s’too—”

“What?” His tongue flattens against your cunt before dragging up toward your clit. “Overstimulation was on your list, right?”

Your lashes flutter rapidly as you rest one hand back on the headboard. “I’m…yes…yeah—"

“Then you’re gonna come for me again,” he informs you. “And again. And again, until I’ve decided you’re done.”

And you want to argue. Wanted to tell him that you’re exhausted but you can already feel the next one on its way.

Because he’s speaking to you in that familiarly aggressive way that makes your heart pound. That makes your skin erupt into goosebumps and your brain turn to mush.

God, his voice. His voice alone could do damage. Could tip you over the edge a hundred times. He could be whispering the fucking alphabet and you’d be putty in his hands.

And maybe it shouldn’t be so easy to turn you so submissive, but you’ll happily do as he asks as long as he keeps asking you in that voice.

As long as he keeps telling you that your pleasure is his. That you…are his.

Nobody else exists outside of this room. Not Eric. Not Tina. Not any future lovers or partners.

Not even any consequences.

Right now, in this room…it’s just you.

The second one doesn’t hit as hard as the first, but it still knocks you off-kilter, forcing you to shake within his hold.

But he keeps you steady. In more ways than one. He makes sure you don’t have the room or space to crawl off him, or even think about takingyour pussy away from his greedy search.

“Harry,” you mewl, pulling so hard on his curls that it has to hurt. “Please…please—”

You aren’t sure if you’re asking him to stop or let you come again, but either way, he pursues the third one.

And this time…he adds his hand.

After repositioning you just so, he easily slips two fingers inside, meeting your g-spot almost instantly.

You nearly go blind from how good it feels, how hard it hits you. From how happy you are to find relief in his arms.

The third is kinder to you. Shorter but much more intense. Like a burst of pure adrenaline and euphoria.

It almost hurts when you finally begin to unwind, and his movements start to slow. He must be able to tell you don’t have too much left to offer and you appreciate the way he eases out of you with great care.

He helps shuffle you back until you can collapse onto the bed beside him. But he doesn’t let you go too far, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to help cement you into his side.

Your leg tangles between the two of his while your face buries into his neck. You’re spent. Physically and emotionally. But he allows you a moment to rest, fingers stroking your skin gently to help bring you back to him.

“You okay?” he murmurs, turning his head so his lips can meet your forehead. “S’it too much?”

“No,” you breathe, eyes falling closed as you inhale the comforting scent of his cologne. “No, it was good. A little confusing…but good.”

And you know he knows what you mean.

But still, he chooses not to respond. Chooses not to offer any sort of insight into what happened that day in his room.

Instead, his arm pulls you closer. “Well…did we cover everything? Is there anything left to check off?”

Your head rolls back so you can see him, the idea already taking root in your mind. “I can think of one more thing…if you’re up for it.”

His eyebrow raises.

You smile. “Pegging.”

He leans back, eyes growing wide. “Really?”

“Yeah. But…only if you were actually serious about that,” you correct as you begin to sit up. “Most guys are a little hesitant about it, and I guess I get why. So…if you don’t think that’s something you’d really be—”

“I’d be honored if you’d fuck me.”

You blink. “Really?”

“Really.” His hand comes up to brush a fallen hair behind your ear, touch lingering on your cheek as he studies you. “I know you’d do it right.”

You grin. “I’m flattered you have so much confidence in me.”

“I do,” he agrees softly, thumb sweeping across your jaw. “Of course I do. You should know that.”

But you don’t know that. Not after what he said last time.

And the reminder of your previous argument makes you hesitate. “You need to really think about what you’re agreeing to, Har. Because if you don’t like it, and you want to stop…I need to know that you’ll tell me. I need to know that you trust me enough to tell me what you need.”

His brows pull together, lips quickly falling into a frown as his hand drops to his chest. “You know I trust you—”

“Do I?”

His tongue comes out to run over his bottom lip. “I promise. I trust you. I want to do this. I want to try it. With you.”

“Har—”

“If I don’t like it, I’ll say something. I promise,” he continues. “But I won’t know if I like it or not until I try. And you should always try everything at least once, right?”

You huff. “Yeah, but—”

“Come on…don’t you wanna fuck me?” he teases, gingerly nudging you with his elbow. “I’ll be such a good boy, I swear.”

And you groan at the playful way he speaks, already feeling much better about the proposition. “God. See? This is why I think you’re annoying.”

“You love me,” he declares as you stand from the bed.

And for some reason, your stomach tightens. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You gonna sit there all day or are you gonna strip?”

Instantly, he perks up, watching you closely as you rummage through your nightstand. “What, I have to take my clothes off by myself? You’re not gonna help me?”

“Nope.” You glance over and nod your chin at him. “Go on. Be a good boy.”

This time, he rolls his eyes as he laughs and begins to undo his pants.

As he begins to undress, you begin to gather what you’ll need. You locate the bottle of lube and the dildo, heart in your throat as you allow yourself to imagine what’s about to happen.

You don’t know if he’ll truly like it or not. You want him to. Want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. As much pleasure as he deserves.

But…guys are weird about this. And this kind of intimacy goes far behind missionary.

You know what you’re doing. This isn’t your first time exploring the pleasures of a strap-on with a guy. You know you’ll be able to take care of him for as long as he lets you.

You just…don’t want it to change anything else. You don’t want him to retreat into himself the way he did last time.

You don’t want to lose him.

You can’t.

Once you’re ready, you return to the bed just as he’s peeling his shirt off his chest and tossing it toward the floor.

And you let yourself admire him. Let yourself drink in each tattoo, each scar, each dip of his muscles.

He is beautiful.

You notice the way he smiles at your admiration before looking down at the items in your lap. “Where, uh…where do you want me?”

You glance over the mattress. “Hands and knees should be good. Just…anywhere you feel comfortable.”

He nods once, swallowing thickly as he steps forward and begins to crawl back onto the bed.

The room is eerily quiet as you both move into position. You hadn’t expected things to feel so…heavy. But you suppose they are. Suppose neither one of you anticipated your adventure leading you here.

But…you don’t exactly mind.

He stills when he’s gotten into position, head dropping as he stares at your duvet and waits for your next instruction.

You clear your throat and reach out to smooth your palm down his spine. He jolts when he feels you but relaxes quickly, exhaling an anxious sigh.

“You okay?” you call softly, continuing the gentle caress to loosen him up.

He nods again. “Yeah. Promise. Just…nervous? I guess?”

“I know,” you whisper, settling onto your knees as you dip down to press a kiss to his bare hip. “You still trust me?”

And you can feel the way his entire body goes rigid from your mouth on his skin, his chin meeting his chest. “Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Fucking promise, Bee. Just…”

“Just what?” Your fingers dance toward his ass, ghosting over the curve as you move your kisses toward the middle. “Tell me.”

You’re happy to put him under the same duress he put you earlier, and the way his fists curl around the blanket beneath him makes you smile.

“Bee,” he attempts to warn, but you aren’t having it.

You simply trail your lips down the back of his thigh, and hum, “Come on, Daddy…wanna take care of you. But I can’t until you tell me what you want.”

You can see just how badly he wants to comply, his cock swollen and red. You know that’s mostly thanks to him eating you out and you feel your cheeks warm at the knowledge that it did that to him.

That you did that to him.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” you coo, reaching around to slide your palm down the tip as he hisses and lurches forward. “Poor Daddy…bet it’d feel so good to come, wouldn’t it?”

“Bee…please,” he respires. “Please, just…god, please touch me. M’gonna lose my fucking mind.”

You smile again as you straighten back up and reach for the lube. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

Your head shakes. “Mhm. Okay…I’m gonna start with a finger. But I need you to really be—”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you repeat, equally as soft before you squeeze the liquid into your hand. “Take a deep breath for me.”

He does, the muscles in his arms tensing as the tip of the bottle meets his ass. And when he feels the gel begin to drip down, he reels.

“That’s just the lube, Har,” you tell him, biting back a laugh.

“I know, but it’s cold,” he grumbles as you finish and toss the item aside.

You give him another moment to unwind before you bring your pointer finger closer…and gingerly slide inside.

You’re more than careful, listening closely for his reaction. It sounds like…relief, but you can’t be sure.

“Har?” you call again, other hand smoothing along his hip to give it a squeeze.

“M’fine,” he mumbles, once again fisting your duvet. “Promise. Go.”

“Are you—”

“Go,” he stresses before sucking in a quiet breath. “Please, baby. Go. Keep going.”

So, you do. You ease in a bit further until you’re about halfway in, pausing to let him adjust.

He seems to be doing pretty well, despite the way his stomach quivers and his cock twitches.

And after pumping him once or twice with great care, you push in to the knuckle.

He likes this, a particular groan emitting from his throat as he subtly shifts back into your hand. “Shit, Bee.”

“How’s it feel?”

He takes a moment to think. To find the right words. “Good. Full…I guess.”

“Yeah, and that’s only my finger.”

You hear him make a noise that resembles a laugh before he groans again. “God…please don’t stop. Please…I promise, I’m fine. I just…I…”

“Need more, don’t you?” you answer for him, working the lube in and out as he nods quickly.

“Yes. Yes…more.”

And who are you to say no?

You pump him a few more times before bringing a second finger into play. Again, you go slow. Making sure to gauge each sound and movement he makes so as to not hurt him. Or catch him off guard.

But he’s growing desperate. Mindlessly following your thrusts as he grows accustomed to the feeling. As he becomes familiar with the pleasure it brings him.

His jaw drops, hand coming up to his cock to stroke it lazily, needing some sort of friction.

But you reach around and slap it away, tsking as you warn, “Not yet. Not until I’m ready—”

“Bee,” he whines, and the desperate waver in his voice almost guts you.

“Shh. Just one more minute, okay?”

“Please…"

“I know. M’almost ready. Promise.”

He does his best to comply, nodding weakly as he lets his hand drop back down to the bed.

And you feel bad for him, you do. But seeing him so unhinged just about ruins you, and you can feel the way your cunt aches. The way it practically yearns for him, dripping all down your thighs as you continue to work your fingers into him.

And once you’re sure he’s ready…you reach for the dildo.

You’re more than generous with the lube, making sure to keep the experience pleasurable and easy.

And the dildo itself isn’t all that intimidating. Not nearly as big as he is. Average, at best. Perfect for a beginner.

The lack of stimulation makes him restless, and your heart clenches for him as you secure the strap-on around your hips and finally bring the tip back to his glistening hole.

The faint brush of it makes him whimper, and the sound of this confident man coming undone by your hand is what changes everything.

Everything.

It’s music. A goddamn symphony, and you chase the sound by slowly easing the dildo in.

An easy enough task, exactly like you’d hoped.

But he loses it.

The moan is deep and vulgar, echoing off the walls of your bedroom as you squeeze your legs together and press your fingers further into his hip.

“Good,” you hum, dipping down to kiss the base of his spine. “So good, Har. Promise. You okay?”

“Fucking shit,” is his reply. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You smile. “Give me your hand.”

He sluggishly reaches back for you, fingers intertwining with yours when you find him. And it makes your stomach flip but it’s not what you had in mind.

You bring your hands over to his cock, guiding him along the swollen shaft as he instantly ruts into your palm.

“Bee,” he gasps, squeezing both your knuckles and his tip. “Please—”

“I know,” you say again, continuing to work the dildo into him. Slowly at first before you find a steadier rhythm. “I know, doing so good—”

“Shit—”

“That’s it. Just like that. Like when I play with you, don’t you?”

He nods as you both begin to pump him, now matching the pace you've set with your thrusts and the dildo. "Yes...yes. Please don't stop—"

"Won't. Promise," you whisper, kissing down his hip.

His squirming increases, the one arm holding him up now shaking as he does his best to remain upright.

But it feels too good. You can see the pleasure written all over the side of his face, and it does fucking wonders for you.

You've never felt more proud to be responsible for his pleasure. To be responsible for making him fall apart the way he is. For showing him exactly what he deserves.

And he takes it. Takes it so fucking well, clutching onto you as you continue to work him closer.

And he feels so good. So good in your hand. So heavy, and needy, and ready for the release you've promised him.

You want to give him that release more than anything. Want to show him how good it can be. Want to show him the fucking stars.

He yells when he finds it. Your name and about a string of curses, all falling from his tongue one after the other.

He covers your hand, and your bed, and his stomach. And when he collapses, he takes you with him, pulling you down until your chest meets his back.

You imagine this can't be all that comfortable for him, especially with the dildo now halfway out, but he doesn't complain.

He continues to hold onto your wrist as he works to catch his breath.

And you don't fight it.

A minute or two passes before you gently ease the object out, unclip it from your body, and toss it aside.

He hisses at the loss of contact before settling once more, fingers still cemented to your hand.

You know you’ll need to clean up, but he doesn’t seem to have any future plans to do so.

It makes you smile, your cheek pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. His skin hot and slightly sweaty.

For some reason…it feels good.

“Bee?” he calls quietly, as if not to disrupt the tender moment.

You hum.

“Thank you.”

You let your eyes flutter shut. “Hey, what are friends for?”

A beat.

He tenses. “Yeah…”

Then, the silence returns.

But this time, it’s different.

This time…it’s heavy.

And when he lets go of your hand, you realize it’s not just in your head.

Things happen quickly. You barely get the chance to roll off of him before he’s sitting up and climbing off the bed. You don’t even have time to ask what changed as he begins reaching for his clothes to re-dress, your heart instantly dropping to your stomach.

“Har…?” you stammer as you awkwardly reach for your underwear. And this rush of deja vu is much more unpleasant than the last. “What…what’s—”

“I gotta go,” he mumbles under his breath, his back to you as he slips his hoodie on. “I forgot. I’ve got…something I’ve gotta do.”

“Oh…” Your chest deflates as you watch him step into his shoes. “What…um, what do you have to do?”

Once he straightens back up, he stills, and you wish you could see his face. “S’not important.”

With that, he heads for your living room, leaving you behind.

And you watch him go, a dumb founded look on your face as he makes his way for the front door.

A hundred and one things instantly run through your mind, from explanations to unpleasant realizations.

But the moment you watch him disappear into the hallway without so much as a glance back, you realize none of it fucking matters.

Just him.

You chase after him, scrambling toward the lobby in hot pursuit as he pushes through the double doors and disappears into the parking lot.

And you’re right behind, slipping out as well as he strides away from you, when you’re suddenly forced to a screeching halt the moment you’re met with a downpour of rain.

The sky is dark, the only smattering of light coming from the few street lamps placed along the sidewalk.

You hadn’t realized it was so late, or so rainy, but you don’t let it stop you.

Instead, you plant your feet onto the steps of the building, and shout, “Watermelon!”

It echoes across the parking lot until you see him freeze, his drenched back still to you.

Then…he turns.

Only about halfway, the hood on his head allowing just enough light to catch the side of his face.

But it’s enough.

“Watermelon,” you repeat as you take a step closer, water trickling down your hair, your body, your clothes. But you don’t care. “I call watermelon.”

He frowns. “The hell are you doing? Go back inside—”

“No.” Your teeth grit, fingers squeezing into fists by your side as a rumble of thunder rolls across the sky. “No. I want you to talk to me.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he tosses a glare your way. “I told you, I don’t wanna talk—”

“Tough shit.” You take another step. “’Cause I do. And you owe me that.”

The frown deepens. “Bee…don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” Another step. “After everything we’ve been through…you really think you can’t talk to me? You really think I’m not trustworthy enough to hear what’s going on?”

He scoffs and glances away. “God, you never fucking listen. I told you, it’s not—”

“No, you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me anything,” you remind him, volume raising ever-so-slightly as you continue closer. “Something is wrong, Harry. I know you. And I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me—”

“I don’t want you to fix it,” he seethes. “I want you to drop it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t do that. We work it out.”

“We can’t work this out.”

You hesitate as the first clue slips free. “So there is something to work out?”

He sighs, eyes falling shut. “Bee…please go back inside—”

“No.” Yet another step. “No. What is it? What happened? What did I do—”

“Nothing,” he nearly growls, whirling around to face you as if to really nail in his point. “I fucking told you. Nothing—”

“Then what?”

“Bee—”

“What? Is this about Tina—"

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Seriously, did she say something—"

“Bee—”

“Is she mad about this—”

“Can you just—”

“What? Do you feel guilty—”

“No, I just—”

“If you wanted to stop, all you had to do was say something—”

“I didn’t—that’s not—”

“Then what, Har? What happened? Why won’t you fucking—”

“I can’t do this.”

You stop.

He stops.

But nothing else stops. Not the rain. Not the lightning. Not the thunder. Not the racing in your chest as your heart beats against your ribcage like a goddamn drum.

I can’t do this.

You don’t think you heard him right. “…what?”

He scrapes his teeth together. “I can’t…I don’t wanna be friends with you. I don’t wanna be just friends with you, I don’t…fuck.”

He looks down at the wet cement as your lashes flutter and you work overtime to figure out what he’s saying.

“I—for fuck’s sake,” he hisses, almost more to himself before his eyes snap back to yours. “Look, I know that all of this was just…you helping me out. Okay? I know that. I know it meant nothing.”

A crack of lightning strikes the sky and somehow, it’s still not as intimidating as what he’s about to stay.

“But then…it did mean something,” he continues, a bit softer. “It meant everything.”

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what he wants you to say.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he grumbles, frowning once more. “I know, okay? I know. And that’s not…we agreed that it would just be…this. Just this. Nothing else. ’Cause we don’t do anything else. We don’t do…whatever, okay? I know.”

He looks back out into the dark city, leaving you to stare blankly at the side of his face.

“But it’s you,” he says, hands nestling further into the hoodie. “It’s you, and it’s always been you. Fucking always, Bee. Ever since we were kids. And I didn’t…I didn’t know why. Didn’t even know what it was, but it’s never felt like this with anyone else. Only you.”

Only you.

“And I don’t wanna…fuck, I don’t wanna lose you,” he just about sighs. “I can’t fucking lose you, Bee. But it just…I don’t think I can do this and not fall in love with you.”

You suck in sharp breath, and he looks back.

“Because I will,” he whispers, despite the rain. But you hear it, clear as day. “I will fall in love with you, and I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t have me.”

He stops now. Allowing the words to sink in. Allowing the truth to make a home in your mind.

And you work to understand. Work to find a response…but the only thing you manage is:

“What about Tina?”

After all, this started with her. It’s only fair that she play her part now.

His expression twists. You don’t know which way. “I like Tina. She’s nice. And she’d probably be really good for me.”

A pause.

“But she’s not you,” he finishes, and for some reason…you’re filled with relief. “It doesn’t feel like this with her. I don’t think it ever will.”

“You don’t mean that,” you blurt out, head shaking quickly. “No, it was just the sex. It’s throwing you off, it...it screws everything up and makes people think they feel one way…when they don’t.”

“Bee…” he begins, almost as if tired, but you barrel on.

“No, you said it yourself. Remember? Endorphins and shit?” You brush some wet hair from your face. “You just…it’s not me. It’s just the sex.”

“No.” He sounds so sure. So confident in his decision. “No, it’s not. It’s you. Always you, Bee—”

“Har—”

“You don’t have to like it. But that’s how it is—”

“Harry…you just…you don’t—”

“But I do.”

“Harry.” You want to stomp your foot. “You can’t…you don’t mean it. You’re confused.”

His eyes soften. “I’m not. I mean…I am, but not about why. Not about this—not about you.”

A pause settles between you as more thunder echoes across the dark sky.

And you look at him. Really look at him. Look for the truth, or the deception, or for anything that will help you make sense of all this.

“You said watermelon,” you remind him, blinking the droplets of rain from your eyes. “Why did you say watermelon?”

Another sigh as he glances back down at his sneakers. “’Cause…I knew. I knew I was starting to…need you. More than I should. And it fucking…it fucking scared me. It scared me how fucking…real it felt.”

Truthfully, you’re a little surprised that the man who has never once before admitted defeat would now confess his fear to you.

But it makes your head spin.

“And I just…it was a lot,” he continues. “Seeing you. Seeing what I’d done. I mean…the marks. On your neck. I did that. I’ve never done that to someone before. But then I did. And I liked it. I liked getting to be that way with you, and it fucking terrified me. Because what if I hurt you? Actually hurt you somewhere down the line? I’d never fucking forgive myself.”

Your lips press into a quivering line. “…why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter,” he huffs, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters because you don’t feel that way, and we’re finished with the list anyhow.”

You instantly follow after him, bridging the gap he made. “Don’t. It always matters with us, Har. Always. I mean…do you really think I haven’t wondered the same thing? Do you think it’s been fucking easy to do this with you and then just go back to watching Schitt’s Creek? It’s killed me. Fucking ruined me from the inside out to watch you walk away from me.”

His teeth grit once again, as if steeling himself from the truth.

“You mean everything to me, you goddamn twat,” you just about shout. “Sex or no sex, it doesn’t change that. I agreed to do this with you because I knew it was us. I knew we would be okay. Because we had to be okay. I can’t lose you either, Har. So stop trying to make me—”

“Then, what do you want me to do, huh?” he bellows. “Just wait around for you to believe me?”

“I…I do believe you, I just…I—”

“You just don’t feel the same way—”

“No, I didn’t say that—”

“Then what—”

“I…I—”

“What? I have to tell you, but you don’t have to tell me—”

“That’s not…that’s—”

“What do you want, Bee? What do you want me to do, what do you expect me to—”

“I love you.”

He stops.

Suddenly, and all at once, his eyes going wide.

But you don’t stop. “I love you,” you repeat loudly. “And I’m fucking terrified, too. Because I don’t want it to be just about sex. I don’t want it to be just the endorphins and shit. I want it to be real. I want us to be real.”

The silence seems to span an eternity as the rain continues to beat down around you.

Then…he surges forward.

He grabs hold of your wet cheeks with his drenched hands and yanks you closer.

And he kisses you.

He kisses you until you’re more him than you. He kisses you until you no longer have the strength to stand or the power to fight him.

He kisses you until it makes sense.

After a moment, he pauses to allow you a minute to breathe. But he doesn’t go very far. He presses his forehead to yours and he keeps you.

And it’s fucking…everything.

“What if we’re not?” he whispers. “What if we’re not real? What if we aren’t…us?”

You shake your head. "We'll always be us."

He exhales a gentle laugh before brushing his thumbs across your skin. "What if it changes everything?"

You wish you could assure him that it won't. Or even that it will, but in the best way.

But you can’t.

So, instead, you squeeze your fingers around his wrists and smile.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Thank you so much to everyone for reading, following along, and offering me so much support on this series 😭 I will never be able to thank you enough for all the kind comments and wonderful feedback, but please know I appreciate you all endlessly 🥹💞💞💞💞

Also, I suppose I did kind of lie. This will probably be the last part of the “main” series but I’ve actually got a few more ideas for extra blurbs and parts about other kinks and situations they might get into. So, if you’d like to follow along, I would be so honored to have you back!

And if you’d rather leave their story here, that is absolutely okay, too! Thank you so much for being here!

Now…I’m gonna go cry HAHAHA ♥️

Next Part:

~ Find Me* (A Teach Me Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags: (I have no idea if you all wanted to be tagged in each additional part, and if not, please let me know and I am so sorry for dragging you here! And if you did...then welcome back!!)

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @straightontilmornin @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @tiaamberxx @chubby-cheek-calum

#harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles concept #concept #smut #harry styles angst #angst #best friend!harry #harry styles best friend #harry and bee

3K notes · View notes

gyeomsweetgyeom · 21 days

Text

[2:57 pm]

(cw: f!reader, suggestive, “fucking”)

"How much longer do you need?" Bestfriend!Mark whines from your couch.

You had both planned to go to lunch almost an hour ago, but when you saw his outfit you decided you had to change. Apparently, you were too over dressed and "no, no, no! Don't worry, it won't take long!" Lies!

"I think we already missed the grace period for the reservation, think of somewhere else to eat now," Mark called out.

He could hear you running around, breathing hard, spraying something, and... hopping?

"Mark! You worry too much. I left my phone on the counter, check the email that they sent me I have it flagged," he heard you call out.

He sighed, standing from his comfy spot on the couch to get your phone. The face ID obviously fails so he tries to remember your password.

"My passcode is 8008!" You yell out.

Mark bursts out laughing, "Dude, seriously?"

You come out and look at him with a poorly concealed smile and only one shoe on, which coincidentally doesn't match either shoe in each of your hands, "it's funny!"

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes and watches you leave, not even bothering to hide the way his eyes fluttered as he caught a whiff of your perfume.

He shook his head, refocusing himself while he typed in your passcode. Immediately his eyes went wide at what he saw on the screen.

There was no email pulled up, no games, not instagram, or even tiktok- no! It was your photos app, the photos app with a picture timestamped to an hour and a half ago. A picture with you dressed in the least amount of clothes he'd ever seen you in.

His face flushed, he felt his face get hot and had no doubt he was bright red. He gulped, his eyes trailing over the expanse of skin that was on the screen. Skin that was just barely covered by a lacy black bra and matching panties.

He gulped, eyes taking in the seductive look on your face, the way your hair effortlessly cascaded down like a model in a photo shoot. Shit, who were you taking these pictures for and what did he have to do to get you to send them to him?

“Did you find the email?” You ask stopping in front of him with arched brows.

“Huh? What? Ummmm- yeah, huh?” Mark stuttered, struggling to take his eyes off the screen and when he did he could barely make eye contact.

Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes trailing down to see what had gotten him so tongue tied. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment before you quickly snatched your phone from his hold, “you were not supposed to see that!”

“W-well who was supposed to see it then? You never told me you were seeing anyone? Shit, are they cool with us hanging out just the two of us?”

You swiped all your apps closed, “there isn’t anyone Mark. I was just feeling hot and took pictures because why not? Can you forget you ever saw them?”

“Honestly?” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, I can’t forget. You looked so fucking hot I’m gonna see that every time I close my eyes.”

Now it was your turn to stutter, “what- what? Mark? You can’t just say things like that! We’ve been best friends for years.”

“And I stopped looking at you like you were one of the guys when we turned 12 and I caught a glimpse of the strap of your training bra. I don’t want to hide my feelings for you forever, so can we make this friendly lunch our first date?”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to split your face, “yeah, I’d like that. But hey, we definitely missed the reservation. Sorry about that.”

Mark sighed, taking your hand in his as you both left your apartment, “no you’re not.”

“Yeah... I’m not. I look cute.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee timestamps

523 notes · View notes

luveline · 4 months

Note

hi honey bun! i was just having a thought about someone coming home after a night out, a little drunk and sleepy, just crawling into bed with the reader? n maybe trying not to wake her w cuddling and such? 🥺 im so indecisive and couldn’t choose between peter or one/poly marauders, but please also feel free to disregard if it’s not the one for you! kisses xx

Sirius tries to tell them to be quiet, but James is so drunk he’s going to wake up amnesiac and Remus isn’t far behind him. Sirius has a kinder buzz, opening and then closing the door for his idiots begrudgingly. “Shush. You’ll wake her.”

“She should be awake I miss her so much I’m gonna throw up,” James says, all in one breath.

“That might be the Guinness,” Remus laughs. His cheeks have gone pink. Sirius thinks it’s the cutest Remus has ever looked, and he gives him an affectionate smile that’s returned tenfold.

“Be quiet,” Sirius says. A yawn comes suddenly. “Go sit down and have some toast or something.”

“I definitely will throw up then,” James groans, bending over in the middle of the hallway.

Remus, despite being similarly belligerent, starts doting on him. “You okay?” he asks, bending down with a similar sigh of pain. “Come on. I’ll make you a– a glass of water.”

Sirius has spent the night with them, so he loves them, but he misses you too much to stay. He chucks his shoes vaguely in the direction of the shelf and starts up stairs. The walls move under his hand and the bedroom door proves hard to open, but he sees you and forgets that he’s drunk. You’re laying on your side curled into a pillow, arm curled around, one leg sticking out of the quilt.

Sirius pulls the blanket back gently, remembers he’s wearing jeans, changes out of the jeans, and slides into bed in front of you. He slowly, slowly, pulls the pillow from your arms, wrapping his arm under yours and behind your back, the other just shy of your face. Beautiful girl, he thinks, a little woozy from having suddenly changed directions.

You mumble and hug him weakly, fingertips tickling his side.

“For fuck’s sake!” James says somewhere downstairs. “What is this?”

“Water, Jamie,” Remus says, quieter. “You can’t have anything else, don’t be–” A sound and a laugh. “No, kissing me won’t change my mind.” More laughing.

Sirius tugs your hand up to smile into your palm.

“Home?” you mumble.

“Mm,” he hums, eyes closed and heavy but his arm awake behind your back, pulling you closer to his front. “I told them to be quiet… didn’t listen.”

“You…” you’re still stuck in the throes of sleep, and forget you’re talking. Sirius laughs a huff and you blink. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Everything was okay. Next time I’ll stay home with you,” he promises, rubbing his nose into your cheek.

“I liked being alone for a bit, but… missed you in the end.”

Footsteps start up the stairs. “Sorry for waking you up,” Sirius says.

“S’okay. Make them be nice to me.”

That’s easy. As the door begins to open, Sirius pulls you right into his chest, as close as you can possibly be, and shushes you gently. Remus’ laughing swiftly ends, and James says, “Oh no, what’s wrong?” in his softest tone.

James climbs over the bed still in his shoes. Remus grabs him before they can touch the sheets and takes them off, and then James crawls up behind you and hugs you, Sirius’ arms included. “Hi… my angel.”

You ignore him with a disgruntled whine.

“Sorry we were so loud.”

You whine again.

“Do you want Remus instead?”

“No. I don’t not want Remus,” you clarify. “I’m not mad at you. Stay here.”

Remus falls rather drunkenly in behind Sirius, forcing everyone to move over. You look for him in the tangle of arms and blankets, everyone Sirius loves rammed into one bed and exhausted.

“Is anyone in the mood for a kiss?” James asks.

“Too tired,” you mumble.

“Too far away. Make it up to you in the morning,” Remus says into Sirius's shoulder. Sirius is having a hard time following the conversation, distracted by the smell of your perfume and all the skin pressed to his.

James sighs forlornly. “Fine.” A pause. “Sirius?”

He snores.

2K notes · View notes

promiscuouscutie · 5 months

Text

Marking His Territory

Ethan Landry x shy fem. Reader, Ethan being possessive and jealous, HE IS A GHOSTFACE IN THIS, SMUT

Word Count: 1766

Warnings for this part: non-consensual videotaping, P in V sex, fingering, unprotected but no finishing inside, biting, if you don’t like controlling behavior this isn’t for you

A/N: I’m kinda iffy on this ngl. I think I could’ve dragged it out longer but this was all I came up with. I still hope you enjoy :))

You thought you and Ethan were pretty similar. You both were pretty reserved, and that’s what drew you two together. You found yourself more comfortable around him when it was just the two of you doing assignments together, eventually going on late night walks around campus. You remember the fluttery feeling in your stomach when he held your hand for the first time, pulling you close to his side under the dark sky.

To you, it was like fate! You were always a bit of a romantic, liking the idea that there were strings attached to souls, connecting people with their true match. When he cupped your face and kissed you in your dorm for the first time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. You were nervous to ask him out, but that was okay! He ended up asking you to be his girlfriend the next night and giving you a bouquet of roses.

You and Ethan had gone through the honeymoon phase of your relationship, loving every minute of it. You thought it would last forever, but it didn’t. You started to notice Ethan acting different in the relationship: he was starting to control your life. Well, you wouldn’t put it like that. But anyone who noticed would disagree with your constant efforts to brush it off.

If you didn’t answer his messages right away, he’d blow up your phone. He’d walk you to each of your classes, walk with you to lunch, and come to your dorm to make you dinner as you both worked on assignments. You’d see your friends on the weekends; he never objected to that, unless they were guys. The male friends you had at the beginning of the year had faded from your life because of Ethan’s presence. Well, all except one guy: Lucas.

Lucas was someone you used to be very close to, until Ethan claimed he was into you and wanted to get into your pants.

“Baby you can’t seriously be this naive,” he scoffed. You lifted your head off his shoulder, sitting up in his lap. “What?”

“Lucas wants to fuck you. You realize that, right?”

Now you were the one to scoff. “No he doesn’t. We’re just friends.”

“He doesn’t look at you like he just wants to be friends.” You dart your eyes down to stare at his chest, playing with the buttons on his blue shirt.

“Do you think I’d cheat on you or something?” You asked. His gaze softened and he cupped your face.

“No baby no. I know you’d never do something like that to me. You’re a good girl.” You smiled at the praise, feeling reassured. You kissed his cheek and leaned against his body again, going back to watch the movie. Ethan ran his fingers through your hair, glancing at the incoming messages on your phone. Every single one of them was from Lucas, which made Ethan clench his jaw. At this rate, Ethan was gonna add him to his kill list.

After that conversation, you didn’t talk to Lucas as much. When he’d ask why, you’d say you were just busy and it was nothing personal; he’d believe you, but still push to talk to you. Ethan didn’t like that one bit. He just wanted him to give up and move on, find some other girl to leech on. You were his, no one else’s. His hatred for Lucas only grew, but it reached its peak when he found out he invited you to a study session.

“You’re not going.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re busy. Just tell him that.” You sighed, putting your buttoned-gray sweater over your black tank top. He comes up behind you and hugs you, holding you in place. You sighed, leaning your head against his body.

“Stay here, with me. C’mon baby, forget about Lucas,” he whispered.

“I’m just gonna help him with his project, and then I’ll come back here.” You turned around and put your hands on his shoulders. “Will you wait for me here?” He dragged out a sigh, but eventually nodded. You smiled and kissed his cheek before grabbing your bag with your notes.

When it’s time to say goodbye, you kissed him deeply with an embrace. “I’ll see you later!” Before you could put your hand on the doorknob, he grabbed your hips and held you in place. You could feel his body against you from behind. You could smell the perfume of yours that lingered onto him.

“That’s all you’re gonna give me?” He faked a sad voice. One of his hands snuck under your top and rubbed your lower stomach.

“Ethan,” I let out a breathy laugh. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing kisses along your skin.

“Just stay with me. Lucas can fend for himself.”

“Ethan that’s not very nice.”

“Just a few more minutes, please.” His grip on your hip grew tighter. You winced as he bit down on your skin, leaving teeth marks on your neck.

“Ethan!” You wiggled out of his grasp and touched the throbbing mark on your neck. You looked at him in shock; he had never bitten you before. “What’s gotten into you?” You gape at him.

He no longer had his doe eyes. His face had hardened, but his eyes were filled with desire.

The phone in your pocket started to buzz. You took it out and saw Lucas’s contact; he was calling you. Ethan took your phone out of your hand and answered the phone for you.

“Hello?”

“Uh hey! Who’s this?”

“It’s Ethan, her boyfriend.”

“Oh…hey man! I just wanted to check in and see if she was coming over soon. She’s got the notes, so..”

“Oh, well she’s not coming.”

“She’s not?”

“No, she can’t make it.” You had been trying to grab the phone out of his hand, but he was much stronger than you. You groaned every time he pushed you away.

“Are you sure?” Ethan looked at you, noticing your pleading expression. You mouthed the word “please,” making him bite back a sigh.

“You know what? She will be there. Just give her some more time to get ready. Is that cool with you?”

“Yeah! That’s totally fine with—”

“Good talk,” Ethan hung up. You stared at him and held your hand out, waiting for him to give you your phone back. But he doesn’t, not yet. He looked at Lucas’s number, memorizing it in his head. He took your hand and led you back into your room, pushing you onto the bed.

“Ethan I thought you said—”

“I know what I said,” he said as he unbuttoned your pants, “but you have to do something for me.” He yanked your pants off and threw them onto the ground. You closed your legs immediately, feeling the cold air hit your thighs.

“I know I haven’t been very reasonable when it comes to him,” he admitted. He pulled you closer to him by your legs, placing him in between them. He pressed his lips against your skin, leaving those kisses that gave you butterflies.

“All I ask…is that you promise me something.”

“Okay..” you trailed off. You didn’t understand where this was going, even as he moved your thighs further apart. He could see a damp spot on your panties, making his cock twitch.

“Already?” He smirked. You averted your eyes, not wanting to respond. But he could see the blush growing on your cheeks.

He moved your panties to the side and exhaled heavily at the sight of you. He traced his finger down your slit, making you quiver. You laid back on the bedspread, looking at the ceiling as he continued to tease your pussy. He traced circles on your clit, prodded at your hole a few times before pushing the finger inside you. You let out little whimpers and whines, sounds that Ethan enjoyed. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted you to be louder.

What you didn’t know was that he began recording you on his phone, a little homemade video.

“Flip over, on your stomach baby.” You do as you’re told, whining at the loss of his touch. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring out free. He rubbed his tip against your pussy, pushing it inside you for a fleeting second before taking it out.

You would cry out his name, wanting to feel him inside. “I know baby, I know. It’ll be over soon, I swear.” He pushed himself inside, letting out a loud moan as he felt you clench around him.

“Oh my god,” he gritted his teeth. He could barely take the feeling of you around him as he started to move his hips. He could barely handle the sight of you grabbing your sheets, muffling your noises. He grabbed his phone that had sitting on the bed, only recording the sounds you were making. But now, he would capture the sight of you two fucking.

He’d save the video for himself, of course. But he had another plan in mind. He would send the video to Lucas as you left to go to his place. That would send the message to him, and you wouldn’t be the wiser. You’d have no clue, and that was how it would stay.

He truly was capturing gold with his phone. He was fucking you so hard that you couldn’t muffle your moans. You didn’t even care that your neighbors could hear you; you felt phenomenal.

You felt Ethan’s weight on your body, leaning closer to your ear. He wrapped your hair into a ponytail and pulled you closer. “Lucas could never fuck you like this, right?”You shook your head and continued to whine.

“Say it,” he panted.

“N-no! Never! He could never make feel this goo—holy fuck!” Ethan almost dropped his phone as you babbled out those words. He couldn’t contain his excitement; he was ready to cover you in cum.

And that’s exactly what he did: he pulled out so fast and let his cum drip all over your ass, letting it drip down your thighs. That was probably the fastest fuck he had ever had with you; he couldn’t help himself. He let out a breathy laugh as he smacked his cock against your hole a couple times before ending the video.

He’d clean you up, help you out your pants back on, kiss you goodbye, and send you on your way. He’d have the video sent to Lucas before you arrive at his home.

He could only imagine the look on his face.

#scream vi #scream 6 smut #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #corruption kink #possessive #obsessive love #voyerurism

744 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 1 month

Text

fight night

hirai momo x f!reader

synopsis: momo makes sure you hit the canvas, and the bed.

warnings: strap-ons ; breeding kink mentioned ; just dirty, filthy, disgusting smut >:)

a/n: started writing this at around 10 am btw

“i want another round! let’s go for another round!”

despite how enthusiastic it sounded, it certainly won’t be the last time you hear that sentence tonight.

“momo,” you call out to her from the opposite corner of the ring, raking your hand through your slicked hair, muddled with all of the sweat procured from the intense sparring session you just went with her just now, “i thought i told you that i was only gonna do four rounds with you tonight.”

she tosses her headgear into the middle of the ring, a glove at her side with the wrist-wrapped hand sliding across the divot in her abs. “just one more bout, we’ll do a minute this time since it’s already late.”

watching your girlfriend move up the ranks in her weight class for the boxing division that she was competing for, in the slightest, was probably one of the most frightening experiences momo has put you through since the start of the relationship with her.

that being said, momo is, and always will be, a fighter - there’s even times where nothing else matters if she gets beat down to the ground by someone else because fighting is the only thing she knows how to do. she’ll get up, and keep going - to no end, even if her body is screaming against it at will, it’ll be until the very last bell when she gets her final say.

“fine, just this once only because ryujin isn’t here with you today.”

momo squeaked over before running across the opposite end to trap you in a hug, sweaty lips against yours while your free hand sweeps her lower back. she deepens the kiss but forces her weight on you, just enough for your back to meet the ropes, letting a small groan escape into her mouth.

you’re not the one at fault to get momo riled up with moments like these, but for the sake of your girlfriend’s sanity, you made sure to not be in the gym with her that much - especially with the goddamn sparring sessions because she’s always looking to see if you’re watching her beat or get beat.

a simple two tap out signals momo to stop for a second, landing another few kisses swiping your bottom lip, “fuck–momo, it’s not that big of a deal.” you say, calloused ridges of your palm feeling the subtle warm heat on her cheeks to the touch. “let’s get this last round in baby, then we can have our fun.”

“oh yeah?” momo challenges, her free hand beneath shorts kneading your ass, a light gasp of the chipped armor she finally manages to break, “and what do i get for knocking you out in sixty seconds?”

“well…” it’s a tempting proposition, she knows your body equally as hers. the subtle touches in areas that lifts that sly smile of yours, the moans that shake loose off her lips when you’re all over her aching, needy–

“if you can knock me out by then, i’ll be free of use for you when we get home.”

momo coos, finger and thumb at the peak of your chin when the soft chuckle leaves your lips. “i do like the sound of that.”

“if you don’t, then nothing will happen.” you add, pressing a finger to her chest, pushing her away to the other corner. “i’m not like your sparring partner ryujin, so i don’t plan to go easy.”

“you were never an easy girl to appeal to.”

“tell that to richard’s fighter that put a number on you three weeks ago.”

“oh, fuck you.”

“you probably will.” quipping, “headgear on, we don’t have all night.”

—

momo is structured, but always forgets.

and she definitely forgot about the right hander you had when she’s on the ropes.

stumbling out, and you’re laughing, mocking her. you’re all for the taunting and trash-talking. it’s something you picked up from momo’s trainer, jihyo, constantly berating her all of the different kinds of things that even whittled down to ‘you’re shitty because you’re fucking breathing!’ there’s so many stories you’ve herald from the other fighters in the gym, so you’re working your magic to get momo to let her frustrations out.

“you call that a southpaw? c’mon, where’s the momo that i know who can land a better hit than that?! is it because i’m your girlfriend and you’re giving me slack?”

momo wipes her chin, studying everything that you’re currently modeling right now. your left hand is up to your midsection, right hand lowered, shoulders slumped like they’re relaxed, skipping in place on the balls of your feet, staying light and quick. it’s only been ten seconds into the round and momo needs one way in.

“you’re all talk for someone that’s not a boxer.” she says, gloves hitting against each other signifying that she’s good to go.

“don’t go easy on me.”

you get complacent, momo surges forward with a low blow to your stomach. luckily your right hand swings forward to parry the hit before reeling back to the flying left hand momo sends after. right hook is sent to momo’s head and she takes it, good, shuffling back against the corner where you’re in the driver's seat. she has to play defense, and you have free reign with firing the relentless jabs to any open area on momo’s body.

momo’s hands shield her face, elbows protecting her stomach as best as she can while you’re sending a flurry of hooks left and right. she sees the window of opportunity when you’re sending another uppercut when she hits the area where your liver was at, making you slightly disoriented. that was the second she needed, and all of the sudden the momentum shifted in momo’s favor, sending a right hook, a left jab, two quick hit in the same area again before the haymaker right to the left side of your face.

that was momo’s strength, her fast reflexes and punches gave you little to no time to adjust and before you knew it, you’re doubled back on the canvas, falling to the right before rolling over and laying upwards.

—

you’re zipping up your duffel bag when momo hugs you from behind, with an ice pack in her hand. you hum at the peace offering, taking it and putting it on your forehead to soothe the pain from momo’s killer hook.

it was so cute to see your boxer girlfriend tend to your care and yes, she felt bad. she needed the motivation after taking that loss in that fight with the up and comer making a name for themselves in the boxing scene. the loss was hard for momo at the time and she really took it to heart, but like all things in life, we move forward.

“sorry,” momo says, palming your head while you give her a soft smirk, accepting her apology right away before she schpiels out on how - “i didn’t mean to hit you that hard, and you were giving me a lot of crap which was annoying and—”

“momo,” hand up to stop her from tumbling her words, “it’s fine. it’s okay, you gave me a run for my money.” and momo shuts up, defeated that she beat up her own girlfriend out of a bit of anger. “besides, you’ve been slacking since the third or fourth round, so you made it up with that.”

“did i?”

“you really couldn’t tell?” you ask her, tapping her cheek to cheer her up. “i could see it in your body language.”

“i know.”

“and i did challenge you to something, so i didn’t forget.”

“you also said that.”

lowering the ice pack from your forehead, you lean in for a chaste kiss. momo flings the small towel over her neck so that her hands can slide into your waist. the touch and feel of her hands all over you was comforting, eagerly like it’s the last thing she wants to lose on her mind: feeling you, tender lips, that breath caught from the bottom of your throat, hands on her neck keeping her gravity centered towards you.

momo being cool, swings the towel from her neck around to yours when you try to pull away, trying to keep her sanity in check before the booming call of lust shelters her heart for wanting, needing, satisfying. the lip lock and swipe of her tongue only makes you take into her, the downfall of that euphoric bliss flooding over you like a fucking flood, hands roaming freely over her soaked back.

she’s quick to attack your neck, inciting a soft moan–her favorite sound–from your lips before you tap her breast twice, pulling away with lidded eyes and the intertwining line of saliva now visible in the small space between heads.

“remember, free use.” you whisper, permissively, and momo is reminded of the reward she earned.

—

(look, it goes without saying: some things are quicker to come sooner than you actually realize. sure, the detailing of momo’s rough hand all over your thigh on the car ride back would be enough information with additional detail to suffice, but really - this is just the blip or flashforward in the event. besides, who really wants to speed things up in the rush of a fucked mind waiting to happen–

oh wait, that’s you.)

—

the term gentle is completely thrown out of the equation. it’s also apparent with the fact that your back hits the door leading into the shared bed of you and momo’s. arms are discarding things everywhere, you yelp into her mouth at the fact that she’s quick to rip off that large shirt in one take, pushed onto the bed while momo slips out of her leggings and shirt - she never liked the idea of wearing bras especially when it came to going out (risky, but she could care less.)

sprawled, you twitch at the reemergence of momo’s hands canvasing your body, exposed and open for her to drink in the sight.

“too stunned to speak?” you finally say, hands upheld like a model in a photoshoot, catching a glimpse of momo licking her lips ready to tear anything in it’s path. and you’d let her. take you in for something that’s cast aside and make you whole, like new. you’ve broken her down to the point where she could give you everything you wanted, and she will.

momo leans down, sinking by the feel of her lips on the little spot underneath your ear, eyes wobbling shut while you hum with a sound of satisfaction, melting into putty by the second. you know she likes this, to have control, to be in the front of this bout where she belongs because by the end of everything, you’ll be sputtering her name out like there’s no tomorrow.

“i’m gonna use you to fuck myself in every way.” she stops to say down the canal of your ear.

fuck.

“how are you gonna do that?” eyes tracking her silhouette in the darkness while your hands nestle themselves over your chest, thighs pressed together to sate the ache that’s bothering between your legs. “tell me more baby, i wanna know all of the things that you’re gonna do to me.”

“you said free use, so i’ll do anything to get myself off to you.”

“anything?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.”

fuck.

you lean back as deep as you can, momo elevates herself over your body, and your hands naturally find their way clutching her ass, dropping kisses up her inner thigh. not even letting her speak, but already ahead of the curve of what she wanted.

“you-fuck, i fucking hate-” momo snaps, trying to ignore the humming of momo’s skin laving your tongue at the moment, gripping your hair suddenly to stop you before pressing your head back into the mattress. “always having your way with things, huh?”

“got a problem?”

“this is your doing. now open.”

“mo–”

she shuts you up with the harsh grinding of her cunt at max speed, the subtle slide of her wetness soaking onto your face. she tastes good, there’s no denying that, but shit the post-workout meal and shower can wait, because this was entirely better than whatever was the initial plan before coming home.

“yeah–yeah, yeah, yeah, hng–fuck, y/n.” momo gasps out while her hips buckle from the pressure, dropping forward while your hands hook around the midpoint of her hips and legs meeting, giving you an anchor for you to pleasure her. momo looks from under, only seeing the top of your head, moving left and right repeatedly, cupping your face while you keep your head up into her cunt.

“christ baby, your fucking mouth–”

“mmmmph.” you manage to say, mouth full of pussy that grips your tongue so well. you could lose and back out now, flip her over and just fuck momo, but she knows that you’ll do the honor system justice, staying true to your word. momo’s fingers are on her clit, nearing that peak she desperately deisred, shooting up right again and forcefully fucking your face with her cunt, whining and whimpering before she clenches her legs against your head, as if it was a watermelon in between, screaming.

momo collapses behind, ass on your stomach while she tries to recover from her climax, chest heaving while lickking the slick off of your face, sucking shamelessly and the noises that momo hears coming out of your mouth are completely fucked, she’s just left staring.

there’s a pause, an intermission that only lasts for a few seconds - that fucking pit stop that sounds stupid as it is, and momo has something in her hand that sends your cunt aching again for more.

a vision–a vision out of your wildest dreams. there was only one instance of this occurring and count yourself fucking lucky, because it’s happening again.

“please,” you’re asking momo, the urgency of fulfilling your fantasies coming to life again-you’re gonna do it right? right? a break in the script to rewrite it into something new. “i know you’ve been waiting for–”

“jesus fucking christ, y/n.” momo swears, sounding helpless, but the feeling of it has never felt better. “you’ve been waiting for this to happen again, haven't you? for me to use this in your poor little pussy for my own sake. always getting what you want–”

fuck. fuck. fuck. for fuck’s sake godddamnit–shit–

“please,” you’re asking again. “free use baby, just use me. this pussy is yours to ruin.”

momo lets the urge finally take over, splitting your legs apart before diving in to get some of that craving that she’s been holding herself back for a bit, spitting on your cunt before slipping a finger in your folds. you’re squirming at your touch, mind racked with the unnecessary teasing that’s pulling on you, to get riled up before–

“you want it so bad don’t you.” the head of the silicone cock tapping along your walls, dipping an inch just for good measure, and jesus you’re already annoyed by it. “i’m gonna ram this little pussy of yours.”

she slides - all the way in. you don’t even know if this was real life or a dream.

the languid moan of being filled up to the brim, slick coating the plastic in you like it’s the one thing that only matters and for this time, it did. momo strokes out before letting the first rail back leaves you choking for a second. “my little slut enjoying this now?”

“god, momo, ma-” you barely manage, shimmying down on momo’s silicone cock, fucking yourself down the length, cunt gripping with all of its strength. momo internalizes this, testing the limits of how much your pussy could handle, but why play it safe - that’s not the whole point of getting here in the first place.

“how does my cunt feel, ma’am?” you ask, wanting everything from momo, waiting for her to give it a few blinks to settle. starting with more fewer strokes, then upping the tempo, and up, and up–

“you look amazingly pretty,” momo breathes out, coming as a growl in your ear when she lays on top of you, hips hitting that spot inside you perfectly, the sounds coming out of you for momo to hear only makes her want more. she’s going slow, deep, soft, and then–

“harder, ma’am. please. just fuck me.”

she gets you. it doesn’t take much for momo to give in, letting the strap swallow you up in the same repeated manner. the beat of momo’s heart synchronizing with yours while the slaps of skin fill up the dim room. there’s steady pace, the back and forth banter of grunts and moans leaving yours and momo’s lips.

your pupils are blown out, half smiling, half gasping, looking up with every bit of strength left to see momo turn you undone. “so–hn, fuck–yes, i can’t–keep dicking me like that.” you croon, the sharp inhale leaving your lungs as momo’s strap sinks into you again and again and again and again.

“imagine how good–” momo breathes out, “if i had a real dick, instead of a strap?” and the delirium tumbles down. “stretching you out so good–so well. my perfect slut.”

“god, momo, i–”

“you’re perfect for me. my fucking cocksleeve.”

in the name of the lord of heaven above.

“such a good girl, my good slut, god, i want to stay inside you forever.”

your eyes meet hers, smiling astonishingly beautiful while being fucked. “is this what you wanted?”

“y-y/n—”

your legs wrap around momo’s hips, keeping the pace up of her thrusting inside of you. “filling me up? the idea of cumming inside of me so badly? dumping so much to the point that you could leave a baby in me instead of this plastic strap?”

momo nods, not letting up her strokes, fucking you fast and deep, slamming like it took everything out of her. “breeding…” momo husks out, “sounds so fucking good…”

“c-close, mo. i’m shaking.”

“cum for me darling, you’ve earned it.” momo says to you, lips on yours again while she continues to fuck her strap into your tiny cunt, slowing her pace when she feels you clenching around the plastic. she’s quick to knead your breasts while you’re sobbing, savoring the feeling while the lingering orgasm leaves your hips.

momo lets out something breathy, unrestrained, relaxing when she hears the whinpers leave your lips, sliding her strap out of your well-fucked pussy. you have a sleepy smile in appreciation mixed with satisfaction when she hobbles over to your side, arms scooping you into an embracing hug while you’re leaving peppered kisses on one side of her chest.

“amazing.” you barely say, and momo just chuckles.

“we’re definitely doing this again.”

#hyunie #kpop imagines #twice imagines #momo x reader #twice x reader #hirai momo #twice momo #twice smut #momo smut #kpop smut #gg smut

539 notes · View notes

cu7ie · 8 months

Text

BIMBOFICATION. ft. geto suguru

(>◡•́)— ★ authors note. IM BACK BITCHES. WITH THE HORNY SHIT AKAKKAKAKA . kinktober day one! masterpost here. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ content warnings. dumbification, reader is a bimbo - ditzy, hypersexual, huge airhead vibes be warned. they are obedient and listen to what geto tells them. reader wears feminine clothes, has a 'clit', and is referred to as a 'girl', no use of she/her (ahahaha i love gender things). cock sucking throat fucking all that nasty gluk gluk shit y'eard?

You’re not stupid.

Forgetful, yeah! Occasionally uneducated, of course. But dumb? You’d surmise that conclusion to be a bit of a stretch; despite how often you find yourself trying to convince people of the contrary.

It is typical of humans to forego their ‘common sense’ on occasion, though it never seems to be a problem when anyone else does it! When Gojo eats all his candy and doesn’t share with anyone at the party, it’s cool; but when you do that, you get all kinds of pushback: “What’s wrong with you?” Nothing! The chocolate was gonna melt if you didn’t do something about it! “What are we supposed to give to the trick or treaters now?” All the twizzlers you left behind, duh.

Shoko gave you a look and sipped her sake, Gojo’s pointed barks of laughter chasing you back to the comfort of the kitchen. There you see Geto; your boyfriend, whose presence settles amicably in the gaps of your expression when he looks up at you with that beckoning fondness. He crooks his fingers and you bound over quite thoughtlessly, much to his evident amusement.

Despite how much you insisted on matching costumes, Geto struck out of his own accord, the fake knife accompanying his Ghostface costume down on the counter. The real knife he was using to cut up the peppers is set aside as he busies himself with the sink.

You’re wearing one of those sexy school uniforms. Mini bordering on microskirt, paired with a cute number that shows your midriff- the dip in your chest. Your gogo boots click noisily on the floor a little as you sidle up next to him.

Geto pats your head when you get close enough, hands damp after a fresh rinse, and you preen from the contact. “Hey babyyy!” You gush a little, setting down the rest of the candy on the counter. “Can you get me a bowl?” He tilts head at you a little, looks down at the bag a second.

“Babe, didn’t I tell you to get the big bag?” Geto asks and shuffles over to the cabinet as you wash your hands to pick up where he left off. “Yeah! I did, doesn’t it look big to you?”

“Yeah… of course it does. But remember that conversation we had about eating things that aren’t yours?” He brings back the bowl, but also a sternness to his grin, which all of a sudden doesn’t meet his eye. “Well yeah Suguru!” You’re looking down now, cutting vegetables with sudden interest and precision, sweeping it up into little piles. “It's not like I'm stupid …” His figure lingers in your periphery as the words leave your lips, the air about him suddenly feeling … tense.

Then his hand is on yours.

“Look at me honey.” He gives you a squeeze, and you go to look up on instinct. Hesitate. “What?” Your grip on the knife softens, and it soon clatters atop the cutting board. “What, I said.”

“I never said you were stupid.” Your eyes met his before you realized, and the indignant scowl you want to make shrivels up inside you like a dried cocoon. “You just have a hard time saying what you mean right?” He blinks owlishly at you. “I know you don’t wanna lie to me.” “But I’m not-” Geto interrupts with a shake of his head. “Maybe one time I could forgive you, but twice? To my face?” You feel the sun in your face, fire hot heat setting you ablaze with embarrassment, feigned ignorance. A nagging feeling to obey. “I… I..”

“You?” He chimes cloyingly. You stiffen your upper lip. Hone your resolve.

“M’not lying! Now lemme go!” Your arm budges when he wants it to, so you’re not quite moving until a few agonizing seconds pass, when Suguru lets out a low whistle and sigh, shaking his head at you dismissively, before you’re allowed to resume cutting vegetables. He dumps the candy into the rest of the bowl and takes his leave, chattering with his friends in the living room before coming back, empty handed.

The silence is maddening. He comes back, shuffles around the kitchen, then stops somewhere just beyond your sight, and craning your neck to look back at him would beckon his scrutiny. So you refrain. Stir fry the vegetables, and refrain. Feel a bead of sweat crest on your forehead and slide down your cheek from the heat. Refrain.

The breath against your neck is sudden and swift as Suguru fixes himself behind you, knocking his head gently against yours as a grasping hand slides over your stomach. He goes for the gas on the stove before you can get a protest out, his other hand teasing the rim of your skirt, smoothing down a short pleat till his palm can grope your thigh.

“After a little deliberation … I’ve decided I forgive you. For the lying.” His fingers dimple the skin he touches, sliding ever so slowly under the fabric. “Because I know you’re not a silly girl. You can be quite attentive when you want to be, can’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah I can.” Your breath quickens a little as you press your ass back into the thin fabric of his hood, the feeling of his cock growing to hardness making you quiver with anticipation. His right hand on your thigh stills, tracing around your side and to your hip - growing stiff and heavy. The left dips boldly under your costume, a finger or two stalling in the spot right above your clit.

“Gojo and Shoko offered to get more candy - I can finish cooking after we’re finished here.” His lips press teasingly against the shell of your ear, and your resistance dwindles a bit. “Right now, all I want from you is a favor.” “Favor? I can do that - I can..” Geto chuckles. “I know you can sweetheart. Shh, sh. It’s my turn to do the talking now, okay? Listen.” You nod sharply.

“Turn around.” You do. In an instant, stretching out your spine cat-like to press your chest up against him, your nipples hardening like pebbles beneath your blouse. You close your eyes and lean in for the kiss that should be inevitable - but no warmth meets your lips. Instead, an apathetic gloved finger. “Mmph?” Your confusion is apparent. You blink your eyes open and are greeted by a wry smile.

“Sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for you to just listen. Then it came to me - an epiphany. Little girls like you just have a certain kind of skill set. Forgive me, okay? I just wasn’t giving you the right direction. But it’s okay! It’ll never happen again.” With those words, his expression grows less compromising - resolute, grim, determined. Almost makes you want to leap out of your skin - the fright of him not being happy with you bearing down greatly on your mind.

His hands come up to your shoulders and apply downward pressure. “On your knees.”

You follow without hesitation.

His mirth wrinkles the corners of his eyes as you squirm down there. The floor is cold and your knees are getting dirty, and he knows that stupid look you make when you’re thinking to complain; though he’s never seen this level of restraint from you before. You’re quiet as you dig your fingers into your skin, and he knows he’s proud.

“Good girl.” Something blossoms in your chest when he says that, profound yet airy, a lightheadedness emblazoned into your forehead while the blood settles in your cheeks. Then that damn hand comes down again; which you thought was gonna muss your hair a bit more, but settles rather firmly against the back of your head.

His loose costume he’s wearing isn’t big enough to hide how hard his cock is, but it’s like he’s making you wait for it - want and yearn for it. Because he doesn’t move for a moment, just gets used to the look of you down on your knees as your fidgeting starts to feel more and more uncontrollable.

“Hey! Are you just gonna leave me high n’ dr-” A white finger presses to his lips as his other hand keeps holding your head. “Quiet now, girl. Be quiet.”

You’re good! A little impatient, but you’re good, goddamn it! Trying to be, for him - the love of your life, who’s got you down on your knees, fixing to ruin your pretty makeup for the afternoon.

Quiet.

Too damn quiet. Too much fucking silence. He’s looking at you, you think - because your eyes are shut tight and the embarrassment is beginning to dawn on you, and everything’s hot, and scary, and Suguru - is he mad at you?-

The sudden feeling of his hot hard cock flopping against your cheek makes you leap like a fish to water. Your eyes bulge open a bit, and your mouth gapes open in that instant, tongue lolling out for purchase on his heated flesh, heady scent weaseling into your nostrils and making your thighs clamp down around your own hand - which you hadn’t noticed snuck between your thighs. Your twitching fingers reach up to grab it …

“Stop.” You whine loose and loud, eyes flickering up to his face to communicate your desperation, and confusion. “Just use your mouth.” His hand reaches towards the base of his cock and flops it onto your lip proper; and you suckle on the head like it’s the sole thing providing you oxygen. “See? There are things you’re damn good at … Oh fuck -” All you can hear besides his voice is your heart thumping in your chest and the saliva building in your mouth, the sloppy ‘schlorp’ as you take him to the base - deep into your throat - and back out again, the salty taste of his cock and precum something you’ve missed terribly.

A little voice crawls along the back of your mind. At home, it says. This is where you belong. Or maybe that’s Suguru’s wheedling. Words are falling from his lips, but you’re drowning in an effortless dream. “Good girl. … easy … taking me so well.”

The grip on the back of your head has grown tighter, as he shifts and adjusts his hips to help your further along. Your wet slurping is undercut by the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, fuzzy, familiar and pleasant.

Then it’s as stern as a pinch. You can feel his cock bulge out your throat, cheeks hollowed as you take him to the base. Tears sting your eyes a bit, but it’s a liberating pain. His grunts grow in their intensity, and you feel soaked to the bone, sitting on your hands so they can’t jump up and fondle his balls - you won’t disobey! You refuse, refuse, refuse -

“Close, haah, close your eyes, precious.” Your tummy flutters as you weld them shut. Suguru’s hips stutter, pause, then pull back.

A schlicking sound, then your prize. You open your mouth as you realize he’s cumming all over your face - streams of it making it into your happily awaiting maw, while the occasional strand undershoots - getting some on your chest and cheeks. Suguru sighs happier than you’ve heard in a while, and a part of you feels effortlessly at ease. Reset and pleasant and whole; besides the aching nag between your thighs. “You can speak now.” You try, throat fucked raw and a little raggedy. “A-are you going to fuck me now? Please? I can’t - I can’t wait anymore!” Suguru smiles gently, but insincerely. “No, of course not. This was a lesson, not a reward.” He tucks himself casually back into his costume. “Besides, we have guests, honey.”

You pout, feel like you wanna cry a little. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re a big girl, remember?”

“...I guess.” You sniffle. Suguru nods and helps you back to your shaky feet. “Not ‘I guess’. You are.” He grants you a chaste kiss on your lips, licking a bit of himself off of you, then pulling back. “Now, go clean yourself up.” He starts towards the sink, eager to resume dinner. “Those two should be back any second now.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #🌩️ l1ghtn1ng_strike5.pdf #geto suguru

1K notes · View notes