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lovrspell · 2 months

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First time

Pairing: Astarion x Gn!Reader.

Summary: a little throwback to when Astarion received aftercare for the very first time — from you.

Warnings: Fluff. Suggestive. Mentions of abuse/trauma. Inability to manage displays of affection. Vampire bite. Blood sucking. Aftercare.

Word count: 2,3k

Masterlist.

Looking back in time and examining your relationship with Astarion now and several months ago, you realize how much progress you have made together. Astarion, especially.

Now, he trusts, loves, and cherishes you effortlessly, finding comfort in the familiarity of your presence. Your intimate moments are a source of joy, marked by the tenderness of your comforting kisses and caresses. He's accustomed to it all.

But... Before, things were different.

Sometimes you recall the times when he shamelessly hit on you, and you're surprised that you deluded yourself that it was real interest, at least in the beginning — he used it as a defense mechanism, it was something rooted in him.

As for your first night together, it was... Well, it was definitely memorable.

———

“...Are you okay?" you asked, still out of breath from the passion you two just shared. The air in the tent was humid — you had quite the experience.

He turns to you, that usual smirk of his playing on his lips. “W-.. A-ha! Why wouldn't I be okay? I could finally taste you. Of course I'm okay.”

You gave a slight nod, lying down again. Astarion had already sat up, and in that position you could capture even the smallest details of that huge scar on his back you noticed earlier while you undressed him — but you didn't dare to ask about it yet.

In a brief spell of silence, you found yourself teetering between the realms of dreams and reality. The tranquility was interrupted by the sound of a forced cough. Abruptly, your eyes opened to the sight of Astarion staring down at you, fully clothed, wearing a somewhat snarky expression.

He looked anxious. Not his usual self, for sure.

In your half-asleep state, seeing him like that worried you. Were you talking in your sleep, by any chance? Were you drooling?

“What's— What's wrong?”

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight from hip to hip.

“It's kind of late, darling.” his tone had something almost impatient about it.

“I guess it is.”

Poor, oblivious you.

In that moment, you witnessed such confusion in him that it made you blink a few times; you couldn't wrap your head on where he was trying to go with that.

Parallelly, he couldn't understand you. Usually he offered his body, the other person took advantage of it and then… They left. But you? You were still there. And you hadn't even bothered to get dressed.

It was natural finding it a bit peculiar to see you still in his tent several moments after your climax. Was there a silent invitation for another round lingering in the air? Was he supposed to read between the lines?

A few moments of silence lingered as he gazed at you, perplexed. You returned the same gaze until a subtle shift in your expression hinted a realization –

Perhaps he sought some personal space.

Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, you blushed, not wanting to come across as intrusive.

“You want me to go?”

He's lost in his thoughts and, very unlikely of him, at a loss of words, apparently. It seems like his brain was trying to process too many informations at the same time, resulting in him going silent.

But you, at the time, as accustomed as you were and still are to gentle kissing and lingering caresses after the thrills of sex, recognized his behavior as annoyance towards your presence; therefore feeling unwanted you took it personally. Still, you didn't want to be on his tail.

“...Alright.”

You began to gather your clothes rather quickly, which were scattered here and there around the tent. As you absentmindedly buttoned your shirt, his gaze was fixed on you.

“See you tomorrow, Astarion. Thank you for... This. Good night.”

The fact that you thanked him for having sex with you baffled him enough, but never as much as the little kiss you planted on his cheek before leaving his tent. Simple and tender.

The tent flap swayed back and forth gracefully, following the lead of the gentle wind on a quiet night. His gaze lingered on the space where you had just been, right in front of him.

What was that?

He tried to think clearly.

During this shared night, he found no compulsion to wander far, to delve into the empty, dark yet strangely comforting realm he usually retreats to in moments like these — while to no one's surprise he effortlessly entered that familiar mental space without conscious effort.

He had sex with you because he knew no other way to gain your trust and protection. That looming, self-loathing sensation is still there, clawing under his skin and nibbling at his self respect with a trillion sharp teeth — but that kiss... That simple kiss on the cheek made him feel something he can't quite define. It's new and scary.

He wondered if it was really necessary to do all this to have your support in this journey.

He was too accustomed to the life he led under Cazador's command — seducing to survive. You're the first person he's willingly had sex with since escaping Cazador and he wasn't even fully into it; the thought upsets him.

Perhaps he's overthinking a simple kiss on the cheek.

But was it that simple?

The thoughts reached a deafening crescendo, and, as if emerging from a dream, he blinked several times and looked around, dazed. He needed to rest.

———

It's been a while since your sexual encounter. Astarion has not failed to make some teasing remarks about it every now and then, alluding to a second chance to indulge in each other again.

That second opportunity occurred, but several days after the first. It happened when you told him that he could feed on you that night and agreed that you would meet at your tent.

Astarion came to visit you late in the evening, when almost everyone had already retired to their tents. He found you reading a book, lying on your stomach.

“Hello, darling.” he greets you, his voice a sound that wakes you from your trance from the huge book you were absorbed into.

“Hi,” you reply distractedly, turning quickly towards him and taking the opportunity to stretch. You pushed the book aside, closing it.

It seemed that over the course of the day you had forgotten that you had proposed him to feed on you — the look of surprise on your face that dissolved rather quickly gave it away. You were visibly tired, he noticed. However, as soon as your eyes met his, you offered a gentle, sheepish smile — the kind reserved for moments when words become wearisome.

Allowing him to feed on you even when it seemed that all you wanted to do was rest stirred a semblance of life in his chest.

You sat up, adjusting comfortably. “I’m ready.” you informed him, moving the fabric of your clothing away from your neck to expose it to him.

Astarion stared at you, and for a moment he didn't say or do anything. He wanted to do something different this time, not just bite you, suck your blood, and then return to his tent. No, he wanted to try something new.

Instead of bringing his mouth to your neck, he brought it to your lips. He kissed you slowly, introducing his tongue in your mouth tentatively — but when he felt the natural tension vanish from your body, he brought his hands to your waist and deepened the kiss.

Astarion felt you melt in his arms, remembering how you had let yourself go the same way a few nights before.

Your hands came up to rest on his shoulders; Astarion leaned towards you until you were laying down. His lips separated from yours with a pop and only then did he place them on your neck. But even there, before sinking his sharp fangs into your skin, he planted a few kisses here and there.

He persisted, leaving a trail of kisses that moistened your neck. His lips traced a path to a point just under your ear, where he planted an open-mouthed kiss. Suddenly, you experienced a sharp, dull pain spreading rapidly in that spot. You hissed, clutching his shirt tightly and exhaling sharply; you heard a soft hum coming from him as he immediately began swallowing mouthfuls of your warm, succulent blood.

That little kissing ritual was to thank you, in a way. You were and have always been available to him, despite his bad temper and grumpy tendencies.

As he fed, the movement of one of your hands moving from his shoulders distracted him.

Next, he felt the touch of a gentle hand running through his hair.

He was so focused on sucking your blood that he didn't even notice for the first few seconds. Accordingly, he felt the distinct touch of your warm hand move across his cheek and cupping it.

What are you doing?

Your tender touch left him puzzled. Akin to a feather's caress, it cradled him in a way that stirred a desire more profound than any teasing or vulgar contact could evoke.

You felt him grunt against you, the guttural sound vibrating through your being.

Those touches reminded him of that kiss you had printed on his cheek after your night together; his stomach twisted in contrasting sensations.

He pulled away from you after a few seconds, but your caresses didn't stop. Your blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his hair disheveled as a result of your fingers combing through his curls.

“What's up?” you asked, trying not to giggle at the fact that he looked like he had just woke up. You reached an hand in his hair to fix some wild curls back in their place.

He didn't answer at first, but then he shrugged slightly.

“Nothing.” he muttered softly, his body moving in your direction almost without his control. He was experiencing new things within himself, things he had never felt before.

A desire. A genuine desire, nothing that had to do with that of a few evenings prior. Despite his less-than-noble intentions previously, he openly acknowledges being drawn to you. However, unlike before when intimacy served a strategic purpose, this time things are different.

He craves you spontaneously, yielding to the impulse of the moment. While leaning in for a passionate, bloody kiss on your lips, he pledges not to flee from this moment or from you. No mental refuge exists now, just two bodies entwined and two souls merging into one another.

The tenderness of that kiss amazed you.

You feel his arms wrap around your waist to lift you up in his lap, kisses trailing down your neck to suck briefly on the holes he left in it.

One thing led to another and a few minutes later, you were both naked and nestled into each other.

Astarion was thrusting his hips into you breathlessly, continuing just to try drawing another orgasm out of your guts before you pull apart. This has been going on for a while now; he has absolutely drained you. In every way.

You had noticed a certain vigor in him, which was not given solely and exclusively by the fact that he had just made an excellent reserve of blood. He felt alive, present, current. He was there with you, made a puddle in your arms while you cradled each other through your collective ecstasy.

If the first time his gaze seemed empty and absent, often far from yours, now it was bright and lively, never too distant from your own. It was impossible not to notice the difference.

When the rush of pleasure died down, he pulled away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He came down from above you to lie next to your body; both sweaty and out of breath, you remained silent for several minutes.

You anticipated for him to leave as soon as possible, given the discomfort he displayed that evening when you prolonged your stay just a bit, expecting to spend some time together after your sexual activity.

But he remained there, next to you, his expression thoughtful but relaxed. You assumed he didn't want to leave just yet.

However, just as that pleasant, inviting thought etched itself into your beliefs, he sat up and reached for his undergarments dispersed around the tent.

You frowned, sitting up and reaching for his arm without even thinking twice.

“Wait, wait... Why don't you stay?”

You didn't fail to catch him off guard this time, too. Your voice had such a sweet, pleading edge to it.

“We can talk, we can... We can even just be silent together. Do you want to?”

He guessed it couldn't hurt to try.

He lay down again, putting his clothes aside. He saw you smile from the corner of his eye as you did the same, this time lying on your side.

One of your hands carefully came up to caress his chest tentatively. The tips of your nails scratched his skin deliciously, sending shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered and he looked up at you; he was confused, disorientated.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not like it?”

“...I do.”

“Then just enjoy it.”

He followed your advice.

In that instant, he embodied a certain beauty that surpassed his usual charm. Surrendering to your soothing enfolds, he reached a blissful state, breaking down every wall and baring his soul to you. Every muscle in his body eased into relaxation. He scoots closer until he's basically all curled up in your arms, melting against your comforting heat.

That night, he shared a peaceful slumber with you, and to this day, he never ceases to express his profound gratitude for the invaluable gift of your love.

You made his dead heart start beating again.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion fluff #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion x fem reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x male reader

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ssahotchnerr · 2 months

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Mom!friend reader bringing everyone cute lunches at the bau with personalized little notes for each person 😭 maybe hotch doesn’t even know that you do this for the others too so when someone mentions readers cooking, he’s like “wat”

personalized

ADORABLE cw; bau!fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, fluff and aaron being cute <3

the pace at which aaron was moving must've been more intense than he intended and realized; as he hurried past jj's desk, the small draft that followed caused a small piece of paper to flutter to the ground.

uttering an apology, aaron immediately reached down to pick it up. however it had landed face up, and his eyebrows furrowed in small confusion as he caught a glimpse of its contents.

your familiar handwriting kept his eyes, instead of peering away as he normally would - 'my sweet jj! thank you so much for your help on the arizona case file, you're a total lifesaver and your expertise is always appreciated, hope you know that. enjoy <3 ps - your new lavender sweater is the cutest. must plan a shopping day w/ pen soon!'

aaron's eyebrows stayed in that confused line, his eyes shifting up to jj's in a silent question.

"came with the cookies." jj answered for him, pointing her head towards the tupperware container perched on her desktop.

instantly aaron's mind made the connection - so that's why you were up late baking. that made more sense; the time you had spent baking was much too long for the small plateful quantity he had found reserved for him and jack this morning.

"pretty girl sure knows how to cook." derek added into the conversation as he approached the cluster of desks, raising his hand to pat aaron on the back but stopped himself halfway - aaron shot him a pointed look, hiding his own amusement, while jj attempted to conceal her smile with her palm.

another eyebrow furrow. "and when have you had her cooking?"

"here and there. always comes with a note too. i could just about fill a desk drawer with how many i have." derek admitted, with his signature, vivid grin. "she may be yours, we get special treatment too, y'know."

a bit later, you strolled into aaron's office, juggling numerous files in your hands.

"as requested," you started, dropping them firmly onto aaron's desk. "five action reports, minus dave's. he told me when you're as experienced and italian as he is, you can slack off and kinda get away with it. but i think that's his fancy way of admitting he's old." you joked with a eye roll.

"thank you," aaron flashed you a smile, sorting through his current papers. assuming that was all, you spun on your heel to head out and return to the everlasting joy of paperwork, but, aaron's voice stopped you.

"hey hold it, c'mere a sec."

you pulled back one of the chairs in front of hiss desk, the legs producing a scraping noise against the floorboards, but aaron gestured for you to come around. your eyes darted in the direction of his open blinds, then back at him. 'you sure?'

aaron nodded in confirmation. and if you needed any more convincing, once in reach you were pulled onto his lap, his hold on you tight.

if he wasn't being a stickler on the open affection, neither were you; you relaxed yourself against him just as you would normally, your body melting into his and throwing your arms loosely around his neck. "what's up?"

"i didn't know you wrote the team notes."

"oh," you laughed softly, with a light shake of your head. by habit your fingers ran along the skin of aaron's neck, scratching the nape of his hair gently. "yeah, if i bring in lunch or a treat or something. or both. or sometimes just because. an appreciation reminder."

aaron nodded, his fingers drumming against your hip comfortably.

"that's not a problem, is it?"

"well," aaron pretended to think, his hand changing motions and sliding up and down your side, "yes."

"actually?" you blurted as your own fingers paused. that wasn't the answer you expected, and it caused a rush of nervous heat to pool within you. until, you saw the feigned, solemn expression on his face.

aaron peered down at you, his playful eyes canceling out the forced pout on his lips. under his breath, he mumbled humorously, "i thought i was the only one getting notes."

you laughed brightly, the joy within the sound immediately bringing a smile to aaron's lips. "oh don't worry, they don't get the lipstick smooch on theirs. that's reserved for you and you only."

"i would hope not."

"or the, occasional... explicitness."

"again, i would hope not." aaron laughed again. his lips graced your temple, lingering gently as he spoke, "you're sweet."

"a very wise, very attractive person once said, 'people need to know they're important'." your lips quirked into a loving smile, a glint in your eyes. "thought this would be an easy way - i learned from the best."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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itadorey · 5 months

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𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐒 & 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader summary: you have no clue how gojo managed to get that photograph of you, but what you do know is that you'll do anything to get it back. genre: fluff, friends to something more, pre-relationship, humor(?) notes: geto is tired of gojo's antics, you kiss gojo and he's an idiot wc: ~2.3k

"give it to me!"

geto pauses when he hears a familiar voice shouting, and he lifts his gaze from the ground just in time to see you tackle gojo. or try to tackle gojo.

he shakes his head when he hears gojo laugh, waving one of his arms straight up in the air as he holds something out of your reach. geto remains in his spot, throwing a glance around the park before checking his watch to try and determine if it's too late for him to bail on today's hangout.

"hey, suguru! come check this out!"

geto shuts his eyes briefly when you immediately start to punch gojo, steeling himself before slowly making his way over to the two of you. there's a glossy piece of paper held tightly in between gojo's fingers, and he waves it in geto's direction as you try your best to reach for it. it's only when he gets close enough to gojo that he realizes that he's holding a photograph, and he only sighs as gojo shoves it into his face.

"look at this!" he practically yells into geto's face, yelping when you dig your fingers into his ribcage. gojo shoves the photograph into geto's hand, pouting when he doesn't take it before deciding to scramble away from the two of you. he huffs as he points at you, giving geto a panicked look. "grab them!"

geto reluctantly listens to gojo, wrapping his arms around your waist as you thrash in his hold. your attempts to claw your way out of geto's hold fail, and you let out a frustrated huff when you realize that he's hidden his hands in the sleeves of his shirt to avoid the aggressive scratching of your nails.

"let me go!" you cry out, your voice cracking as geto tightens his hold. gojo merely watches the two of you with a smile before turning his back to you, giggling as he studies the picture in his hands. geto raises an eyebrow when he catches a glimpse of the fond look on gojo's face, and he loosens his hold on you as he tilts his head questioningly.

"why are the two of you fighting?" he asks tiredly, pulling you closer to him when you attempt to sprint out of his hold. he's almost certain that gojo's in the wrong in this situation, but that doesn't mean he wants you to go and kill his best friend.

"no reason," gojo hums, still facing away from you as he snickers.

"you liar!" you yell, moving to lunge at him before you remember geto is still holding you back. you turn to face him, eyebrows furrowed in anger as you motion towards gojo accusingly. "satoru stole one of my childhood pictures and he refuses to give it back!"

"satoru, give it back," geto says dully, sighing softly as gojo scoffs.

"what? no way!" he argues, shaking his head before facing you. "you're not getting this back."

"satoru!" geto says sharply, earning a betrayed look. gojo moves towards the two of you, irritation on his face as he holds out his hand and by extension, the photograph.

"thanks," you breathe, reaching out to grab it. your fingers barely manage to skim the edge of the glossy paper before gojo's pulling it back, cackling obnoxiously as he flicks your forehead. you freeze in geto's arms, and he finds himself wishing he had never gotten out of bed that morning as you turn to address him. "suguru?"

"yeah?"

"let me go."

geto sighs in defeat, releasing you before gently pushing you towards gojo. "yeah, okay."

you lunge towards gojo without saying anything else, and geto watches silently as gojo does his best to avoid you, weaving in between bushes and benches and laughing as you climb over them in an effort to get to him more quickly.

"satoru, just give that back to me!" you shout after him, receiving another bubbly laugh in response.

"no!"

"why do you even want that picture?" you ask, jumping off a bench and trying to grab onto his jacket. he twists out of your way, narrowly avoiding you and running around the bench to ensure that there's something between the two of you. he shrugs half-heartedly as he glances at the photograph, a faint smile tugging on his lips as he tucks it up his sleeve.

"what even is the picture?" geto asks, drawing your attention with his question. you pause slightly, eyes narrowing when gojo dissolves into giggles once more.

"it's nothing," you say hesitantly, looking down at the ground with feigned interest as you try to dismiss his question. geto hums in disbelief, doubt clear on his face as you stiffen at his reaction.

"if it's nothing, then why are you so hell-bent on getting it back?"

you remain silent, and gojo leans forward to steady himself against the bench as he keeps laughing.

"if— if you don't tell him, i will," gojo gasps out, earning a scathing glare from you.

"don't you dare!" you hiss, bending down to pick up a rock and throw it at him. he gasps when it hits his forehead, reaching up to rub at the reddening spot as he turns to whine at geto.

"you see the way they treat me?" he gripes, ignoring the way you scowl. "that's no way to treat a best friend."

"shoko's my best friend. not you," you grumble, crossing your arms when gojo all but wails at your statement. your eyes widen when you see gojo compose himself and give you a sly grin, his fingers nimbly pulling out the photo once again to show geto.

"look!" gojo exclaims, shoving the photograph into geto's space once more. a sharp cry of protest leaves your lips, but geto can't deny that he's curious to see the picture you're so adamant on hiding. there's a brief moment of silence during which geto lets his eyes wander over the photograph before raising his gaze to meet yours.

and then he laughs.

"suguru!" you cry out, jaw dropping as he stumbles back from gojo and shaking his head in an attempt to stop his laughter. he manages to compose himself briefly, breaking down into laughter once again when he steals another glance at the picture. "that's it!"

geto's eyes widen as you clamber onto the bench that had been separating you and gojo, taking a few steps back as you narrow your eyes.

"hey, remember," he starts, shrugging nonchalantly as he steps to the side. "this is all satoru's fault."

"you're right," you growl, your gaze shifting to gojo as you lunge. gojo manages to turn around just before you make contact with him, a strained yelp leaving him as you manage to finally, finally, tackle him.

geto winces as gojo's back connect with the pavement, his neck stretched forward in an attempt to keep his head from smacking against the concrete. it isn't necessary, considering the fact that you had thought to cradle gojo's head with your hand just in case that happened.

gojo scowls, ready to yell at you for knocking him down but going silent when he peers up at you over his now-askew sunglasses. you sit atop of him, the fall causing your legs to naturally fall on either side of his waist and causing you to essentially straddle his torso. your faces are mere centimeters apart, your attempt to cushion his head causing you to lean forwards in order to be able to do so. your breath catches in your throat when his nose brushes against yours, and you only pull away when you hear geto try and stifle an amused laugh.

"hey! ow!" gojo complains when you retract your hand, letting his head fall flat against the floor. you give him a flat look, wasting no time before attempting to snatch the picture out of his hand. a grin spreads across his face as he extends his arm against the ground, effectively "raising" the picture above his head and out of your reach.

you flinch when you feel his other hand grab onto your waist, doing your best to reach over his smug face and grab the photograph. his hand tightens as he tries to keep you in place, and he eventually glances to the side to send geto a pleading look.

"don't you dare butt in!" you growl at geto, still reaching out for the picture.

"help me!" gojo says, whining when you somehow manage to smack his sunglasses off his face.

"sorry," geto says unapologetically, smirking as he notices a blush crawl up gojo's neck. "i'm just enjoying the show."

"gojo," you say sharply, the use off his last name making him freeze in place. "just give me back the photograph. why do you even want it?"

"it's cute!" gojo responds. geto holds his breath at his words, watching the way you seem to falter at his reply. your glare softens the slightest bit as you look down at him and sigh softly, about to give up on your attempts and let him keep the picture, when he speaks once more. "and besides, it's good blackmail material."

geto resists the urge to slap his palm against his forehead as your glare returns, and he finds himself wondering if gojo really is that dense and stupid or if he's just really good at faking it.

deep down, he knows the answer.

"i'm just being honest!" gojo says in an attempt to defend himself from your onslaught of mild slaps.

"a little too honest," geto mutters to himself, shaking his head as gojo tries to wriggle out from under you. "and at the same time, not honest enough."

"satoru, please," you say tiredly, leaning back and poking his ribs. "what will it take for you to give me that photo?"

"a kiss," geto volunteers half-seriously, earning a horrified look from you. gojo laughs from his spot on the floor, leaning up and puckering his lips as you try to push him away.

"yeah!" he agrees. "c'mon, one kiss and the picture is yours."

his laughter continues as you huff, giving geto a glare before looking down at gojo.

"do you agree?" you ask quietly, eyes focused on gojo's face as he looks up at you with a smile. you look away after a few seconds, unable to handle the way he looks splayed out on the ground; all rosy cheeks and smiles as his eyes shine mischievously.

"agree to what?" he asks teasingly, waving the picture around. "a kiss in exchange for the picture? yeah, it's not like you'll actually kiss m—"

gojo's words get cut off as you cup his face in your hands, leaning down to press your lips against his in a soft kiss. he lets out a muffled noise, his eyes widening in surprise briefly before they flutter shut. his lips move instinctively against yours, cheeks glowing bright red as the hand on your hip moves until his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

he looks up at you dazedly when you pull away, and you avoid his eyes as you reach over and finally, finally pluck the picture from his grasp. you waste no time in standing, the arm around your waist falling limply to his side as he keeps staring. the only sound that's heard is the ripping of paper, and you move silently towards the trash can to dispose of the remains of the photograph.

you turn away from geto and gojo, embarrassment and nervousness swirling in your stomach as you realized that you just kissed gojo out of all people and geto was there to witness it all. a chime from your phone has you ignoring gojo's gaze, and you hum lightly when you see an unread message from shoko.

"shoko says she's waiting for us at the arcade," you state, finally breaking the silence. you glance briefly at gojo, feeling your cheeks heat up when you see that he's still looking at you. you turn your back to the two boys, motioning for them to follow you as you start walking away. "c'mon, we're already late."

neither one of them notices the way you lightly touch your fingers to your lips, scoffing lightly and shaking your head before walking towards the entrance of the park.

"satoru?" geto says, attempting to grab his friend's attention.

"they actually kissed me," gojo replies quietly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to look up at geto. there's a sort of sparkle in gojo's eyes that only seems to be present when you're around, and geto can't help but smile when gojo looks up at him with a goofy grin.

"yeah, they did," geto says, bending down to pick up the pair of forgotten sunglasses. he hands them to gojo when he finally stands, watching as the taller boy dusts himself off before slipping the frames back onto his face. the dark lenses do little to cover the blush on gojo's face, and geto simply turns to follow after you. "come on, loverboy."

gojo makes a faint noise of protest but otherwise remains silent as he falls into step with geto, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as exit the park. he catches your eye when they come to a stop in front of you and shoko, and he immediately look away as he feels his cheeks and ears heat up.

geto wastes no time in greeting shoko, giving her a friendly hug and messing with her hair as she swats him away. it's only when she turns to face gojo that she pauses, stifling a smile as she looks at you and geto in confusion.

"why does satoru look like a tomato?"

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo imagine #gojou imagine #satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you

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cherienymphe · 4 months

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Teenage Dirtbag III (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: attempted NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

Your brief conversation with JJ Maybank was still on your mind weeks later.

It was so funny to think that you hadn’t actually done anything wrong in the grand scheme of things, but if Rafe ever found out… The thought made you shudder, gaze focused on the pool water as the man himself laughed behind you with Kelce about something. You’d been doing so good lately. Aside from that awful night after the movies, Rafe hardly touched you.

It was a far cry from three months prior.

You still winced when you thought about his fist coming down across your face, voice loud in your ear as he screamed at you. Weeks had been spent holed up in your bedroom under the guise of being sick, and it was a miracle your parents hadn’t forced you to take some tests with how often you’d been ‘sick’ in the past six months alone. You lightly sighed, reaching up to touch your chin and just relieved it didn’t feel sore anymore.

Thoughts of that conversation with JJ instilled fear in you. Even just thinking about it made you tense up, but at the same time, it also caused irritation to bubble up inside of you. JJ Maybank was just so… You pursed your lips, taking a page out of Rafe’s book and opting to label him as ‘a little shit’. Rafe was so far from some saint, but it was plain to see that JJ enjoyed provoking your boyfriend.

However, it wasn’t JJ’s fault that Rafe took that out on you.

If you had a normal non-violent boyfriend, he’d simply ignore the other blond, or at the worst, he’d just fight him. Not you. How was JJ to know that Rafe’s jealousy would result in black eyes and swollen lips and sore wrists for you? Your eyes traced the clear blue water, a frown taking over as memories of that oh so brief conversation made you feel…warm.

It felt nice to talk to a guy and not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or making a questionable facial expression or just being so alert at all times. With Rafe, you could never relax, could never let your guard down, and you were convinced that you were going to start greying by the time you turned 30. With JJ…you didn’t have to overanalyze everything that came out of his mouth and your mouth too. You hadn’t felt the need to carefully watch his face for any sudden sign of a mood shift.

You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you felt like that.

…and that made you feel so guilty for some reason.

Rafe was your boyfriend. He wasn’t a very good one, but he was your boyfriend nonetheless, and despite the fact that it wasn’t, those few minutes in the hallway felt like…well…cheating. It was insane to say that because it wasn’t anything close to it, but you knew Rafe and what would upset him. You knew, and that’s why you were hiding it from him. It wasn’t like you were lying, but a lie of omission still counted, right?

You were pulled from your thoughts by the feel of familiar hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump out of habit, and Rafe only rubbed them in what you were sure was meant to be a soothing manner. When you looked over your shoulder, he was knelt behind you, that cheeky smile on his lips as he eyed you. Rafe knew the effect he had on you…and you swore he got off to it.

“It’s getting kind of late, so we’re heading inside,” he told you.

Rafe wasn’t telling you to be the considerate boyfriend who’s just letting you know he’s heading in. Rafe was telling you because he was going in and fully expected you to join him. It didn’t matter that you were relaxed with your feet in the water and your mind elsewhere, and so swallowing down a sigh, you let him pull you to your feet. His hand squeezed yours as he pulled you along, and out of habit, you rested your free hand on his arm.

“I think we’re gonna call it a night,” Rafe drawled to the other two men in the house.

Their initial response was chuckles, Topper eyeing you both as Kelce shook his head.

“Yeah, whatever you say, man, just wash my sheets in the morning, alright?”

Kelce’s chuckles only increased at that, and you felt heat rise to your face.

“Don’t be dicks,” your boyfriend called over his shoulder, and despite his words and his tone, there was a small grin on his face, and you only felt your chest ache.

Sex with Rafe was so complicated.

He absolutely terrified you, and so that didn’t make for the most comfortable of atmospheres whenever his lips were on yours. However, something innate in your body—call it animal instinct, conditioning, or merely self-preservation—reacted to him in ways you weren’t necessarily proud of whenever he got his hands on you.

…and Rafe always wanted to get his hands on you.

Rafe liked your fear, you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that, and you were sure he liked the sight of bruises on your skin even more. He liked seeing his mark, and no matter how temporary, you felt that it served as some brand to him. You recalled reading once that cattle weren’t branded to be considered a part of something but instead to show where they needed to be returned to if they got lost. Something had twisted deep in your gut at that.

…because you knew that if Rafe could, he’d brand you for all to see.

Brand you to show the world where you needed to be returned.

After your quick joint shower, Rafe wrapped the large towel around you both, holding you close as he walked you into the guest bedroom. You could briefly hear Kelce and Topper talking downstairs, making drinks no doubt as Rafe shut the door behind you. When his fingers danced along your sides, you couldn’t swallow down the startled giggle, involuntarily pressing yourself against the blond to get away from them.

“You’ve been so quiet all day,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck as he tightened his arms around you.

Blinking, you weighed your response.

“I’ve just been in my head, I guess.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment before humming, and you both felt and heard him take a deep breath.

“You’ve been in your head for weeks then.”

You froze at that, it was only for half a second, but you were sure Rafe caught it. You didn’t like that your internal conflict was noticeable, and when you tried to pull away, Rafe only refused to let you go.

“What’s going on with you?”

The question came out whispered and gentle…but you knew better.

“Just…things. Family stuff mostly.”

The lie came easy, and you let your eyes close, telling yourself that this was no longer a lie of omission, but how could you tell Rafe that you’d been thinking about JJ Maybank? How could you tell him that you’d been lingering on a single interaction that made you feel miles better than the last year and a half of your relationship?

JJ had talked to you like a friend…like an equal, and you’d forgotten what that was like.

Everyone saw you as an extension of Rafe. His dad, his friends, and even your own parents sometimes. They were always wondering where Rafe was and what Rafe was up to, and you didn’t blame them. After all, in their eyes, Rafe was perfect. Your boyfriend was a dream come true as far as future sons-in-law went, and as far as they knew, Rafe treated you like a princess.

In their eyes, this was the man who rarely let you drive your own car because he’d rather chauffeur you around. Rafe was the boyfriend who was always bringing their daughter gifts and flowers and popping in to check on the whole family. They swooned at how often Rafe called you throughout the day when he was otherwise occupied. Rafe was more than deserving of you.

On the other side of things though…

Rafe drove you around so he’d know firsthand where you were, how long you’d be, and when you were leaving. He wanted complete control over your mobility. So many of those flowers and gifts were only given to you after a particularly nasty fight that resulted in a bleeding lip or bruised back. Rafe popped in to check on everyone…but also to make sure you were exactly where you said you were. He constantly called for the same reason.

To your parents he was a dream and to you…a nightmare.

“What family stuff?” Rafe scoffed, pulling you against him and nipping at your neck. “I don’t think I’ve even seen your parents argue.”

He laughed to himself about that, but you only pressed your lips together because you knew what was coming.

“Your family’s perfect.”

He murmured it against your skin, but the bitterness was heard loud and clear.

Rafe playfully threw you onto the bed, quickly joining you and settling himself on top of you. He pressed his lips against yours, humming into the kiss, and you sharply inhaled when you could feel him hard and throbbing against your thigh. When you shifted your leg, Rafe groaned.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” he whispered, kissing you again. “…and if it is…”

He adjusted himself, resting his forearms into the mattress beside your head. Rafe completely caged you in as he gazed into your eyes, running them over you and pulling his lip between his teeth. The tips of his fingers grazed the side of your face, and you swallowed.

“It’s nothing I can’t help you forget, right?”

He held your gaze, gently brushing his nose against yours, and reminding yourself that he wanted an answer, you nodded.

“Right,” you breathed.

You kissed him back when his lips pressed to yours again, and on instinct, you rested your hands on his lower back. His hips curved into yours, the tip of him brushing against you and making you sharply inhale. You felt Rafe smile into the kiss, and his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw and then eventually your neck. When Rafe nipped at the skin, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

Rafe was eager to be inside of you, and it was evident in the way he reached down between your legs, fingers rushing to brush over you. Your breath hitched at the feel, and you lifted your hips when he started to dip them into you. His lips were at your ear as he thrust his fingers into you, and your hips lifted again.

“You’re so tight, you know that?” he breathed, and you parted your legs more.

You were so afraid of Rafe, so afraid of him, but once he got his hands on you like this, he typically wasn’t hurting you. It’d been months since the last time he got angry enough to hold you down and force himself on you. In these moments though, you didn’t have to watch your every comment and observe his every move. When Rafe was kissing you and pushing his cock into you, it was one of the few times you could just be and not have to worry about setting him off.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth, hips snapping against yours.

With every surge of them, you gasped, clinging to him in more ways than one as you arched your chest up into his. His hair was still damp from the shower, and you twisted your fingers into the wet locks. His teeth scraped over your skin and a low moan climbed out of his throat when you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The bed jostled from his movements, and when he snaked his arms around your waist, you reached down to hold onto them. The force in which he thrust into you was almost painful, but you were used to it, and it was something you’d grown to expect…welcome even. You had to if you wanted any semblance of happiness in this relationship—any brief moments of joy.

When Rafe pushed himself up to hover over you, your hands slid up his chest, and when his nose touched yours, you knew what he wanted. Lifting your head, you kissed him, and Rafe was ravenous in returning it. Every curve of his hips made your toes curl, and your nails clawed at the sheets when he fisted his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck.

He cursed into the kiss, and as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your other hand pressed into his back, nails dragging along his skin. You knew it was nothing at all, but leaving your own mark or two made you feel just a little bit better. You came first, but Rafe fucked you through it, continuing to plunge his cock into you and making your legs shake.

The closer Rafe got, the sloppier his thrusts became…and the more forceful he became. When he wrapped a hand around your wrist, you didn’t protest, accepting the feel of him pinning your arm down against the bed. His free hand roughly dug into your hips and then your thigh—painfully so—and you could only half hiss and half moan in response. His hips slammed down against yours, and when Rafe came inside of you, he stilled against you, completely pinning you beneath him.

Despite the fact that you were on birth control, you never not had a brief moment of panic.

“I just like feeling all of you,” Rafe had said over a year ago. “…and neither one of us are sleeping with anyone else…right…?”

The thought of getting pregnant scared you probably more than anything. Despite the fact that you’d accepted your fate and the future that was your relationship with Rafe, getting pregnant by him seemed so final. It would be the final nail in the coffin, and the last thing you needed in your relationship with Rafe. You knew it would happen eventually, but something in you desperately hoped that Rafe would just be a little better. Even just a little.

You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into this world just to be abused.

When your boyfriend rolled off of you, he pulled you with him, resting your head on his heaving chest as you kept your gaze on the wall. Rafe’s fingers gently trailed up and down your back, and you’d just closed your eyes to try and find sleep when he spoke.

“You know that I love you…right?”

It felt out of place, and you frowned slightly but eventually nodded.

“I know,” you whispered back.

You felt his hand trace patterns up your back, fingers dancing along your skin before his hand curved around the back of your neck.

“I know that I hurt you sometimes,” he murmured, making you swallow. “…but… It doesn’t mean that I don’t…”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air, and your eyes watered as you stared at the wall.

“I know, Rafe.”

When his hand landed on your cheek, you lifted your head, looking up at him. He studied your face, blue eyes flickering between your own, and you watched the way his tongue darted between his lips.

“You know how I get sometimes.”

“Rafe, I know,” you hurried to reassure him, reaching for his arm. “I get it, okay?”

You were sitting up, now, looking down at him, and you watched him lick his lips again. His hand took yours, threading your fingers together, and you felt compelled to hold eye contact. Rafe slowly took a deep breath, and you watched his eyes narrow.

“I just don’t want you to ever think you don’t mean anything to me,” he quietly told you. “…because you do. You’re my world.”

His hand tightened on yours, almost painfully, and you swallowed. His blue gaze looked so lifeless—glazed over—and you swallowed again.

“If you left, you may as well have just…died.”

You eventually nodded when he held your gaze for a few moments more, and when he pulled you back down, he gave you a sweet kiss, hand resting on the back of your head when you laid down on his chest again. Your gaze didn’t leave the wall when he reached over to turn out the lamp.

You were waiting on Rafe’s order when you saw him again.

You felt a sense of déjà vu when he walked into The Wreck, blue eyes meeting yours and a small smile thrown your way. Only the last time this same scenario had played out, you’d smiled back, and Rafe had put a gun in your mouth for it. You shuddered to remember that day, and you turned away from JJ without another thought.

You were unsurprised—but disappointed—when he saddled up next to you.

“In some places—and I’m pretty sure Outer Banks is one of them—that’s considered rude.”

You only spared the blond a brief glance, sighing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied.

You heard him snort to himself, silence stretching between you for a moment before he eventually spoke again.

“Where’s your asshole boyfriend?”

You couldn’t help yourself, throwing him a scathing look at that, but the only response you got was a wider grin and one raised eyebrow. Ward had called Rafe the moment he parked, and signaling to you that it would take a minute, he’d waved you on ahead to get the food. That was what you told JJ, and you heard him whistle.

“He let you get it all by yourself? Wow, he’s really stepping up.”

His tone was light and mocking, but you merely fixed him with an unamused look.

It was only then did you realize just how close he was, and you couldn’t help but to swallow at his close proximity. Without thinking much of it, you inhaled and almost immediately regretted it. Rafe and all of his friends smelt so…sharp. They smelled like cologne and laundry detergent and the freshly cut manicured grass on the country club golf course. It was a scent you’d grown up around, a scent you were accustomed to.

JJ just smelled like fresh air.

The blond before you reminded you of the salt water at the beach and the woodsy scent of trees and fresh rain. JJ smelled warm and light, and it was a smell that made you want to just…relax. Realizing that your thoughts were heading into dangerous territory—again—you slightly moved away from him. He noticed.

“Jesus, you’d think it was you I fought on the beach.”

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked him, still staring straight ahead as you waited for your order.

“Well, not only is this place owned by my best friend’s family…” you nodded at that, having actually forgotten that. “…but like you, I also like to eat.”

You rolled your eyes, and you heard JJ chuckle to himself. You tapped your fingers against the counter, feeling his gaze on you no matter how much you ignored it. Rafe sounded irritated almost as soon as he answered the phone, so there was no doubt in your mind that he was going back and forth with Ward about something. For just a brief moment, you wished he was here just so you had a better excuse to ignore the man at your side.

“Rafe’s not here, you know,” he eventually said. “You don’t have to pretend like I don’t exist.”

“Clearly you don’t know my boyfriend as well as you’d like to think you do then,” you snorted. “…because I absolutely do.”

You were relieved when Mrs. Carrera brought out your food, and you felt it was obvious in the way your shoulders sagged. You thanked her, thinking to yourself that you couldn’t get away from JJ fast enough, stepping away just as Rafe stepped inside. Your heart only stuttered a little at the sight of him, but you covered it up with a smile.

“You ready to go?” you asked him, frowning a bit when he pecked you on the lips and proceeded to move past you.

“I want to get a drink,” he told you over his shoulder.

You watched him lean against the counter next to JJ as he talked to the other woman, and you couldn’t stop yourself from eyeing them—comparing them. Something about the sight of them together rubbed you the wrong way, and maybe it was because the last time they were in such close proximity it had ended in a brawl.

Or maybe it was because you’d talked to JJ when you knew you shouldn’t.

You watched JJ say something to your boyfriend, and Rafe’s smirk in response didn’t ease your worries. His arms were folded over the counter, and he turned his head ever so slightly to look at the other blond out of the corner of his eye. He said something—evidently something rude by the way JJ tensed—and to your disappointment, you watched Rafe pull a dollar out of his pocket before flicking it at JJ just as Mrs. Carrera returned with his drink.

“For your troubles, JJ,” you heard him say, a cruel grin on his lips. “Don’t go spending that all at once, now.”

You couldn’t stop your frown, but as Rafe neared you, something else caught your eye instead.

JJ was leaning over the counter, pointing at something towards the kitchen while Mrs. Carrera seemed to sigh in exasperation. His white t-shirt rode up a bit, and your gaze lingered on the discoloration on his side. The sight of it made your lips part, and your frown deepened the longer you stared at it. The sight of it was so familiar to you, and despite the fact that you knew Sarah’s friends didn’t lead the safest lifestyle, something in you wouldn’t let you believe that came from some dirt bike accident.

It was too perfect, too precise of a bruise…and you would know better than anyone.

When Rafe grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the restaurant, you forced yourself to pull your eyes away.

You didn’t want a repeat of the aftermath of the conversation in the hall, so the days that followed were spent trying to be as normal and as present as possible. However, you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to the sight of JJ’s skin at The Wreck. It wouldn’t leave you, and you didn’t need to be some professional psychiatrist to figure out why.

You didn’t know much about his home life, only that his dad kind of sucked from what you’d gathered from Sarah and Rafe and Rafe’s friends. However, you never had the desire to understand what that meant in full. Now, though… You couldn’t help wondering if it encompassed something more horrific than you’d imagined.

There were times when you wanted to ask Sarah about it, but it felt weird. JJ wasn’t your friend, wasn’t even close, so you didn’t think you had a right to his personal life. Especially something so deeply personal, and even weirder, you and Sarah weren’t friends. It just felt strange to go to her about something that didn’t involve you nor her but instead her friend who you were supposed to have no kind of interactions or connections with.

It was especially present on your mind when Sarah’s friends were in the house one day. You’d been in the kitchen when you heard the van pull into the yard, and you’d only smiled in response when Sarah and her friends greeted you.

“Is Rafe here?” she asked you while they all made their way towards the backyard. “John B. can’t find his Juul and now I’m positive that was what I saw Rafe tossing in the trash the other day.”

You frowned at her with a shake of your head.

“He’s running some errand for Ward, but he should be back any minute.”

The blonde girl huffed, mumbling a dejected thanks before making her way to the backyard. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring after them, debating with yourself before thinking better of it. As you made your way towards the stairs, your gaze passed over JJ who stood near the backdoor, his gaze already on you as you climbed the stairs. Ignoring him, you made yourself comfortable in Rafe’s room.

Sure enough, as you’d told Sarah, you heard the distinct sound of Rafe’s truck pulling into the yard not even an hour later. You paid it no mind, focused on your laptop screen as you finished up some lingering homework due in a few days. Distinctly, you could hear Sarah talking to Rafe as she made her annoyance with him clear, but aside from the brief penetration into your bubble, you didn’t give it any more thought.

You were so focused that you couldn’t even really note how long Rafe had been downstairs before finally joining you. You heard the bedroom door open and close, and you briefly glanced at him over your shoulder.

“How’d it go?” you asked him, eyes preoccupied once again.

Your boyfriend didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he was much closer than you anticipated. You hadn’t heard him move.

“Fine enough,” was his simple answer, and you only hummed when you felt his fingers kneading into your shoulders.

You both felt and heard him pull away, and you were forced from your own thoughts when the sound of music reached your ears from his speakers, familiar with Rafe’s Apple Music playlist. Frowning, you turned to look at him, feeling like your efforts to study were pretty obvious. However, your face fell a tad as your gaze connected with his.

Rafe leaned against his dresser, even gaze resting on you as he simply…stared. Nothing about his expression was readable, and that was your first clue that something was very very wrong. Telling yourself that it could wait, you closed your laptop, scooting to fully face him on the bed. His hands were pressed into the wood, and your boyfriend was so still as you two just stared at each other.

“What?” you finally asked, and despite the music, it wasn’t too loud enough to where he couldn’t hear you.

Again, Rafe remained quiet, but you knew that he heard you so your frown only deepened. Moving until your feet were touching the floor, you stared up at him, and even with no words being spoken, you felt something uneasy festering deep within your gut. It had been some months since you and Rafe had one of your big fights, but you knew the signs all too well, and your heart sank when he took a deep breath.

“You apologized to JJ on my behalf?”

You heard a ringing in your ears for a few seconds as his words lingered in the air, and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from him. In this moment, you felt like prey, and you felt like it would be the stupidest thing in the world to take your eyes off of the man before you. Your lips parted as you struggled with what to say, and you eventually snapped them shut, struggling to find a way to talk your way out of this.

“I…”

“I already know the truth,” Rafe told you, tilting his head to the side. “I just want to hear it from you.”

Swallowing, you took a deep breath.

“I…felt bad,” you slowly told him, and you watched Rafe nod.

“You felt bad,” he repeated, pressing his tongue to his teeth and the inside of his cheek.

“Rafe-.”

“When did this conversation even happen?” he interrupted, frowning now. “I’m trying to understand when you and JJ Maybank have ever been around each other long enough to have a conversation where you’re apologizing to him for me.”

“Rafe, it lasted a minute at the most,” you quietly argued.

“Was this at The Wreck?”

You knew he was referring to days ago, and your mind ran rampant, trying to figure out if it was better to lie or not. You were already caught in a lie somewhat, and you really didn’t want to make this worse. You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of Rafe’s bitter laugh, and when you looked at him again, you could see that he was studying your face.

“Don’t think you can sit here and lie to me. When did this happen?” he repeated.

Exhaling, you blinked back tears.

“It was a few weeks ago,” you whispered, and you watched Rafe nod. “Sarah and her friends were going to the beach. JJ was in the bathroom, and I just ran into him in the hallway.”

When Rafe didn’t react, you continued, heart racing.

“Rafe, I just felt bad, that was all. I saw his face, and I felt bad, okay?”

Rafe leaned in a bit, hands and lower back still pressed against his dresser.

“Felt bad for what?” he spat, visage finally cracking. “He was the one bothering us, and I gave him what he was looking for.”

When you opened your mouth, Rafe cut you off.

“…and to make matters worse, you lied to me.”

Your brows furrowed at that, and you didn’t miss the way Rafe’s nostrils flared.

“Family bullshit, my ass. You knew you were wrong,” he threw at you, pointing at you. “See, you think I don’t know you…but I know you like the back of my hand.”

You lowered your gaze, unable to look him in the eye when he got like this.

“I knew something was wrong, and you lied to my face.”

You weren’t able to keep your tears from spilling over, and you wiped your face, looking up at him again. Your lips trembled while Rafe stared you down, and you were very aware of your throat and how tight it felt in this moment. You whispered his name, trying to get him to see that you hadn’t meant anything by it.

“I just felt bad,” you slowly told him again, voice quiet.

You wiped your face again, but fresh tears just replaced those, and Rafe studied the action. He leaned back some, looking down his nose at you, dirty blond hair curtained along his forehead. There was nothing warm or comforting about his gaze, malice stewing there as the corner of his lips curved upwards just a tad.

“Why are you crying?” he calmly asked. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Rafe had closed the distance in the same amount of time. You leaned away from him, a pleading look in your gaze.

“Do you…? Wh-what do you want me to say to him? How can I fix this?”

“Do you think I want you talking to him again? Do you really think that’s going to make me feel better, right now?”

You reached up to keep some distance between you two, but Rafe slapped your hands away. Your face was next, the action happening so fast that you only had time to gasp. You’d just touched your cheek when his hands were digging into your upper arms, violently shaking you.

“I just might do something a little impulsive if I saw you talking to him, right now, so trust me, you don’t want that,” he sneered.

“Rafe,” you gasped, grabbing one of his arms.

He only responded by grabbing that wrist, squeezing it and twisting it until you were forced to try and get him to let go. His face was so close to yours, nose brushing your cheek as his lip curled over your teeth.

“Do you know what that was like for me?” he wondered, forcing you back until you were cornered against the wall. “To have that Pogue throw it in my face that my own girlfriend went behind my back and apologized for what I did to him? For what he brought on himself?”

You pushed against his chest with your free hand, and Rafe only shoved you back, making you wince.

“I mean, have you lost your mind?” he wondered, fingers coming up to touch the side of his head. “Were you just thinking ‘God, what can I do to really piss Rafe off’?”

You were full on sobbing, now as you tried to push him away.

“Wait, no, you…you were thinking that I wouldn’t find out,” he chuckled, and you got no warning before he threw you to the floor.

Your sore wrist made it hard to push yourself up, and Rafe let his impatience show.

“Get up,” he barked at you. “Get the fuck up.”

Deciding he didn’t feel like waiting for you to do that, Rafe pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to cry out as you reached up to grab his hand. Your back was forced to arch as you tried your best to lean away from him, and when he shoved you into his dresser, a choked sound escaped you as pain flared in your stomach.

Rafe seemed to anticipate your next move the moment you took a step forward.

“Where are you going, huh?” he drawled, yanking you back.

“I’m sorry,” you screamed at him, trying to pull his arms off of you.

“No, you’re not,” he frowned at you, pressing a thumb against your throat. “You’re just sorry I found out.”

You pushed at his face, and your boyfriend retaliated by pushing at yours, forcing you to stumble and fall back, the wall barely serving to catch you. In a panic, you turned and ran into his bathroom, just narrowly shutting and locking the door the same time Rafe’s fists hit against it. He hit it again, harder this time, and you flinched, stepping back.

“Open this door,” you heard him say, breathing labored.

He kicked at it when you didn’t, and you tearfully stared at it with wide eyes.

“Baby,” he slowly said. “You do not want me to kick it down. I can promise you you won’t like it.”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you looked around. You were at a loss, mind going a mile a minute as he told you to open the door again, and more tears just kept falling. You could feel yourself overheating, and all those moments where you anticipated his next move or tried to anticipate the best move for you became worthless. This wasn’t a conversation where you were trying to prevent the violent outcome.

The violent outcome was here.

Pushing yourself against the door was in vain, because with a few more harsh kicks, it was forced open, and you were forced to the floor. Your hands shook as you fought against Rafe’s, trying to keep them off of you, but when they wrapped around your neck, breathing became your first priority. He briefly raised your head before slamming it back down, and you felt no relief when his hands let you go because you immediately saw him reach for his pants.

Even with a tilting vision and confused mind, his intent was clear.

However, a harsh knock on his room door startled you both. With a struggle, you reached up to touch your head just as Rafe’s eyes met yours. You tearfully blinked at him, wondering what he planned to do, when another knock followed the first, their fist banging on the door, and with a huff, Rafe got off of you. You licked your lips, unsurprised by the taste of blood.

You heard Rafe open his door.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” Sarah aggressively questioned. “We can hear you banging all the way out in the yard.”

You closed your eyes as you realized that Rafe’s music hadn’t been loud enough, and with an inflamed face and aching stomach, you turned on your side. A small groan left you when you wrapped your arms around your lower half, throat starting to hurt too.

“I was just trying to move my dresser around,” you heard Rafe rudely tell her. “Didn’t mean to disturb her royal highness.”

You didn’t see Sarah’s response, but knowing the younger girl, she probably rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

Rafe’s response was immediate.

“Just keep it down. Never mind how annoying it is, but Y/N told me earlier she had some studying to do. We all know you don’t care about that, but…”

The rest of Sarah’s words were lost to you as Rafe slammed the door in her face. One of your hands came up to cover your own face as you sobbed into it, lip still bleeding from where your teeth had cut into the skin. You could hear Rafe’s footsteps as he approached the bathroom, and you were relieved when he didn’t enter, just opting to stand in the doorway.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look. The thought of what almost happened—and what no doubt would later on—just made you cry harder, and Rafe’s heated sigh reached your ears.

“When you’re soaking in the bathtub tonight,” he slowly began, tone smug. “I want you to remember whose fault this is.”

…and as crazy as it seemed, you couldn’t determine if he meant you…or JJ.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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miirohs · 11 days

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moon, 12:04 am [l.m.h]

pairing: Husband!Lee Minho x Fem!Reader wc: 0.7k cw: n/a an: yall am i famous yet. also stream offonoff!!! cause their music is such a vibe!! i should not be awake at 2 in the morning!!!

“Min…?” You whined, rubbing your face into the crook of your arms as you heard quiet creaks across the floorboards.

It was dead silent, aside from the occasional rustling, a warm hand reaching out to run itself through your hair. His fingers scratched your scalp, and you sighed. You could hear Pickles meowing, and you could imagine him pawing at Minho right now, begging for some of his attention as well.

“What are you doing on the floor baby?”

You curled up, bringing your arms up to shield your face as you felt him lean over you, tie dangling over your cheek. Pickles was now poking you, trying to dig into your sides.

“Aww, you’re awfully tired, did all that overthinking finally tire you out?” He huffed, crouching right next to you as you watched him through glossy eyes, hands leaving your head.

“What time is it?”

“It’s four minutes after twelve, I think.”

You jolted up, adrenaline suddenly running through your body, head colliding with his outreached hand. Forcing your head to turn to the clock that hung on the wall, you blearily looked for the confirmation of what he had said. Pickles looked at the both of you, slipping onto your lap in an attempt for some form of cuddles..

You suddenly felt cold on the floor as you read the numbers the hands pointed to, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Guilt washed over you, the realization of unfinished chores waiting to be finished hitting you.

“Oh god, Minho- I’m so sorry, i must have lost track time playing with Pickles, and you know how its been with the whole apartment as of late-”

“You’re doing it again.”

You stopped speeding through your thoughts, stomach dropping as you looked at him.

He was just as beautiful, if not a little disheveled. His coat had been long abandoned, now wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair stuck out in all sorts of directions, but the little glimmer in his eyes hadn’t been lost to the tiring office environment of his life.

“I’m doing what?”

“Rambling.”

The heat rose in your cheeks, and you looked down at the wooden floors, mapping out where you had previously been a couple moments.

“Y/n. Baby?”

You finally looked up, scooting closer into his vicinity.

“It’s cute when you do it,” He yawned, kneeling next to you, “act all worried. You don’t need to be apologizing because you didn't do anything wrong.” He pursed his lips, offering a hand to gently pull you closer to him.

“What do you wanna ask me baby? I can tell you have something to say,” He teased. You cleared your throat. “Why were you so late? I thought you’d be coming home early today.’

“I would’ve come home sooner, but Chan-hyung wanted me to stay back for something, then the bus got late so I had to take a taxi home.” He sighed and frowned, running his hand up and down your back as he held you close to him. Pickles climbed into his lap, purring as Minho finally pet him.

“Sounds like you had quite the day.” You whispered, muffled as you were pressed up against him, hand on his chest, “more so than me.”

"Yeah, it was a bit hectic," He admitted with a small chuckle,"but it was all worth it to come back home to you, and you too, Pickles." Pickles meowed, as if acknowledging that he had been recognized by Minho.

You leaned into his embrace, his lips pressing against your forehead as he kissed you tenderly. The familiar warmth of his lips sent shivers down your spine, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft as he pressed his face against the crown of your head.

“I love you more,” You whispered as he slipped his hands around you, surprising you as he lifted you off the floor. He carried you with ease, retracing old steps as he made his way down the hall, towards your bedroom.

As he push you down on the bed, he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips.

“I'll be right back in bed once I finish changing.”

“Don’t take too long,” You stared, watching him linger in the light of your bathroom door.

“Night baby,” He said softly, grinning as Pickles jumped up, curling up right next to you, “sleep well."

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

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jealous // fwb!chris

summary: your friends with benefits, chris, sees you with another guy at a party and takes you somewhere to remind you who you belong to warnings: smutty af so if you don't like that, get lost! semi public sex, fem!receiving

Chris Sturniolo and I made a pact a few months ago.

He helps me get over my ex, and I keep him busy.

This pact was all about us getting something — sex.

When we first met, I was in a long term relationship with a guy who didn’t have his head on straight. Chris was proudly single, but in desperate need of sex.

After a night of crying and confusion, I tried something I never thought I would bother with.

I texted Chris and asked him to come over, both of us knowing damn well what the other wanted.

We had sex all night, sometimes waking the other up with our mouths all over each other, sometimes with his dick lining perfectly with my pussy when we cuddled that it would be a sin for us not to finish the job. The next morning we vowed that we would keep hooking up, only if we promised that it was just sex, and there were absolutely no feelings involved.

I wasn’t too thrilled to hear about some influencer party that Chris was going to. I didn’t care that he had a life around girls, and I didn’t care if he was into them. What I cared about was him putting his dick somewhere without letting me know, and me suffering the consequences of him transferring something to me.

I was even less thrilled when my best friend, Nick, invited me as his plus one. Don’t get me wrong, anywhere Nick goes, I’m usually there too, but the whole LA party scene is not my thing at all. I can last about an hour before I'm tapping out and wanting to be home.

He begged and begged and I caved, leaving me to stand in front of my closet to search for an outfit.

My phone chimed on my bed.

Chris: Why am I only just now hearing that you’re coming tonight?

Me: 🤷🏻‍♀️ Black lingerie or white?

Chris: Come over.

Me: Can’t. Uber is getting here soon.

Chris: Cancel it.

Me: See you at the partyyyy

After Ubering and searching for the way into the building, I pulled out my phone to text Nick in hopes of finding him. Before I realized, a familiar hand slid across my back, finding my waist and turning me around.

Chris’ smirk was the most prominent feature on his face. “Hey pretty.”

I had to stop my stomach from flipping at the compliment, the nickname he has attached to me lately. It’s hard not to fall for him when he says shit like that.

I try to act unbothered for the sake of keeping my sanity. “Where’s Nick?”

Chris’ head dips in a certain direction, pointing to Nick through a crowd of people. “I’m here though.”

I nod once. “I see that.”

“You wearin’ this for me?”

His eyes linger down my chest, focusing on the mesh material that leaves little to the imagination. A black mini skirt hugs my hips, inviting Chris’ hands to my waist. I suck in a breath before pushing his hands away.

“Not here,” I warn him in a whisper.

“Then let’s find somewhere,” he suggests immediately, his urges showing.

It takes everything in me to push his hands away and search further for my friend.

As the minutes pass, I find myself sticking close to Nick, nodding along to any conversation that he is involved in. He makes socializing look so easy, taking control of everyone in the room in the best way. Meanwhile, I look lost next to him.

In hopes of liquid courage and something to hold onto instead of picking at my fingers, I head back to the bar, ordering a vodka red bull - something to keep me feeling comfortable, but hopefully keeping me awake and not yawning in everyone’s faces. The last thing I want is for Nick to feel bad about inviting me, and for everyone else to think I’m a bitch.

Seconds later, I’m trapped in a conversation with someone I really couldn’t care less about. Some model talking about his work, clearly trying to impress me. The sad thing is, I know he’s trying hard to make me swoon, but this is what happens at every one of these parties. He’s not flirting with me because of anything I have to offer. He’s simply trying to make himself look good.

I try to pay attention to his words, but out of the corner of my eye I’m able to spot someone’s glare from a mile away.

Chris stands fifty feet from me, his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring at the man in front of me.

Suddenly, I’m interested in this model.

My hand trails up his arm, earning a satisfied smirk from him before he steps closer, his thighs brushing mine. I don’t even have to be looking at Chris to know his reaction to that action — he’s charging over to us.

Before I have time to suggest us leaving this spot to get away from Chris, he’s already squeezing between us.

His nose is inches from mine, and when they brush, I find myself thinking about last night, his nose rubbing my clit while he ate my pussy.

“Who’s your friend, baby?”

My eyes could burn holes in his. I don’t know if I’m more mad that he’s doing this right now, or embarrassed that I was so zoned out that I don’t even remember this guys name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t bother telling me.

When Chris doesn’t get a response from me, he turns over his shoulder. “You can go now.”

With one look, the nameless guy I was talking to vanishes. I smack Chris’ chest. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Me?” He responds with a surprised tone. “You’re the one rubbing all up on guys in front of me. You expect me to just sit back and do nothing?”

“Yes!” I shout, walking away. His hand on my wrist pulls me back to him. “I’m not yours to claim, and you coming up and stopping me from talking to any guy you see is fucking pathetic. You and I fuck. That’s it.”

I watch as Chris’ mouth curves to a grin. What now?

“You’re right, we fuck,” he agrees, but his fingertips tracing my thigh in front of everyone send shivers down my body for more than one reason. “And right now I’m thinking about pulling this little skirt around your hips and bending you over a sink.”

Shit.

I can feel my legs getting tighter, and I struggle to stand up straight.

He dips his head to my ear, whispering to me. “If I pulled your panties aside, how wet would you be for me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Would you be ready for my cock, or do you need me to stretch your tight cunt out with my fingers?”

My breathing starts to falter before I can bother controlling it.

Chris stands up straight looking at me and noticing every change in expression. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and starts walking me to the bathroom. “I know baby, let’s take care of you.”

I’m unable to form words. He continues to say quick hello’s to everyone he sees while I stand at his hip like a poor puppy. I give in to him so fast every time. It’s embarrassing, but can you blame me?

We make it to the bathroom, and after he locks the door, he turns around and leans on it, his arms crossed as he stares at me.

“You know I don’t like it when you talk to other guys in front of me,” he warns.

“I’m allowed to talk to other guys. We aren’t together.”

“Not when you’re dressed like that.”

“So now you have an issue with how I dress and who I talk to? Anything else I should know of?”

“I have an issue with you dressing in a mesh shirt and a mini skirt when you aren’t mine to claim, yes.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

“Is it?”

This is a losing battle. As much as I try, it’s obvious how bad I want him.

I need him.

He notices the switch flip in me. He knows exactly when I give in without me having to say a word.

His arms uncross and within seconds they’re wrapped around me, lifting me to sit on the bathroom sink, yanking my underwear down to my knees. He ducks his head underneath the fabric, yanking me by my thighs a few inches so he can have easier access to my dripping pussy.

He groans at the sight of me struggling without him touching me. “Such a pretty pussy.” His fingers grip the sides of my thighs, digging so hard I’m sure it’ll leave marks. He places a wet kiss over my dripping cunt. I shudder at his touch, and quickly grip his curls as he starts licking harshly over my throbbing clit.

“Fuck, Chris.” The words come out in a pathetic whimper, but they only encourage him to do more.

His hands spread my legs further before the tip of his tongue fucks me. My moans are uncontainable, and I can feel his smirk growing as I struggle to contain myself.

I can feel Chris trying not to put his hands everywhere on me. The last time we fucked in a public setting, he emphasized that he did not want to put his hands anywhere near my pussy in case there was anything gross lingering on his hands. The animalistic strokes of his tongue on me are a confirmation of his ideas. The harsh movements of his tongue on my clit have me shuddering, gripping his hair as tight as my fingers will let me.

“Tastes so good, baby,” he mumbles against my thigh, staring up at me before licking up my inner thigh, back to my clit. His head starts to move more with every swipe of his tongue until he’s making out with my pussy.

Chris never fails to prove that eating me out is his favorite part of this whole friends with benefits situation. While he loves burying his dick in me, there’s nothing he loves more than tasting me and watching me falter as he pleases me with his mouth.

My back arches and my thighs close around his face, brushing across the light stubble growing on his cheeks. “Chris, I’m gonna cum.”

He yanks my underwear down until it’s completely off, stuffing the pair of lace panties in his pocket and wrapping my legs around his waist. As he unbuttons his pants and rubs over himself through his boxers, he mutters, “Can you cum around my cock for me, baby? Be a good girl and wait for me to tell you, hmm?”

“Uh huh,” I nod. Any sound leaving my mouth sounds like a cry for help.

The outline of his throbbing dick is prominent as he strokes himself over his underwear. “Stop wasting your time with the other guys and you can have me whenever.”

I don’t have a chance to argue back with him. His dick is in his fist, red and throbbing. His tip is leaking like he’s been holding back from fucking me since I walked in this place. He strokes himself a few times, finding pleasure in it by the way his head falls back. Before I get the chance to offer anything to him, he spreads my legs back open with his knee and rubs his tip over my clit.

A weak moan leaves my lips and I’m unable to stop myself from begging for more.

“Please, Chris,” I whine, watching as his lips part as he watches himself tease my entrance.

“You have me baby.”

I almost feel my heart expand, but I’m cut off by the abrupt motion of his dick pushing into me, stretching me out until he’s buried deep and I’m completely wrapped around him.

He stares down at us in awe. “This pussy was made for me.”

I nod, at a loss for words.

He thrusts harshly. “Whose pussy is this?”

I wince. “Yours.”

“Tell me,” he demands with his teeth gritted.

“FUCK – Yours, Chris. It’s yours.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly before slamming his hips back into mine. Every thrust is sharper than the last. His pace is steady, but it all changes when I wrap my legs around his waist with no intention of letting go.

He lifts me off the counter, holding underneath my thighs. His head rests on my right shoulder and I can feel him looking at us in the mirror. He pushes my skirt up further, revealing my entire ass. He slaps it harshly, making me groan.

“You love it, don’t act like you don’t,” he teases.

I nod.

“Tell me,” he says as he slaps my ass again, harder this time.

“Shit, I love it, Chris,” I admit, the words flying out of my mouth. “I love it so much.”

His hands hold underneath my ass, his hips driving up into me. Every thrust has a slapping sound following, and after a few minutes of a steady pace, I can feel him speeding up.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans into my neck. “I can’t hold off anymore. You gonna cum with me?”

I nod, whimpering against him.

“Words, princess.”

“Yes, Chris. I’m almost there.”

As he presses closer to me and fucks me in his arms, I can feel myself going limp. My clit is throbbing and has been all night, and being this close to a release is enough to make me feel like I’m falling.

“Chris.” My hands grip his hair tightly, like I’m going to lose him at any second.

“I got you, baby,” he assures me. “Cum around me. I’m right here with you.”

I feel myself convulse around his cock, earning a string of pornographic moans from him before his pace slows down, his hips burying themselves against me as he pumps his cum inside my pussy.

“Ohhhh god,” he moans. The sound has become my new favorite thing.

He carefully sets me on the ground, letting my feet find the floor before he lets go and kisses me softly, the first kiss we have shared all night. He adjusts my skirt, smirking at the evidence of him on my legs, dripping out of me.

“Do not wipe any of that up,” he tells me, a seriousness in his tone that I’m not used to. “I want you to walk around this party with my cum dripping out of you, and if you even try to let anyone else flirt with you, that’ll be your reminder of who you belong to. Got it?”

I nod, trying to find my balance before leaving the bathroom with him. At this point, most of our friends know what we are, and if they didn’t, they were sure as hell gonna find out now.

I spent the rest of the night with Chris at my side, rubbing my legs subtly or making snide comments about how I was full of him still. I knew what I wanted, but some of him was better than none.

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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appocalipse · 11 months

Text

RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE : ̗̀➛ SIRIUS BLACK

summary: it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with.

"Oh, crap!" Lily seems on the verge of panic as she stares at the fresh stain on your clothes. "I'm so sorry!"

Somewhat shocked, you reach your hand to the front of your uniform and try to rub it away. It's no use. "It's okay," you assure her gently, relieved that the liquid didn't spill on the clean set of clothes you were folding instead, "it was an accident."

You put the clothes safely away in the trunk near your bed. They still have the fresh and clean scent of lavender. Your uniform, however…

Lily points her wand at your chest, and the stain quickly disappears. She had rushed through the entrance of the dormitory fast as lightning, crashing right into you and spilling…

Well, what exactly?

"Lily," you bring a hand to your own face, sniffing, then sniffing again. "What is this? It smells like a wet dog and-"

Your eyes meet and you immediately dislike the look on her face. Too much restrained excitement slowly bubbling up...

"-cigarettes…" you trail off, some sort of realization dawning on you way too late.

It can't be.

Lily bites her lower lip as if trying to hold back a smile. "Is that what it smells like to you?"

You also catch the scent of quill ink and freshly brewed coffee, so it can only be…

You put your hand away from your nose as if it's on fire.

"Tell me this is not what I think this is."

"If you're not thinking of Amortentia, then yes."

"Why would you brew Amortentia?!"

"For Professor Slughorn," she sees the confusion etched on your face and looks positively horrified. "Not for Professor Slughorn to drink! Ew! I said I'd like to try brewing one because it's, you know, a bit complicated and I've never tried before. He said he'd give Gryffindor some points if I succeeded. I didn't know you would… you know, smell Sirius."

"I never said I smelled him!"

"Okay! Okay," Lily raises both hands in surrender. Then, quieter, she adds, "You can pretend all you want."

You sigh. "Did you only have this vial?"

"Well, there should be some potion left in the cauldron, I think."

Great. An opportunity to escape this beyond strange situation. "I'll go get it for you."

"But I-"

You're out the Gryffindor common room before Lily has a chance to question your offer. The need to get away from that impending conversation is stronger than anything else right now.

Your heart is racing as you walk through the corridors of the castle, heading towards the dungeons, where Potions class usually take place. Each step is an effort to calm your turbulent mind and find some peace.

Upon reaching the Potions classroom, you welcome the silent space as you enter. The characteristic smell of magical ingredients and herbs fills your nostrils, bringing a familiar and almost comforting sensation… until you catch that smell. Amortentia.

You look around, searching for Lily's cauldron, which she mentioned leaving behind.

It's not hard to find; the smell is quite distinct, enchanting, all the things you love most in the world somehow united in a single aroma.

The cauldron is sitting on one of the workbenches. You approach cautiously, making sure not to knock anything over. Then you rummage through the shelves for an empty vial and pour some of the potion into it, feeling like you're doing something wrong even though Lily had Slughorn's permission.

The door opens, and you almost drop a row of glass bottles as you turn to look.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

It's Sirius. Of course, it's him.

He closes the door behind him, and your heart skips a beat as it usually does whenever he's around. He's wearing the Gryffindor uniform, the first two buttons undone, revealing a patch of delicate skin just below his neck.

You don't need to wonder how he got there or why. Chances are, he extracted every piece of information he needed from Lily with little to no effort.

"What are you doing?" he asks calmly. You, on the other hand, don't feel calm at all.

"Nothing, just..."

"Just?" He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move away from the workbench, trying not to show the nervousness you truly feel.

"I just came to get something," you say.

Sirius gives a suspicious glance at the cauldron. "Is it a love potion?" He's a skilled wizard. Skilled enough to know the answer to that question, yet he waits for you to respond.

"Lily made it," you say defensively, holding up the vial containing the potion to illustrate your point unnecessarily.

"And what scent do you smell?" he questions, with a genuine curiosity in his tone that catches you off guard. "What does the potion smell like to you?"

"Lily told you," it's far from a question.

But Sirius has a knack for playing games.

"She told me what?"

"You know what."

This time, you step back as he advances, unable to help yourself, swallowing hard and Sirius notices. He takes another step forward, and you take another step back.

"Sirius," you warn.

In return, Sirius says your name, his tone lighter, more playful, soft as a feather. Then, another step.

You nearly bump your hip against one of the workbenches as you take another desperate step back. Sirius, being Sirius, raises an eyebrow, making no effort to hide his amusement.

It's unfair. It's simply unfair that he's so good-looking, starting at you without feeling the need to averting his gaze. "You don't have to do this," you find yourself saying.

Sirius seems genuinely puzzled.

"Do what?"

You steal a glance in your peripheral vision. The room won't go on forever; you need to say something to get out of this situation before he gets too close. You don't trust yourself near Sirius.

"Turn me down. Be all nice-" you stutter. He keeps advancing toward you. Back almost against the wall, you dodge another workbench and turn to the left, trying to prevent him from cornering you.

Sirius chuckles. "Is that what you think?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take rejection."

He glances in the direction of the cauldron. "Do you want to know what scent I smell?"

"No."

"Leather-"

"Sirius-"

"Gasoline," he raises his chin, nose in the air as if enjoying one scent after another. "Apple pie."

For a moment, you close your eyes. "Stop it."

"And lavender."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. He's not being serious, a little voice in your mind insists. It can't be serious. He's just teasing you... or maybe just being a good friend. Too good a friend.

It would be easier if he wasn't. If he were less kind to you, less handsome, less charming.

It's not easy.

You're breathless, trying to keep your distance from Sirius as he sets a slow advance, a constant tease. It's an internal battle between the desire to give in to the attraction you feel for him and the need to protect yourself — but the latter wins, for now.

"Sirius," you plead, your voice quiet, "stop"

He pauses for a moment, his gray eyes fixed on yours. "You think I'm joking, don't you? You think I'm just being nice?"

"I... I don't know, Sirius. It's so...confusing."

He takes yet another step towards you, his lips curling into a challenging smile. Always challenging. "Confusing or scary?"

The tension between you two is palpable, and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart, threatening to break out of your rib cage any given moment. You know you're fighting your own feelings, afraid of surrendering to something that may - and probably will - end in heartbreak.

"It's not fair," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's not fair that you're so... so-"

"So what?" he teases, closer. "So handsome? So charming? So... irresistible?"

You can tell he's somehow having fun. You don't understand how he can maintain a playful tone in a moment like this.

You catch a whiff of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and your heart races once again. If there's a way to prevent Sirius from getting what he wants, you don't know what it is. "So confusing," you finish, almost in a whisper. "You confuse the hell out of me."

Sirius pauses for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you momentarily catch a flicker of something deeper in this playful gaze. He slowly raises a hand and gently, gentler than ever, caresses your face, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your skin.

"I don't see how I could be confusing you," he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. "I thought I was being pretty clear..." It's teasing, of course it is; when it comes to Sirius, few things aren't.

But there's something else behind it, too.

The air grows heavier.

"You're not clear about anything, Sirius," you reply, your voice faltering slightly. "I never know what you're thinking. I never know what you really mean."

"Maybe you're just not paying attention."

You furrow your brow, confused by Sirius' response. He's playing with you, as he always does, but this time it feels more intense, more meaningful. You struggle against the temptation to give in completely, to say something you might not be able to take back.

"I do pay attention, Sirius," you respond, your voice showing determination you're not entirely sure you feel. "It's you who likes to make everything more difficult than it needs to be."

He moves closer once again, so close now that you can feel his breath against your skin, the tip of his nose an inch away from touching yours.

"Do you want me to be clearer?" he whispers, voice laced with a hint of his usual mischief. "Make it easier?"

You swallow, feeling your heart race. You know you can't admit your feelings for him, you can't let your defenses down. Not when he makes a point to hide comfortably behind a facade, away from anything that makes him feel vulnerable.

You need honesty.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice almost faltering. "Yes, I do."

Sirius pauses for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. Then, slowly, he moves closer and closer still, until his lips almost touch yours.

There is a feeling that you can't quite put into words.

"I want you," he murmurs, an admission that hangs in the air like a charged electric current. "I want to be with you. I want you to be happy– I'll even accept your awful taste in music," he adds with a playful smirk, teasingly referencing your occasional guilty pleasure for a particular genre of music that he often mocks.

A laugh escapes your lips, a combination of relief and affection. His sincerity is pretty close to melting away any remaining doubts that linger in your heart. "I have great taste in music," you state playfully.

Sirius brushes the side of his nose against yours affectionately. "Sometimes," he gives in, voice filled with genuine warmth.

You lean into his touch, savoring the tenderness and intimacy of the moment. It's as if the world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of shared emotions.

"Sometimes?" you raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

He chuckles, a low and melodic sound that resonates deep within your chest, a sound you don't get to hear as often as you'd like. "You're lucky you're pretty," he teases, his voice filled with affectionate playfulness.

"Oh?"

"I have a soft spot for pretty girls."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that forms on your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Black."

Sirius leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Who said I was trying to get anywhere?" he whispers, fingers trailing along the curve of your waist, drawing you closer. "I'm already where I want to be."

Your heart swells with warmth, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Smooth talker."

It doesn't sound like an accusation when you're about to kiss him.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius x you #sirius x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black drabble #marauders drabble #marauders era

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tddyhyck · 10 months

Text

has never went to oovoo javer

pairings ⇢ uber driver!hyuck x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ strangers???, protected sex (kinda), car sex, thigh riding, fingering, oral (m receiving/slight f receiving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (f), mentions of being high, squirting, lip ring hyuck OFC, also big fat cock hyuck agenda, roleplay

word count ⇢ 4.1k

a/n ⇢ i dreamed this or something i swear, also thank u hua my bestie for letting me talk about this as always 🤭🤭

masterlist

you didn’t take uber’s often, usually opting for carpooling with friends or using public transport, but when you did you always got the same driver. he was pretty nice all of the times you met him, not bothering you with talking unless you started the conversation and even handing you candy after the third time you rode with him.

he was really attractive too, at least from the backseat and from his uber profile picture he seemed to update regularly. he had longish dark hair, plush rosy lips with a pretty silver lip ring, and he wore an insane amount of rings that suited him.

you always wondered if he had some sort of other job or if he was just an uber driver. he seemed like someone who would be in a band or work at a grocery store. there was noi-between. you were nosy but never wanted to pry since he was just your always uber driver.

today was different for you though you had left your friends late so you couldn’t take the bus and your friends were high just like you. so you got on your little uber app and waited to see who it was. it would almost be surprising if it wasn’t haechan, but his face popped up on the app and it made you a little giddy.

you could overthink and let your mind wander to why he was always picking you up and somehow always right around the corner but you didn’t. you liked seeing him with decorated fingers gripping the wheel while he played music you had said you liked.

so you bid your friends goodnight and hurried down the stairs to the front of the building. looking left and right to see if his familiar black suv was pulling up. you waited a minute rocking on your heels and shivering slightly when you finally saw him pulling up flipping his lights to get your attention. you scurry over to his car gripping the handle and sliding into the back seat and fixing your hair with your hands before looking up to see him staring back at you.

“hi,” you mumble, scanning his face to see his lip ring glinting in the car light.

“hi, pretty, how are you?” he responds, lips pulling into a slight smile. you don’t remember what ride he started calling you pretty on but it made you want to giggle and kick your feet.

“high and horny,” you blurt, making him throw his head back laughing. you cover your mouth quickly mortified at your confession. “fuck sorry.”

“you’re good, pretty, just don’t make a mess on my seats,” he winked before turning back around to face the front. you throw your head back to hit the headrest while heat floods your body. from both the embarrassment and the heat between your legs and his little comment didn’t help. you squeezed your legs together, the fabric of your dress riding up as you did.

the drive to your place was about 15 minutes and it was going to be complete and total torture but once you got home you could hole up in your room with a hand between your legs and release the pent-up feelings.

you had forgotten how getting high made your panties insanely wet and your body vibrate. but you remembered now staring at haechan who was tapping his ringed fingers on the steering wheel and letting his tongue swipe his lip before tugging on his lip ring with his teeth. you wondered how that would feel against your hot skin. the cool metal against your thighs while his head was between your legs teasing your cunt.

your legs pressed together again and gripped your knee with your hand. you didn’t realize a whimper had slipped out from your throat as your fingers drifted up your knee to raise the hem of your dress and make the skin of your thigh tingle.

you looked out the window hoping something could distract you from the ache between your legs and the hot guy in the front seat. you never felt his eyes floating to you through the rearview mirror, or the way he scanned you, watching the way your leg bounced and your dress rode up your soft thighs.

he could tell you weren’t being funny with your horny comment. you were on the edge of your seat needing to be touched. he wondered what you thought about maybe him touching you, fingers trailing over your skin making you twitch beneath him. now he was working himself up and letting his mind wander. he shook his head concentrating back on the road instead of your panties peeking out as the dress rose even more.

one little touch won’t hurt, right? just something to press against your pulsing core. you side-eye haechan to see him focusing on the road so you let your hand slide further up your leg. using your nondominant hand hopefully to deter you from flicking your wrist like you liked. each touch feels like something deeper and more intimate than normal, the slide of your fingers before they touch the fabric of your panties has your breath hitching.

the panties feel so soft and delicate and so damp and hot practically dripping in your arousal. your chest was almost heaving when you pressed your fingers against your center. you could feel your clit pulsing under your touch but the pressure of your digits wasn’t enough to relieve it.

haechan was still peeking back at you, gawking when your hand slipped between your legs as you leaned your forehead against the car window, your breath fogging the glass. he could feel his jeans growing tighter when you finally rocked your hips ever so slightly. he wanted to watch you, stare at you while you ground against your hand, but he was driving and he had to get you to your destination safely.

once you started moving you couldn’t stop yourself letting your hips do the work bucking perfectly against your fingers. the hot ache between your legs only felt like it was growing. chasing the relief you knew you would get when you just let yourself have it, legs shaking, the mind-numbing orgasm you craved. but you were in the back of haechan’s car so you stopped moving and huff against the window resting your forehead on the cool glass taking some of the heat from you.

taking a minute to breathe, moving your hand far away from between your legs you try to collect yourself. what the fuck were you doing? trying to get off in the back of an uber like a weird porn intro. then your mind started drifting to porn - no. focus. no dirty nasty porn brain.

“you good?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head. had he seen you? did he know you were getting freaky in his back seat?

“yeah just, yeah,” you mumble, still a little brain foggy. you look up to see him staring back at you in the rearview his eyes are darker but still as sweet as ever.

“your temp okay?” you nod knowing he can see you but still mutter a yes as your head lulls on the headrest.

“there’s a lot of traffic tonight, might take longer than normal,” he mentioned and you groan in response making him smirk to himself. it only made you want to cry. you can’t wait much longer you’re already trying to cum in the car and now there’s traffic. a cruel and unusual world to live in.

“it’ll be okay, baby, i’ll get you home safe,” he says, reaching his hand back to pat your knee. you felt like you were on fire from his pet name switching to baby and the skin-to-skin contact. you wanted him to slide his hand higher and touch you where you needed it.

you pout while you whimper mostly to yourself and grip the hem of your dress now suddenly aware of how it lays almost at your hip exposing so much skin. you don’t even recognize your hands lingering, smoothing over the fabric you relax into the feeling. closing your eyes leaning back and your hands move on their own.

it doesn’t even feel like your hands that are pulling your panties to the side letting the cool air hit your heat. your other hand finally making contact and making you sigh at the touch. your fingers swirling around your pulsing clit collecting the slick that's filled your panties. you can already feel yourself getting close, the touch finally providing what you need.

you don’t notice the boy in the driver's seat staring back at you through the mirror watching the way your face twists and mouth falls open as you flick your wrist. he’s almost drooling seeing your cunt glisten as you bring yourself closer. he watches closely but still flicks his eyes back to the road catching your hole flutter and begging to be filled.

he brings his hand to palm his jeans matching your timing, but he wants you. needs to feel you around him while he fills you up. he can only imagine the way you would wrap around him perfectly. but he can't, he really can't, you're his sweet little frequent rider who gives him the best reviews. but also you’re in his back seat cunt dripping onto his leather seats. what’s a man to do?

your hand isn’t enough so your hips start to buck against your fingers slipping and sliding against your clit and your hole. you want to slip your fingers inside and fill yourself but you need to be fast don’t savor the moment just get off.

suddenly you remember you aren’t so alone and you flutter your eyes open and see him staring back. it makes your breath hitch when you make eye contact through the mirror but you’re in too deep to stop. you almost want to go harder with how his dark eyes stare into you unapologetically looking down at your pussy.

“can you pull over,” you almost whimper and he looks back at you expression flipping between dark to concerned. wondering if you’re going to beat him up or if you want more like he does. but he doesn’t hesitate to go down a side road and find a parking lot for some privacy. he can see your fingers still moving in his peripheral vision.

when he finally pulls in and parks you waste no time unbuckling before leaning forward to tug his sweater and attach your lips to his. he doesn’t wait to reciprocate, pressing hungrily into you. his lips are just as soft as they looked at the cool metal of his piercing had your head spinning.

“is this okay?” you pull back breathing heavily and staring up at him.

“so much more than okay,” he responds, smirking over at you, and you smile back tugging his collar and making him scramble out of his seat clumsily crawling into the back with you making you laugh. you tug him to you again gripping the soft knit of his sweater as your lips find him again.

you push him to sit back but follow his lips keeping you attached to him before straddling his lap. the ripped denim covering his leg is pressing against your core and his hands are kneading your hips over your dress, but you want him closer. you grind into him and whimper into his mouth and his tongue chases your lips lapping up at them.

“more,” you whine and his hands grip your hips tighter, rocking you against his leg.

“so needy,” he breathes, sitting back to look at you with heavy eyes. your eyes are closed but you can feel him staring at you and each move you make. you lift the hem of your dress pulling it up to reveal your panties to him and the source of your moans.

he groans leaning forward to kiss your neck as his hands slide over your exposed flesh. fingers grazing under the waist of your panties, snapping them against your skin. his hands keep you from moving against him as fast as you want to and it’s frustrating but his tongue suckles your neck distracting you.

“slow down, pretty, let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your skin before blowing cool air against your neck, making you shiver.

“need more,” you whimper, but his hands slow you down before stopping you with a pout on your face. he smirks up at you before kissing your lips and turning to lay you back against the seat.

he presses against you, his body encompassing you and you feel him all around. one hand holding himself up on the seat and the other gripping your thigh fingers smoothing the skin as his lips desperately meet yours.

his lips mold to yours and you whimper against him opening your mouth to slip your tongue out sliding over his lips. he chases your tongue sucking it into his mouth. the sucking sounds filling his backseat as your saliva mixes and smears against your mouths. and you love it the messy and needy way he kisses you feels so raw and real.

your breathing is heavy in his mouth and so is his. he releases your lips letting his wet mouth roam down your face to your neck licking against the warm skin and your hands comb through his hair clinging to the strands. he's flipping your dress up again gripping higher on your thigh.

“touch me,” you whine, grabbing his wrist and moving it to graze your panties. you hear and feel him groan, vibrating against your neck making you shiver. he doesn’t hesitate to do what you say, gripping your panties and sliding them down before pulling away to fully remove them.

“fuck you’re soaked,” he moans lifting your soiled panties and swirling them around his finger to tease you.

“shut up,” you groan, covering your face with your hands but your lower half is still completely exposed to him.

“stop you’re fucking cute,” he pulls your hands away staring down at you. “can i keep these?” he smirks, nodding to the panties.

“only if you do something in the next 5 seconds,” you whine at him bucking your hips for something. he just coos down at you teasing your neediness, but he touches you, fingers pressing into your thighs dragging closer to your core. you don’t see him toss your panties into the front seat.

“you’re so fucking needy. can’t believe you were getting off in my backseat.” you mewl at his words you can’t deny it. “so fucking wet.” he whispers fingers touching your cunt and making you twitch. his fingers slide over you collecting the juices dripping out of you before bringing his fingers up in front of his face scissoring them curiously staring at the slick clinging to his digits and it only makes u more embarrassed.

“what’s got you shy? you weren’t shy earlier with your hand down your panties.” he teases before swirling his tongue around his fingers staring right at you while he does it. you try to avoid his eye contact as he tastes you on his digits.

“hmm? what is it, pretty?” you shake your head as he leans closer to you licking at your lips while his spit-covered fingers slip between you and find your core again. your mouth falls open when he uses a finger to fill you up. he watches you intently the way you try to close your mouth and bite your lip but he stops you licking over your mouth distracting you.

“don’t be quiet. let me hear you.” you nod harshly in response, moaning when his finger curls inside of you. you want more, you need more.

“more haechan, please,” you plead looking up at him and bucking your hips against him.

“huh? can't hear you.” you want to roll your eyes but you want him to fill you up more.

“more need more of you please.” you croak louder this time and he doesn’t waste time adding another finger making your legs tremble when his digits immediately curl inside of you. he leans back between your legs watching the way your cunt swallows his fingers. his hand that was holding him up is pressing your thigh backward showing you to him completely.

“so fucking pretty, take it so well yeah?” he coos staring down at you watching the way your mouth is open and fingers slide over your lips. his fingers are moving skillfully inside of you and his thumb swirls over your clit.

“is good. so good,” you manage breath caught in your throat you haven’t felt so good in so long. the pleasure taking over and swirling in your stomach tightening with each thrust.

“yeah, pretty? gonna cum huh?” his words make you cry so close to the edge. “tell me.”

“so close.” you whimper, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him to you. he’s sucking your neck instantly, keeping his hand thrusting into you.

“cum, pretty girl,” he says, and you can’t stop letting the knot in your stomach release as you do. arching into him as he works you through it, releasing on his hand and the seat beneath you. your legs close around him but he doesn’t stop until you're pulling on the hair at his nape.

he pulls away looking down between you dipping his fingers into the mess you made.

“you’re a squirter? cute,” you shake your head and want to melt into the seat. since when are you a squirter? “liar, you made such a mess.” he teases before leaning down to lick over your cunt.

“nuhuh, so much,” you whine, pushing his head away but he just smirks up at you, swirling his tongue lower to collect you on his tongue.

“you just taste so fucking good.”

“wanna taste you,” you say boldly leaning up and catching him off guard. your hands find their way to his belt fiddling with the leather.

“want to be inside you.” he counters, staring back at you gripping your wrist.

“please just-“ he cuts you off with a kiss and releases your wrist letting you unbuckle his belt and quickly tug his zipper. his lips are distracting you but you try to push him backwards to give you room to settle between his legs.

you take his clothed length in your hands and leave wet opened mouth kisses while looking at him to see his reactions. he’s staring down at you, one hand laying over his stomach and the other resting on his thigh. you sit back on your heels pulling his waistband down to let his cock slap against his stomach.

you don’t waste time leaning back down to take him in your mouth. he’s hot and heavy on your tongue and it makes you squeeze your legs together at the idea of him inside of you. you swirl your tongue and take the rest of him in your hands pumping his length.

“so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he whispers, fingers pushing your hair out of your face mainly to see your eyes while you swallow around him. you push your head down to take even more of him hearing him groan and his fingers curl into your scalp.

“take me so well,” he moans, legs shaking beside your head when you moan around him. you want him to fuck your face but you decide not to ask maybe that’s too much for the back seat with your uber driver.

“fuck fuck fuck,” he says trying to push you off of him. you release him with a pop smiling up at him spit sliding down your chin.

“what?” you giggle at him using the back of your hand to swipe at the saliva.

“you’re a fucking minx,” he grins back before dragging you to him to kiss you again. he brings you close to him pulling you onto his lap you whine when you feel his cock against your folds.

“do you have protection?” he asks looking over at you.

“i’m clean but i have some,” you lean back, grabbing your long-forgotten bag.

“i’m clean too but,” he trails off when you lift the packet and tear it open. hurriedly you take it out and slide it down his length making him sigh.

“just fuck my brains out please,” you look at him with doe eyes before kissing him and lifting over his length before pressing it to your hole. you moan in unison as you sink down onto him, filling you up.

“so fucking tight,” he groans as his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. you’re speechless you feel so full and overwhelmed you can barely move just have him inside of you.

“you good?” he asks, grabbing your cheeks to look at him and you nod. “tell me.” he doesn’t demand this time asking softly for you to tell him how you feel.

“so good i can’t think. ‘m so full,” you whimper, falling into his chest and you can almost tell he’s smiling when he soothes over your back and coos at you.

“poor baby,” he coos, thrusting into you. “too much?” you whine and he bucks again. “can't take my fat cock can you?” you shake your head and he thrusts with each word punctuating it.

“ha- chan,” you mewl, lips pressing into his neck. he reaches around you holding you up as he lays you back again. his hair falls in his face as he leans over you thrusting into you deeply. he keeps his pace slow but steady, not letting you miss a single drag of his cock inside of you.

he kisses the side of your open mouth before sitting up between you moving his hands to press your thighs against your chest. he stared down at the way your cunt swallows his length with each thrust completely sucking him in.

“take me so fucking well,” he groans and you feel tears slipping down your face. “letting your little uber driver fuck you such a dirty whore.”

“hyuck,” you whine, slipping from the space.

“who?” he stops his movements staring down at you. you can see he’s trying not to break but his teasing eyes almost give him away.

“haechan, harder,” you whisper, he grins at you following your instructions. deepening each stroke and pushing you into the seat.

“like that, baby?” you nod sloppily and feel the familiar feeling coming back, the sweet release so close you can almost taste it. haechan notices bringing his finger to swirl around your clit.

“pretty baby, gonna cum on my cock?” he moans looking down at you.

“so close,” you whimper back, gripping his arm tighter. he moves his arm from your grasp to lock your fingers together as he plunges into you.

“gonna let your uber driver fuck you and have you a dirty mess in his backseat, huh? little slutty thing just fucking anyone.” his filthy words are all it takes to have you clenching tightly around him mumbling incoherently as you cum. he groans at the way your pussy squeezes around him and grips him so tight.

“cum on me,” you whisper to him, head still full of pleasure but you know he’s close to his own.

“so nasty.” he groans, his hand still holding yours and the other still grips your thigh, bruising the supple flesh. you slip your hand between you pulling the condom off in one motion just as he releases, coating your messy cunt with hot white cum. “fuck.”

he slides his cock against your cunt smearing his cum and letting it mix with yours as you both catch your breath. you look down between your legs watching him grinding his cock against your clit seeing the mess you’d made.

“you’re such a freak.” he chuckles looking up at you, catching you staring.

“shut up,” you whine trying to cover your face again but he doesn’t let you. gripping your wrists and kissing you tenderly.

“we gotta divulge in your little kinks more often baby. you’re so filthy.” you want to look away because it feels like he’s staring through you.

“you’re still my uber driver, remember?” you tease him.

“oh sorry miss, we’re definitely going to have a late arrival.”

“hyuck,” you whine trying to push him away.

“you slipped with that earlier baby, so cute.” he teases again, reaching over to the glove box to grab some napkins.

“it’s hard not calling you that. you’re my hyuck,” you pout at him.

“i know and you’re my filthy slutty whorish girlfriend,” he grins mischievously, but still diligently cleaning you both up.

“and so are you.”

“i’m keeping the panties by the way.”

“like you haven’t already stolen 10 other pairs.” you roll your eyes playfully.

“it’s because i’m disgustingly obsessed with you.”

©️ tddyhyck

#haechan smut #haechan x you #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct 127 smut #haechan x y/n #haechan hard thoughts #haechan hard hours #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck smut

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glow-worms-are-believers · 6 months

Text

Always room for seconds (dp x dc)

"There they go again," says Aunt Alicia as she looks at the hazmat-clad backs of her sister and her husband jumping into their mish-mash-of-a-van. "And on Thanksgiving too," she finishes to herself as she turns toward her niece and nephew. Neither of them look surprised, though Jazz is clearly more affected if the tick in her jaw is any indication.

"They promised," she practically spits but Danny just sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder. It seems to draw the fight out of Jazz a bit and she sags onto herself.

Alicia loves her sister but she can be so irresponsible sometimes.

"Come on kids, let's go back inside. It's about time to put the turk-" she stops short, then groans. Maddie had insisted on bringing the turkey on account of not wanting Alicia to go to all the trouble, and Alicia had agreed on the condition that her sister wouldn't try to make it. "...And the turkey is still in the van isn't it?"

Danny makes a face. "It's probably for the best. I'm pretty sure I saw it move on the way here."

Alicia doesn't let her head fall into her hands, but only just. Instead, she takes a deep breath to calm herself down to rally her thoughts. "Alright. It'll be too late by the time we drive to town and buy a new raw one, so we can just get some already made from the store. That good for you guys?"

Jazz and Danny make sounds of assent before all three of them pile up in the car. Town isn't too far away, and the trip is mostly silent. Alicia is hesitating over what to say to cheer up her niece and nephew. In the end, they pull up to the grocery store before she manages to come up with anything.

"Dad was also supposed to bring desert," Jazz mentions as she grabs a caddie and wheels it back to them.

"I made apple pie just in case," Alicia answers. Despite her dislike for him, she can admit that Jack Fenton is a generous man. However, as she has learned over the years, that generosity doesn't extend to fudge. Which is why she's got her famous apple pie ready to pop into the oven.

Danny nods relieved, as he files in behind his sister. The three of them are rolling past the frozen section when a familiar voice cuts through the store music.

"Alicia?"

At that, Alicia looks up to see the face of one and only Martha Kent. Her lips stretch into a smile unconsciously at the sight.

"Martha, hi," she answers as the other woman starts walking closer. "How are you?"

"I'm good," the other woman says as she stops in front of them. "Just doing some last-minute shopping." Then Martha looks to Danny and Jazz and gives them a smile. "And who might these two be?"

"This is Jazz and Danny," Alicia introduces them, "my niece and nephew. They're spending Thanksgiving up at the cabin with me."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Martha says sincerely. "You left your sister and her husband in charge of the turkey, then?" She winks.

Alicia winces. "Ah, not exactly."

"They had a work emergency," Jazz says, unhappy.

Martha lets out a sympathetic oh.

"That's why we're here," Alicia explains. "They left with the turkey without realizing, so we'll have to settle for store-bought this year."

Martha makes a noise of sympathy before her face shifts into something more pensive. "You know," she starts. "I've got a big turkey at home and there's only going to be my son and me to eat it. If you guys would like, we'd love to have you over to help us with it."

"Oh we couldn't possibly-" Alicia starts to protest but Martha takes a step forward and takes her hands.

"You'd be doing us a favour," Martha says, her hands still into Alicia's as she looks up earnestly at the redhead. And damn it all because Alicia can feel a blush spreading on her cheeks at that.

"Alright," Alicia says, too flustered to argue.

Martha squeezes her hands once before letting go and Alicia can't help but miss the warmth of them. "Then it's settled."

"Alright," repeats Alicia. "We'll have to swing back home, though. I made pie."

"That's wonderful!" Martha's smile is radiant and it makes something in Alicia's chest warm.

She disguises it with a cough before speaking up. "Is six thirty too early for you?"

"It's perfect. We'll be waiting for you then," Martha says. "And for your sister and her husband too, if they manage to tear themselves away from work."

"That's not likely," mumbles Danny under his breath. Uncharacteristically, Jazz doesn't say anything about her brother's manners, only putting her own hand on his shoulder. Martha catches Alicia's eye and they exchange a look.

"Well, we'll be glad to have you three, anywho," Martha states firmly which gets her a hesitant smile from Jazz.

Alicia clears her throat. "We'd better get going if we want to be ready in time."

"Oh yes," Martha agrees. "I have to make sure the turkey's not burning." Then she winks, and for some reason, Alicia can feel that pesky blush coming back. It's made worse by the shrewd look Jazz gives her.

"See you soon!" says Martha as she leaves.

"Bye," Alicia answers back a little weakly. Then she looks down to the ground and sighs. When she straightens her head, she's immediately on guard as she catches her niece's smug look.

"What?" Alicia asks warily.

"Is Martha single?" Jazz asks, with a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth face.

"Yeah," the older redhead answers slowly. "Why?"

"Just wanted to know," Jazz says innocently. And even Danny is looking at his sister suspiciously now. "since you've got a crush on her and all."

"I do no-I don't know what you're talking about!" Alicia protests though she feels her cheeks warming for the third time today.

And now Danny is starting to smirk too as he exchanges a look with his sister. "Oh," he starts as he looks towards Martha's disappearing figure. "This is going to be fun."

#I know Alicia is supposed to live in Arkansas and not Kansas but let's pretend I can't read #Johnatan Kent is dead in this one (sorry Mr. Kent)#Jazz and Danny playing matchmaker for their aunt #Clark jumping in once he catches on to what they're doing #Alicia (dp) x Martha Kent #That is one ship I'd never thought I'd write #anyone has an idea for a name for this ship?#Alicia (dp)#martha kent #dc x dp #dp x dc #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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wttcsms · 1 year

Text

diesel is desire (we were playing with fire) ; sebastian sallow

pairing sebastian sallow x f!reader word count 4k synopsis sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief. content contains seventh year au, dubcon (under the influence of lust potion), darker take on seb's character lol <3, breeding kink, creampie, possessive!sebastian, possessive sex, virginity loss, babytrapping

“Why did you go out of your way to avoid me?”

An accusatory voice momentarily breaks you free from the overwhelming feelings you were struggling to deal with, but the voice is too familiar.

The source? Sebastian Sallow — a very disappointed Sebastian Sallow, which after two years of friendship (and the lingering what-if of becoming something more), you’re able to identify as a Sebastian that you would much rather not be dealing with. Particularly because, try as hard as he might, he’s rather prone to saying harsh things and treating you unkindly whenever he gets into one of his moods. The hurt expression on his face is barely concealed by the scowl that mars his otherwise handsome features.

Don’t think about how handsome he is!

Instead of replying to him, you’re quick to turn your head to the side, trying to focus on the curtain that separates your cot from the others in the infirmary. It’ll do no good to engage with Sebastian right now — not whenever the reason you’ve been compelled to check yourself in to the school nurse is purely because you’re not sure if you have enough self-control to stop yourself from literally ripping his robes off of him.

But it’s not like you can tell him all that. Lying would be preferable, if only Sebastian wasn’t so attuned to you and every single one of your tells. If you attempted lying to him, who knows what more damage you would cause? Then again, blatantly ignoring him also seems equally dangerous, especially with how quick to irritate he’s been lately. Ever since you witnessed him literally murdering his uncle, the relationship between the two of you has grown stronger — being practically partners in crime will do that to a friendship — but also more… volatile. The charming fifth-year you met on your first day of school still remains, but you have long since realized that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On the surface, he’s nothing but affable. Maybe a bit of a rebellious streak, but it’s all in good nature. In the beginning, it was fun being with him. Exciting, even. Then you started following him on the dark path he paved all by himself, and before you could realize that you were in too deep, it had already been too late to turn around. Now, the seventh-year boy standing by your cot seems so different from the one who lives on only in your memories.

“Don’t ignore me.” He means to make the words come out sharp, irritated. It resembles more of a plea than anything, and you shut your eyes, willing him to leave. It must be all in your head, but you swear you can smell the familiar scent of him: cool mint mixed with the light musk of whatever cologne he’s been favoring since the fifth year.

“Sebastian, I’m not feeling very well.” You mumble, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to leave you alone. It’s not a lie. You aren’t feeling great whatsoever. Not even the nurse, bless her heart, can figure out what’s become of you. She gave you a pitying look and an almost amused smile as she explained that — in her words — sexual urges are very normal for girls your age.

If your body wasn’t already overheating, you’re certain your cheeks would have instantly turned hot from sheer embarrassment.

“Well, why wouldn’t you tell me that instead of abandoning me the whole entire day?” Sebastian is many things with different people. With you, he is both guarded and vulnerable. Some days, when you’re not feeling your best, his emotions versus his actions can give you whiplash. He has the audacity to say something like that all the while, he sounds absolutely tortured over the fact that he had to go eight hours without your presence.

As if realizing the harshness of his attitude, he softens his tone as he asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

You had gone to the Great Hall before him because you needed to review your History of Magic notes before the test today. All you had was a bit of pumpkin juice and toast, and all had been well until you started feeling warm underneath your robes and sweater. As the heat began to travel through your body, you found it hard to concentrate on your notes. Not because of the heat, but because of the many thoughts swirling around in your head. Flashes of Sebastian that started innocently enough and quickly morphed into daydreams of him without his uniform. Sebastian with his hair messed up from the way your fingers tugged at the strands as he satiated his thirst with the juices flooding between your legs. Sebastian who would prioritize your pleasure over his and could make you cum multiple times before even thinking about getting his dick wet. Sebastian—

—who you share most of your classes with!

You knew right then and there that something had to be wrong with you. Sure, you’ve thought about him sometimes, but never to that degree. And certainly never at seven in the morning over breakfast and history notes.

That’s how you ended up lying in a cot in the infirmary, trying your hardest to ignore the intrusive thoughts of Sebastian fucking you ‘til you can’t walk anymore.

“No.” You practically moan out the word, and you’re hoping to play it off as just you being a baby about being “sick”.

You don’t expect him to turn your head so that you’re staring up at the ceiling, and you certainly don’t expect him to press the back of his hand against your forehead. His hands are cold, but surprisingly enough, it brings you some sort of relief from the fever that has seemingly overtaken your body. You bite back another moan.

“You’re burning up.” Gone is his attitude. Instead, it’s been replaced by your favorite Sebastian — the kind, caring one. The one that resembles the boy you first met. Sometimes, his care can be suffocating, but when you find yourself craving nothing but him and his touch, you don’t mind his invasion of your personal space at all. “Are there any other side effects? Does your throat hurt? Stomach? Tell me what’s the matter.”

You know how Sebastian must feel when it comes to people he cares about falling ill. His sister has only made him more paranoid about the severity of sickness and curses, and the concern and fear etched upon his face makes your hardened resolve of keeping the sordid details of your affliction to yourself melt away.

“Don’t laugh…” You warn him, but your voice seems so small and maybe even a little scared that his expression turns even more serious.

“Never.”

“I think… I think something happened to me. A charm…” You’re careful to dance around the word curse, lest Sebastian accidentally blows up the whole entire infirmary due to his emotional state. “I just feel very hot. And, um, I think the only relief would be to—”

You can’t even say it. You can barely even explain it since you don’t really know what’s happening either.

“I’mfeelingverysexuallyfrustratedandIhavenomeansofrelief!”

The two of you know that you’re never going to repeat that phrase ever again, and you’re practically near tears after that little confession.

“Oh.” He says, as if this is nothing more than a simple, casual conversation and not the most humiliating situation ever. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Be-because it’s embarrassing!” Has he really no shame? Who would willingly admit that out loud?

“You know, I’ve heard rumors of some sixth-years trying to pull pranks by spiking the juices with love potions. Just really gimmicky concoctions, truly. Nothing too severe. Hmm… You must have a sensitivity to it, though.” Sebastian’s musings do nothing to bring you reassurance. If anything, it just makes you want to hide. If the universe is truly kind, a sinkhole will emerge from nowhere and swallow you whole. Yes, that sounds lovely right now.

Instead, the universe is sick, because what else could explain Sebastian telling you,

“If it’s relief you need, I’d be happy to help.”

Sebastian is many things to you — a dear friend, a confidant, a literal partner in crime — but none of those things involve him having sex with you, even if the offer only came from some odd sense of duty.

And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He probably feels indebted to you since the fifth-year. Maybe even anxious, too. You could expose him at any given moment, and maybe that’s why he’s been so keen on attaching himself to your side ever since. This is a humiliating predicament to be in, and Sebastian doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell — considering that you don’t even know the names of girls he’s been with before is evidence.

Besides, you’re only feeling incredibly needy for one person. You can accept his offer, but you’re certainly not going to let him know the truth: that only he is the one who can help you.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” His cool hand is now cupping your face, thumb brushing against your cheekbone in an almost gentle manner. Sweet Sebastian is making an appearance, perhaps to try to put you at ease. You like this Sebastian. “Just let me take care of you.”

When the haze of lust clears from your sex-addled mind, the rush of consequences will burden and crush your very conscience.

Fortunatenly enough, consequences are clearly the last thing on your mind.

It would appear that the only thing you can truly focus on is Sebastian and what his idea of ‘taking care of you’ is.

The Sebastian staring greedily at you is an unfamiliar Sebastian. You’ve become accustomed to the many variations of himself: Angry Sebastian, who says the most vile things out of spite and usually misguided anger; Remorseful Sebastian, who is quick to grovel (he’s quite good at groveling, really) and wants nothing more than to be back in your good graces; Happy Sebastian, although there are variations upon this very variation — the trick to seeing whether he’s pseudo-happy or not is all in his smile (the fake one is eerily perfect, the real one is crooked and a rarity). This Sebastian, though…

Hungry.

The word doesn’t quite explain the dark glint in his eyes or the way his hands are almost reverently stroking your body. Your skin felt so, so hot just a few minutes ago — then again, just a few minutes ago, you still had your school jumper and blouse neatly intact. Now, you’re laid practically bare, prey to Sebastian’s more-than predatory gaze.

If the two of you weren’t such great friends, you might have had enough sense to be scared.

The only articles of clothing left to protect your dignity and shield you from his eyes are your skirt (which is already riding up to expose your thighs due to his wandering hands), your white cotton panties, and the matching bra.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, and you want to tell him you’re still feeling embarrassed, but his hands feel surprisingly nice on your skin, and you can’t help but hunger for more. Perhaps the look in his eyes, the one you couldn’t quite find a proper name for, is the same look you’re giving him.

“More.” You whimper out, not caring if you sound selfish or impatient. This is awful. The two of you should put a stop to… To whatever the hell this is! This is a horribly unbecoming, unsavory situation you are in, and if things progress like how you think they are going to (how you want them to), then you’re both dead once all the adults find out. Professor Weasley would probably force the two of you to be wedded within the next day of her finding out, not to mention that the headmaster would probably have the both of your heads on sticks.

But you don’t tell him to stop because your rational thought is slipping, much like your bra. You’re viewing everything almost as if in a trance, almost as if this is happening to someone else and not you. But it is very much you; it’s your nipples hardening after being exposed to the cool air of the infirmary. It’s your bra that Sebastian tosses to the side. He’s licking his lips, eyeing the expanse of skin that has been revealed to him. In ordinary circumstances, you’re certain you would make all attempts to cover yourself up and try to regain some sense of modesty.

In these circumstances, you practically arch your back and mewl out for more, more, more.

More touching. More skin-to-skin contact. More of Sebastian. You want him. All of him. Every part of him. You want his cock ramming into your cunt, you want his hands wrapped around your throat, his mouth spewing out words of filth right into your ear. Most importantly, even though all you can seemingly focus on is having him ravish you, you can’t help but to be greedy and dare to hunger for more. You want his secrets — all of them. You want to know the nightmares that plague him, and whether he’s full of regrets, just like you. You want to have a claim to his soul, just like how he already has a claim to yours. You want to know that when his heart beats, it is calling out for you.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He announces, like he’s waiting for you to protest. He’s not directly asking, but the question is still there, as is the warning. Can I kiss you? If you let me, there’s no going back.

“Please.” You whimper, completely and entirely at his mercy.

“Say it.” Sebastian swallows hard, almost as if he’s also nervous and too charged up with desire. His fingers are loosening his tie. He has already shrugged off his robes.

He doesn’t tell you want to say, but you already know what he wants to hear. The words have been resting on the tip of your tongue this whole entire time, anyway.

“I want you to— to kiss me, and more…” You look into his eyes. The lights in the infirmary make them appear a lighter color than usual. “I want more. I want you, Sebastian.”

The moment the last confession slips from your soft lips, Sebastian’s mouth descends upon your own. His body is angled awkwardly, trying not to crush you with his weight, but you can feel the heat emanating from him all the same, even despite the layers of his clothing that separates the two of you.

You think the world stops spinning when his lips slot against yours. He tastes like the pumpkin juice from this morning, sweet and refreshing. There’s a lingering taste of spearmint toothpaste. You want to keep kissing him forever. You want him to kiss you everywhere else. When breathing becomes a necessary thing, he stops. You frown. You didn’t want him to stop. Oxygen is overrated, anyway.

He lays a hand against the pillow you’re resting on, staring down at you, want clearly displayed on his visage; desire is etched onto every facial feature, and his eyes are gazing so intently into yours, you wonder if he’s a Legilimens.

“Promise me you won’t regret this. Swear that you truly do want this.”

He must not be a Legilimens, then. It’s so clear you’ve been in… It feels odd to admit it. Wrong, even. But it’s the truth—

—you’ve been in love with him since the fifth year.

You don’t keep someone’s secrets, their crimes, to yourself when you don’t love them. You let him perform Cruciatus on you, and you forgave him. No — you didn’t. Because you asked him to. There was nothing to forgive. You would endure it, over and over and over again, just for him, only him. And to think, you’re flooding your panties just at some simple fantasies of him, and he has the nerve to believe you don’t want this? Don’t want him?

“I promise. I swear it to you. I want this entirely.” And maybe liquid courage had been slipped into the juice you’ve consumed as well because you find yourself admitting, “I’ve always wanted to do this with you. If it… If it had to be done the first time around, I would always dream of you doing it to me.”

He stops breathing, just for a moment. Gapes at you, even.

“Y-you’re a virgin?”

You wonder if you’ve gone off and ruined the mood. You wonder if you should take it back, say you were just joking, but before you can, his lips are pressing against yours once again. This kiss is even hungrier than the last, and you’re not quite sure how that’s even possible. It’s almost as if he wants to devour you whole.

“Thank you.” He gasps out, so close to you that his breath tickles your nose. “Thank you for entrusting me with this, love. I promise I’ll make it good for you, just as you deserve.”

And suddenly Sebastian is just everywhere. His sweater is discarded on the floor, right next to your bra and his tie. His belt is unclasped; he hasn’t even bothered to remove it entirely, just displaced it enough to where he can unbutton his trousers, and he’s pulling it down — his pants, that is. And the briefs. He hasn’t entirely disposed of everything, just partially. Meticulous Sebastian Sallow who is now so far gone into lust and depravity that he cannot even handle wasting another second by removing himself entirely of his clothes. You have made a man into a beast.

But you see the way he’s eyeing you — all dark hair and sharp teeth. He flips your skirt up, exposing your damp panties to him, and he licks his lips again, and you realize — perhaps too late, or perhaps you’ve known all this time — that Sebastian has always been a bit of a beast. A wolf only coyly imitating domesticity.

“You’re so wet.” He brushes a finger against your cotton-covered folds, and you shiver.

Yes! Your body seems to cry out. More, more, more! Your back arches, keening, craving his touch. You’re soaking through the fabric, making it practically translucent. You’ve never been this wet before in your life. You’ve never wanted his touch more badly than you do now.

“For me.” He mutters, but in the silence of the infirmary, you hear him all too clearly. “Is this all for me, love? Have you been like this all day?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to form coherent sentences. Even if he’s not staring at your head, far too fixated at what’s between your legs, he hums his approval.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll make it all better.”

He’s kissing you. He’s got your panties only pulled to one side, and you think he’s muttering apologies against your saliva-coated lips. Something that sounds awfully like sorry, so sorry, but I can’t wait, and I don’t think you can, either. You barely catch a glimpse of his cock before you can feel the sharp heat of his length against your inner thigh. You would have thought that there would be some preparation, especially since this will be your first, but you’re thoroughly soaked. You’re aching for a sensation you have never felt before, but the animal inside of your brain is telling you, instinctually, to seek Sebastian out. That Sebastian will make it all better. That’s what he said he’ll do, and he’s kissing you, and he’s apologizing, and—

—and the world stops spinning.

No. There’s some slight resistance at first, your poor cunt protesting at the intrusion. A second later, and he’s slipping in half of his length with considerably more ease. A few inches more, and his hips are pressed against yours, and oh— Oh, it’s like you’re made for him. There is no resistance. There is no pain. There’s just you and him, and your body is welcoming him home. Where has he been? It seems to ask. Please don’t ever leave again.

“Fuuuuck.” He hisses it out, and his teeth are gritted, and he’s admiring you. His eyes flicker to your face, down to your breasts, down down down right to where the two of you are connected. The word comes out broken, and yet, drawn out. As if he’s struggling to speak.

Then he starts thrusting, and suddenly you realize that the world hasn’t ceased its spinning. No — now it’s moving entirely too fast. It must be off its axis. You feel otherworldly. You feel like this pleasure, this overwhelming, absolutely delicious pleasure, cannot simply exist on earth. It should be impossible. It should be impossible to find comfort and rapture in the way the tip of his cock seemingly kisses your cervix. You expect pain.

You only find mindnumbing, earth shattering pleasure.

You feel stretched beyond your limits. You hear his pants and his groans, and you’re moaning, too. Calling out his name, which is so silly, he’s right there, he’s right there. There, at that special spot, at the spot you’ve never been able to discover on your own. You now know why adults advise so heavily against these type of relations — it’s simply addicting. You don’t think you can stop; you don’t think you want to stop.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so good f’me. Such a good girl. My good girl, aren’t you?” He’s rambling. His thrusts are considerably sloppier, and you feel his thumb brush against your clit, and you arch your back some more, practically screaming out his name. The stimulation is too much — it’s not enough — and you will always crave him. “Tell me. Tell me that you’re mine.”

There’s something so, so addicting about his possession. About being treated like his possession.

“Yours. M’yours, Seb. All—” You can’t finish your sentence. The pleasure is becoming too much, and you’re too sensitive, and he’s doing this thing, this absolutely amazing thing, where he rubs circles on your clit in tandem with his harsh thrusts, and you’re cumming. You don’t ever want to come down.

He feels you cum, sees your juices drench his cock as he pulls out, only to push right back in, relishing in the feeling of your contracting walls. He leans down, biting on your neck, and you take a hand to grip his dark hair, still cumming, and now he is, too. Spurts of his cum are flooding into you, painting your walls, successfully staking his unrivaled claim on you. You have been compromised. If anyone were to find the two of you out, you would have no other choice but to take his hand, his ring, his family name, him. You would have to take it all.

Coming down from his high, he has enough kindness left in him to lick at the wound he’s left on your neck. Your eyes are fluttering close, the intensity of it all thoroughly exhausting you. You don’t know the thoughts swirling in his mind. You don’t sense the longing behind him stroking your stomach, wondering if the Felix Felicis — his bottled Liquid Luck he’s spent forever brewing — has done its job. It would surely be very lucky, indeed, if his seed takes this first time around.

Your breathing slows, and he feels your heartbeat even out. You’re exhausted, poor thing. Perhaps he had been too rough.

He’ll apologize, he decides, by doing something that’ll benefit the both of you. He ought to clean you up, get you tucked in, and when you wake, he’ll go down on you. He bets you taste so sweet, so innocent. He had known, of course, that he was your first — that he was always going to be your first. Your only.

He wonders if the effects of the lust potion will still linger in your system even after you wake up. Probably so — he did it brew it quite strongly.

But the adoration, the love, in your eyes is something no amount of skilled potioneering can create. No; your feelings for him are real. You just needed to lower your inhibitions to get to the confessional stage.

And now that you have confessed…

Sebastian Sallow can rest well after confirming what he’s known ever since he first laid eyes on you:

You’re his.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #one shot #lemon

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marzipanandminutiae · 2 years

Text

articles about the “wild new trend” of piercing from the late ‘50s and early ‘60s are fascinating to read. a selection of excerpts:

- one doctor cautioned that girls with pierced ears would be “required to constantly wear earrings to hide the holes in their heads” (or you could just not be weird about a tiny dot on someone else’s earlobe?)

- Genevieve Dariaux, then director of the Nina Ricci couture house, said in 1965 that “Pierced ears are unthinkable for an elegant woman, and even more dreadful for a young girl.” bear in mind that, as I’ve said, earrings that made your ears LOOK pierced were still common. what the difference was, nobody has yet made plain

- lots of evidence that going to a doctor was the preferred “safe” method for piercing at the time. but many doctors refused to do it, or said they would but that they strongly discouraged patients from having the procedure done. this checks out with my mother’s experience in 1965- her schoolmate’s anesthesiologist father did free piercing for all his daughter’s friends

- some teenagers around 1965 called clip and screwback earrings “chicken earrings” (implying that the wearers were too scared of pain to get their ears pierced, I think)

- one advice column, also from 1965, implied that pierced ears were just a passing fad. the previous several centuries of western history would like a word, Mx. Columnist...

- A GIRL WITH RESTRICTIVE PARENTS BRINGING UP THE ARGUMENT THAT HER GRANDMOTHER HAD PIERCED EARS. YES. FINALLY SOMEONE REALIZED THE LOGICAL FALLACIES HERE. the argument against that is, indeed, a sort of “that was the Bad Old Days and we know better now” deal as some other commenters have hypothesized

- one article mentions that the trend could be part of the Victorian revival that was just becoming popular in the mid-60s, which is a fascinating thought I’ve never considered before

- many doctors complaining that they were suddenly being called upon to pierce ears despite not really knowing how. this is interesting, because before the Great Ear-Piercing Taboo, jewelers offering piercing services were more like modern piercers than Claire’s employees (and doctors weren’t involved at all unless an infection set in). descriptions I’ve read of Victorian piercer-jewelers mention a lot of things we’re familiar with today- needles designed with a hollow for inserting the starter jewelry, for example, and even “freezing” solutions to numb the earlobe. so in those early resurgence days, going to a long-established jewelry store for your piercing might actually have been a better option than a doctor’s office

- two young women in a 1964 Canadian article (from Calgary) mention that they think screwback earrings look cheap and gaudy, and the pierced version is more conservative and tasteful, in an interesting reversal of mainstream thought

- a newspaper columnist saying pierced ears give him “the wim-wams,” so they are to be avoided. whatever the hell that means

- a LOT of people seem to think that ear piercing was popular in the Victorian era because wealthy women didn’t want to lose their expensive jewelry. sorry folks- my collection of Victorian costume earrings (all pierced) says otherwise

- much confusion as to why modern girls want to do something so old-fashioned

- one woman marvels at how comfortable it is to wear earrings in pierced ears, as opposed to clips and screwbacks. I feel infinitely blessed, as an earring-lover, to have been born when I could escape the scourge of ear-vises altogether

- apparently an eccentric elderly man on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia, literally bribed all the women of the community to pierce their ears because he liked the way it looked. one of them mentioned that she held out for $25- $244 CAD or $188 USD in today’s money. all because some rich Victwardian codger had a very specific fetish

- this absolutely incredible response of an Indian diplomat’s wife when asked, in New York, why she wore a diamond nose stud: “Because I feel [diamonds] become me more than rubies or emeralds.” QUEEN

- “when the fad changes, as it indubitably will-” are you certain of that, ma’am

#long post #ear piercing #fashion history #retro #vintage #dress history

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pix3lplays · 2 months

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I just thought of something really sad but at least it ends on a happy note.

Aventurine's partner leaving him after years of being together not so much because of his job but because they don't want to burden him.

This sucks the life out of Aventurine who immediately begs them to stay. Is it because of the gifts he gave them? He'll give them better gifts! Or is it their dates? No worries, he'll take them to better restaurants! He'll do better! Just, please, don't leave him. But it's too late, they're already out the door, much to his horror and grief.

In his desperation, he tries calling and texting them to no avail. As he sits in his office like a lifeless doll, he begins to laugh but it eventually turns into sobs. He doesn't even realize he's cried himself to sleep until he woke up from a dream where you're still with him.

Poor Aventurine couldn't eat anything without feeling nauseous and has to resort to consuming meal replacements. It's not healthy at all but what was he supposed to do? He's body rejects any food that isn't yours. His stress has increased yet he couldn't rest or sleep well without you.

As the days went by, he's just a mess; unkempt hair and wardrobe, red puffy eyes with dark bags, and he looked thinner. Then, one day, he ends up passing out. As his consciousness begins to fade, he swore he could hear your voice amongst the worried IPC members.

Aventurine wakes up in his room, dressed in his pajamas when he smells a familiar smell. He immediately gets out of bed and sprints towards the kitchen. There you were in an apron, cooking several of his favorite dishes. He felt his eyes get watery and his sniffles startled you and you spun around. Before you can ask him if he's alright, his arms are already around you. He begs for you to come back to him because he couldn't bare living another day without you or your presence. After sitting down and talking for hours, you two were able to rekindle your relationship.

That night, he slept with a full stomach and a happy feeling in his chest because you were back in his arms.

Oh my gosh, Aventurine-

But this immediately got me thinking about the other characters that would be completely destroyed if you left after being with him for so many years…

Spoilers for Sunday~

-If you had been with Argenti for a long time and you suddenly decided it would be better if you went your separate ways…yeah. I think that would really throw him off his balance.

You’re gone, you’re gone…you were his everything, his Angel, and you were gone now…what is he supposed to even do?? Pursuing beauty has such little meaning without you in his life. What’s the point of gazing upon beauty without someone to share it with?

It’d be so hard to see Argenti like that. He’s usually so…bright. So full of life. But now he’s lost his luster. Anyone who once knew him can tell something’s wrong. He used to be so happy, so interested in people, and spreading the name of Beauty and Idrila but now you’re gone so what’s the point?

He’s so uncharacteristically quiet now. You left your wedding ring on your pillow when you left, and now he carries it with him, in the small hope of one day returning it to you.

-Gallagher is a MESS. You couldn’t have anticipated how much it’d really hurt him to leave but…you had to. You couldn’t handle being alone anymore, always just…waiting for him to come home.

His life kinda falls apart. He becomes a little harsher in his security guard duties. He drinks more. He still has a picture of you in his wallet.

He misses you. Misses you so much. He’s your pathetic ex-husband who’s desperate to have you back. You get a lot of voice mails and text messages, but for some reason you don’t have the heart to just…block him.

Okay maybe a controversial take but I’ll say it…Sunday is EMOTIONAL. He’s already lost one person very important to him, and he had to act like it didn’t shake him up, and now you’re leaving him, too?

He doesn’t understand. Doesnt understand why you’re doing this to him. Doesn’t understand why you must disappear too…hasn’t he already given enough? Why must you do this to him?

You just couldn’t handle him anymore.

Maybe he’ll finally break. He disappears from the public eye long enough for people to notice. For people to ask questions.

And when he finally appears again, there’s no you in sight. Something is visibly wrong with him. He’s missing feathers from his pretty wings, the deep bags under his eyes are hard to ignore…Anyone can tell he’s just TRYING to hold it together, but he’s completely alone now…how okay can he be?

Even his little “I’m back and everything’s FINE” speech sounded incredibly wrong. He’s not fine.

He misses you, he misses Robin, and it doesn’t help that the Masked Fool is constantly shapeshifting into you just to mock him.

She loves making up all sorts of reasons for why you might’ve left.

Oh he was too mean to you…he didn’t give you enough attention…you found someone better than him…

He’s never wanted to hurt someone so badly before, but how could he raise his hand against someone who looks like you…?

He will try to continue to suffer in silence…but who knows how long that’ll last before he finally breaks.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #Hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader #Argenti #Argenti x reader #hsr Argenti x reader #honkai star rail Argenti x reader #Gallagher #Gallagher x reader #Hsr Gallagher x reader #honkai star rail Gallagher x reader #Sunday #Sunday x reader #Hsr Sunday x reader #honkai star rail Sunday x reader

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mattitties · 2 months

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Can you do one when you talked to a guy and he was flirting (at a party btw). So matt becomes rlly angry and the whole ride home u guys were fighting. When u arrived home you went upstairs changed into smth like rlly showy (as pj's) and it turned on matt. Then y'all took it to the bed. (I wrote you as in y/n)

based on this request ^^

possessive - matt sturniolo

SMUTTY AF!!! dom!matt and sub!reader. choking, tying up, degrading, the whole nine.

“Come onnnn, we’re gonna be late!” Matt groans from the kitchen.

“Sorry, coming!” I call back as I spray some perfume on before walking to meet him. “Ready!”

“Great, let’s go,” he huffs, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

We’re going to one of the fancy LA influencer events that the triplets get invited to, which I also get invited to by association. Chris and Nick had been hanging out with friends all day so we’re meeting them there, and I may have made us leave a little later than we planned on.

“You know how long it takes you to get ready, so you should start getting ready with enough time so we can actually leave on time,” he tells me after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “But we’re not thattttt late, and it’s a party! Nobody shows up on time.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “It’s fine,” he says. “You look beautiful anyway, so being late is worth it if I get to stare at you looking like this all night.”

I roll my eyes and smile. “You look pretty good too. Maybe we should just turn around and skip the whole thing and have a party by ourselves.”

“Oh don’t tempt me,” he smirks. “I don’t even wanna go to this thing anyway.”

“I know you don’t,” I pat his thigh for some comfort. “Let’s just spend like, an hour there, and if we wanna leave I can say I don’t feel good or something.”

When we arrive, he immediately grabs my hand without a word and makes a beeline towards Chris and Nick.

“Fucking finally!” Chris says, throwing his hands up. “We were placing bets on if you guys were gonna show face at all.”

“I made us late, but we’re here now!” I try to take the attention off of our lack of punctuality. “I’m gonna get a drink, you guys want anything?”

“Nick and I are good,” Chris holds his Pepsi can up.

“Matt?”

“I’m okay baby, thank you,” he smiles and gives me a quick peck before I head to the bar.

“Vodka cran, please,” I tell the bartender, then open Instagram to pass the time as he gets my drink.

“Vodka cran is your drink of choice, huh?” a voice next to me says. I look up and see a brunette with green eyes leaning next to me. He looks familiar and has an incredibly friendly smile. Probably an influencer, but I just can’t place him.

“Oh, yeah,” I smile. “Always has been. It disguises the vodka taste pretty well.”

“Yeah, I always just stick with beers. I can’t stand hard liquor, it’s awful.”

“Me too. I’m such a pussy when it comes to alcohol. If it’s too strong I just won’t drink it,” I tell him. The bartender puts my drink in front of me and I pull out my card to pay as I thank him, but am stopped by this man (whose name I do not know) as he pulls his own card out.

“Let me buy you this one,” he smiles and winks. He’s clearly flirting, and I obviously have no intention of doing anything, but why would I turn down a free drink?

“Wow, thank you!” I say. “That’s very nice, I appreciate it.”

“No worries. Do you wanna–”

“No, she doesn’t wanna. Thanks man,” he’s cut off by Matt, who had put his hand on my waist before I even realized he was behind me. I look up at his face. He looks pissed.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” the guy says. “Um… I already paid so… don’t worry about it… but…” he walks away awkwardly without finishing his sentence.

“Free drink! Score!” I smile at Matt and hold up my cup.

He doesn’t smile back. “Mhm.”

My face drops. Okay, clearly he doesn’t find the situation very amusing. “Matt, come on, I wasn’t gonna do anything. We had barely made any conversation before he offered to buy it for me.”

“He was clearly flirting with you. Why were you even entertaining him?” he asks.

“I wasn’t entertaining him! I said two sentences to him, got my drink, and he pulled out his card before I said anything else. What was I supposed to say, ‘no, don’t buy me a drink, I have a boyfriend’?”

“Yes!!!” he shouts before walking back to the booth Chris and Nick were sitting in.

I follow him, not sure if I should give up or try to prove myself more. I choose the latter.

“Okay, first of all don’t yell at me. Second, all he did was buy me a drink. It’s not like he tried to kiss me or anything, he was just being nice!” I retort.

“He was not just being nice,” he says as he sits back down. “Guys never buy girls drinks just to be nice. He was trying to get in your pants.”

“Okay, well so what? If he started doing anything weird or outwardly flirtatious I would have left the situation immediately. I don’t think it’s a crime to accept a free drink,” I tell him, sitting next to him.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “It’s not about the drink. It’s just about respect. You don’t accept a drink from a guy when you have a fucking boyfriend.”

I sit for a moment, thinking about my next words. I still don’t think I did anything wrong, but I don’t want to keep fighting, so I back down. “Okay,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at me blankly. “Do you know what you’re sorry for? Or are you just saying that?”

Damn, he knows me too well.

I don’t say anything.

“Yeah, exactly,” he scoffs. We both sit in awkward silence for a couple minutes, neither of us being in any mood to talk to people, until I bite the bullet and speak.

“Do you wanna go home?”

He rolls his eyes and gets up. I look at him, unsure of what he’s doing, until he says, “Are you just gonna sit there or are we gonna go?”

I follow him to the car, and we sit in even more awkward silence. I don’t want to piss him off even more, so I say nothing.

“You know, it’s not even about the drink anymore,” he starts. “It’s about the fact that you don’t even know what you did was wrong.”

“Because I don’t think it was wrong,” I say calmly. “I was never going to reciprocate any flirting or do anything to show I was interested. All I did was accept the drink.”

He grips the wheel in frustration as we pull into the garage. “Whatever. I’m done arguing about this. It’s just ridiculous that you can’t see where I’m coming from.”

“I can see where you’re coming from,” I tell him. “I just think you’re being a little too jealous and possessive for this situation.”

He looks at me as he turns the car off. “You wanna see possessive? Go inside and get on the bed.”

“What?” I ask. His whole demeanor just changed. He was pissed before, but now he’s like… primal. Talking through gritted teeth. His neck veins bulging. It’s kinda hot…

“Do you need me to repeat myself? Go inside. And get. On. The. Bed.”

Oh shit. He’s got some crazy animalistic thing going on. And I don’t know why, but I’m incredibly turned on. So I listen.

I get out of the car, go inside, and sit on his bed. He comes in shortly after, taking off his belt without breaking eye contact with me.

My heart is racing, but I keep staring at him.

“You have no idea how possessive I can be,” he tells me, leaning onto the bed with both hands on either side of me. Our faces are inches apart. “You may not know what you’re supposed to be sorry for, but you’re gonna apologize to me in the way I want. Got it?”

I nod, and he grabs my jaw. “Words.”

“Yes. Got it.”

He stands up and removes his shirt from the back of his collar with his tattooed arm, then leans back over me and slowly pushes me back onto the bed with his hand around my neck. “What do you have to say to me?” he says deeply.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper, debating on whether or not I should continue my sentence with the word I know will drive him crazy. I go for it anyway. “Daddy.”

His eyes darken and he kisses me harshly, not giving me any warning before his tongue slips into my mouth. I’m completely at his disposal, and I need more.

“You’re gonna show me how sorry you are, yeah?” he speaks into my mouth as he reaches into his now unzipped pants and his black briefs and pulls out his dick. I look down for just long enough to see how hard he is, as red as ever and making his hand wet as he rubs his tip. I know what he wants from me, and who am I to deny him of that? I usually would be a brat, but I guess I’ve been a brat enough for him tonight.

I sit up and softly take him in my hand, running my thumb over his slit and looking up at him through my eyelashes. He groans under his breath. “Come on baby, don’t tease.”

At that, I wrap my lips around him and begin to bob my head, swirling my tongue and licking up and down. He responds by taking my hair into a ponytail in his hand, looking down at me with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly open. “That’s it,” he moans. “Take daddy’s cock just like that.”

I push myself deeper and grip his thigh for support. His hips are bucking and he’s hitting the back of my throat. I’m fully expecting for him to cum in my mouth until he pulls out and flips me over onto my stomach without warning.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, and I immediately oblige, laying my wrists on top of each other near my lower back. He uses the belt that he was wearing earlier in the night to tie my hands together, then he lifts my hips up to meet his own and lets my dress fall forward so that my bottom half is accessible for him.

I whine as I feel his tip run over my soaked thong, and then wince as he gives me a harsh slap. “You were a bad girl tonight, you know that?” he says as he pulls my underwear off and tosses them.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “Please fuck me.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s clearly just as eager – he pushes into me quickly, giving me a few seconds to adjust before he begins thrusting hard.

“FUCK,” I shout as the mix of pain and pleasure washes over me.

“Mmmm, yeah baby?” he grips my hips and pounds into me, the sound of our skin slapping overtaking the whole room. “You like being punished?”

“Uh huh,” I’m incapable of saying anything else. My orgasm is already approaching and I push my head into the bed for some sense of control as I feel my body start to fall apart.

“That’s it princess, keep clenching around my cock like that,” he says, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper. He reaches his hand around my neck and lifts me up so my back is pressed against his chest; his mouth is right next to my ear, and it’s heavenly.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whimper.

He groans in response and chokes me tighter as I clench around him. “Fuckkkkk, that’s so good.” He repeats a string of curses, his dick twitching inside me before I feel him releasing and his thrusts get slower and softer.

We stay there for a moment regaining ourselves, then he undoes the belt on my wrists and pulls out of me. I collapse on the bed, too out of it to even notice him coming back with a wet towel to clean me up.

He lays next to me and kisses my temple.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. “I really am sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I was over it halfway through the drive home. Just fun to fuck the anger out, right?”

I smirk and nod my head. “So if I get another free drink from a guy, it’s fine?” I tease.

His face drops. “Don’t push it.”

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader

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yovrnewromantic · 2 months

Text

THE LINE—

pairings: steve harrington x henderson!reader

1 — part 2 coming soon…

words: 3.6k

Summary: You realize the line between love and hate is very thin as you babysit and monster hunt alongside Steve Harrington.

Leaning pathetically against your locker, you banged your head against the metal, tugging on the end of your cheerleading skirt that got caught in the door when you slammed it shut. It’s your fault really, you were so happy to get it open for once. Of course, it had to be too good to be true.

“Need some help with that?”

Your lips swerved into a smile at the familiar voice, leaning away from your locker to look at one of your favorite girls.

“Yes, Nancy. Please!” you pleaded, laughing as the girl stepped forward, easily opening your locker door, not even needing to ask the combination from the amount of times she’s had to open it.

Nancy Wheeler smiled smugly when your locker opened, releasing you and your skirt.

Nancy had been one of your best friends since you moved to Hawkins along with Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway. At twelve years old, you were anxious, but to your surprise, extremely charismatic. You found friends like wildflowers, something you loved, but Nancy was one of the best. She was like a rose, beautiful and smart, something that drew you to her in the first place.

“My savior! How could I ever repay you?” you joked, mocking a princess before laughing at your own joke, tugging your books tighter to your hip.

Nancy grimaced. “Well,” she started, and your brows furrowed, making you feel uneasy, “Firstly, by not being too mad…”

Nancy shoved a note in your face. You squinted reading the words that alert you that King fucking Steve was waiting for your best friend in the bathroom, wanting to make out. Gross.

“Ew,” you stated, playful smile turning into a pout. Your shoulders slumped, concern kicking in rather than disgust. “Harrington? Really, Nance? You could do so, so much better.”

To you, Steve Harrington was the worst person at Hawkins high. A real player who had absolutely no consideration for anyone’s feeling but his own and his stupid little posse. Generally a piece of shit.

“You owe me,” she mutters, shrugging her shoulder to try to rid her mind of what you were implying, what she had already been anxious about.

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” you say softly, trying not to hurt the poor girls feelings, but really you were just trying to help.

“And why’s that?” she asks, on the defensive.

You shake your head, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “He’s a bad idea,” you state simply. “He treats girls like shit and you know better to accept that.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know that he dumped Charlotte after he had sex with her,” you offered, looking at her with a raised brow. Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Well, that’s Charlotte. And I’m going to see him,” she announces, a little like she’s singing.

Sighing disappointedly, the bell rings in your ears. Great, you’re late.

You give Nancy a look already walking backwards towards your first period. “Make good decisions. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“You wouldn’t go out with him the first place!” she calls back, looking at you with a playful expression.

“Exactly.” You smile, finally turning around and heading to your class. When you fully turn, your smile disappears.

Something about Steve makes you anxious, fills your body with unease whenever you two make eye contact when your both at your lockers. You hate the way he smiles smugly at you. And you hate that he’s going after another one of your friends, the fear of her getting hurt makes your stomach ache.

This time, if he hurts her, you hurt him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

You were on your evening walk, frowning at the missing poster you see of Will Byers, your little brother’s best friend and Johnathan Byers, one of your best friends, brother. It’s a saddening sight, especially since the young boy’s funeral. Absolutely heartbreaking.

Frustration is throbbing through your body. You feel helpless, unable to find the boy despite having helped put up posters and searched through the woods countlessly.

You were also angry with yourself for allowing your brother out of the house when you heard the news, letting him and his friends set out in search for him themselves because your heart ached looking into your brother’s teary eyes as he begged you not to tell mom that you caught him sneaking out.

It was stupid, that you told him to keep his walking on him, stay with his friends, and to stay safe or you’d fucking kill him. You’re a shitty sister.

You were an idiot. An idiot people pleaser who never knew when to say no to her friends and family. It was stupid that when your empathetic heart feels their pain you resort to the worse stress reliever, and contradictory to your guilty conscience, violence.

“Harrington, you better get your ass down from that ladder right now!”

You saw him from a mile away, the words spray painted on the movie theatre that you would always take your brother and his friends. The only thing you could make out of it was that Steve fucking Harrington was caught defaminating one of your best friend’s names while vandalizing the cinema.

Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of you, the beautiful girl who ignored and criticized his every move. His ex-girlfriends best friend. His heart raced at your angry expression. His cheeks probably got a little red too.

“Henderson, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, sponge pausing its movement to look down at you. Steve had completely forgotten what it looked like had happened, oblivious to everything else around him, his entire focus on you. His fake innocence only made you angrier.

Ignoring his question, you fumed, “Get your ass down or I’m pushing you off this damn ladder!”

Steve’s eyes widened as he muttered curses under his breath, quickly climbing down from the ladder. You pretended that seeing his face bloody and bruised didn’t make your stomach ache.

“Jesus, what your pro—,” You shoved him, and he stumbled back, arms stretched out as his back hits the ladder, “blem!”

“You wrote this? You called Nancy a slut?!”

You pushed him again, and he stumbled again, still looking at you like you’re crazy. He caught your wrists when you went to push him again.

Your hands were held at his chest, pulling you into his chest despite how you try to plant your feet, to stay away from him. Steve still has an bizzare look on his face as he looks down at you, cheeks pink and he’s slightly out of breathe from how he scrambled to grab your wrists. Steve rapidly shakes his head, blurting, “What? No! No, I didn’t!”

You let out a scoff, nodding sarcastically as if you believed him. “So… you just cleaning it up? Bullshit,” you spit, and Steve looks almost hurt by your insinuation.

“Yes! “ He announced, running a hand through his hair when you tugged your wrists free. “I didn’t write this!”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him accusingly, like he was stupid. “Then who did, Harrington?”

“Tommy.”

“Oh, you’re best friend!” you exclaimed, “That totally makes so much of a difference.”

“No, Henderson, — I.” He groaned. He glanced around, breathing out of his mouth before he pinched his nose. “I should’ve stopped him, I know, but I’m cleaning this up now. I’m trying to fix it.”

“Because you got caught?”

“No! I just—,” he shook his head. “I’m not… friends with those assholes anymore. I just wanna help.”

Really? you thought to yourself. Your nose scrunched as you scanned him up and down for a second with repulsion. He’s not friends with Tommy and Carol anymore? That’s hard to believe.

Your interrogation seemed never ended, and you still had the urge to punch him in the face despite the cuts and bruises that stand prominent on his handsome face. You wet your lips, ignoring your natural concern and continuing. “Help? Help what?”

“I wanna apologize,” he said. “To Nance.”

“Really?” you deadpanned. Steve arms waved wildly before he poked to fingers into his forehead, closing his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is, King Steve,” you scoffed, before you let your thoughts slip into your words. You switch your footing, voice quieting ever so slightly when you ask, “What happened to your face?”

He paused.

“Byers,” Steve replied embarrassed, not even looking at you as your eyes widen.

“Really?” You sound surprised, and you are. The boy who’s been the nicest to you, one of your best friends ever since you’d gotten to town. Your babysitting buddy. The boy who’s brother was missing.

“Johnathan did that?” You ask. When he nods, you hum. “You deserved it.”

“I know.”

Humming, you look at Steve for a second, checking out his bloodied face and red knuckles. Next to his foot is the sponge he was using, it’s turning red and it looks like it’s decomposing from overuse. It makes you clear your throat when you catch his eyes again.

Quietly, almost whispering, you ask, “Do you love her?” You gulp, specifying, “Nancy?”

He sighed, and he looked at you for a good minute, clearly contemplating. Truth be told, he didn’t know. She was… different from his other girlfriend.

Steve would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t like you. He knew he did, since last year and you walked in wearing a pretty little sundress and gave him attitude when he offered to be your prince charming and open your locker. Maybe he liked Nancy a lot, but he didn’t know if you could love someone and stare at their best friend when their back was turned.

He swallowed, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

You don’t like him. You don’t like him. You don’t like him.

Steve’s word make you nod to yourself, ignoring the relief you feel that he’s not in love with her for Nancy’s sake. Clearly, Steve was a shitty teenage boy, and even worse boyfriend, but you believed in change.

“You really want to make things right?” you question, still trying to keep your guard up despite how you feel them crashing down around you. Goddammit, you hate Steve Harrington.

“Yes,” he groaned, meaningfully.

In your head, you were screaming. Blood curdling, a homicide victim type of screaming, and it’s so loud, so so freaking loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. Maybe, that’s why you make a dumb decision.

You shrug, already turning around to start walking. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?”

“To go see Nancy,” you scoffed, as if it was common knowledge. Impatiently, you said, “Come on, I don’t want to be seen with you.”

You trudged forward, once white sneakers thumping against the sidewalk. Behind you, you can hear Steve jog forward, eager to catch up with you.

It doesn’t take long, but the moment he’s beside you, words spill from his lips, quickly. “I— I have my car.”

Pausing in your step, you begrudgingly looked at Steve, quite relieved that you don’t have to walk all the way to Jonathan’s house. “Okay. Where?”

“Over here,” Steve says, almost out of breath as he points to his car. You head towards it without a second thought, harshly pulling on his passenger car door and glaring at him when it doesn’t open.

Steve looks at you strangely, kinda of afraid of you, and he puts his key in before opening the door for you. You don’t look at him, not even when he gets inside the driver seat and starts the car, too busy staring out the window.

“Do you, um, want any music?” Steve stutters, looking at you hesitantly. You roll your eyes.

“You not talking is enough for me,” you smile, sarcastically.

“Oh,” Steve deadpans, biting his lips at he turns away from you, ready to drive.

Great, now you feel bad. You offer, “What do you have?”

“Yeah— yeah, I have Beat It, some AC/DC, Uptown Girl—

“Uptown Girl, please,” you cut him off. Your casual manners make Steve blush. You don’t even notice that you said it, and it reminds Steve how good you are. You were solid good.

A good girl.

A nice girl.

And one who wants nothing to do with him.

Go figure.

Steve realizes how fucked up his mind is as his knuckles turn white on the stirring wheel. He starts to drive, listening to you hum while starring out the window, sometimes cutting yourself off to tell him directions to Jonathan’s house.

When he asked why there, you said that he had to apologize to Jonathan first. He listens to you for reasons he could not comprehend, because he found himself trusting you despite how much you must hate because he knows you.

In the hallways, he’d watched you tell freshmen directions, laugh on your way to class, help kids who would drop things. You’d barely notice the boys that trailed after you that you thought were only friends, and he’d watch you scold them whenever they were mean to some freak, or nerd, or geek, in the halls.

You were nice. The nicest girl at that damn school, and unbeknownst to you, The Queen Of Hawkins High.

He can’t keep his eyes off you, and he’s never felt guiltier. He let his friend call his girlfriend a slut while he was yearning to kiss her best friend on the way to apologize to her. There was something wrong with him. Steve shook his head, letting his eyes part from you and focus on the road.

The drive was slow, but the moment the car parked in the Byers’ driveway, you were quick to usher Steve out.

“Go,” you wave.

“What?” Steve’s heart races. “Right— right now?”

“When else?” you blink.

“Shouldn’t we rehearse something?”

You sigh, holding back a much needed eye roll. A fake smile props on your lips. “‘Jonathan, I’m sorry for fighting you in the middle of the street. That one’s on me,’” you say. “‘Oh, and I feel bad for smashing your camera to little bits. How about I buy you a new one with my daddy’s money?’” You drop your smile. “That good?”

“The camera wasn’t my fault,” he justified.

“I know, I was there. Still, that doesn’t make what you did right, so get out of the car and apologize,” you punctuated.

Steve mouth gaped. Then, he begrudgingly unbuckles his seat belt and grumbles under his breath, stepping out the vehicle. He slams the car door shut.

You snorted a laugh, sinking into Steve’s comfy car seats.

From where your sat, you have a clear viewing of the show. You’re not sure whether or not Jonathan will forgive him. Apart of you hopes he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

What did surprise you was watching Steve, under the warm yellow glow from the Byers house lights, pound on the door and then eventually force his way in.

Hastily, you trailed after him, leaves crunching under your quick feet.

“Steve!” you called once in the door way. “This wasn’t what we talked about…”

The words died in your throat as your eyes scattered across the room, the sight of Jonathan, a shit ton of weapons his living room table and Nancy with a gun pointed at Steve’s face had you had you bewildered.

“You two need to leave now!” Jonathan said, but you were more focused on Nancy’s count down, gun still pointed at Steve.

Before you could think, you were shoving yourself in between Steve, Jonathan, and the gun, hand raised in defense. The mass of Christmas lights around you flickered briskly with your final shout, “What is going on?”

Few words between Nancy and Jonathan end with Steve Harrington, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall into a bedroom as a venus-flytrap looking bear rips apart the ceiling.

“What the hell was that,” Steve yelled along with a variety of curses.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan shouted, synchronized.

You and Steve shared a feared look.

Pounds and gurgles erupt from the other side of the door until they suddenly stopped. In the silence, Nancy and Jonathan exit the room, Steve and you right behind them.

“Are you going to tell us what that was?” you rasped desperately.

Nancy’s reply was short. “A demogorgon.”

You recognized that name. “Like—,” you brows pinched together. “From DnD?”

“That’s what the boys said.”

“The boys,” you repeated. “Like Dustin, Lucas, and Mike? They know about this?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry but we don’t have time for the questions. It’s going to come back, and you two,” she gestures to you and Steve, “need to leave. Right now.”

Breathing heavy, and with the shake of your head, you said, “No.”

“Yes, go,” Nancy said, stepping closer. You were the same height, she couldn’t intimidate you, not even with a gun in her hand. You weren’t going to leave, especially because of the newfound fear of that thing going after your brother.

“Y/N,” Steve tried, eager for the door.

“No, you go,” you said to Steve then turned to Nancy, “I’m staying so either let me help kill it or I’ll stand here and be bait.”

“Fine,” Nancy said.

Jonathan threw you a lighter. “Throw this into the carpet when it’s here.”

Steve felt pathetic watching the three of you. He didn’t want to leave and be a coward, but he didn’t want to die either. One thought over powered the other and he sprinted to his car, but seeing rapid flickering lights, he forced himself back inside.

After swinging a crowbar at the demogorgon and watching it swallow it whole, you were sure you were going to die. You fell back, squeaking in despair as you did so. The demogorgon’s mouth widen, and you may have gotten a little teary eyed at the sight of Jonathan and Nancy on the floor, looking helpless as well.

But to your shock, Steve Harrington jumped in front of you, swinging a bat like he hadn’t quit baseball in seventh grade.

What happened next was blur, but you remember Steve Harrington forcing you to your feet and the sight of a demogorgon enveloped in flames.

—

With shallow breaths, you sat on the wooden porch in front of the Byers’ house, illuminated by a singular warm lantern, recollecting the previous events. Mind racing, you hardly notice the body next to yours.

Well, until, and hand landed on your shoulder. It’s large, much bigger than your own. Your eyes traced the arm up to its owner, seeing a bloody, concerned face staring back at you.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and your heart swelled the slightest bit at his worry. He had just almost killed himself and he was worried about you.

Your eyebrows twitched, the undying desire to hate him still present. “Yeah,” you choked, “I’m fine.”

Steve nodded. He retracted the hand off your shoulder slowly, which you were grateful for. Nancy and Johnathan’s dull chatter filled the void, the four of you too nerved to fully close the front door.

Clearing your throat, you said, not looking at him. “Thank you for — um — saving my life.”

When Steve spoke, you turned to him. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”

“No they wouldn’t have,” you said, entire body angling towards him. You kept your hands in your lap, tediously explaining, “They would’ve ran for the hills, like you should’ve, but you didn’t. So thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” he griped, but you shook your head with a scoff, readjusting yourself to look straight forward. You went silent again. Not far from you, you can hear the engine of a car, smell the toxic carbon monoxide polluting the air.

Steve Harrington saved your life. King Steve Harrington saved your life.

Laughing to yourself, you eyed Steve carefully. “I never would’ve taken you for a hero, Harrington.”

“Guess you were wrong,” Steve chuckled. His eyes shone particularly bright in the moonlight.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking to your lap, “maybe about a lot of things too.”

You hadn’t known why you said that. Steve’s lips parted at your words, a dumbfounded look forming on his face.

“Y/N!”

Immediately, your head whipped to the noise. Your eyes widened with recognition to the voice. “Dustin!” you shouted, voice echoing off the trees in question.

A car pulled up, and in the back windows you could see three smiling faces in the window.

Smiling. They’re okay, you told yourself. And free to yell.

“You boys are so lucky.” The words came out forced, a quiver in your voice at the pure relief you feel, rushing to the boys off the porch and watching the three of them exit the car safely. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed,” you snapped. “Why didn’t you told me?”

Only after you spoke did you notice their red rimmed eyes.

Your lips twitched into a frown. Swallowing back your own tears, you pulled Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into a hug. “I’m so glad you all are okay.”

Vaguely, blue and red flashing lights pull up onto the driveway of the Byers’ house. Police step out their car with questioning looks. It’s not long before one offers to take you and your brother home.

Glancing behind you, Steve Harrington’s eyes found yours swiftly, as if they had been trained to you this entire time. Hesitantly, you raised your hand, not very high, but just visibly for him to see. You gave Steve a small wave.

He smiled at you, and you were sure that it hurt.

been meaning to write a steve fic for a while. he’s so boyfriend and i’m a huge hopelessly pining/enemies to lovers girly

not my best, probably will rewrite in the future

#yovrnewromantic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #steve #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things #billy hargove x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #henderson!reader #dustin henderson #dustin henderson x reader #dustin henderson x sister!reader #king steve #king steve harrington #cheerleader

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theminecraftbee · 7 months

Text

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards.#the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused.#really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me.#there could not be. a more me fic.#anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here?#out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

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