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winterarmyy · 10 months

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Welcome home... Soldat? | Part I

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 2.9k++

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, dubious con on groping reader's body, dark(?) possessive behaviour, google translated russian, our soldat is kinda cute(?) in his own twisted way, and well, basically fluffy times with the soldat.

P/S: Guys, I never planned this at all. I mean, who am I kidding? All of my fics are not planned and I clearly write things out of impulse. Therefore, this one don't have much of a story building/plot because it was born out of one scene that flashed in my head and has been replayed way to many times that I need to let it out. Anyway, I still hope you enjoy it, somehow.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't know when exactly she started this habit but she swore to herself to never grow out of it.

It's been nearly 2 years since the fall of Hydra and the avenger has accepted the winter soldier under their wing. Begrudgingly by Tony, but the rest of them seemed like they're not against it.

Y/N used to be an agent from SHIELD but since the fall, she had been recruited under the avenger's programme and had been living in the tower since.

She remembered the day when Bucky first came in, he was quiet and weary all the time. Like an abandoned cat, picked up by a stranger to come to their home. And it took the whole team months before he slowly adapted.

Who knew he would morphed into a sassy, grumpy little shit, right?

Since the first day, Y/N had been making an effort to make him feel welcomed. Helped him to adjust to modern times. Though it was not regular but she's glad he came to her from time to time to ask about things.

Y/N only meant it to be casual when she greeted him back from his missions. Usually, it'll be something like,

"Oh you're back?"

"How's the team?"

"Good to see you well put together from such horrendous mission."

"God, you look like you fell from 5 flight of stairs."

"Are you even trying to fight back, Bucky?"

But one time, Bucky came back in the morning around breakfast, she wasn't feeling sassy or clever. So, instead of greeting him with playful remarks, in the glory of her messy bed hair and iron man pyjamas, she greeted him with a sleepy smile, "Welcome home, Bucky."

And that surely made the 6 foot, bulky hunk of a soldier paralysed in his spot. His ocean blues slightly widen, and his cheeks deepen in blush.

For a moment, he wondered if this is how he would feel if he had a wife waiting for him to come back from war back in the 40's. But, then again nothing can be compared to the sight he was seeing as he is now.

And Y/N didn't want to ever lose that memory of him.

Cute and flustered Bucky is a very rare sight to see. Perhaps, this was the only time she could witness it and she want to cherish it for the rest of her life.

Though Bucky never replied to Y/N's greeting, it didn't stop them from starting a whole new routine.

Y/N always knew that she had a thing for the sargent, but about 2 months from that moment, Y/N realized she was in love.

And she waited for him, every single chance she had for arrival of the team to come back. Just like she is now, at 03:45 in the morning, while scavenging for something sweet she can eat as she waits for Bucky's return.

When, she turned around she was not expecting to have her face into clashed into something, "Oww!" Y/N shuts her eyes close as she rubbed her aching nose to ease the sharp strike of pain.

For a moment there, she seriously thought she might have just bumped into some kind of a solid air that appeared out of nowhere, but when she opened her eyes, it was just Bucky who was standing rather ominously still.

"My god, you scared the shit out of me. I know you used to be an assassin but, you gotta announce yourself sometimes, man." She joked. Although she did find it impressive that he managed to silently sneak up on her with those thick, heavy combat boots he was wearing.

"Woah, someone's been having a field day kicking your ass, huh?" Y/N's eyes lingered a little longer on the wounds at the side of his temple that she didn't notice the void in his eyes.

"Anyway..." she continued as she shook of the thoughts of caressing the cut on the corner of Bucky's lip, before greeting him with a gentle smile, "Welcome home."

Bucky's unresponsiveness was nothing new to her. With the amount of silent glares and gruff eye-rolls that he had shot at her these past few months, she's used to it by now.

But, when she finally had the guts to look him in the eye, only then she noticed the underlying shift. Albeit, his signature frown was still as present as ever but, those eyes had made her questioned of the slight difference from what she recognized.

Bucky wordlessly step forward and cornered her until her back meets the side of the kitchen isle. He took his time assessing her, almost admiring the way her iris wavered in confusion.

Something is wrong.

Her guts were screaming at her to notice it but her body wasn't reacting accordingly. That's when the voice of the AI, Jarvis echoed through the walls.

"Emergency alert: Code Winter. Initiated by Captain Steve Rogers. All agent is advised..." The announcement went on based on protocol while the cogs in Y/N's brain finally moved, "Code Winter? That means..."

"...to be cautious of Sargent James Barnes; reprimand on sight however try not to engage alone. Agents is..." Jarvis voice in the background interwoven with Y/N's internal deduction, "...This is not Bucky?"

As she tried to put her own mind into perspective, trying to make herself believe that this man in front of her is not Bucky Barnes who she had been adoring over for these past few months, the soldat's hands reached the side of her neck, squeezing the softness of her flesh while his thumbs grazed the shape of her jawline.

His heavy gaze remained on hers, willing her to stay as still possible.

"Bucky...?" She called his name in hopes of triggering something, anything for within his controlled mind.

At end of the corridor leading towards the kitchen, Steve could see how the soldat had already gotten his hands on Y/N and panic strike him like lightning, he sprinted towards her as he despretely shouted, "Y/N! Stay away from--"

But Y/N was not able to render anything she heard from Steve, especially after a long silence, the soldat finally spoke, "Yes, I'm home..."

He carefully pulled her face closer to his as his lips planted on her soft cheek, "...мое cолнышко (my sunshine)" he lifted for a second just to kiss her again on her temple as he whispered lowly, "...мое Родная (my darling)"

Y/N's heart was beating madly for several different reasons. Parts of her was terrified that the soldat might break her neck within an instance, but it gradually changes into something much more confusing, a conflicted joy, when he keep on trailing his lips all over her face.

What is happening?

Both her and Steve was practically frozen in pure confusion.

Steve's mouth hanged open as words failed to form, while Y/N was unable to comprehend any sort of thoughts, let alone counter movements; when the soldat continue to whisper Russian endearments against her skin, littering sweet kisses on every part of her face, except for her lips as if he wanted to tease her.

His hands slowly travel down her back and stopped on the side of her waist, pulling her body closer until there was no space in between them anymore, before he wrapped his arms around her.

The drag of his stubble on her skin burned but it felt so good when he kissed it after.

Seconds later, Sam managed to catch up with Steve and his cautious approach fell as he witnessed the soldat's rather domestic actions towards Y/N.

Sam foolishly let his guard down as he approached with a question directed to Steve, "Is the tin man back?" That was when a bullet barely grazed the tip of his ear that then buried through the wall behind him.

Both Steve and Sam forced to stop any sort of movement as the soldat's aim was still locked towards their direction; his cold blue eyes pierced with a menacing warning, all the while posessively holding Y/N in his arms as his kisses trailed the side of her neck.

"Nope, not yet." Sam answered his own question as he waited for Steve's order.

Y/N felt like she have to do something to de-escalate the situation. After a quick deduction, and based on the soldat attitude towards her, she took the risk of believing that he would not do anything to hurt her, so she decided to play along.

Will it work though?

Well, she got to have to try for it work.

She gulped nervously before softly calls for him, "Soldat?" she looked up towards him.

When the soldat gave her his attention, she watched the loose strand of his hair fall down to his face. Her hand went up and reached for it, "How about we go back to your room and let me tend these wounds, hmm?" She cooed while tucking his behind his ear and briefly caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers.

The soldat didn't reply but instead silently process her proposition.

However, the hesitation only worried her more, so she continued to persuade, as she cautiously slide her hand, following his arm that was holding her teammates at gun point, "It'll be just the two of us. How's that sound?" She smiled warmly at him as she managed to lower it enough to grab the gun away from his grasp.

There was a glint of indecipherable emotion in his eyes when she mentioned that, which then he nodded in agreement.

"Okay then, let's go." She put the gun on the kitchen isle behind her and replaced her hand in his, pulling him towards his bedroom. The soldat did not protest to her lead, in fact her followed her obediently.

But before Y/N makes an exit, she looked back towards Steve and mouthed a reassuring message, "I got this."

The captain had all the rights to be weary but at this point, he just had to believe in Y/N's action plan. He nodded and replied, "Be safe. We'll be outside."

Along the walk towards Bucky's room, all she could think was that she can handle it and she got this under control.

But, does she?

Well, Y/N did have it under control, in terms of keeping the soldat from going on a berserk rampage but what she didn't think through was how the fuck she should handle his behaviour towards her.

After they arrived to Bucky's room, she had instructed him to strip off his tactical suit and leave him sitting at the edge of the bed, only in his short to avoid him reaching for any hidden weapons he had, all the while she went to grab the first aid from his bathroom.

Now that she almost done tending the small injuries on his face, it finally dawned to her that the soldat had her immobilized in between his legs as his hands rubbed the back of her thighs, occasionally squeezing the softness of her body in his tender grip.

His intent gaze waited patiently for her to finish and as soon as she did, he pulled her on his lap, making her to straddle on top him as he smushed his face on her chest, "Oh, Родная (darling)... I have missed you."

Her hands found her balance on his shoulders while the soldat roaming hands held her body still by the back of her waist.

It will be a lie if she said her heart didn't skipped when he confessed; even if it was still the soldat's thoughts and words but it was Bucky's voice.

The soldat pulled his other hand to play with the buttons of her pyjamas shirt, specifically around her chest area.

Part of him wanted to just rip her clothes off from her body but another part of him didn't want to. He didn't want scare her; and his precious little darling deserved to be pampered.

He had her buttons popped off; one by one, slow and almost sensual while Y/N was still in a heated debate with herself on what she should to next. She wanted the soldat to stop but god the temptation of wanting more was beyond her will power.

This is not Bucky.

She knew that. But, she had been bewitched by the look in those familiar blue eyes. So enthralled and so keen to unwrap her.

Y/N let out a low yet sharp gasp as her chest was finally revealed, "Soldat, what..." The soldat take a quick glance into her eyes, "...are you doing?" before trailing back down to the curve of her breasts, cupped so beautifully with a simple black bra.

His hands went back to grabbed her thighs as he replied, "Just wanna hold you." He leaned closer and left a lingering kiss in between her breasts, mumbling deep, " Wanna feel you, мое Родная (my darling)"

Fuck, it feels so good.

"Wanna feel you..." Y/N's grip on his bare shoulder tightened as he lips warmed the top of her right breast, "...here." An unexpected moan slipped out of her lips as the soldat latched his wet mouth on her skin, bruising it with his mark.

He groaned to the taste of her, so sweet and soft, he wanted to pull the bra off her and suckle on her nipple. He bet that they're perky and so sensitive. Bet he could make her cum just by playing with them.

He wanted to leave his bite mark around them, make them look much more prettier. But, he needed to be patient.

He brought his left hand up to hold the other side of her chest; pulling another pretty noise as the cold metal of his thumb gently stroked the exposed skin of her breast.

"Wanna feel you..." His flesh hand made its way lower and cupped her clothed sex, unexpectedly making her grind down to his hold, "...here."

She couldn't help to find shelter in the crook of his neck when he began to stroke her sensually.

This is getting out of hand.

Y/N doesn't mind to entertain him if the soldat only asked for him to hold her but it was clear that he wanted so much more than just innocent touches. Especially when he languidly rubbed his middle finger in between the slit of her pussy.

She hates how easy it was for Bucky's touch turned her on, his hands and his lips; regardless if his actions was someone else's.

This is wrong.

This has to stop.

"No... soldat." She whimpered in his ears as his finger drew slow circles on her clit, his mouth latched on her shoulder.

"I can't touch you here?" He murmured softly as he pressed harder. Even with the barrier of the cotton panties, she was so sensitive to his touch; he loves that about her.

"N-no. You can't." She choked back a moan as she replied.

God, what if he doesn't care?

What if he'll get mad and force it on her?

She can't imagine the guilt Bucky had to experience if the soldat take her right now. And all because her stupid little brain cannot comprehend a plan to stop him, all because she let the soldat touch her as freely, as willingly.

Salty tears started to blur her vision when she sniffled them back.

Much to his deperateness, the soldat pulled her away and watched as her tears spilled out, "Oh darling, don't cry." He leaned in and kiss the corners of her eyes, murmuring his words of comfort, "I hate to see you cry, мое cолнышко (my sunshine)." His metal hand slithered to her back and his palm stroked her lovingly.

"Okay, okay. I won't touch your sweet princess part, okay?" He patted her pussy one last time before reaching to swipe her tears away. "I promise." He whispered.

As much as he wanted to fuck her stupid, fill her hole full with his load; however the soldat does hold her very dear to his heart and hates to see her sad.

"Just let me hold you close, darling?" He cooed as he kissed the edge of her lips.

Y/N didn't know why but she trusted his words. Maybe it was because he was so gentle with her, that she was tricked into believing him.

She watched the soldat waited patiently for her response and when she nodded softly, he swiftly lifted her in his arms and lay her down on the bed.

He tucked himself in under the sheets with her and naturally rested his face on her chest. His fleshed arms wrapped securely around her waist and his metal one around her thighs, as he pulled her closer; almost suffocating himself in between her warm breasts.

It was like an instinct for Y/N to encircle her arms around his neck while her hands run through the thick of his hair, absentmindedly playing with the softness of it.

She almost giggle when the soldat let out a deep-throated sound of relieved sighs as she continued to massage his scalp.

As the soldat started to sail deeper into dreamland, Y/N thought that maybe this will be the only and the last time she had the chance to hold Bucky like this and she knew it was wrong to feel grateful to the soldat because had done nothing but terrible, despicable things in the past.

But when she thought about it, none of those sins was his choice to make. He was created to kill and nothing else.

But what if he had something to hold on to?

A hope to look forward to?

A person to protect?

Or a home to go back to?

Would he still be the same monster he had been before?

She have not a slightest clue.

But, what she does know that this soldat who's clinging in her arms, deserves something kind.

And she hoped that she managed to give him a sense of peace for once in his life.

Y/N nuzzled to the side of his tired-looking face and placed a sweet kiss on his temple as she whispered ever-so-softly, "Welcome home, soldat."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This is possibly part 1? I'm not sure either. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! And reblogs is much appreciated!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier × reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier!bucky #bucky fluff

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toxicanonymity · 2 months

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it's hard (stepdad one shot)

3k words, stepdad!joel x f!reader

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” He whispers. “What?” You ask. He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember.

SUMMARY: You're at their house xmas wk. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, angst, pining, fluff, possessive!joel, sneaking around, outercourse, unsafe p in v, mess of cum. reader can sit on him. Mood board is for mood. A/N: Title is an album by The Who.

It’s Christmas week, only a few days after your first time with Joel, and you’re staying at their house. You show up later than you said you would, and Joel has already asked where you are. The truth is, you're nervous. You’re not sure you want to have sex in their house, and you’re also not sure you can resist. It’s too mortifying to think about getting caught. There are plenty of other places you can do it–your apartment, a motel, a car. You’re trying to be smart and slow down.

When you show up, your mom’s car isn’t there. Joel is in the kitchen wearing his standard gray joggers, a tight white tee, and socks with coconuts on them. No shoes. He lights up when you walk in. "Hey," you mutter and he replies in kind as you close the door behind you. You survey the living room where there’s a pillow and blankets on the sofa, and you pity him for a moment.

“Oh,” he goes over to the christmas tree and plugs in the multicolor lights. “Merry Christmas week.” You stand there with your bags, not really sure what you’re doing, or feeling. He approaches you cautiously.

You look at each other for a few seconds until you're both comfortable that the other still feels the same way.

“I'll take those,” Joel finally offers. As he takes the bag off your shoulder, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you,” he mumbles. His shirt rides up as he slings the bag over his shoulder and you follow him upstairs. He glances back and teases, “Caught ya lookin’.”

Once you make it to your bedroom you ask, “where's mom?”

“Grabbin’ dinner. Guess we’ll eat when she's back.” He puts the bags down on your bed and steps toward you. You don’t step away. He gently pulls you into a hug. You inhale his scent as his arms wrap around you.

The embrace lingers, and you can't ignore the warmth of his mostly-soft package pressing against you.

You begin to whisper, “I don't think we should. . .” trailing off when you realize you're not sure where to draw the line. Every second in his arms, you're less and less sure.

“Okay,” Joel murmurs. He kisses you on the cheek–slower, more tender than his initial greeting. “Whatever you want,” he adds. He presses his lips into your cheek again, and they linger for a moment before he drags them away.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, then pull away, cheeks burning as his arms reluctantly loosen and his hands slide down, skimming your sides as you step back.

“I'm gonna unpack,” you mutter, glancing at your luggage, cheeks warm.

“Yeah,” Joel scratches one side of his beard. “Okay.”

One day at a time. Have some self-control. You pull yourself away.

He nods, looks down, and turns around to leave. His back is sooo broad. You want to reach out and run your hand over his muscles, but you know you wouldn't stop there.

You lock the door behind him and hope it isn't too offensive. As soon as he’s out, you exhale. You lay down on your bed. You open your nightstand drawer and your heart flutters at a box with a bow on it, and your name in his handwriting. Under it, there's a new pack of batteries.

You wonder if he's about to jerk off, but you don't wait to find out. You close your eyes and imagine him coming back through the door, unable to resist.

—-------------

Your Mom comes home with Thai food and the three of you sit down to dinner together. Your mom makes small talk while Joel makes a mess of the pad thai trying to serve himself. Noodles are dragging behind, tethering the pile on his plate to the main container. Your mom bristles at this in her peripheral vision.

“So,” your Mom puts on her best interested face and asks you,“Swipe right on anyone lately?”

Joel scoffs silently.

“Not many,” you answer. Every time she talks to you, your heart races like you’re about to walk into a trap. This is your own doing, and you know it.

“How many guys are on there, anyway?”

“A lot.”

“Can I see?”

It doesn’t even occur to you to say no.

You open tinder and slide your phone over. “Just swipe left.”

Joel’s chewing slows down as he stares at the dating app open on your phone. Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t used it at all this week. You would’ve deleted it if you thought about it, but you’re so used to ignoring the notifications. You look at Joel apologetically as your Mom keeps swiping left.

Joel’s nostrils flare, and his breaths become faster. He swallows and doesn’t take another bite. He taps his chopsticks on his plate.

“Oh,” your Mom addresses you. “You know who’s single?” She looks up from your phone. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at her with his brow furrowed.

“Harold, down the street.”

“What the hell would she want with Harold?” Joel snaps.

Your mom chuckles. “What’s wrong with Harold?”

Her phone rings. Joel puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands behind his chair to stretch his back. As soon as your Mom stands up from the table, he leans forward and takes your phone.

“What’s this about?” he asks flatly. It’s still open to tinder. His jaw clenches. He looks into your messages. At least he can see you haven’t sent any.

“I forgot I even had it,” you explain.

He goes to the home screen. “Good, you won’t mind.” He holds down the app and presses uninstall.

“What else ya got?” he starts scrolling your apps.

He goes on instagram and opens a picture of you in a mildly low cut dress. He deletes it and opens another picture. His breathing is still agitated.

“Hey,” you reach for your phone. “What the hell?” You take it from his hand. “Are you gonna act even crazier now?”

His brow furrows and he stares at the table, then meets your eyes and swallows. “I dunno.” His face softens as he looks at you.

Then he gets pensive and asks, “What do you think of Harold?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think about Harold at all.” You pocket your phone and get up from the table.

“Wait, where ya goin’?”

“Meeting a friend for coffee.”

He’s rubbing his beard like he’s trying not to say anything, but he blurts out, “What friend?”

“Emma. . . Jesus.”

On your way out of the neighborhood, you pass Harold’s house. It feels like every time you drive by in the daylight, he's struggling to bring some kind of delivery inside - Amazon boxes, or even donuts and iced coffee. Tonight he's sitting at his kitchen table alone, wrapping a present.

—--

When you’re at the cafe with Emma, Joel texts you, Sorry.

It’s ok, you reply.

It's a struggle not to tell Emma what's going on, but you don't. You tell her you’re seeing someone but don't want to jinx it by saying too much.

When you get home, he’s in the kitchen casually leaning with his butt and hands against the counter. “How ‘bout some egg nog?”

“No thanks,” you tell him, but you linger.

“We good?” he asks, quieter. You nod as you take off your jacket, then put it in the coat closet.

When you turn around, he’s right in your space. His eyes are red and his hair is messier than earlier, giving you a rush of desire.

“Sorry,” he repeats and reaches for your head.

You don’t pull away.

He cradles the back of your head as he hugs you loosely. You let your hands lightly skim his hips, then wrap around him. It would be a harmless hug in a different family. Until he pulls his head back, then rubs his nose against yours. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nostrils filling with his aftershave. Then a toilet flushes in the background, and you break apart.

“I’m going to read,” you mumble. His fingertips skim your ass as you walk away.

—-------------

You’re lying in bed later, still reading, when Joel sends you a snapchat. The notification makes you tingle, but when you open it, it’s not him. It’s the TV downstairs with the title card of Krampus. You get out of bed and pad over to your mom's room. You crack the door open, and she's passed out.

You go downstairs.

Joel is lying on his side on the sofa. You and he are wearing the same pajamas you got for Christmas last year. The Christmas tree casts the room in a dim, cozy light.

He welcomes you under his arm. Just a little cuddling, you lie to yourself.

Without much hesitation, you settle in as a small spoon so you're both facing the tv. He runs his hand up and down your side before dangling his arm over your waist. The bulge in his pants is barely grazing you, until you push your ass back and he inhales sharply, then cups your breast, using his forearm across your torso to bring you closer. His nose nudges your neck and you can feel him inhaling your scent. His warm package nudges your ass. It's the first time you've felt him soft, like really felt him. It's still quite a bulge.

He's not soft for long. Soon he’s lightly grinding against you, hard and getting harder as the movie quietly plays. His hand leaves your breast, skimming down your soft pajama top to its bottom hem. His fingers creep under the shirt and when they hit your bare skin, the shock of arousal has you thinking very stupid thoughts. Like, maybe you should ride him on this couch, come what may. You stop his hand from going any further up your shirt.

His arm relaxes in defeat.

You gently take his hand out from under your shirt and bring it near your breast, where it was. Instead, he covers your hand with his and interlaces his fingers. His thumb brushes yours at a slow rhythm, and the butterflies in your chest nearly make you forget what you're trying to resist until his cock twitches against you.

He takes his hand back only for a moment to adjust himself, then his hand returns to yours. His arm wraps tighter over you. Against your back, his chest expands with each breath. The rhythmic stroke of his thumb lulls you half-asleep.

“Can I tell ya somethin?” He whispers.

“What?” You ask.

He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches back to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember.

“I wanna do this every night,” he says.

Your heart flutters. You turn on your side to face him.

“I mean it,” his eyes are somber. He lays his hand on your side. He takes in a shaky breath. “I'm miserable without you.”

“I'm right here.”

He shakes his head. “I need all of you.”

You look at each other for a few seconds in the light of the Christmas tree. There's not much to say.

“Me too,” you whisper. His nose twitches and he shakes his head like you don't get it.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is. . .I’d ruin my life for you, if it wouldn't ruin yours, too.”

You read each other's eyes for a long moment.

“What life,” you whisper.

His eyes brighten. “That's how I feel.” His gaze falls to your lips. “We’ll get a new one.”

You want to kiss him, but don't want to end up naked. First you warn, “I don't wanna take off any-”

He cuts you off with his lips. They’re soft and needy. Then his hand runs down your side, over your ass, and his fingers dig into your flannel-clad thigh. You hike your knee up and wrap your leg around him. The hard shape in his pants presses right against your most sensitive place. “Mm,” you moan softly into his mouth.

You’re throbbing for him. So turned on. His tongue slides against yours and he feeds on your mouth as he grinds against you. His dick is fat and hard and warm.

As you move against each other, pangs of pleasure dart to your nipples, your ass, your chest. He's so hard. Your body flutters on the edge of bliss but stays there. He grabs the plush of your ass, pulling you harder against him. You break the kiss with a gasp, and he latches onto your neck.

With a push of his hips, he moans into your neck then whispers, “can't wait to be inside you again.” you throb and gush at the thought. He grinds against you a little harder, needier, but just as slow. “Fuck, you feel good.” He rolls over on his back, bringing you on top of him. Then he sits up and lifts your knees so your legs wrap around him and you hang onto his neck.

“God I wanna fuck you like this,” he whispers, holding you against him. His cock swells harder. You're throbbing madly. You card your fingers into his hair and he groans at your fingertips on his scalp. His strong arm holds you against him with his hips lifting under you.

“Me too,” you whisper, your legs pulling yourself closer, harder. You groan softly. “Want you inside me—fuck, just like this.”

“Can ya feel it,” he asks, “ohhh–cause I still feel it–god–every time I close my eyes.” He moans as his stiff manhood twitches against you. Your clit pulses and you gasp. He covers your mouth with a kiss as you come. Everything else fades away. His lips break away with a shudder as he explodes against you through the soft flannel, pulsing hard. Your chest flutters at the feeling.

When you're both done, he lets you back onto the sofa, and resumes his position on his side. He pulls you back against him with a sigh. You're pleasantly surprised that you don't feel a bigger mess against your back.

“Shit,” he mutters after a minute.

“What?”

“‘s’not your problem.”

“Say it.” You roll on your back to look at him.

His cheeks flush. “M’not empty.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Not your problem,” he repeats, but you’re already pulling down your waistband. Yeah, it’s. . .not a problem at all.

You turn on your side again, facing the tv. You reach back into his pants, and your breath hitches at the mess of cum enrobing his slowly softening dick.

“Do it,” you whisper, and tilt your hips for him.

He quickly notches his cum smeared dick at your entrance, no longer fully hard, but hard enough. He presses on your mound as he plunges into you, dividing your insides with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes. Your chest feels light as your body makes space for him.

You close your eyes as he further stiffens, growing inside you, pressing against your walls. His hand slides up your top. He gropes your breast as he retreats, then bottoms out again. Within a few strokes, he’s as stiff as ever, and you’re as full as ever.

He pauses, fully seated inside you, throbbing. He covers you both with a blanket. You're relieved there's another one beneath you. He breathes against your ear as his hand meanders under your top again. “Inside?”

“Yeah,” You nod.

“Where it should be,” he pants. He moans as he slowly fucks you.

“Want it all,” you beg, getting closer and closer with the tight drag of him within you.

He adjusts his position, sliding his arm under your neck so he can grope you with both hands, hugging you tight against him.

"'s'all I think about," he whispers. "Ungghhh---when I wake up---ohh--when I go to sleep."

He moans softly and his hands feel you greedily, "whenever you're ready."

“Fuck,” you whisper. He buries himself in you slow and deep. His breath is hot on your neck. You push back on him, swallowing every inch he’ll feed your drooling cunt. He buries his mouth and nose against your head. The Christmas lights are blurry in the corner of your eye.

“Feel so perfect,” he pants. He rubs your clit and you still his hand. He withdraws part way and pauses with his tip nudging just the right spot. He just barely rocks his hips, staying right there, rubbing over it, not letting up.

You gasp and tighten with tension, then sigh as you gush on him.

“Yeah,” he pants, presses your mound for leverage, and bottoms out as you choke his cock.

He sighs and begins to pulse with even more power than you remember. A huge burst of warmth, followed by a smaller twitch, another massive burst, a slow thrust. It keeps coming, and so do you. His breaths are heavy against you, his stomach flexing into your back as he empties his load. You're overflowing with cum. Your climax wanes, and he's still pulsing even once he's dry.

It finally stops, and he rests inside.

You catch your breath, and the smell of sex hangs so heavy in the air that dread bubbles in your chest. You pull yourself forward, letting his cock fall out.

“Shit,” you mutter at the mess between your legs. You pull your pants up. He squeezes your hip affectionately as you sit up.

He sits up on his elbow and tucks away his worn out cock. He takes a deep breath and searches your eyes.

You don't know what to say. You reach back to feel the blanket – soaked. “This is. . .we can’t do this again.”

He whispers your name, sits up and rests one hand on your back, one on your thigh. His chest is heaving like he's waking up from a nightmare. “What happened,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Here. We can't do this here.”

He sighs and swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“You know how to use the washer, right?”

“Yeah. I've got it. Of course.”

You take off your pajama bottoms.

“You okay ?” He asks.

You nod. You yearn to lay with him, but you’re also compelled to leave that room.

You read his face and the worry on it makes your heart hurt.

“It's okay,” you whisper, then kiss him good night. It's a long, soft kiss, and he doesn't want to let you go. “It’s okay, I promise,” you assure him.

You creep up the stairs pantsless. The air is cool on the cum between your thighs until more warmth trickles out.

You clean up in your bathroom and hear the washer turn on downstairs. You can't get his pitiful look out of your head. You send him a chat when you get back in bed: Good night ❤️.

Sweet dreams ❤️🤟, he replies.

—---

----

Thank you for reading!

PSA - The main story to stepdad is over, and I don't commit to another arc of them, but the AU is still open for one shots, asks, HCs, whatever I get inspired on. Basically I want it to be more casual without expectations.

There will be another post this month, because I already wrote the smut.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @nervousmumbling

#stepdad!joel #stepdad!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#tw stepcest

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roosterforme · 4 days

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley asks you for your number, you can't believe he wants to spend his phone call on you. Even though you're nervous about asking, you realize you need answers to some of your questions. The promise of getting to hear your voice is enough to get Bradley through the week, but is he going to be enough for you?

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being sexy

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

When you woke up for work and checked your phone, there was a new email waiting for you from Bradley, and you couldn't decide what to do about it. As soon as you'd hit send on that selfie of you in bed, you felt like an idiot. Was he expecting something more than a random picture of you after you'd removed your makeup for the day? Was he going to eventually give up responding at all when he realized that one date with you was ultimately just a waste of his time on his stop back in San Diego?

But he had written back yet again, and you were nervous to see what he had on his mind. You dropped your phone into your purse, making a deal with yourself: you could read his response once you were at work. That would give you enough time to process your thoughts on the matter. You were being silly for wanting more and expecting more with every interaction. This man owed you nothing. You were probably in over your head with the mutual daydreaming and flirtation.

What were you going to do when it was easy for him to say that talking to you had been fun, but he needed to get back to his real life? What were you going to do when you weren't able to do the same?

Once you were settled at your desk looking at your Natural History notes in those last few minutes of solitude before your eighteen students arrived for the day, you let yourself indulge in Bradley's words.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

"Oh my god." You forced yourself to read it slower the second time around. He was thinking about you in his bed! He wanted your phone number! "What are you doing to me?" you groaned.

He wanted to call you. This man wanted to use his phone call allowance on you. He wanted to let you hear his deep, raspy voice over the phone while he spoke sentences that were tailor made for you. He expected you to be able to respond to him in real time? You were embarrassed to admit that it often took you hours or days to figure out how to reply to one of his emails after he set the butterflies off in your belly.

You did not know what you should do here, but you knew exactly what you were going to do. It was going to be impossible to pull yourself back out of this mess when the time came.

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

Before Bradley got a response to his email asking for your phone number, he got a box from your class. He could certainly get used to waiting in line when the mail arrived to find himself smiling with satisfaction instead of feeling disappointment. When he got back to his bunk and opened it, he rooted through all of the drawings of F/A-18s in search of the note from you. He smiled at the more businesslike greeting, knowing how many personal topics you and he had covered through email.

Dear Lt Bradshaw,

It seems as though we can't get enough of you. We're back, hoping for a little more of your time. Here's a batch of drawings for you to judge in any manner you see fit, but please be kind... I drew one of them.

Whether it's a handwritten note or an email, I'm looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Just looking at your tidy penmanship had Bradley antsy to check his email again. He had put himself out there as far as he could at the moment when he asked you for your phone number, but now he was nervous as hell. What was he supposed to do if you told him no? He'd already planned out not only a first date but a second date as well. He could wait you out. Unless you outright shut him down, he would take his time, making sure you were comfortable.

Upon inspection of the Super Hornet drawings, it was easy enough to determine which one was yours. It was clearly crafted with a steadier hand than the others, and even the block printing on the side of the aircraft where you'd written 'BRADLEY ROOSTER BRADSHAW' looked like your penmanship. He looked through the other ones, quickly making the assumption that the one with flames and dragon scales had been drawn by Oliver. The one with purple outlining was most likely from Violet. Something was telling him the one with a dog piloting the jet was drawn by Jayden.

He smiled at how connected to these kids he felt, but ultimately he tossed everything back into the box and started heading for the lounge. If you had responded to him with your phone number, he could get himself on the call schedule. His heart was racing, and his skin felt too warm as he logged into his email account. He had three new messages.

"Come on," he groaned when he was met with two names above yours in his inbox. Nat and Vanessa. He almost forgot about the fucking water bottle.

He tapped on the email from his best friend first.

Rooster, I need you to make better choices regarding your girlfriends, okay? I took care of it, but it wasn't pretty. Her pink monstrosity of a water bottle was in your kitchen cabinet, and then she tried to have a conversation with me. Sorry, but I called her a flaming bitch who never appreciated my best friend and said she needed to leave your house before I made her. Everything is locked up tight again to keep the rats out. When you get home, there's a new restaurant you can treat me to on Rendova Road. -Nat

He smiled as he tapped on the email from Vanessa which was exactly one sentence long.

I got my water bottle from your house.

"God bless Natasha Trace," he muttered, deleting Vanessa's email. Then he went ahead and deleted every email he had ever received from her. He shouldn't have been surprised that you and he had already exchanged more emails than he ever had with a woman he'd dated for several months. It didn't take long before they were all gone, and then he was left with the newest one you'd sent to him last night sitting at the top of his inbox.

"Here we go," he whispered, wiping his palm nervously on his pants before opening up your message to see what you had to say in response to his bold request for your phone number.

Bradley,

I read your last email an embarrassing number of times, trying to be sure I understood it properly. You want to use your phone call allotment on ME? And you were thinking about ME snuggled up in your bed? There's no possible way you could sound like an idiot. Not with that voice that I think about when I'm trying to fall asleep at night.

You know what, I don't even care if I misinterpreted something. Of course I'll let you have my phone number. Of course I'll let you call me.

Your giddy pen pal

Right there below your parting words was your full phone number complete with San Diego area code. Bradley smiled as he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the shelves behind him and wrote it down. He double and triple checked that he had it correct, knowing his next mission would be to get approved for a specific time slot and hope it wasn't going to be at a horrible time of day for you in California. Then he wrote back to your email.

Gorgeous,

You shouldn't sound so surprised. This thing we've got going on isn't open to interpretation on my end. I told you I have a thing for you. I believed you when you said you were interested in getting to know me. There's nobody else I'd rather spend my twenty minute phone call on than you. In fact, you're the only one.

I already memorized your number. I'll email you back when I know which day I can call you and at what time. I can't wait to hear your voice saying my name.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

He logged out and did some quick math to take into account the difference between time zones, and then he was all smiles as he signed up for the opportunity to finally talk to you in real time.

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

You read his email again as the hours slowly ticked away on Saturday afternoon. Your friends were asking why you kept checking your phone while you were out to dinner. Well, they would be doing the same thing if Bradley Bradshaw was in their email inboxes sounding sweeter than any man had the right to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

How does 10:00 on Saturday night sound to you? I know it's a little late, but I didn't want to potentially interfere with your work week. And I don't know if I can wait until next week anyway. I'm feeling greedy right now when it comes to you. I can't wait to make a fool of myself on the phone.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

When you let him know in the calmest fashion you could muster that Saturday night was just fine for a phone call, he wrote back one additional sentence.

Talk to you then, Gorgeous Girl.

You received that email on Friday morning, and in an effort to seem less desperate for this man than you were, you didn't write back. It was better to let his anticipation grow to match your own. But once you'd parted ways with your friends and headed home for the night, your nerves settled in. You were going to have to ask Bradley where he lived, and that would be that. You'd know all the facts soon enough, and that would pretty much become the determining factor on how long the two of you could really keep this up.

It was almost time. You made sure your phone was fully charged, and you had your ringtone volume turned way up. Barring some sort of disaster, your phone should be ringing in exactly fifteen minutes.

"Chill out," you whispered as you walked a few laps around your apartment in your favorite underwear and an oversized sweatshirt. At 9:56 you paused in your bedroom doorway, convinced Bradley wasn't even going to call. And at 10:02, you sat on the edge of your bed with your phone in your hand, wondering how you managed to get yourself in this deep.

He was in the Navy. Things ran on precision. It was 10:04, and your phone was sitting there on your palm like a dead brick. "It's okay," you told yourself. "Maybe he'll still call." For a few minutes, you thought that being hopeful was the way to go. Perhaps he dialed the wrong number the first time and was just regrouping. Or perhaps not.

At 10:11, you set your phone on your nightstand and walked out into your living room without it. That was when you realized that the lighter-than-air tingling sensation you'd been enjoying all day was gone, replaced with something uncomfortable.

"Don't even think about crying," you whispered as you pulled the hem of your sweatshirt a little further down your legs. You'd normally be drinking a cup of tea and getting settled in to try to go to sleep. A few months ago, you might have even been scrolling through a dating app right now. But you didn't want to do either of those things when you'd essentially been promised something as exciting as Bradley Bradshaw's voice for twenty minutes straight. "Fuck."

Just as you dragged your toe along the kitchen tile, trying to decide what to do now, you heard your ringtone. The clock on your microwave told you it was 10:16 as you turned and ran for your bedroom. Your fingers were shaking as you snatched up your phone and read RESTRICTED CALLER on the screen. You weren't sure what you'd been expecting, but it had to be him.

You took a deep breath and sank down onto the floor with your back against the side of your bed, and without any further hesitation, you answered the call as your heart hammered hard in your chest.

"Bradley?"

There was just a short pause, and it sounded like he was smiling when he said, "Hey, Gorgeous."

The lighter-than-air tingling sensation was back as soon as you heard him say two whole words, and you slid slowly down until you were laying on your back on the floor like a boneless mess. "Hi," you sighed, pressing your free hand to your belly to try to calm the butterflies.

You heard him clear his throat softly before he said, "I'm really sorry I'm late calling you. I've been waiting for this all damn weekend." There was an edge to his voice that gave you goosebumps on your legs, and you smiled before you immediately frowned.

"Does this mean we only have four minutes to talk instead of twenty?" you asked him.

"No, I made sure of that," he replied in his deep rasp. "I even got a little bitchy with the guy before me who wouldn't end his call on time. I told him the most gorgeous teacher from Mira Mesa Elementary was waiting for me to call and that I'd be lucky if she still wanted to talk to me now."

You couldn't help but laugh as the tingling sensation made its way to your fingers and toes. "You didn't tell him that!"

"I swear I did," he insisted, his voice on the verge of laughter. "He sends his apologies." He cleared his throat once more before he asked, "Any chance you could say my name again?"

You thought you detected some nervous energy in his voice which was somehow the most flattering thing you'd ever encountered. You closed your eyes and licked your lips, picturing his handsome face as you said, "Bradley."

Now his voice was as breathless as you knew yours was. "Yeah. I really like the way that sounds."

"Bradley," you repeated with a laugh as you rolled up into a little ball on your side with your phone held to your ear.

"Hey, if you want to just say my name for the next eighteen minutes, I'm not going to complain. I was dying to hear your voice, and now I just want more of it."

You had to press your lips together to keep from making an embarrassing sound, but you did manage to say, "Yeah, that's not really going to work for me, Lieutenant Bradshaw. I'm going to need some back and forth, especially with how much I like your voice. And your face."

He groaned softly, and now you really did make an embarrassing noise before you could clap your free hand over your mouth. "My face is nothing special, Gorgeous," he said. "Yours on the other hand... that's the kind of thing that could get a guy through a long deployment."

You whimpered, and you were sure he could hear it. But you weren't even as embarrassed as you were needy for more. You wanted to know everything about him, and twenty minutes wasn't going to be enough to satisfy you when it came to Bradley. "Let's just say you've had my full attention for months now. And the photos you sent are enough to get a girl through a long school year. Will you tell me how you got your scars?" you asked him. It was something you'd been curious about since the first photo he sent where you could see his face. The one of him standing tall and sexy in front of his jet.

"Oh, hell," he laughed, his voice taking on a self deprecating tone. "I knew I shouldn't have sent that sunset selfie. I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be able to see them in the photos or the video. I have a lot."

You scrambled to your knees and then your feet. The last thing you'd meant to do was make him feel badly about himself. "They just make you look hotter," you blurted out. "I've thought about kissing them."

"Shit," he grunted. "Baby, I'll tell you anything you want to know. My social security number? My bank account information?" You laughed and had to bite down on your knuckle as he said, "I got my scars when I was a sophomore at the University of Virginia. Just typical nineteen year old guy bullshit. I was riding my bike back from a party late, and I skipped the curb. Just a lot of stitches."

"Oh," you gasped.

"It's okay," he said quickly. "More superficial than anything. I didn't even miss any of my classes. This is just why I don't usually send selfies like that. But you're already an exception, aren't you?"

He was so sweet, you were afraid the butterflies would never stop. But now you were picturing him going back to a beautiful house in Virginia, and it just made you sad. You paced the length of your room as you said, "I'd still really like to see your face in person."

"That's a done deal, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip, already knowing how you were going to react, but you just needed to have all the facts. "I know we could probably meet for a date or two while you're on leave in San Diego, but what happens after that?"

There was a brief pause before he asked, "What do you mean?"

You tipped your head back and looked at your ceiling as you finally said, "I don't even know where you live or where you're stationed. All I know is that if you're returning to Virginia or somewhere else far away... I'm going to have to brace myself for it."

But when you heard his next sentence, you let yourself drop down onto your bed with a smile on your face. "Gorgeous Girl, I live in San Diego."

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

This was going well. Bradley's whole body was thrumming with anticipation, and your voice was already embedded in his mind. As soon as you mentioned just the thought of your lips on his scarred cheek, he had to stand up for a minute. And when you brought up meeting him when his deployment ended, he was afraid his heart rate might never return to normal.

"I'd still really like to see your face in person," you told him, and all he could think about was Thai food on the beach and kissing your lips.

"That's a done deal, Gorgeous," he replied, satisfied in knowing for sure that it was going to happen now, but your follow up question left him confused.

"I know we could probably meet for a date or two while you're on leave in San Diego, but what happens after that?"

After that? He sat back down in his seat and thought about what would happen after a date or two. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands and lips off you, but somehow he didn't think that's what you were talking about. "What do you mean?"

Your voice took on a softer, maybe sadder quality as you told him, "I don't even know where you live or where you're stationed. All I know is that if you're returning to Virginia or somewhere else far away... I'm going to have to brace myself for it."

He froze. He hadn't told you where he lived? Had he really never mentioned it once in all the times he wrote out the address to your school in Mira Mesa? His heart was beating erratically now as he pieced together the fact that he was making all of these plans while you were trying to protect yourself, but you kept emailing him and sending him letters anyway. You were showing that you had genuine interest in him while afraid he was going to leave you high and dry after one date? Hell no. Oh, he was falling hard.

"Gorgeous Girl, I live in San Diego."

Your little surprised gasp had him holding his breath. "You do?" you whispered.

"I do," he promised. "Shit, I can't believe I never mentioned it. My house is in Coronado, near the beach in the photo you sent me where you look more flawless than the sunset. I'm so sorry I got so carried away with our emails that I never put it together that you didn't know I'm stationed out of North Island."

You were quiet for a beat, and he wanted to crawl through the phone and reassure you that he had never meant to stress you out. "You live in Coronado?" you asked.

"Yeah, Gorgeous. About thirty minutes away from your school. I mean, there's always traffic, so maybe forty minutes," he told you nervously. "I hope that's not too far for you to deal with?"

"That's nothing, Bradley," you said with a sigh. "That's... absolutely not too far. I thought you potentially lived thousands of miles away, and I was trying to figure out what to do about my feelings. I was so scared to ask you sooner."

Vanessa wouldn't even drive the extra ten minutes to the restaurant he liked, meanwhile you were putting yourself out there for him. He cleared his throat and said, "I already have our first date planned out."

"Tell me. In an abundance of detail."

Bradley's skin tingled with desire as he divulged his daydreams. "I'll drive up and pick you up at your place. You already gave me permission to hold your hand, so that's happening on the ride back to the beach. There's a good Thai place not too far from the bay bridge where we'll stop to pick up dinner. Then when we get to the beach, you'll be surprised and charmed that I packed blankets and a cooler full of beer and a bottle of prosecco. And we can sit on the beach, talking and eating while the sun sets, unless you'd rather sit in the back of my vintage Bronco. And then, when the sky is just starting to turn purple, I'm going to kiss you."

The beat of silence was satisfying before you asked, "You're going to wait until after dinner to do that?" He could practically hear your pout which made him get to his feet again. He only had five more minutes with you right now, and he was going to have to make this count.

"You want me to kiss you before that?" he asked, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the counter as your soft laughter met his ears.

"I want you to kiss me as soon as you see me."

"Fuck," he panted. "Then consider that a done deal too, Gorgeous."

"Oh, I like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, watching time slip through his fingers. "You feel more confident now that you know where I live?"

"Yes," you replied softly.

"Good." He closed his eyes as he said, "We only have a little more time right now, Baby. Anything else you want from me?"

You squeaked softly. "Will you email me a gym selfie or two? With a nice closeup of your face?"

He couldn't get over you and the way you made him feel. "Yeah. I'll hit the gym tomorrow for you."

You hummed softly, and he sat down in his chair again, raking his fingers through his hair. God, he felt like a mixed up mess over you after this conversation. Your voice was so fucking sweet as you asked him, "Anything you want from me?"

His plentiful thoughts ranged the full spectrum from innocent to decidedly not as he tugged on his hair and tried to keep himself in check. "Yeah, actually," he said, gravel filling his voice. "You know that inactive dating profile you mentioned before?"

"Yes."

"You should delete the app. There's nothing I know about you that I don't like, and I feel like that trend is going to continue. If you feel the same way, then you don't need the app, Gorgeous."

After a brief pause, your beautiful voice told him, "Okay, Bradley. I'll delete it."

"Fucking aces," he said with a smile. "Where are you right now?"

You laughed softly as he realized he had less than a minute left on this call. "Curled up in my bed with the biggest smile on my face."

"Send me a selfie?"

"Consider it done, Lieutenant. It'll be there when you check your email next."

He leaned back in his chair. There was still so much he wanted to tell you and ask about, but it would have to wait. "Listen, I need to go. But I'm going to work on writing back to your class this week. And I'll get the selfies for you, too. I'll see you in our inboxes?"

That soft laughter was right there again, and he felt like his skin was on fire as you said, "I'll take you any way I can get you, Bradley."

You could have him as many ways as you wanted him. "I can't wait to get back to San Diego."

"I'll be ready when you do."

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

I'm sweating. He's too much. He's too powerful. Bradley Bradshaw, get home and get your girl some Thai food! Also, Natasha is the friend of the year for taking out the trash. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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674 notes · View notes

fairysluna · 4 months

Note

"look what you do to me" with ye olde cregan I BEG

worthy of you.

Cregan thinks his little brother is not worthy of a woman like you, which is why he takes the opportunity to show you that he is the one for you.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader / (Side) Masc!OC x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — smut (f!oral sex, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, OC is a terrible man, older!cregan, widower!cregan, age gap (early 20s and early 30s). If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — first of all, a big thank you to my gorgeous @bucknastysbabe for being my beta reader and helping me edit this, ily!! i got a bit inspired by this plot and it's longer than i expected💀

Thank you Bel for sending this request because i loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy it!!🤍

WORD COUNT — 4.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

How cruel were the gods when they put you in his brother's arms instead of the ones you craved the most.

The first time that Lord Stark laid his eyes upon you, he felt the air leaving his lungs, and his voice being caged inside his throat. His eyes immediately widened at the beautiful sight of you, bewitched by the way you so politely greeted him, and mesmerized by the way you uttered his name. Cregan was in awe, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut and the quickened pace of his heart as he smelled the sweet scent of vanilla coming from your hair. He wondered if you were some kind of nymph, effortlessly enchanting him with a single glance.

After the loss of his wife, few were the women who managed to catch his eye. A couple of balls were made, and they all resulted in the same thing; a group of ladies following him around, showering him with shallow compliments and words that he did not wish to hear.

How lucky he felt when he saw you walking in with your father, Lord Reed, into the ballroom, and how miserable he left that night after learning you were betrothed to his young brother; Edrik, a careless young man who —according to Lord Stark— is not worthy of you. At all. He's ruthless, the opposite of a chivalrous man. Cregan knows that while you were waiting for him for dinner, he's fucking some whores in brothels and paying with gold that he would steal from Cregan's chambers. He despised him. He was ashamed of him, and his behaviour towards you. You were a lady, a delicate and sweet girl who could have found someone better.

Someone like himself, he would think.

At that moment, while you were nervously chewing your nails sitting at the small table of your chambers as you drank tea, Cregan was out there searching for his younger brother, and trying to force him back to the Winterfell castle. That very same day was supposed to be your wedding, and the groom was nowhere to be seen. You knew better than to cry, you didn't want to suffer for him anymore; so you just sat there, slowly tapping your fingertips against the delicate porcelain of the cup, staring at the crackling fireplace and thinking about something else.

At that point, you were just begging for him to be alive and well. Nothing more.

A few minutes passed when you saw Cregan entering your chambers with his grey eyes staring intensely at you as he walked inside. His heavy boots stumped against the wooden floor, prompting you to stand up a bit too quickly. You noticed the pitiful look in his eyes when he noticed you were still wearing that white wedding dress; his heart shattered for you.

“Did you find him?” you dared to speak first. Somehow, your voice came out colder than both of you expected.

“We did,” he nodded. “He was in a brothel… drunk and enjoying his last hours of freedom, as he said.” The annoyed tone of his voice was quite clear to hear as he spat every single word with rage and even shame.

Gods forgive him for this insurmountable wrath towards his kin.

“Where is he now?” The question slipped out of your lips merely out of habit.

“In his chambers, being bathed by one of the maids,” Cregan explained, unable to bear the vision of your tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. He sought to look at a place over your shoulder, just to ease the ache in his chest.

It wasn't sadness, not at all. It was ire; he knew it. It was supposed to be your special day, and your betrothed decided to ruin it, though you were not surprised.

“Is it the maid that sucks his cock every morning? Or is it the one that let him fuck her in the arse?” you mockingly mentioned, lifting the cup of tea and sipping it slowly. The knot in your throat was becoming unbearable, too tight and barely letting you utter a word.

Cregan's eyes softened with sorrow. “My lady,” he started, daring to take a step closer to you. The small rounded table was the only thing keeping you two apart. “Allow me to apologize for the misbehaviour of my brother, you deserve the utmost respect from whoever is lucky enough to marry you. Edrik is childish, and his actions often bring shame to our family name.”

“You shall not apologize for your brother's mistakes,” you softly said, sighing tiredly at this situation repeating over and over again. “You're an honourable man, Lord Stark, it's a pity your brother is not even half of the man you are.”

Cregan felt his heart tapping against his chest, even under those thick layers of fur, he was still able to hear how fast it was beating. His eyes briefly looked away from you out of shyness, feeling so flustered by your mere presence. Oh, gods, this was excruciating; seeing you there with your beautiful eyes staring up at him, looking so fragile and bewitching. The white dress fit you perfectly, you were radiant that night, and he cursed at his brother for looking down on you.

Edrik was a dumb boy. Luckily, Cregan was a wise man.

“It pains me to know he doesn't appreciate you,” he muttered as he took unhurried steps closer to you. “You deserve so much more.”

“It's the best I can get, I suppose,” you shrugged. “At least my betrothed is indulging his uncontrollable lust with whores instead of forcing himself on me. It could be worse.”

“But it's not supposed to be bad at all,” Cregan discussed. “A husband has to provide for his wife, and treat her with respect.”

His hand approached your left cheek and he placed it there, cupping your face. Your soft skin felt his calloused fingers and suddenly all the air of your lungs vanished. Your lips parted, and that simple gesture blurred Cregan's mind with the urge to devour them. As he looked down at you, you could see in his eyes that there was a rare sparkle in them. It was so mesmerizing.

“I guess you're asking too much from your brother, my Lord.”

He scoffed.

“If only the gods had been more merciful of us, you would be my wife instead,” he mentioned with a wistful tone. He took another step, and now you were able to smell the pine scent from his clothes. “We probably would be in our private celebration by now.”

You sighed delightedly as his thumb went to your lower lip, lightly touching it as he glanced at it. Falling in love with him had been so easy; he was so kind, so courteous and gentle. Whenever his brother was cruel and mean to you, he was always there to make you feel good. Many were the times you imagined this wedding being with him instead of Edrik.

“I would be looking at your beautiful body as you remove this gown. Only for me to see,” he whispered, his touch going downwards until he grabbed the pearls around your neck. “I would take my time to appreciate every single inch of your skin, touching you… kissing you, making sure you know you're the most beautiful maiden in Westeros.”

His face leaned towards you, and you felt his nose rubbing against your cheek as you closed your eyes. His deep, low voice sent shivers down your spine while your mind was imagining every single word that came out of his plump lips. His touch reached down your sides until you felt his strong grip on your waist.

Cregan took a deep breath as he smelled your sweet perfume; he couldn't help but sigh.

“I would pleasure you in so many ways,” he continued, his voice so raspy it made your knees weak. “With my mouth, my hands… until all that comes from your lips is my name.”

“Cregan…” you breathed out, and he hummed in delight.

“Yes, just like that.”

You dared to open your eyes, meeting his and seeing how they were dilated and glazed with lust; yours were probably in the same state. You were able to feel the heat between your legs, almost causing you to squirm to make you feel something. Something to sate the intense desire crawling around your body.

“I would do so many things to you, my darling,” he murmured. “Would you like me to do them?”

You nodded.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you replied, embarrassingly fast.

His hands went to your back, calloused fingers finding their way to untie your gown. Your chest was against his, and the closeness did nothing but increase your desperation to have him.

“My brother doesn't deserve you, does he? He is just a stupid boy, and you deserve a man.” You felt the dress loosening around your body and you swallowed hard at the expectation. “Please, let me be that man for you…”

You were unable to bear it any longer, the temptation being too much. You closed the distance between you two at the same time he started to slip the dress down your body — until it pooled around your feet. His lips fit perfectly against yours, they were slightly chapped due to the cold, yet they felt heavenly. He moaned against your mouth when you boldly deepened the kiss by grabbing Cregan’s nape and pulling him closer to you, all while his hands pressed your lower back.

It was slow and passionate, taking your breath away as he claimed your mouth with his tongue, swirling against yours and stealing soft whimpers from you. Soon, he grabbed your thighs to lift you and sat you on the table; the cup of tea spilling to stain your white undergown, you couldn't care less. His lips on yours were all you could think of as his hands gripped your body, pressing you against him.

The thin skirt of your undergown lifted as you wrapped your legs around Cregan’s waist, and his hands began to sneak under it to touch the soft skin of your thighs. He left a heat on your body with his fingertips, one that made you desperate to feel him. All while his mouth was reluctant to leave yours, obsessed with the sweet taste of you. He would unconsciously groan, and as he pressed his hips against yours you could easily notice the effect you had on him.

He pulled away to take a look at you, he found your swollen lips glistening with remains of your and his drool. Your eyes were sparkling as stars and your breathing growing agitated. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Cregan Stark had fallen in love with you once again at that moment.

“You should belong to me instead,” he huskily said. “I should be the one who takes your body-”

“Do it,” you interrupted without doublethinking it. Your tone was decided and demanding, it shocked him a little.

“Oh, my little one…” he murmured with a strained voice as if the thought had left him breathless.

“I don't want your brother… I never did.” Your confession drew a small smile on his lips. “Since day one all I've wanted is you.”

He took a deep breath before cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Look what you do to me,” he murmured as you stared at his face, noticing a rare glow in him. “Believe me when I say your feelings are mutual… you've been on my mind ever since you arrived. It was torturous to see you being disregarded by Edrik while I was sitting there wishing I could just hold your hand. My heart, my body, my soul, it all aches for you. I'm desperate to feel you, and I cannot bear it any longer.”

The despair in his voice, so clear and vivid.

“Allow me to do it,” he pleaded, “I'm begging you to let me have a taste of you, at least for a night… so I can finally end this torment.”

“I will accept,” you managed to say in small gasps. “Only if you promise me this won't be the last time.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

The time was not wasted, you quickly leaned forward to kiss him again with the same intensity and need as before. Both of you moaned against each other while your hands were swiftly untying his snow-covered coat at the same time his were pulling down your undergown until it fell down your arms. Your breasts were freed and you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed; no man had seen you in such a vulnerable state before. However, all insecurities vanished from your overthinking mind once he laid his eyes on your chest and sighed, enamoured by the view.

He gave you a single glance at you to ask for your permission and, once you nodded, his fingers travelled down your body until they trapped your nipples. He gently squeezed them between his digits, soft enough to not cause you any discomfort but hard enough to make them peak. Your mouth was slightly parted, allowing silent gasps to fall down your lips as he admired your pure flesh. He leaned forward then, and you instinctively leaned back; before you noticed his tongue was lapping at one of your sensitive buds, swirling around it and nibbling on it from time to time. You held your body up with your forearms, closing your eyes once he sucked on it. A moan escaped you as he pulled apart from it and went to the other one, giving it the same attention.

His hand was grabbing the small of your back as you touched his hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks and pulling them whenever his tongue made you feel butterflies in your belly. It was so good, and you were blissful thinking that you were doing it with him. Your ever-kind and loving Lord of Winterfell.

Suddenly, his mouth traced a path down your body, licking and kissing your belly until he reached your pelvis. You lifted your hips once his hands started to pull down your last vestiges of coverage, and in mere seconds you were completely exposed to him as your cheeks got warm once again.

Your legs were spread by his hands on your inner thighs, and Cregan was able to see the mess in your core; you were soaking, and his mouth watered with the urge to taste you. For a few seconds, he was just there admiring you, and then he started to kiss your legs from your ankles, all the way to your hips, shamelessly marking you and leaving red bruises behind; you loved it.

Cregan gave you a quick look, noticing how you were almost shaking with expectation; your eyes reluctant to leave his frame as his thumb spread your swollen lower lips and exposed that little, throbbing button begging for his attention. He stuck out his tongue, slowly brushing it against your clit. You almost died there. Your hand immediately went back to his hair, pulling it a bit too harshly for his liking.

“Sh…” he cooed, kissing your inner thighs in the meantime. “Come on, little one, let me make you feel good, I know you want it.”

Gods, you did. You need it.

“Keep your legs open for me, and let me have my feast,” he murmured before his tongue lapped on your pearl again.

The way he teased your flesh so sensually made your limbs shake. You were gasping as he licked and kissed every single part of you, lurking around and trying to discover your most sensitive spot. Once he found it, you saw stars.

Your betrothed was far from your mind when Cregan dared to push one of his long, thick fingers inside your weeping hole. You cried out his name as your legs shook around his head and, as he curled up his fingers to rub your walls, you felt a knot in your belly starting to form and begging to be released. Goosebumps erupted over your stimulated body.

“Gods… Cregan!” you found yourself whining. He hummed delighted with the way his name sounded from your lips.

His tongue fervently began to flick your clit as he added another finger, pumping them slowly but deeply. The sound of your juices coating his digits was becoming addictive; so sinful, yet heavenly. He was desperate to feel you all.

As he moaned and whimpered against your soaked flesh, you couldn't help but feel an unknown sensation in your gut; as if you were about to explode. Your heart was beating incredibly fast as you leaned your head back and let your mouth spill thousands of obscene sounds; Cregan's cock twitched in his pants the moment he looked up at you.

Gods, you were so fucking beautiful. It was not fair that you belonged to someone else.

Suddenly, with a shout of shock, you felt yourself peak. You gasped loudly and you clenched your eyes shut. Cregan felt your walls squeezing his fingers so deliciously as he drank from you and licked you clean. By the end of it, you were sweating, breathing fast and your hips twitching. You turned into a quivering mess.

Cregan lifted his face, giving one wolfish look before quickly grabbing your cheeks. He desperately kissed you as he groaned in ecstasy. You tasted yourself on his lips as he picked you up and took you towards the bed… the very same bed you were supposed to be sharing with your betrothed that night.

The guilt hit you, briefly making you feel dirty and sullied. But then, as you saw Cregan slowly removing his attires, you remembered who was your betrothed, and what he was doing earlier that day. If he could fuck a whore, why couldn't you fuck another man? You doubted the lesser brother would even notice.

Besides, it wasn't just a man, it was Cregan. Your Cregan.

So, now, as the handsome man in front of you removed his last piece of clothing, you felt your walls clench around nothing as you glanced at his cock. His head furiously red, already leaking and twitching as he started to crawl from the bottom of the bed until he was between your legs. He kissed you again, this time slower… more tenderly. You sighed against his lips.

“You're still a maiden,” he said as a statement rather than a question. You nodded, either way, confirming his words. “Then I'll go slow… though I must warn you, it might hurt for a bit, but I promise you, little one, it'll all be worth it in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whispered as your hand reached his cheek, gently caressing his stubble.

“Open your legs for me, my darling,” he commanded, and you did as he said. He looked down at your entrance, “seven hells…” he groaned at the sight, before spitting down to his cock and stroking it a few times. Cregan swiped the ruddy tip of his prick against your folds, teasing them to hear you moan one more time before carefully pressing the blunt head against your entrance.

You cried out once he started to stretch you out, feeling the slight burn that left you breathless as he made his way inside the tight hole between your trembling legs. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth; Cregan noticed your discomfort, so he brought his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles on it and trying to make you relax. You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving through the pinch.

Your tightness would try to push him away as tried to go deeper, yet he found a way to keep going until he was fully buried inside of you, whimpering your name. Your soft walls felt so fucking good around him, almost making the man drool against your shoulder. His sweaty forehead was pressed against your cheek and you could hear his ragged breathing in your ear, causing chills down your spine. He gave you a moment to forget about the pain, all while he peppered your neck with soft kisses and gentle bites.

“I think I have just reached heaven,” he murmured, his voice sounding so deep and seductive. “So tight, so small around my cock…” he continued words that left his mouth before he could even think about them.

“I- I feel so full…” you muttered, feeling his length pulsing inside of you.

“Shh… I know, my darling, just take deep breaths for me,” he commanded you, and you obeyed. His thumb pushed slightly harder against your clit and you hummed. “Mhm, does that feel nice? My beautiful girl, you're doing such a good job for me,” he praised you, “taking me so well.”

“Feels good…” you nodded.

“It does, doesn't it?” he softly chuckled. “Gods, the way your sweet little pussy takes my cock makes me fucking crazy. Can- can I move? Fuck– Is it okay if I start moving?”

His gentleness and softness did little to make you forget about the way he spoke to you. His dirty words made you clench around his girth, feeling butterflies in your lower belly. You needed Cregan to move and bring back the effervescent heat.

“Please, do,” you begged, and he wasted no time in obeying.

His mouth dropped open as he dragged his cock out of your tightness, noticing how it was covered by your slickness. He pushed in again, filling you and causing you to moan in simultaneous discomfort and pleasure. His left hand went to your hip, grabbing your skin and going deeper inside of you. Slowly at first, he started to fasten his pace until the sound of your bodies colliding against each other was mixed with your moans.

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he hid his face on your neck, his harsh breathing causing chills on your skin as he moved slowly but forcefully; such a perfect pace to make you see stars. Your legs were bent at each side of his body, while he took you and claimed your shaky frame. Soon you realized that he had not lied, it felt magnificent once the pain started to fade away.

His name would escape your lips as if it was an endless chant, incentivizing him to keep going, to continue his movements until you couldn't bear it anymore. A layer of sweat would cover your body as Cregan's weight was on top of you, it felt as if you were burning yet you didn't want to push him away. You craved to feel his skin on you, loving the way his pelvis would brush against your throbbing clit each time he thrusts into you.

“Fuck, my darling,” he groaned in your ear, “your pussy was made for me to fuck,” he whimpered, biting your earlobe. You replied with a whine. “So fucking delicious, feeling so tight around my cock.”

Cregan lifted his face to look at your messy state. The eye contact that followed almost made you reach your peak once again, it was all so intense it made your head spin. Your nails dug into his flesh and he whispered your name; you hummed in response.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

He further quickened the pace, his cock now touching that sweet spot of yours. Your walls would clench around him as you felt the much-needed orgasm approaching. A ring of your juices appeared on his cock, and he changed positions so now he was on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking you faster, rougher.

He saw your breasts bouncing on your chest as he thrusted into you, the sight so arousing that he felt his cock twitch inside of you. His stones were full, ready to burst at any moment now. However, no matter how much he desired it, he knew he just couldn't release inside you. No risks must be taken if he wanted to do this again.

With your legs spreaded, his thumb effortlessly reached your exposed clits, flicking it and smearing your wetness around it. Your limbs shook as your mind went numb, and soon your orgasms washed over you. You cried out his name, tightening your grip around his cock.

That's when he pulled out and poured himself on your soaked flesh, staining your folds with his pearly seed.

Once he took a quick look at you, he felt a coil of raw pleasure snake around his body. A whine left his lips as he wrapped his hand around his length, stroking it a few times to make sure he would cover you with every single drop. He was overstimulated already; sweaty, breathless and flushed. He looked so beautiful like that.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, caressing your thighs.

You frown, slightly confused. “What- what for?”

Instead of answering you right away, he leaned and joined his lips with yours, gently and tenderly kissing you. His hands cupped your face and yours laid on his thick arms. A few minutes later, he pulled away only to leave soft kisses all over your face making you giggle.

“For giving me the honour of making you mine,” he replied. “Though I must confess that I don't think I will be able to live without having you in my bed every night.”

You felt a smile appearing on your lips and a familiar warmth on your cheeks.

“Well,” you sighed, “perhaps, you should do something about it.” That flirtatious tone was a bit odd coming from you, but Cregan loved it.

“Yes,” he nodded, softly chuckling as he leaned to kiss you once more. “I will definitely do something about it.”

@arcielee

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tongue-like-a-razor · 5 months

Text

Brother's Best Friend - Part 10

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: I'm baaaack! Oh how I've missed these two idiots XD Thanks to everyone who sent in ideas for what should happen AFTER THE KISS!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: swearing, shirtless Jake, SHIRTLESS JAKE, fluff, Jake's arms, did I mention shirtless Jake?

WC: ~2800

Part 1 | Masterlist

There are a lot of things you regret in life, but bombing your psych midterm because you were too busy making out with Jake Seresin to study is not one of them. Sure, you might not have remembered the ins and outs of Jungian archetypes, but you sure as hell can recite from memory every single word that had fallen out of Jake’s mouth following the inaugural kiss. You might have been a bit hazy on the details surrounding the birth of behaviorism, but you could certainly attest to the effectiveness of positive reinforcement in the form of Jake’s lips rewarding every correctly answered flash card. Thus, despite leaving the exam room with the sinking feeling that your GPA just took a nosedive, you couldn’t be happier.

Your excitement is short-lived, however, because you walk into the house to the unsettling sounds of grunting. You end up dropping your book bag loudly on the floor in an effort to alert any unsuspecting individuals of your arrival before you happen upon a scene you have no interest in witnessing.

But the groaning doesn’t subside, and you find yourself inching cautiously toward the living room, gripped by a nauseating curiosity. Slowly, you creep through the kitchen and peek around the wall into the living room. But what you see, albeit somewhat strange, is not exactly out of the ordinary. What you see is two grown men doing push-ups on your living room floor.

“Uhh,” you utter, stepping into the room to get a better look at the two of them positioned between the armchair and the coffee table.

Neither one looks up at you. They continue grunting into the carpeted floor against every thrust and then breathing heavily into the silence on their way back down. In unison. Shirtless.

“Okay, I’ll just…” you pause, waiting to see if your presence might be acknowledged before you continue speaking. Several seconds go by without any sort of greeting, as if they haven’t even noticed you enter, so you resume, “I’ll just go wait in the kitchen.”

No response.

“I’ll make myself a sandwich,” you add, your eyes inadvertently landing on the rippling muscles of Jake’s back as his shoulder blades contract.

Before you’re completely entranced by the hypnotic movement of Jake Seresin’s body, you shake your head and head back to the kitchen. But, just as you make your way out, you hear Jake’s strained voice, “We’re counting.”

You glance over your shoulder, but he isn’t looking at you; his mouth is taut and his nostrils are flaring and he winces slightly as he straightens his arms again. You decide not to interrupt them further and retreat into the kitchen to fix yourself some lunch.

You wander back in several minutes later, a jam sandwich in hand, and raise your eyebrows as your brother and your, well, Jake, finally finish with a host of groans and obscenities, and laboriously get to their feet.

You glance between the two of them as they pant and take a bite of your sandwich. Until this very moment, you had no idea how you would navigate your situation with Jake in Bradley’s presence. It wasn’t something that you and Jake had a chance to discuss over the course of the previous evening and you had been hoping to postpone the encounter for at least another day.

However, now that you’re all in the same room, you realize that nothing much has changed; Bradley and Jake are still up to their usual antics, and you are still critically observing them from the sidelines.

“Three sets,” Jake breathes heavily as he rolls his shoulders and meets your gaze. “Of a hundred.”

You stare at him mutely, wondering what kind of reaction he’s expecting you to have whilst your brother stands three feet away. You pull your lips into a tight smile and nod approvingly. “If only you put this much effort into keeping track of your socks,” you respond wryly, noticing the pair that’s tucked into the corner of the armchair; the third that you’ve located in the living room this week.

Jake bows his head and Bradley lets out a snort. “I have hot feet,” Jake mutters to the floor.

You eye the veins along his forearms – more pronounced than usual after his workout – and decide conclusively that his feet are not the exception.

Bradley, who’s just finished guzzling half a bottle of water, hums at you to get your attention. Immediately, you tear your gaze from Jake’s veiny hands and blink up at your brother in alarm, certain that he’s already caught on to you since you can’t seem to stop gawking at his best friend. Bradley grins, his eyes bright with excitement. “So,” he says, “how was your study date?” His smile widens slyly.

You stare at him awkwardly, not daring to look at Jake, even when the latter chokes on his water. Clearly, he has not said a word to Bradley about the events of the previous evening.

Bradley watches you expectantly, ignoring Jake’s coughing fit. “Uh,” you start, your voice sounding unusually fuzzy. “It was, um,” you clear your throat, still not looking at Jake as he finally straightens his back and takes another enormous gulp of water.

Bradley lifts his eyebrows. “That good, huh?” he asks with a chuckle.

You feel your palms start to sweat and it takes a great deal of willpower to keep them steady at your sides rather than rubbing them together and wiping them on your thighs. “Pretty good,” you say weakly, avoiding direct eye contact with your brother.

“Get much studying done?” Bradley asks, picking his shirt up off the couch and pulling it over his head.

You briefly lock eyes with Jake. “Some,” you croak, in response to which Bradley shakes his head knowingly.

“How’d you do on your midterm?” Jake asks, finally setting his water bottle down.

You hold his gaze timidly, not sure how long you can get away with looking right at him. “I probably could have done better,” you confess.

Jake winces slightly. “Shit, really?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“We warned you,” Bradley calls in a singsong voice as he heads out of the living room. “That dude wasn’t looking to study, and you fell for it.”

Jake tilts his head to the side and rubs the back of his neck guiltily. “Maybe he tried,” he says, still grimacing.

Bradley stops short of the entrance to the kitchen and looks back at him. “Yeah, right,” he says. “Is that what you would do?” he asks him.

Jake’s face visibly pales and he stammers out, “M-me? What kind of question is that?” He clears his throat and adds, “Even.”

“You definitely would not have tried,” Bradley says. Then, he looks at you pointedly. “Next time, just study at home. Trust me.”

You nod, trying not to think too hard about how ineffective studying at home has proved, in fact, to be.

“Want a protein shake, bro?” Bradley asks before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Yeah, man,” Jake calls back. “Thanks.”

The two of you stand very still for a moment, not looking at one another. Then, Jake bends down to grab his muscle shirt off the floor.

“Sucks about your test,” he says, his head hanging so low that his chin nearly rests on his clavicle.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, suddenly uneasy now that it’s just the two of you in the room.

Jake draws the shirt over his head and then wearily drags a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking at you guiltily.

You shrug nonchalantly and give him a small smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He pulls his shirt down over his torso casually, but it’s probably the single most sexy thing you’ve ever witnessed. He sighs and says, “I feel responsible,” but all you could really pay any attention to is the sliver of stomach that he’s so carelessly left exposed. If anything, it’s entirely irresponsible.

You purse your lips and eye him humorously. “Well, that’s very self-centered of you.”

Jake laughs at your comment and you breathe a sigh of relief as the tension between you slowly dissipates.

“Dude, you coming?” Bradley calls, popping his head back in to check on Jake. “First fifteen minutes are crucial!”

“Be right there,” Jake responds and, grabbing his two stray socks off the armchair, starts for the kitchen.

You wander in after him to put your plate in the sink and Jake all but leaps out of your way when you get too close.

Bradley leans into the counter and speaks again, “So, apparently Jake had a wild night.”

The plate starts to slip out of your hand before you make it all the way to the sink, and you sort of toss it the rest of the way. It clatters against the basin but thankfully remains intact. “Oh yeah?” you ask in a high-pitched voice while Bradley watches you curiously.

“I didn’t say wild,” Jake clarifies, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he tries to find a less awkward way to rest his entire frame against the slightly protruding door of the refrigerator.

Bradley makes a face at him. “I paraphrased.”

You try not to smile as you ask, “What happened?” You glance at Jake mischievously as he digs himself further into the corner. The fact that he’s disclosed any details to Bradley is shocking, to say the least.

“Oh, just that he finally made a move on a chick he’s been obsessing over for weeks,” Bradley says with a proud grin.

While you try to process the words ‘for weeks’, Jake counters moodily, “I was not obsessing, dude. Come on.”

You lift your eyes slowly to meet his gaze and he glances at you reluctantly.

“Please, you never shut up about her!” Bradley cries.

Jake exhales sharply and glares over at Bradley, but he doesn’t deny his assertion.

“Who is she?” you ask hesitantly, ignoring the pointed stare you get from Jake as you direct your question at Bradley.

Bradley shrugs. “I don’t know her.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Jake scoffs in the background while Bradley grimaces. “No, but he won’t tell me, so I’ve stopped asking.”

You withhold a smile and say quietly, “Wonder what she’s like.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “For the love of god –”

But his complaint is interrupted by Bradley when he says, “Apparently, she’s insanely hot –”

“Rooster,” Jake cuts him off sternly, pushing himself off the refrigerator to square his shoulders intimidatingly.

“What?” Bradley chuckles as you bite into your cheek to suppress a grin. “Those were your exact words!”

“Enough,” Jake says, glaring at him threateningly.

“Relax, it’s just my sister,” Bradley says, attempting to diffuse the situation gracefully. “She won’t tell a soul.”

You bat your eyelashes at Jake innocently. “Promise,” you assure him.

Jake narrows his eyes at you subtly. “Tell us more about your date,” he says, cleverly taking the heat off himself.

You lower your gaze and respond with, “It wasn’t a date.”

“But will there be one in the future?” Bradley asks.

You glance back at Jake instinctively before addressing your brother, “Not that I know of.”

Jake chugs the remainder of his shake and walks over to the sink to rinse the glass. He rests his hip on the counter right next to you and asks, “Would you go?”

You look up at him hesitantly, apprehensive about his proximity, even though he still stands a good two feet away. “Where?”

“On a date,” Jake clarifies. “If he asks.”

You gulp nervously, looking back at your equally curious-looking brother. The truth is, you’re afraid of showing all your cards so early in the game. Jake Seresin isn’t a dater, he doesn’t go out with the same girl multiple times. And if he’s only with you because you’re ‘insanely hot’ – his words – he might be spooked by an overzealous response. “I don’t know.” You shrug. “Haven’t thought about it.”

“Bullshit,” Bradley interjects obnoxiously.

“I agree,” Jake adds.

You clamp your jaw tightly, mildly annoyed at Jake for making you the target of conversation yet again. “Are you planning on asking insanely hot girl out?” you enquire aggressively, fixing Jake with an accusing glower.

“How do you know I haven’t already?�� Jake asks in a patronizing tone.

You glare at him through squinted eyes. “Wild guess.”

“Of course, he’s gonna ask her out,” Bradley chimes in. “As soon as he stops wigging out about it.”

Jake gives him a peeved look before glancing back at you. “I’m considering it,” he says vaguely.

“Please,” Bradley scoffs and Jake shoots him another ominous glare. “There’s nothing he would want more.”

“That’s not true,” Jake mutters monotonously while you scrutinize the evasive movements of his eyes.

“You literally told me that –”

“Bradley!” Jake shouts. “Shut up!”

Bradley grimaces. “Since when do we keep secrets around here?”

“Since I fucking said so,” Jake retorts.

You glance between the two of them awkwardly and then look down at your feet, stretching out the already uncomfortable silence. You try not to dwell on what your brother has said but Jake wanting nothing more than to take you on a date has you feeling all kinds of giddy. Hesitantly, you say, “I’d probably say yes.” You bite your lip and add, “To study group guy – if he asks.”

Bradley nods, unsurprised. And you don’t dare check on Jake’s reaction. But before you could second guess your confession, Jake says, “He’ll ask.” You steal a glance at him and he catches your gaze. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

You give him a small, half-smile – the half that’s not visible from your brother’s vantage point. But Bradley seems to have lost interest in the topic now that he’s been censored because he starts to shuffle out of the kitchen.

“Hey Bradley!” you call after him. “How was your date?”

Bradley stops and spins to face you. “Finally!” he exclaims.

You smirk at him. “Did she like your shirt?”

Bradley grins. “She loved my shirt.”

“She loved it so much, she kept it,” Jake adds.

Your jaw drops in shock when Bradley yells, “Hey! So, it’s alright to air my dirty laundry?”

“Technically, now she’s got your dirty laundry,” you point out and Jake high fives you.

Bradley shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Real mature,” he says. “At least I had the balls to ask her out.” With that, he finally exits the kitchen.

You start after him when your feel Jake’s hand brush gently across the small of your back. You turn to face him and he rests it confidently on your hip. You wonder what he’s going to say but, just when you’re about to articulate your curiosity, he leans down and kisses you square on the mouth. His fingers slide into the hair at the nape of your neck as he takes a hold of your face and, as his thumb sweeps languidly back and forth across your cheekbone, you absently speculate on just how big his hand must be to support your head in such a way. You’re so engrossed in this calculation, in fact, that you nearly miss the moment his tongue enters the equation.

Of course, all of this happens so quickly that, before you can really even kiss him in return, he’s already taking a step back and glancing at the doorway to make sure that Bradley isn’t there.

You graze your teeth over your bottom lip, trying to contain your widening smile as you meet his gaze. It’s nice to know that Jake still wants to kiss you today just as badly as he did yesterday. So much so that he’s willing to risk Bradley walking in on you. You let yourself ogle him overtly for a moment, admiring his tanned arms and the little bit of chest that you could see above the low neckline of his muscle shirt. Then, you say, “I want to hear more about this insanely hot girl you won’t shut up about.”

Jake cringes, busying himself with the dishes sitting in the dishrack. “I’m not sure you’d get along. She’s very confrontational.” He puts away a couple of bowls into a cupboard.

You let out a shocked gasp as if you're offended. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Jake turns back to face you, grinning as he throws a dishtowel over his shoulder. “Super intense. A little scary.”

“I don’t know, she sounds like a catch,” you say, taking a small step toward him. “I mean, according to Bradley, you’ve been obsessing over her for weeks!”

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle and, pulling you in to give you a quick peck on the side of your head, he mutters into your hair, “I’m gonna kill your brother.”

Read Part 11

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A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

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irndad · 1 year

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in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair.

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind.

But he wanted her.

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her.

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life.

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure.

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question.

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness.

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility.

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists.

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his.

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up.

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way.

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time.

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.”

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete.

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers?

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him.

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy.

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded.

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please.

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god.

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again.

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality.

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does.

Ben, is not in fact, going away.

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore.

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.

But her cup says Ben.

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have.

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes.

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison.

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is.

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.”

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition.

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess.

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile.

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp.

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.”

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his.

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company.

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it.

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem.

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben.

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face.

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights.

Ironic, really.

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself.

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering.

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known.

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for.

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this.

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold.

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to.

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from.

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass.

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time.

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation.

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot.

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together.

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting.

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance?

Wasn’t it romance, though?

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror.

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks.

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry.

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment.

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire.

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her.

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion.

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him.

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness. “There was never anyone else to pick.”

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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fleurhcss · 30 days

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Channie being a proper dom like really intimidating n stuff- when you first signed a contract w him you kind of just misjudged him as more of a sweet guy

That's sound so interesting so I'm taking this request very happily 🤍🤍 let's make this as a sort of fifty shades 🥰🎀

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 - Chan x FEM Reader!

cw : something like 50 shades ??, contractual sex, co-workers/boss, possessive hard dom chan, naive reader, you though he was a sweet guy but he's an actual daddy

sw : hair pulling, choke kink, anal, blowjob, scratching, hard dom, little mention of blood, spanking, size kink, thigh humping, breast playng, biting, marks, fingering

wc : 6.6k

synopsis : You always did your work with dedication and diligence, your boss Bang Chan always complimented you for every job you completed on time. He was always very kind to you, always smiling and helpful when you needed help. You never expected that one night, when you were working overtime, he would approach you and ask you to come to his office to sign a new contract that would give you a promotion. Too bad, maybe not too bad, it was a completely different contract. This led to a new kind of passion that you never thought you'd get caught up in. And that Bang Chan was not as sweet as he showed you during the day.

a/n : hii, i'm back with another fic ! This was a request so I hope anon can enjoy this like all of u 🩷 it was so exciting to write and i hope u could like it - im obsessed with dom but apparently sweet Chan 🫣🫣 Enjoy 🫶🏻

[ HARD SMUT ]

It was another typical working day for you, you were sitting comfortably in your chair, going through the last of the papers your colleague had sent you for final checking. You had gotten a little hungry and had started to munch on some carrots, taking them out of your lunch box. You worked as a secretary for a big company, so you had to check all your colleagues' work and correct any mistakes before sending it to your boss: Bang Chan. A lot could be said about him as he was truly a man of gold. He was always kind and helpful to all his subordinates and to you, his secretary, he was no less, always greeting you with a smile and a pat on the back. You couldn't even deny how attractive he was, you were really lucky to have such a boss. Bang Chan was like the forbidden dream of every employee in the company, even the older ladies. He was a not so tall man, well built and very muscular. A distinct sense of style and elegance and a face like few others. Simply gorgeous, you thought.

Nothing had changed that day either, Chan had arrived smiling, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, no tie and his jacket in his hands. He had walked up to you and patted you on the back, smiling as if you were good friends. "Good work, Y/N, I want you in my office tonight to discuss a new contract." He said as he squeezed your shoulders and walked into his office. You were almost out of breath when he touched you. His hands were warm and you felt as if he wanted to hold you. But it was all in your head and he was your boss, certain things were not appropriate. You wondered what kind of contract he was talking about, since you had been promoted just two weeks ago - and with it a pay rise. Now you were very curious. It didn't take you long to ask your colleagues if Chan had been giving out raises lately. The man never ceases to surprise you.

You could see him making himself comfortable at his desk, taking off his jacket to give you a good view of his blue shirt, which clung well and perfectly to every single muscle. The man was truly amazing, a walking constant provocation, and of course you felt a little guilty having certain thoughts about him, which did nothing but show you sweetness and dedication to his work, as well as respect for you. You spent your morning working hours before your lunch break reviewing documents and glancing at your boss as he received corporate clients in his office with a beaming smile. Sometimes you wondered how he could smile so sweetly at everyone....

You could hear your colleague muttering things like "but what's he smiling about" or "why does he always have that happy expression on his face", well bless him? Chan had never shown his employees that he was tired or angry, except once when your company was fined for a cheating customer. You remember Chan's angry expression as he shouted in his office, the vein in his neck throbbing. And it was typical of your colleague to sulk about everything, wondering what he was doing there if he hated the job, when his boyfriend, Chan's childhood friend by the way, had suggested he go to work with him. But that was how Hyunjin was, you remembered when he described the pain in his bottom after sex with his friend Changbin in his dramatic way.

"You know what Chan is like, Hyune, he never gets tired of doing what he likes," you chuckled, catching a small, pouty smile from your friend. "Are you busy tonight?" he asked as he approached you with his chair. "Chan asked me to come to the office to review the contract, I have no idea what it's about," you threw your head back in frustration. "That sucks, I wanted to get something to eat, Changbin is busy with Jisung in a new group they are producing," you smiled at Hyunjin's adorable pout and tussled his hair, causing another pout.

Time seemed to fly from that morning, so much so that you found yourself sitting at the cafeteria table with your best friend Ryujin and Hyunjin, having lunch as usual and gossiping about your colleagues. Unfortunately, you weren't sure where the conversation was going when your best friend opened up about none other than Chan. "In my opinion he fucks hard, I mean look at him," she said, causing you to choke on a vegetable thread. You looked at her in a mixture of shock and bewilderment, then at the man himself, who had rolled up his shirt sleeves to show off his buff arms. "He gives me the impression of a vanilla with all those sweet smiles he gives out, although Bin says one of his exes left him because she couldn't sustain his sex life," at which point you also choked on water. But were these conversations to be sustained over lunch?

"Why exactly are we talking about how Chan fucks, in the cafeteria and with him just a few steps away from us?" you asked, quite confused by the situation. Your friends were out of their minds. "You haven't said a word, what do you think he's like?" Ryujin asked cheekily, leaving you speechless for the umpteenth time, and you let out a long sigh before answering. "In my opinion, he's sweet, I don't see him doing dirty things in bed or in general," Ryujin burst out laughing and you blushed at your own words. "But have you seen him? That minimum will destroy you!" she said, convinced of her words. You swallowed the last bites of your lunch before choking again. Sure, you had some thoughts, but certainly not in a place where the whole company you work for could hear you. You left each other laughing and went back to your desk, where you stayed until closing time, when your friends said goodbye to you.

You were reluctant to knock on your boss's office door, you could see through the glass walls that he was concentrating on printing out various papers and wondered why he had not asked you as his assistant, then he raised his head and smiled at you, signalling for you to enter his office, there anxiety pervaded you. You did as he asked and were greeted with a warm smile and a gallant invitation to sit down in front of his desk, which he leaned on. "So, I've called you in to discuss an exclusive contract as my personal assistant, let's say I've upgraded it a bit: I'd like you to move into my house from Tuesday to Friday and also to accompany me on my business trips, which will become more frequent as I've expanded our partnerships, and I'd like to discuss a much more... delicate side of the contract over dinner, perhaps over a nice glass of wine. I just wanted to let you know today. Come to dinner at my house on Saturday, you will have the correspondence, you can sign the contract extension and know the rest," he smiled.

But your brain had been given too much information to digest and process, you had stopped at the moving out in his house part... You didn't know how to react to the news, it had all been so unexpected that you still had to process it, and he understood that well from your expression, which was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He laughed - and no, Chan, there was nothing to laugh about - "Well, I understand it's a lot of information, you don't have to answer me right away, we'll talk more about it on Saturday, like I said," he gave you another sweet smile and you nodded, trying to return it and getting up from your chair you saw that he had already started to turn everything off and had followed you to the exit. "Good night, Chan," you whispered with a small bow, which he returned with a smile and a pat on the head that made you blush. "Good night, Y/N."

Ryujin and Hyunjin would have liked that.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

"He proposed to you WHAT?" Hyunjin almost shouted when you told him what Chan had told you in his office that evening. You were still in a state of disbelief; in short, living under the same roof as your boss was not exactly the best ... Especially when you felt guilty about fantasising about him after he had been so nice to you. "Yes, I'm still in shock and I have exactly three days to think about it, because he wants to have dinner with me at his house on Saturday," you whispered as if you were intimidated, and well, you definitely were a bit. So much so that the three days went by quickly and you were still standing in front of your boss's house. Hyunjin had been kind enough to be your stylist and you were sure that he had done his best to make you sexy, had even advised you to throw yourself into the experience, Chan certainly wasn't going to eat you up.

Or so you thought.

But Chan was a man of many surprises, and he was about to prove it. When he opened the door, you saw an Adonis, an ethereal Greek god smiling at you, opening the gates of Olympus. He was magnificent and uniquely beautiful, a man like few others, you thought. The tight white turtleneck accentuated every single muscle in that chest - from the pecs to the belly, you could count them one by one - and the dark denim trousers wrapped well-trained thighs, and you let your mind wander a little too much. You wore jeans that were a little tight from the thighs down to the ankles, a black lace top that allowed a glimpse of your bra - damn you, Hyunjin - and a simple jacket suit of the same colour. Your shoulders were crossed and you watched as Chan invited you in with a beaming smile. "Please, come in and give me your jacket, the dining room is that way, I'll be there in a few minutes."

It was certainly a nice apartment, modern, bright and very spacious for one person, so much so that you wondered if he might sometimes feel lonely in this environment. Then you remembered his suggestion and blushed. You made your way to the well-appointed dining room, where the food was well served and covered with special thermal lids to keep it from getting cold. "Here I am, Y/N, please have a seat, I went to get the paperwork for later. How about we start with a good glass of red wine? This is very good, a friend of mine sent it to me from Italy, imagine that," he chuckled and then moved your chair and made you sit down. He really was such a kind, decent, gentle man. So sweet. It suddenly occurred to you that it might be a good idea to share a roof with him. He sat across from you, sipping some wine and putting a piece of steak in his mouth. What lips, you thought. You looked like a maniac.

"I'm sure everything will be delicious, and besides, I love red wine," you reassured yourself, unaware that he knew the detail because he had asked Changbin to ask Hyunjin, who, being scatterbrained as he was, had not suspected anything. "Oh well, lucky shot. So, have you thought about my proposal these days, sweetheart?" for a moment you forgot how to speak in front of the nickname. "Um, yes, I'm very much inclined to accept your proposal," you told him as you drank some wine, you needed it, and a lot of it, otherwise you wouldn't have survived the evening. His eyes lit up and he smiled at you, he was really handsome, damn. "I'm very happy that you accepted, there's just one more... delicate additional clause that I'd like to talk to you about. You're not obliged to accept it, of course, and it won't affect the contract I mentioned before, it's a separate thing, let's say another contract", you were confused, what else could he want from you? With your glance you encouraged him to go on.

"That's it, I've been alone for a long time without a woman by my side and the physical needs are starting to kick in. My last serious relationship ended because she was, so to speak, unable to support me in bed. So I need a woman who I consider to be strong and stable as well as beautiful like you, and since we will be together most of the time, I thought we could take advantage of that. Of course I have inquired whether you have someone at your side or not, I would never allow myself to ask such things of a taken girl, much less are you obliged to accept. I also want to emphasise that I do not see you as an object to vent my sexual pleasures, I have great respect for you. Having said that, I look forward to hearing what you think."

Your face was indescribable at that moment, your fork hanging in the air, your mind urging you to accept such an absurd proposal. It was amazing, by the way, how he was such a sweet gentleman and so respectful to even ask you such a thing. It almost made you hate him. But the truth was that you were quite tempted, even though you shouldn't be. "Excuse me, I have to go to the toilet," he said, understanding your surprise and not being hurt by it, he took a sip and wiped his lips before showing you where to go. Where, by the way, it didn't take you long to make a group video call and tell your best friends what you had gotten yourself into.

"I'd love to accept, I mean have you seen him? He's definitely going to fuck like hell," said your best friend. "Accept, what have you got to lose? You're sexually frustrated and haven't had sex in ages, not to mention that your taste in men sucks. He's a gift from heaven right now," Hyunjin said, since when was he so wise? And he was right, after all, neither of them had anything to lose.

When you returned to where you were sitting, you drank the Goblet in one go: "I'm in, what do I need to sign?" you said. Chan's eyes lit up, a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. "I've got all the contracts over there, calling me by my name, and you don't know how happy you've made me. Obviously we're not starting tonight, I'll help you get your things over here, and if either of us feels like it on Monday, maybe we can try something," he smiled broadly at you, and you really couldn't help but smile back.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

When you arrived at work on Monday morning, your best friend gave you a sly look because you had texted him about the rest of the evening with your boss - now boss with benefits? - who, after dinner, had accompanied you to his office to sign the rest of the contract, not forgetting to caress your skin or wrap his arms around your waist. You had noticed that he was a man who sought physical contact and was very affectionate. Ever since he had promoted you to be his personal assistant, he had not missed an opportunity to pat and squeeze your back as a sign of encouragement.

He had offered you more wine and shown you around his apartment, which was very large indeed, he had a sort of library room, you were surprised to see how many books he had, and most of them he had read. He had taken you into his garden where he had a small vegetable garden and small flower beds and finally, after showing you what would be your room, he had taken you into another study where there were musical instruments and other tools whose names you did not know. He had just confessed to you his passion for music, which he practised on his days off, sometimes in the company of Changbin and his friend Jisung.

You were shocked that one man could have so many passions and still find time for everything. He looked like Clark Kent, but without the glasses and the weird superpowers.

By the time you had taken your seat, Hyunjin had given you another look, pointing out a beaming, smiling Chan in his office - which was not much different from the usual one, but he had a different aura than his usual working days. When he saw you, he gave you a smile and a wink that made you blush and even earned you an elbow from your friend to tease you, you had not yet settled into your new job, but already that morning some of Chan's employees had come to pick up your things, you would not be there for a whole week, so you did not have to bring everything exactly, but the essentials you would surely need, after all they had also brought suitcases and bags full of personal belongings, clothes and things like that.

He signalled you to follow him to his study, and as soon as you turned on your computer, you proceeded to him. The question, "Good morning, sweetheart, how are you?" was somewhat unexpected, although not because he could not ask you the question, but because you were expecting a different kind of question. However, we were discussing Chan, and he was still the sweetest guy you knew. This prompted you to consider whether there might be a side of him that he had yet to reveal in private. "Um well, you?" you rocked back on your heels. "I'm fine. So we're going home together tonight, my boys have finished bringing your things, you just need to get them set up in your room. I would like to request your assistance in my home office for a few additional hours. A significant contract must be negotiated with a German company. Additionally, I would like to spend some time with you." He whispered this last sentence, and, besides blushing, you experienced a physical sensation of goose bumps. His gaze was different, more penetrating, with a different light, and his voice had dropped an octave. You observed what you believed to be a change in his eyes, which appeared darker and more intense. This observation was accompanied by a sensation of trembling in your legs.

Your underwear was visibly moist; however, if he had observed your state, it was unclear how he would have react. He dismissed you by returning to your usual work room after you nodded off, and when Hyunjin saw you in such a state, he did nothing but tease you until lunch. That was when Ryujin joined in. Your expression was comically pathetic, and the two of them would not stop teasing you. At this sight, Chan , who was directly involved in the aforementioned incident, joined in. He approached you with a kind smile and patted your shoulder, which caused you to shiver. "Have a good lunch, Y/N, guys..." he said. It was evident that Hyunjin was attempting to restrain himself from laughing in Chan's face.

"Should I inform him that he caused your panties to become wet? It would undoubtedly make the entire situation more epic”, Ryujin jested, causing you to laugh slightly less due to the presence of Chan, who was behind you and had overheard every word. This resulted in Chan giggling. You were in a difficult position, both literally and figuratively. You were forced to thank your best friend... You observed Chan direct a gaze at you that you were unable to identify, yet you were certain that he licked his lips in anticipation of capturing them between his teeth. You were compelled to concede that you were entertaining the notion of engaging in the same act. Hyunjin's interjection served to disrupt your train of thought. You were, in fact, digging your own grave, having already initiated the process by falling into it. You were now merely attempting to cover yourself with dirt.

The day passed more rapidly than you had anticipated, and you found yourself in the evening having to bid farewell to your friends, who were still laughing at you. As you were tidying your belongings, two arms wrapped around your waist, and it was evident who it was. His warm breath brushed against your skin, and you were certain you would not be able to endure much longer. The man was the end of you. He commenced to bestow wet kisses upon your neck, and without intending to and realising it, a small moan escaped you. You were now definitively ruined. He chuckled against your skin and turned you towards him, smiling. It was incredible. "So, my dear, are you prepared to return home?" he whispered. It was as if, when the office emptied, he became another person. He was inches from your lips and they were too inviting and full to remain that way. Consequently, you set aside your shyness and initiated a kiss.

The kiss was markedly different from any previously experienced. It was passionate, as if the man had not kissed a woman in years. Chan was passionate and engaging in his every move, and it was as if melting in his arms was inevitable. He was just as physically attractive as his body suggested, and he was an impressive individual. His hands tightened on your waist, massaging your hips. You could feel his thumbs enter your skin as his full lips pulled yours into a kiss that seemed to last an eternity. In your stomach, you experienced a series of unusual sensations. His tongue penetrated your mouth, and gradually, his lips began to move along your jaw, down your neck, and to your shoulder, where he focused a little more. You were certain that he was going to drive you insane very soon.

He grasped your thighs and positioned you on your desk. The mere possibility that the janitor might have entered the room at any moment and discovered you aroused you considerably. "You have no idea what I would like to do to you right now, sweetheart," he whispered into the crook of your neck as his hands went up your thighs, squeezing them. Your lips emitted a series of gasps as your hands made space for themselves in his now disordered curls. You uttered a curse. This was undoubtedly the end of you. "Why don't you do it then?" you sneered, gaining some confidence. You observed him return that grin as he took tufted hair and tied it in a vice, pulling it backwards to reveal your callus, which was far too clean for his taste. In point of fact, I did not employ the use of molt to inflict marks and bites upon him. "I would suggest that it is time to return home, or do you wish to remain in these wet panties for an extended period? It has been several hours, has it not?" he laughed, recalling your conversation with your closest companions that afternoon at luncheon.

You blushed and placed your hand on his arm, indicating that you wished to compose yourself. He took you in his arms and you observed that he was also experiencing a similar problem, as evidenced by his obvious erection. He smiled at you and, after saying goodbye to the janitor who was about to enter the office, you proceeded together to Chan's house. The car ride was an ordeal, as his hand remained on your naked thigh and squeezed it. You had by now admitted to yourself, while lying down, that the only thing you wanted was for him to insert his fingers into your panties and then into you. What was the man doing to you?

Upon your arrival, he did not allow you the opportunity to remove your jacket; instead, he took care of it himself, with great eagerness. His lips followed yours as he whisked you to the door, taking your legs and tying them around his waist. You felt his erection pushing against your clothed pussy. You longed only for him to undress you. He swiftly removed his shirt, and you were captivated by the beauty and musculature of his physique. You felt as though you were experiencing a hallucination. Was there truly such a flawless man? Not to mention the extensive tattoo that extended down his right arm. You lingered for a considerable period of time, admiring it, before running your hands down his chest and arms, caressing his warm and velvety skin. You could perceive the degree of physical conditioning he had achieved merely through touching his arms. "Do you like it, my dear?" he inquired, his voice a mere whisper in your ear. It was a rhetorical question, of course, but one that could be answered in the affirmative by anyone.

"You have no idea how much," you replied frankly before initiating another kiss. You believed you had merely provided a sort of addiction to the latter. He giggled before leading you down the hallway to the kitchen table and setting you down on it. "Good because I'm really ridiculously hungry so allow me to satiate myself," he said, his tone indicating a change in subject. From that point on, you were no longer in earnest. Passion and lust had evidently overpowered you. You observed him disappear between your thighs, spreading you wide as his nose pressed against your still-clothed but completely soaked centre. He left it a kiss and then pulled the fabric with his teeth. You were convinced that you felt them sink into the flesh of your clitoris as well. By this point, you were no longer holding back, as there was no point in doing so. You were a moaning mess.

"You smell very pleasant; I imagine your taste is similarly agreeable." This was the most dirty image you had ever seen. He removed your underwear and began licking your labia minora, which caused you to close your eyes. Your left hand descended from your hair to your shoulder, where you dug your nails into her skin, certain that you had done so.

He emitted a moan, which surprised you, given that you had always considered him to be a sweet guy. However, given his reaction, you increased your grip and scratched deeper into his now reddened skin. Meanwhile, he was working his way between your walls with his tongue, sucking on portions of your skin before penetrating you with it and fucking you with his tongue himself. This caused you to lose your breath. It was evident that the state of your body would not withstand the prolonged stimulation. Your own sensitivity was already considerable, and the fact that you had not had a relationship for a considerable period of time, coupled with Chan's unexpected skill with every touch he gave you, was driving you to the brink of insanity.

Your prediction was correct as you freed yourself in no time on his skillful tongue, which totally cleaned you up, even licking your lips. The experience was so intense that you were overwhelmed. "It was exquisite, and I may never get enough," he said as he approached you, who were now panting and short of breath. However, you noticed that his problem remained unresolved. "Take off your pants," you intimated, pulling him by the belt. He was perplexed by this turn of events and clenched his fists on your thighs. "Are you attempting to issue commands, princess?" he inquired with a hint of amusement, then proceeded to remove his belt and tie your wrists behind your back. However, he was uncertain as to the purpose of this action.

"You are not able to touch me, as I am in control of the situation. Should you wish to cum again, you will do as I say. However, I will not have sex with you at this time. I wish to cause you suffering first" he sneered. This is contrary to the image of the sweet boy that he presented. He undressed you completely, admiring your body from a distance once you had nothing to cover yourself and then disappeared to get something. He returned with a bottle of wine in his hand and a full goblet from which he was drinking. "You know I love wine. I wonder what it tastes like if I pour it on you. What do you say? Shall we try it?" He bit his lip as he moved closer to you and kissed you with the same frenzy as before. The wine tasted like red wine, the same one he had offered you nights before. What remarkable coincidence was that ever? You felt a liquid, which was not particularly cold, run through your breasts and the rest of your body. The liquid had made its way up your stomach to your thighs, and Chan was gradually descending with his lips, as if he wanted to consume you.

His lips fixed themselves first on your collarbones, which had been previously treated with a little bit of wine. He proceeded to drink the liquid and begin to leave bites and kisses on your breasts. You were certain that he was consuming you and that you would find purple marks all along the way, particularly around your nipples. With one hand, he was holding one of your breasts and massaging it, while playing with the nipple that was stuck between his index and middle fingers. His mouth was on the other breast, licking, biting and sucking the nipple. It was clear that nothing could be more pleasurable than the experience at that moment. The head was thrown back in response to the intense pleasure. "What a delight you are, princess," he said, his remaining hand clutched at her throat. All she could produce were disjointed sounds devoid of meaningful words. He proceeded to descend with his tongue, licking the wine from your stomach to your thighs. He then proceeded to bite and leave hickeys all the way to your groin.

Upon raising his face, one observed a smug expression. Saliva was observed to be dripping from the sides of the lips, and the subject was perceived as a potential meal. In contrast, Chan had never known a woman like you, and your every move drove him crazy. Your scent and beauty had been the first thing he had noticed when he first became interested in you. The sensation of your vaginal walls constricting around his tongue was a profound experience, one that sent him to a state of rapture. He contemplated the sensations he would experience when he penetrated you with his penis. You observed him grin repeatedly, and you gasped when he was completely naked in front of you. Perhaps you understood why his former girlfriend had found sexual intercourse with him to be an unbearable experience. It was a complex array of sensations. He was of considerable girth and possessed a notable degree of vascularity. You observed him for a few moments, during which time he elicited a sarcastic chuckle.

"I can see you quite like what you see, sweetheart," he laughed, only to have you spread your legs and begin rubbing his length over your thigh, grazing your clitoris with the tip. This was a spot to which, by the way, he was the subject of the torture of his thumb moving quickly over it. He was fucking you until you were dumb. And not in the literary sense, unfortunately. "Chan...please..." you implored him, this being perhaps the third or fourth occasion on which you had reached orgasm that evening, with the intervals between the events being relatively brief.

"Be patient, my dear," he whispered in your ear. The speed with which he was rubbing his penis had increased significantly, and seeing him moaning like that, with those expressions contributed greatly to accelerating your orgasm, which occurred a few minutes before the one that Chan released on your thigh. With two fingers, he took some of the semen and brought it to your lips as he squeezed your neck, indicating that you should open your mouth. He engaged in oral stimulation of your tongue until his fingers were clean, then withdrew and proceeded to clean you. He then inquired as to your preferences for dinner. He proceeded to bite his lip and extend an invitation for you to take a bath with him.

The duration of the cohabitation would be long.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

The last thing you ever imagined in your life was living under the same roof as your boss. Yet here you were, in the car with him, driving back to "your" home. It had been two weeks since you had signed that contract, Hyunjin and Ryujin were doing nothing but trying to extrapolate information and gossip to you about how Chan was fucking. But no, you didn't know either - you weren't always doing something, every day, there were days when you were really busy or days when Chan didn't go out except to go to work from his studio. But when he was in the right mood, he didn't hesitate to call you into his studio and drive you crazy with his touch. You experienced things you had never tried before, like wax play, and one night he even tied you up with a rope that was thicker than you thought. Not to mention the first time he had fucked you in the mouth. He had been so rough - not that you had minded - that you had trouble moving your jaw for the next two days. But Chan had been very kind to look after you.

Now he tightened his hand around your thigh, almost as if he were angry, and you wondered what was going on in the boy's head at that moment. When you got home, he gave you a look that you could not decipher and took you in his arms - at which you let out a cry of surprise - and took you to his room, where you had never been before.

"Get ready because you'll be up a lot tonight," he said as he tossed you into bed. From then on you understood that this was the moment after two weeks when he would not feel pity for you, and in the end you were not so sad. He laughed at the sight of your face, which was a little confused and shocked at his sudden disappearance, but you wondered why he looked so angry. "Did something happen?" you innocently asked the boy who was now towering over you. He laughed as if you had just said the funniest thing ever. "It really bothers me that the typist won't stop looking at you, trying miserably to get your attention. I have to do something to let others know you're mine," he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. You had no idea what he was talking about, but you were sure that seeing him so possessive of you had had an unexpected effect on you.

"Do it Chan," you said as you tugged at the collar of his shirt; you were going crazy for this man and seeing him like this only made you more vulnerable to his mercy.

You didn't even notice how he unzipped your clothes, how the room had suddenly become extremely hot, as if someone had lit a fire or a stove. Chan didn't need to move to show you what was hidden under his clothes, what a wonderful god he was under those now useless and discarded robes on the floor. You had seen him walk away and take something from the cupboard and were almost surprised to see handcuffs in his hands. You hated being touched when he was in charge, you had learnt many things about him in those weeks, one of which was that Chan loved to feel in charge, to be in control. And how he loved it. And you didn't mind seeing the smug look on his face when he knew he was having an effect on you. He grabbed your hands and brought them behind your back, stopping them with the metal object, his expression was something indescribable. He was so attractive, you could have come just by looking at him.

He positioned you with your head dangling from the foot of the bed and lowered himself to your level, stroking your red lips with his thumb as you gasped. All this was already having an effect. "Look how beautiful you look," he whispered as he moved his lips closer to yours, "so beneath me, at my will, ready to receive all I have to give you... you are a feast for the eyes. "If you only knew you..." she whispered through his lips, boosting his ego and pushing him even further to initiate a ravenous, almost violent kiss. He pulled his tongue out with his teeth and sucked on it. "Chan... please..." you said almost imperceptibly, which amused him greatly as he loved to see you like that.

He stood in front of you, his figure was imposing, statuesque. You could see his full length. He winked, made you open your lips with his thumb, played with your tongue. If only he had put a finger between your legs, you would have known immediately the effect he was having on you. "Be a good girl and take it all in your mouth, princess," he chuckled as he began to work his length down your entire throat, the fact that you were upside down on the bed making it even more exciting. But it wasn't like Chan to stand still while you gave him pleasure. And while he held your hair in a tight grip, he enjoyed using his other hand to caress your breast and play with your nipple. This drove you crazy as much as it drove him crazy that the moans he was making you make his cock quiver in your throat. This really drove him out of his mind.

His hand went all the way down your chest to your belly as he mercilessly fucked your throat. He squeezed your side and reached down to lick your navel with his tongue. His hand wanders to the naked centre of your intimacy: "Look how sensitive we are today. Two fingers begin to make small circles over your clitoral hood and this immediately makes you moan again along its length. He inserts one finger and then a second, fucking you with them first. You throw back your eyes as he reaches your sensitive spot and begins to curl his fingers. But he doesn't go for it, he doesn't want to come like that, he doesn't want you to come like that. "I'm going to fuck you mercilessly, princess. Don't scream too loudly, you don't want the neighbours to complain," he whispered in your ear after leaving your lips and towering over you.

He brought your knees up to his shoulders and paused to watch your hole shrink around the nothing. "It's going to be really wonderful to fuck you." And he entered you. "Ah!" you moaned, unable to stop yourself. You felt full. Good. Filled. "'Damn darling, you're so tight, even after my fingers... I'm going to start moving now, okay?" he groaned, then pulled out of you and suddenly thrust back in. You moan. "You like it, you want more baby," he chuckled then watched as you begged him pleadingly with gestures and disconnected words. And if he only knows how much you wanted it.

He begins to move without stopping, trapping you between his elbows as if to let you know that you are his alone. At first he pushes himself into you slowly, until you get used to it and start to want more, pushing your hips against his. He speeds up and you almost lose your breath, your moans now a poor diastro. You feel like you could come at any moment and he can tell by the way you tighten around him. "Come for me, Y/N," he says hoarsely into your ear, then takes you in his arms and kisses you roughly until your lips bleed. But he doesn't miss a drop and licks up to the end of your chin when, without warning, you come and he's inside you.

He slowly leans you back into the mattress and gets off on top of you. But you are not tired, you want more. "What is it, Princess?" he says, looking at you. You have noticed his gaze. "I want to do it again," you whisper breathlessly. He looks at you amused and chuckles, towering over you. "You really are insatiable," he says, turning you over and letting you rest on his lap, your hair quickly clenched in his fist and pulled towards him, making you moan immediately. "Now I'm going to fuck you from behind, baby," he whispers in your ear before he enters you. It was slow and almost excruciating but you loved the feeling of him rubbing inside you, maybe you loved the feeling of just having him inside you. "Inside you is like being in heaven," he whispers in a rough voice as he increases his thrusts, making them almost animalistic, everything moving with you, even the bed. You moan, loudly, and once again you clench around him. "Come for me, baby," and with just one word you scream his name and come on his hand, which had reached down to your clit to collect your fluids.

He makes you lie on your side and smiles, then caresses your cheek and leaves a bite on your shoulder before licking your fluids away.

"I could go on until dawn."

"Fuck me."

In the end he wasn't so sweet like you thought, not in bed.

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elsweetheart · 1 year

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what you heard : part one

synopsis: you start to develop feelings for your boyfriends dealer.

♪ what you heard — sonder ♪

cw: reader is a bisexual woman dating a man, brief descriptions of having sex with a man, weed, alcohol, ellie’s sexual thoughts, blink and you miss it mention of throwing up, a man being really mean and a bad boyfriend, gay girl drama, ellie is kind of a homewrecker but reader doesn’t technically cheat, but mentions of it. kind of angsty at times? a little?

an: whew this is kinda lengthy !! idk how many words so… don’t ask me :( i hope you all enjoy it! i’ll start writing part two asap!

Ellie didn’t hate any of her customers, no. That would be bad for business. She just simply… preferred some over the others. Louis was one of those customers that she wouldn’t exactly reserve her best weed for. Not originally, at least. He was like a lot of the other guys on campus, average. Brown hair with the same old outfits, love of sports, and friend group. She could find one hundred of him. She kept a pretty exclusive clients list, not wanting to overwhelm herself with business whilst she’s really trying this year to stay on top of her studies. He wasn’t the most polite, and he was always showing up without texting first — but he paid, and that was good enough to keep him on as a customer.

Alright, maybe that wasn’t really the reason Ellie kept him on as a customer.

She always liked to check out the social media accounts of the people she sold to, try and figure out what kind of person they were, who they knew, and if they seemed like the type to give her up if a cop came knocking. Also, simply put — the girl was nosy. Don’t let her nonchalant demeanour fool you, her Insta-stalking skills rivalled the FBI. She knew she probably shouldn’t, and she did feel a little weird doing it — scrolling on her bed one evening in a hoodie and basketball shorts, she typed in Louis’ name to the Instagram search bar.

He had one picture up of you, the rest were pictures of him and his friends at parties. Real classy, she thought. She clicked the picture, wondering what kind of girl would have to be desperate enough to go out with a guy this… meh, and oh… Oh. You were smoking hot. It was a halloween throwback, a basic couple costume with Louis dressed as the devil and you, ironically enough dressed as an angel. He kept his sweaty pink hand on the curve of your ass as the two of you laughed. She wondered what was funny. He got lucky, she thought. Very lucky.

Ellie tapped you, and a tag emerged on the screen with your name. Pretty name, of course. Private account — much to her disappointment.

It would be totally inappropriate to follow you, right? Her customers girlfriend. Ellie clicked her own profile, gazing at it thoughtfully. Her profile picture was a black screen, and she had zero pictures up on her account. She had a considerable amount of followers, given her reputation but she didn’t follow many back — just a few very loyal customers, and her best friends Jesse and Dina. It would be weird to follow you right? Yes. Very weird, Ellie. She closed out the app, and pretty much forgot about it.

It was always the same exchange with Louis. He turned up, either unannounced or 2 hours late — burp, demand weed whilst barely sparing Ellie a glance or a thank you, and then head out. She didn’t always mind — not being a huge fan of small talk anyway, though she could do without the burp. He’d had texted earlier in the day, asking — no, telling Ellie that he would be passing by to pick up his usual ‘at some point’. A quiet knock rapt at the door around 02:23PM. Ellie swung the door open, coming face to face with you.

“Hi… Ellie?” You smiled. Hopeful, sweet, even prettier in person. You were wearing a little sundress with the cheap thin material that hugged every curve on your body, and if she stared a little longer like she wanted to she’d start to border on creepy. Ellie cleared her throat, fighting out a greeting and praying it would come out relatively normal.

“Yeah.” Was what she landed on. Whatever, play it cool. Pretend you didn’t try and stalk her Instagram.

“Louis isn’t coming, the weed is for me and he told me where to buy from, so… hi.” You grinned before telling her your name like she didn’t already know it.

“Hey. I’m Ellie.” And with that, she stepped aside and let you in.

It was like you brought the sunshine in from outside with you, because as soon as you stepped into her room Ellie felt too warm in her grey hoodie. She pushed the sleeves up as your eyes flickered around her dorm, realised she felt stupid and pushed them back down.

“How much you want?” She was pulling out the metal box from her drawer, glancing up at you as your brows furrowed unsurely — thinking as you tugged at your glossed lip. Ellie tried not to stare.

“Uh—” You breathed, and it relaxed Ellie slightly to see that you seemed more nervous than she did somewhat— just for a different reason. “Louis told me to just ask for what he usually gets? I’m sorry, I’ve never bought my own weed before.” You cringed, and then cringed again at the word choice. Ellie smiled fade into a soft chuckle with a nod that said ‘I bet you haven’t.’ She should have guessed, when did pretty girls ever buy their own weed?

“You’re good. I know what his usual is.” Ellie reassured, digging around in the nuggets. She pulled a couple out, placing them down on her scale before bagging them up. You held out your hand unsurely, and she pressed the plastic baggie into it. Your mouth opened to say something, and Ellie’s hand froze above yours as she watched you — trying to work out what might be wrong. “What? Is this not…”

“No, sorry. It’s perfect. I assume. I’m not sure. I just… I don’t know how to roll these. Lou told me to buy my own weed seeing as I am the one who wanted to smoke and — it’s okay. I’ll just Google it.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks turn warm at your own rambling. Ellie stopped you as you went to shove the baggie into her pocket with a calm smile, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘Hey, it’s okay. Chill.’

“I can roll it for you. It’s no biggie.”

You visibly relaxed, and Ellie could tell because of the way your chest collapsed slightly, not suffocating your tits against the material of your dress anymore which she couldn’t help but glance at as you looked away. “Thanks. Sorry.” You guffawed, your embarrassment seeming a little relieved as you stepped back, leaning against her desk as she pulled her chair and tray out to do the rolling.

“Louis not buying your weed for you?” She conversed, eyes on the rolling paper as she carefully packed it. Your head snapped towards her, realising that you were the one who blabbed that. Her eyes glanced up at you briefly when you didn’t immediately answer.

“No. It’s… okay though.” You justified, a mass of shame swirling just below your rib cage. You didn’t wanna talk shit about your boyfriend to a stranger, even if the stranger had a totally welcoming vibe about her — and your boyfriend was cheap. Ellie tsk’d lightheartedly, shaking her head. “Against the rules, man.” She comment quietly.

“What rules?” You furrowed your brows defensively as she continued packing.

“You don’t let your girl buy her own weed?” She repeat obviously. Something about the way she said it made the embarrassment in your stomach dissipate into butterflies, which widened your eyes slightly at the disloyal feeling.

“Oh.”

Silence for a beat or two as Ellie concentrate. You notice the lesbian flag on her pinboard.

“It’ll probably just be me and my friends that smoke it anyway. The weathers nice so we’ll be at one of those frat pool parties… You don’t go to those?” You tilt your head, and her eyes lingered on you as you did so at the sugary sweetness in your gesture. God, you made her teeth hurt.

“Nah. I hear those things get weird and horny. Straight people… no offence.” She glances towards you once more, the ‘no offence’ holding little to no weight. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to give a shit about offence, anyways.

“I’m bisexual, but I understand.” You giggle, pushing yourself back to sit more on her desk, swinging your legs as you watch her roll. Her fingers froze for just a moment, before she continued rolling.

“Oh yeah?” She conversed, absolutely despising how a flame of hope flickered in her chest. Nope. Not doing this again.

“Yeah, actually I…” You chuckled. “I started college with the hopes of finding a girlfriend. Things just… didn’t end up that way I guess.” You shrugged, and you seemed happy enough but Ellie could sense the disappointment buried deep.

“Huh.” Ellie let out as she licked the rolling paper, firmly closing it up. She kind of hoped you were watching her as she did so. You weren’t. “You know if you squint really hard Louis could be a lesbian.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Ellie pushed her chair back, standing. You chuckled and she smirked, pushing the two pre rolls she’d made into a bigger baggie and then presenting them to you. “This gonna be enough?”

“Oh yeah, I’m a total lightweight.” You giggled girlishly and she nodded, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she watched you fish around in your purse, unzipping an inside pocket to stuff the rolls inside.

“Cute.” She let slip with a smile, and your heart fluttered a little. You berated yourself for that silently.

“What extra do I owe you? Do you charge for rolling or… I don’t know how this usually works.” You pulled out your pink zip up wallet, the zip a glittery jewel between your fingers.

“Nah. No extra charge.” She held her hands up and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. That was a lie. She did usually charge extra for that, but one thing about Ellie was that she was a sucker for the pretty girl discount.

“Really?” And out came the doe eyes, your dark heavy eyelashes weighty above your pretty eyes as you looked up at her in awe. It was Ellie’s hearts turn to flutter.

“Really.” She smirked, not breaking eye contact (much to her surprise) as she pinched the cash payment from you between her pointer and middle finger knuckles, only swallowing down the giddiness when your fingers brushed hers. You grinned, zipping your wallet back up and tucking it away, feet tapping on the floor a little like you just couldn’t contain your excitement (Which made Ellie want to squeeze you.)

“I know you said it’s not your thing, but you should come to one of the pool parties. Most of the time the people there are cool. It’ll be good for business.” You wiggled your eyebrows which made Ellie’s smile uncontainable, teeth actually on display now which she honestly never did. No one was ever funny or cute enough.

“Maybe.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, walking you towards her door.

“They happen every weekend. Would be cool to see you there.” You fixed your bag over your shoulder before turning back to her. “Nice to meet you, Ellie. You’ll be seeing more of me.” You nodded formally, and the auburn haired girl tore her eyes away from the visible band of your underwear through the material of the dress when you looked back at her, muttering a “Good.”

Ellie always came away from these kind of things wishing she said more. She knew you had a boyfriend, but something about you seemed more curious. Like you weren’t totally against the idea of flirting back. Maybe it was all in her head because of the stupid crush she’d already developed. She didn’t understand it, how could someone like you feel fulfilled by someone like him. Ellie would never let you pay for your own weed, she’d treat you right. She had the means to be able to spoil you, which she didn’t need proof to know that Louis didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even pay for his girls weed — Ellie knew stingy when she saw it. He probably wasn’t even making you cum. Not like Ellie could anyway, but then again who could? She’d like to think she had a gift — but maybe it was a guitarist-fingers thing, and years of deftly rolling tight joints.

Ellie shook her head free of the thought — sure she was a little grey-moralled — but thinking about finger fucking one of your customers girlfriends on a sunny afternoon felt a little wrong even for her. She was heading off to meet Dina to exchange notes for a class she missed, again just about willing herself to stay focused this semester. The two of them chat over coffee, the notes barely touched as the two friends joked around. When a pensive silence filled the space between them, Ellie spoke up — picking at a hangnail in a way she hoped was casual.

“You ever been to those campus pool parties? The ones at that douchey frat house?” She shrugged, glancing up at her darker haired friend.

“Uh, yeah. Like once or twice.” Dina frowned before snickering, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “What, you interested? You don’t even enjoy regular parties, hermit.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped slightly in offence, letting out a scoff before taking a sip of her coffee — still scalding hot on her tongue. “Excuse me. I’d be there strictly on business. I heard it’s… I was told I should go.” She explained. Dina’s smirk deepened, eyes lowering into slits.

“Who is she?”

“Why do you assume this is about a girl?” She rolled her jewelled eyes, before glancing around the cafe just incase anyone was listening to her pathetic segue into talking about you.

“Because last time I suggested you come with me and Jesse you nearly threw a textbook at my head.” Dina argued, making Ellie sit back in her seat, looking away in defeat as she crossed her arms over her light grey hoodie.

“She’s got a boyfriend. So it doesn’t matter. Just said it would be good for business and… the customer is always right, so I’ve been told.” Ellie rushed out, Dina’s shoulders dropping with a pitying look.

“Oh Ellie. Why put yourself through that?”

“She’s bi — okay stop. This isn’t about her. I was just asking. Fuckin’… forget it.” Ellie flipped the page of her notes now, going to scribble down what Dina had written to get her mind off the conversation.

“Alright, alright.” Her friends held up her hands. “Defensive.”

Ellie didn’t see Louis much from that point on. Same time, every week — you would be on her doorstep. Ellie wasn’t sure if it was just out of convenience, or maybe you had wanted to see her. You had the same spritely, sunshine attitude each time you stepped into her dorm — lighting it up with your smile and your pretty dresses. The auburn haired dealers heart was beginning to ache in a painfully familiar way. An unrequited crush, a girl she couldn’t have. She wished she could say this was the first time she’d crushed on a girl with a boyfriend — but that would be a lie.

Each time you left, the giddiness would fade out into a prickly, warm and uncomfortable anger settling in at the pit of her stomach. Occasionally, you’d let slip the way Louis treat you — and if you didn’t say it, she could tell by the look on your face when his name would come up. Your classes were stressing you out, hence needing her weed to unwind in the first place, and your boyfriend was doing nothing to ease your anxiety, instead choosing to go out and get wasted with his friends each night. You deserved better, and she knew it wasn’t her place to say but shit, it was killing her. You were killing her. She could treat you better.

From outside the frat house, she could hear music, laughter, and water splashing from down the street. Ellie stood with Dina and Jesse, already regretting her decision.

“Fuck this. I’m turning around.” Ellie attempted to swivel, but Jesse grabbed her arm.

“No you’re not. You’re here to sell, remember? Got a friend with money, said he’d pay you good.” He gave her a light shove towards the door, Dina rolling her eyes at the two’s antics. Ellie felt overdressed, wearing her short sleeved blue worn denim shirt unbuttoned over a wife beater and shorts with her Converse, pockets stuffed with pre-rolls gifting her that usual marijuana infused smell that followed her around that said ‘Hey everyone! I’m a dealer!’ Upon stepping out into the backyard, it was clear what kind of party it was. The sun was still shining, and people seemed pretty drunk already — jumping off the low roof and into the pool, girls on the outskirts squealing in their bikinis. The floor was practically vibrating with the bass from a Drake song and the sun was sizzling the back of Ellie’s neck — recipe for a headache, she thought. She’d sell her shit, and get out.

She knew you’d be here. In the back of her mind she knew. And yet, her heart still damn near thudded out her chest when you were suddenly right in front of her, arms extended with a big toothy grin. Ellie had almost panicked, not ready for the confrontation. She hadn’t even gotten herself a drink yet, hadn’t even smoked yet and here you were. You were wearing a white bikini and it looks so pretty against your soft skin. She was looking at your tits again.

Ah, shit.

“Ellie! M’so happy you came! I didn’t think I’d ever see you at one of these!” You all but squealed, throwing your arms around her neck and pulling your body taut against hers. Ellie didn’t have to look at Dina and Jesse to know that their eyebrows were practically in their hairline, taking in the scene in front of them. Your bikini top was damp still clearly having taken a dip in the pool earlier, along with the ends of your hair and she felt the wet triangles pressing damp spots into her own chest, your tits pressed up against her. You even had the nerve to let out a happy little ‘mmph’ moan as your body collided with hers. Were you really that happy to see her? God, if I had a dick right now, it would be rock fuckin’ hard. Thank fuck I don’t, Ellie thought— eyes opening again, not realising that she had squeezed them shut to suppress a moan when she’d hugged you back.

“Uh, yeah! Told you I’d consider it.” She tried to play it cool when she pulled back, taking in your giggly expression. You didn’t let go of her arm as you pulled away, and a waft of alcohol drifted through to Ellie’s nose, suddenly helping her understand the situation a little better. You were pretty drunk, but where was your boyfriend? Ellie scanned behind you, searching for his brunette mop only to be met with several dozens of them. Great. She felt a spike of anger in her chest again, violently protective. Who just leaves their girl wandering around in a bikini, drunk, at a frat party? “Wheres your little boyfriend?” Her expression flattened out, and she caught herself. She didn’t mean for it to come out like… that. Luckily, you were drunk enough to not notice the bitterness in her tone.

“Louis? Oh— uh…” Your bottom lip stuck out as you spun around on your tiptoes to see over heads, scanning the yard for him before spinning back with a shrug. You dropped back down onto the balls of your feet and your tits bounced in Ellie’s peripheral vision. “Who knows.” You giggle, eyes jumping to Ellie’s two friends, silently watching with amused smirks.

“Oh, uh— these are my friends. Dragged me along here. Dina,” She pointed. “And Jesse.” He gave you a little wave.

“Hi!” You chirped with an adorable little wave, before telling them your own name. “I’m not usually this��uh—”

“Drunk?” Ellie leant forward quietly with a smirk, like it was a secret just between the two of you. You giggled, turning back to her, introductions long forgotten as your face morphed into a theatric pout, blown out puppy dog eyes and all.

“Who says I’m drunk? Maybe I’m just really friendly.” You practically pur, suggestiveness dripping off your tone as your hand pulled her by her arm just that little bit closer, soft fingertips over her tattoo. Just as Ellie scrambled for an answer — your name was called in a familiar voice. Louis.

“Babe, there you are.” He sounded irritated, and Ellie straightened her back, jaw squaring ever so slightly. Be friendly, Ellie. He’s a customer — she remind herself. A shitty one, but he still pays you.

“Oh…” He took Ellie in, eyes jumping over her attire before glancing back at you. She just admit, she did look violently lesbian that day — and the body language between her and his girl wasn’t looking all too great to fresh eyes. “Hey.”

You reluctantly let go of Ellie’s arm, which didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette boy.

“I was just catching up with Ellie!” You grinned, and God — were you aware of just how flirtatious you looked batting your eyelashes up at her like that? In front of your boyfriend?

“Yeah, I see that.” Louis’ eyes didn’t leave Ellie’s, which of course she took as a competition without even thinking. She took a step closer, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She stood around 5’7. Taller when she wore boots. Taller if she fixed her posture. He wasn’t much taller than her, so she pretty much met his eye. Her heart skipped a few beats knowing you were watching her, but she held his gaze anyway— tilting her chin up a little. “Thanks for looking after my girl.” He spoke, which almost made Ellie want to laugh.

“Any time.” Eye to eye, the smirk that tugged at her lips held more meaning and the two of you knew it. Oh, she’d look after you alright. Louis’ eyes flickered away, glancing over at Dina and Jesse before back to her, stepping away and putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Come watch me play beer pong?” He spoke to you and you shrugged happily, taking the drink out of his hand and sipping. The freckled dealer couldn’t help but briefly think about how if you were with her she would have cut you off by this point, wrapping an arm around your waist and telling you that you’d had enough to drink, maybe suggest grabbing you a water. As he lead you away, you craned in his hold to wave at Ellie, who waved a few fingers back— watching closely. It was a casual crush before, but now it was on. She didn’t like Louis’ smugness, nor his general attitude or the way he was neglecting you. She had to take you and leave him with nothing. No, Ellie. You’re being like him. She’s not a piece of meat. But she knew the protectiveness didn’t stem from that. Did she think about you sexually? Yeah. But she could give you more than that. You were a sweet girl, and you should be treated as such.

“That was tense.” Dina raised her eyebrows, breaking the auburn haired girls concentration, her gaze snapping back to her friends.

“Oh, uh — he’s fuckin’… weird. I dunno. I give him my shitty weed.” She shrugged it off, looking over her shoulder once more to watch you disappear inside.

“I get it now, though. She’s a total smoke show.” Dina dropped her hand onto Ellie’s shoulder who sighed, shaking off the whole interaction.

“Whatever. I need a drink.” Ellie rolled her eyes, stepping away.

“She was hot.”

“Jesse, it’s okay when I say it. Not when you say it.”

“What? You just called her a smoke show! You’ve never called me that.”

Ellie left the bickering couple behind to find a beer, needing something cool and alcoholic to wind her down. Why was she getting so possessive over someone that wasn’t hers? You were making her feel like a creep, and she didn’t like that. Ellie did not catch feelings easily, despite her past mistakes. So like… what the fuck?

She didn’t see you for two weeks.

Maybe you’d realised you shouldn’t be giving her the eyes. Maybe Louis stepped up his game, who knows. Neither of you had even purchased any weed, and it was approaching exam season so Ellie knew you were stressed. But did she know? Was it presumptuous of her to ‘know’ how you feel?Just based off several occurrences and conversations when you’d come to her dorm to pick up? She tried to shake the feeling of you, your skin grazing hers and your pretty eyes staring up at her — and it was actually working. Maybe time does heal everything. Until of course, she went to the library and the clocks reversed on themselves.

She had to admit, she was falling a little behind in her work. She had gotten so preoccupied in selling that she had almost forgotten to be, well… a student. Her backpack was making her shoulder sore so she switched it to the other as she wandered through the building, fairly quiet for a Tuesday. She felt a pit of irritation bud inside her when she saw someone sat in the seat she wanted, the one that was away from everyone else in the library. She note the pink laptop case, the Hello Kitty stickers on the water bottle, the bracelets on the protruding arm. Oh, it was you.

Ellie was planning to walk on by. You’re here to do work, not flirt or get yourself involved in some kind of sapphic shenanigan. Your head was on the desk, and she figured you had fallen asleep — which almost made her smile fondly before she caught herself. Not yours, Ellie. As she stepped away however, she heard a sniffle. Then another. Ellie froze, willing herself not to do it. It’s not your responsibility Ellie, you can walk away and pretend you never saw. She pursed her lips, turning around anyway.

As she did so, you were lifting your head from the table, wiping your cheeks and nose of tears. You had this pitiful pout on your face, streaming eyes all pink and glossy and your nostrils damp in this oddly adorable way. Ellie still had time to creep away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You uh… you good?” She stood awkwardly, making you snap your head towards her in surprise. She didn’t miss the way your eyes widened slightly in embarrassment at seeing a familiar face in such a vulnerable moment.

“Oh — Ellie. Um, yes. I’m fine.” You tried, but when you held her doubtful gaze — your lip wobbled again.

“Okay.” Ellie sighed after a beat, pulling up a seat and dragging it to your small table. Yep, she was doing this. “Talk to me.” She spoke in a hushed tone. She was so gentle with her voice and her eyes and her general demeanour — something you weren’t so used to — it soothed you enough to calm you for a moment and you revelled in the unfamiliar but warm feeling she brought you.

“I don’t wanna bore you with it.” You shook your head with an demure chuckle. Ellie wanted to reach forward and wipe your tears away, her hands itched on the table in-front of her instead.

“We’re literally in the library. I promise you that nothing is more boring than my text-book.” She raised an eyebrow with the attempts of making you laugh. Instead, you watched her for a moment. Ellie could tell you were wondering why she was being so nice to you. Does she treat all her customers this way?

“It’s… stupid. Louis just…” You sigh, as if the mere mention of his name makes you cringe. “We’re not that serious. So… I don’t care what he goes off and does in his spare time,” Interesting, Ellie noted. “But he gets really mad. And when he gets mad he gets mean. I guess I just need thicker skin.” Your voice cracked.

“Or you need to be with someone who’s not an asshole.” Ellie snipped before she got the chance to stop herself. Your eyes met hers again, a little wide in shock. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, collecting herself. You blinked and two fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

“It’s… okay.” You whispered, playing with your bracelet. A silence sat between you two, just the sound of quiet shuffling in the library and your sniffs.

“Look, don’t let him get to you. You don’t… deserve that.” She shook her head and you nodded slowly, accepting. It was as if Louis were purposely giving her more reason to dislike him, and it was getting harder to hide her distaste for him. Snide comments were slipping out more frequently, Shit — she could barely even contain her facial expressions when his name was mentioned. Something had to be done soon, because she didn’t know how much ‘pretending’ she had left in her. Thankfully, the two of you seemed to have developed a bit of a friendship — so she felt less guilty about bashing your boyfriend, as you seemed understanding due to his often unlikeable ways.

“You done here soon?” Ellie looked around at the library. You wiped your cheek, hitting save on your laptop and shrugging.

“Didn’t really have any work to do, just didn’t know where to go.” You pout sadly, making Ellie have to dig her nails into her seat this time so that she didn’t lean forward and kiss it off you.

“Y’wanna smoke? On me. You need cheering up.” She stood up, swinging her backpack back on, studying long forgotten. You looked up at her hopefully, a glint of reluctance in your eye. You didn’t know why it felt wrong, you weren’t technically doing anything wrong. Just two friends hanging out, right? Louis wouldn’t know that you’re attracted to her. You wasn’t even sure if Louis remembered that you were bisexual for Gods sake, despite telling him a whole bunch of times.

“Really? I can pay you Ellie…” Your eyebrows knit together, and she was already shaking her head.

“My treat. I don’t like seeing pretty girls cry. Makes me wanna cry. You want me to cry?” She joked, pointing at herself in disbelief. She felt relief at the giggle that made its way out your throat, covering your mouth as to not disturb the other library goers. Pretty girls. The words echoed around your head until your face was hot before it dropped into your stomach and made a nest there.

“Okay.” You agreed after a moment. What harm could it do? Louis was an asshole, and the guilt began to slip away as you stood up — remembering all the nasty things he’d said to you.

“Alright, good.” Ellie grinned, turning her face away for a moment so maybe you wouldn’t see how excited she was. You did.

“Thats a terrible first high story.” You giggled, taking a draw from the joint.

“What? Fuck you let’s hear yours then!” Ellie gaped, leaning forward from her seat on her bed to take the joint from you as you exhaled. You bit back your smile, letting your pink, watery eyes sail off in thought at you recalled your first time smoking.

“Kay, so… I was 17.” You staged dramatically, widening your eyes slightly as she smirked at your theatrics, leaning back with her eyes glued to you. If you weren’t so blazed, maybe you’d feel nervous under her simmering gaze. “Best friends brother let us smoke some in the backyard with his friends. I tried to play it cool, but I smoked too much and start laughing and I couldn’t stop. Like — it was painful, and I was scared because I couldn’t stop laughing. And they were all looking at me like what the fuck… so I went inside, tried to calm myself down and I threw up on the carpet. Like a distressed cat.” You pouted lightheartedly as Ellie chuckled along with your story.

“Threw up? How strong was the weed? Damn.” She laughed and you shook your head.

“It might have been the shots we’d done before hand to calm our nerves. Bad idea.” You cringed and she nodded, eyes still piercing into you as her laughter died down.

“That might’ve been it, yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as she brought the joint to her lips once again, sucking in as she inhaled the pungent smoke. Ellie always got this confidence about her when she smoked. Well — she always had this slightly cocky demeanour about her, but for the most part it was an act. A need to protect herself. A defence mechanism that helped her get by — being a dealer was a social ass job. But smoking made that feeling real. She knew that was bad, relying on weed for real confidence and all, but hey — she’ll take what she can get.

“How you feeling? Any better?” She tested the waters, almost sorry she brought it up when you remembered Louis’ existence, expression melting a little into one of slight disappointment. One that said ‘Oh yeah… him.’ Like you’d forgotten for a moment.

“I guess. Not gonna let it bother me like you said. I don’t have the energy.” You shrugged, tearing your gaze away to study your baby pink manicure instead. Ellie scoffed out a little chuckle, finally stubbing out the joint. The noise attracted your attention and you met her analytical stare.

“Can I… ask what you see in that guy? Not judging just… curious.” She held her hands up in defence, but you didn’t exactly jump to his rescue. Infact it took you a moment to think about it.

“I don’t…” You stop yourself from saying ‘I don’t know’, your pride still burning despite the weed letting your guard down. “He’s… nice most of the time. Kinda guy your parents want you to bring home. He’s not as bad as he seems around other people. I guess he makes me feel wanted when we’re together?” You consider, but the way you say it makes Ellie think that you don’t even fully believe it. “I think… it was gonna be just sex. When I first met him anyway, but if I’m being totally honest the sex isn’t worth it on its own so I dunno… I thought I’d feel more fulfilled by a commitment, you know?”

Ellie was delighted, to be honest. It was music to her ears. You were just spewing about how unfulfilled you were, and she was starting to feel more and more confident that she could convince you that there was a bigger and better world out there. She laughed, openly — letting the joy of the moment go to her head for a minute.

“Oh that’s funny?” You giggled back, chucking a small brown sentimental looking teddy bear at her from her bed. You pursed your lips and she could tell despite your laughter you were knocked slightly insecure by her reaction.

“A little.” She looks off to the side. You want to chuck something else at her but there’s nothing to throw.

“Why?” You push. You know why.

“Your boyfriend can’t fuck.” Her stomach tensed as another laugh bubbled up and you rolled your eyes theatrically, pushing yourself up just so you can dramatically change your position to face the other way on the bed, arms crossed and brow creased.

“Not opening up to you again.” You push out and she nudges you gently with her foot, a more sympathetic (yet equally amused) expression still at the surface.

“No, I’m sorry. Go on.” She waved her a hand a little in the smoky room, nudging you again with her sock covered toe.

“Thats it! There’s nothing else to it. My boyfriend can’t fuck and it sucks. I hate everything.” You complain, not daring to face her. She can’t help but burst out laughing again, the back of her head leaning back to rest on the wooden headboard as she runs a hand over her eyes, shielding herself from the bright dorm light, and you. She lets out an ‘ahhh’ at the end of her outburst.

She hears you whine her name, and she takes more pity on you this time purely because you sound so cute.

“Alright uh— tell me what he’s doing wrong. I’ll give you pointers to give to him so he can fix his shit.” She tries suddenly, as if just being struck by the idea — and she feels you slowly look at her. She pushes her chin down to her chest, looking at you now as she removes her hand from her eyes. You blink at her a couple of times, still pretty, still high as a kite.

You inhale through your nose, eyes drifting off in thought as you turn back towards her, invested, tucking your feet beneath your ass. You hum, coming up blank. “I don’t know. I feel like… you either got it or you don’t, you know? Sex is… emotional. Well, it should be. To him it’s just… getting off.” You shrug, opting to pick at a loose thread on her grey bed throw than look at her. The smirk is still dying on her lips like the slither of sunlight resting on water at the culmination of a sunset. She takes a little longer to think, brain fogged by her high.

“So… okay.” She pushes her palms into the bed to sit up a little more. “What do you like? I don’t really pin you as someone who… wants to be in control.” She analyses, watching you carefully for a reaction. She notices the flick up of your eyebrows and guesses — correct.

“With him there’s no… no one is in control. It’s not one person calling the shots or any kind of dynamic it’s just… we just fuck and that’s it.” You sound sad this time, like bringing the conversation to forefront was making you realised just how unhappy you were.

“Do you cum?” She asks abruptly, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. You think it catches her off guard too, because she looks away from you for a moment and itches her head before deciding fuck it, and goes back to staring. You bite your lip. Well there was that one time, you were on your back — Louis on top, you had a hand pressed between the two of you, rubbing your clit in quick sloppy circles as he got busy. Your eyes were closed. Did you cum? Kind of? Your eyes were closed. You were somewhere else. Somewhere softer and warmer, and it didn’t smell like beer and sweat. You shake your head, no. It was the closest time though, but Louis got all hostile about you touching yourself during sex. Said it was insulting, that you undermined him. You shook off the memory.

“No?” She whispers, eyebrows raised to the high heavens as if she just couldn’t fathom having sex and not making her partner cum — because that’s exactly what she was doing. She felt that hot tingling anger again in her chest, but it was dulled out by the weed — leaving her with just a light irritation at the back of her throat. “Thats fucked up.”

“Is it? I mean… orgasms take time. Doesn’t just happen in five minutes… that can get exhausting.” You defend, and you’re not sure why. You both know there’s no excuse.

“Nah.” She sniffs, not quite bothered to begin on how wrong you are. She switches the subject slightly instead. “So let me guess, missionary everytime?”

Your eyes widen, pressing your fingers over your lips to stop the childish giggle from bursting out. Ellie’s eyes widen too, realising how, well — down bad she was acting. She felt like a teenage boy on Snapchat playing truth or dare asking an uninterested girl if she’d ever send nudes before.

“Uh— fuck, you don’t have to answer that. Just making conversatio—”

“Most of the time. I think…” You decide to share something to make her feel less invasive, not wanting the conversation to end. You actually enjoyed getting to talk someone about this. “I think I’d feel good on top, maybe. But, hmm. How do I put this?” You thought. You looked at her for a moment and she gazed back, waiting on you to continue. Her breath caught in her throat when you crawled up toward her. “Lay back, please?” It was a request, not a command — and Ellie thought she might be dreaming when you straddled her with a frustrated expression.

You settled, and she was hyper aware of the feeling of your pillowy ass dropped down onto her thighs over her warm crotch.

“Okay, say I’m here. In this position.” You explain as well as you can, and when you give a few demonstrative bounces on her phantom cock her hands instinctively land on your hips to steady you. Fuck. Fucking shit. You don’t even seem to notice, or care. “This,” You point at your position. “Is me being in charge and… I don’t want that. It— it doesn’t get me off. I don’t wanna feel like I’m dominating them.” You whisper the last part like you’re telling her a secret at a girly sleepover, and she catches herself grinning before she scrambles, running over what you just said in her brain.

“Wait. Nah, that’s…” She adjusts herself slightly sheepish because she can feel herself blushing. Be cool, Ellie. Be dominant. “Thats bull. It doesn’t matter what position you’re in, it’s about how you make them feel.” She shrugs, and when you continue to stare at her, pink, glossy wide eyes— she carries on, you requiring more explanation. “If you’re on top working overtime, he should be telling you what a good job you’re doin’. How pretty you look doin’ it.” Her voices rasps in the way it does when she gets horny and she hopes she’s not giving herself away. Your mind goes a little blank, succumbing to the daydream of receiving that kind of praise. It makes your skin feel clammy. Louis isn’t below you in your daydream. Your freckled friend breaks your trail of thoughts. “And,” She’s smug now, and raises her knees behind you, planting her feet down on the bed and thrusting upwards a few times making you bounce a little, gripping her tighter. “Doesn’t matter if you were on top. I could still be the one fucking you. Just like this.”

You pause, only because you’re frozen in fear that she can feel the sudden floodgates open between your legs— praying to every God imaginable that you don’t leave some kind of pathetic wet patch on her. She thinks you’ve frozen at what she’s said.

“Uh— I mean Louis. Louis could still be the one— yeah.” She shrugs off, squeezing your hips with her warm fingers and you’re suddenly aware of your compromising position again, shaken from a dream. You slide off her quickly, bringing your knees to your chest and your back to the cool wall beside her bed. You were not a cheater. It doesn’t matter that the two of you didn’t kiss, or fuck, or whatever — what would have happened if Louis had walked in and seen you in your very gay dealers lap, pretending to have sex? You were not a cheater.

Ellie’s mouth was agape, like she wanted to say sorry but just couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry enough to say it. Her eyes were worried however, worried she’d made you uncomfortable or pushed it too far.

“I should… I shouldn’t stay. It’s getting late and—” You started looking for your bag with your laptop in it, where did you put it again?

“I’m sorry I— I didn’t mean to be weird. That was… I made you feel—” Her tone was apologetic now.

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just hungry and I get weird when I’m… when I haven’t eaten. You’re fine. I mean, you were fine. Nothing weird just… friends hanging out, right?”

It hurt her, but Ellie nodded anyway. You were going back to him. It always ended this way.

“‘Kay. You got everything? You gonna be okay getting back? You’re still high.” Ellie stood, awkwardly dawdling behind you as you scooped up your purse. “I can walk you back—” She started patting her pockets for her key card.

“It’s okay, really. It’s still light outside and it’s a short walk. I think I need just… fresh air and quiet.” You avoid her eyes, but turn to face her as you back towards her door.

“Okay.” She was disappointed. “I hope you feel better now, ‘n stuff.” Your hand pushed the cold metal handle down and the hallway of her building was just as muggy, but it felt like a relief when some of the smoke from her dorm was released.

“I do.” You could look now, standing in the hallway as she didn’t move past her doorway. The distance made it safe enough to look at her pretty eyes without feeling you were going to do something bad. “Thank you Ellie. I owe you one.” Your brows knit together sincerely. Sure, I have a favour I need — break up with your boyfriend.

“Sure.” Ellie left it there, shook her head like it was nothing. “Text me and just… let me know that you got in okay. Yeah?” She continued to speak to you as you backed up down the hallway, awkwardly fumbling with your bag. It was wrong to let a girl walk back home high and alone. She thought about you walking around drunk and alone at that frat party. She was Louis this time.

“Will do. See you, Ellie.” Her name sounded like music when you said it. She had a new favourite song.

Your dorm was cooler, refreshing to be in when you got back. Your first mission was to look in the mirror and you sighed almost angrily seeing how flustered and a little dishevelled you look. You wanted to take the clothes off that touched her, still stinking of weed. You wanted food in your belly to flush her out. Flopping onto your back on your bed you pull your phone out, ignoring the texts and calls from your boyfriend — all to send a message to your dealer.

‘got back safe, thanks again😊’ You regret the emoji, but the Read: 5:13PM was immediate so there was no time to regret it for long. Three bubbles and then ‘Good’. You stare at the text, and then stare past the phone. You didn’t want to answer Louis right now. He could wait until tomorrow.

part two

#ellie williams x reader #dealer!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams fic #ellie tlou2 fic

3K notes · View notes

bellaveux · 8 months

Text

BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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fooled-around-and-fell · 2 months

Note

your geto fic is super cute 🥰 if you're taking more requests, may I request a sukuna fic please? maybe in an au where he's a gangster and reader is of a classy, rich family so reader's parents don't agree, but then sukuna appears in one of their events in a suit and looking dashing as ever!

ooooooooo it's 3 am but i have to write this down!!!!!!!!!

shadows and silk.

summary: sukuna shows you and your parents that he is absolutely the right and the only man for you (whether they agree or not) genre: angst/fluff pairing: gangster!sukuna x female reader warnings: cursing, modern day au, not a great parent-child relationship, ooc sukuna

Masterlist

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your father doesn't even bother to hide his disapproval. "he has tattoos on his face. what if he's in the mafia- what have you brought our family into?!"

"father-"

"i am," sukuna clarifies, "in the mafia. my father is the leader. and one day, it'll be my time to lead."

your parents gasp in shock, surprised by sukuna's brashness.

"that wasn't a threat," he clarifies again, holding your hand. "i love your daughter, and i'd like to have a good relationship with you both. because it's important to her."

you smile appreciatively and grasp his hand, looking at your parents with hope.

"you're fucking insane."

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it was probably not the wisest decision to ask for your parents' approval, knowing what kind of people they are. being one of the richest families in the country, it's hard to have... any kind of life outside of what they had planned for you. like a pawn in their game of chess, your choices have been made for you since the very beginning.

unlike sukuna, you grew up "perfect". you aced your piano lessons, easily graduated from your violin school, and got straight As in all your grades. every day was the same for you; wake up, school, extra lessons, homework, sleep, and repeat.

that's actually how you met sukuna. one day, there was something wrong with the traffic so your driver was late. you'd been waiting for an hour, and sukuna just happened to finish his detention.

"hm?" his eyes caught you standing by the gate. "aren't you that rich kid?"

you looked up at him and analyzed his face -- high school student with face tattoos, you don't see that very often. "who's asking?"

"tsk, tsk." he chuckled, "so much attitude for a little person." he ruffled your hair before walking in the other direction. "wanna come? i'm gonna go have some fun."

fun... the word was so unfamiliar to you. you'd never talked to him before, and though it really was probably dangerous to just go with someone whose name you didn't even know, you couldn't help yourself. especially not when he turned around with a smile, urging you to come with him.

he took you to places you've never been before and made you feel things you've never felt. you felt free from your parents' chains, for once you felt like you could do whatever you wanted.

and sukuna was glad he could make you smile. you, the girl who always kept to herself in class, quiet, polite, almost scared. you made him feel things, too.

you got an earful from your parents that day, but the cute keychain sukuna won you from the night market was worth it.

now, the keychain hangs on your favorite bag, one that he also got you a few weeks ago. though you already have multiple designer bags that are much more expensive, the bag sukuna gave you was priceless.

"morning, baby." sukuna greets you, kissing your cheek.

"morning," you smile at him. "i'm sorry for how yesterday went. my father, he's-"

"let him be," he says. "nothing can keep me away from you, understand?"

you smile at his words and nod, "you better keep it as a promise."

sukuna smiles and kisses you, "i swear it."

he wonders what he could've possibly done to deserve someone like you.

-----

"what do you mean i'm getting married?"

your father sighs. "don't be difficult. the gojo clan is the most powerful, you should be thankful they're letting you marry their son."

"but father, i have a boyfriend, and i just graduated college! i- i can't marry, i still have so much i want to-"

"enough!" he yells, "you're marrying gojo satoru by the end of next month and that's final."

you're lucky that you have your own apartment. dialing sukuna's number, you get into your car and drive home where sukuna says he's waiting for you.

"ugh, unbelievable!" you throw your keys on the table, letting it slide off and annoying you even more.

he grimaces and sits you down, handing over a glass of water. "so it didn't go well..."

you sigh, "...they're arranging a marriage. with the gojo clan."

sukuna's jaw clenches, anger evident, but then it disappears. "that makes sense. they are the strongest and the richest."

"they're not giving me an option, like always-"

"gojo satoru is pretty handsome," he continues, "blue eyes, tall, quite built.. he's not a bad bachelor."

you squint your eyes at your boyfriend who seems like he's talking nonsense... or not really. "what are you trying to say?"

sukuna sighs. "we should break up."

the words that come out of his mouth after that are all blurry to you. something along the lines of...

"we've been together for years."

"it's time to get a fresh start."

"aren't you curious what it's like to date other people?"

"i'm getting bored to be honest."

and it all just seems like bullshit. bullshit because why is he looking at you like that when he's breaking up with you? why does he look like he's still madly in love with you and saying all that stuff is killing him?

why does he look like he's lying?

"tell me you're joking."

sukuna, unfortunately, doesn't humor you and leaves you alone in your apartment without saying anything else.

the rest of the month feels like hell. you tried running away from your parents, the guards they sent after you, but to no avail. somehow, they've repurchased your apartment and now you're back to living with them.

you met gojo satoru once throughout the entire month. he's decent, and actually a good guy like sukuna said, but he's not sukuna. he doesn't leave a random flower he picked up on the way to your place, he doesn't shower your hands with kisses when he sees you, and that's all expected -- because it's not supposed to be a loving relationship. it's a contract. once you marry him, your parents' company will merge with the gojos and become even richer.

today's the engagement party. your mother has chosen the perfect red gown for good luck, and she's made all the preparations for the party -- you, like always, never had a say in anything.

you feel like an object for them to trade with. compared to the gold bars sitting in their safe, you're probably worth less.

"i know you also didn't agree to this," gojo satoru whispers as you're both sat down in the middle of the ballroom while everyone else enjoys their meal. "but you look beautiful."

you offer him a polite smile, which turns rather sad. hidden in your sleeve is the keychain sukuna got you. your mother managed to throw away every cherished memory you had of him except for the keychain.

you wonder what sukuna is doing right now... if he's enjoying his life, if he maybe has a new girl by his side...

"sorry to shit on your party," your head snaps up the moment you hear that familiar voice, and a gasp escapes when you see the even more familiar tattooed face with pink hair. "but i'm going to have to kidnap your fiancee for a bit. maybe forever."

"..ryo." you stand up abruptly, letting your chair fall and hit the ground. he's dressed in a white suit, black vest, black shirt, and a matching black tie. he looks like he's ready to be your groom.

giving you the smile you miss most, sukuna stands in front of you and grabs your hand. "hi, princess."

"what are you doing here?" you whisper, tears about to fall from your eyes.

"saving my damsel in distress." he softens when he sees your lip tremble, kissing you gently. "i told you nothing can keep me away from you."

"but you-"

behind you, gojo satoru clears his throat, motioning to the many guards surrounding both of you, ready to pull you two apart by force.

"let my daughter go right now." your father demands.

you grasp sukuna's arm tightly, not planning on letting him go any time soon. in return, he has his arm around your waist, pulling you to him gently before he snaps his fingers, revealing rows and rows of armed men ready to fire.

the guards immediately stand down, obviously outnumbered. they let you and sukuna leave without a fight, and you stop for a second to spare a glance at your parents, looking at you disapprovingly.

-----

you're sitting on sukuna's bed. you've only been to this place a few times, considering he moves around a lot. he's helping you with the infinity amount of hairpins you have stuck in your hair while you take off the red gown you're wearing.

"ryo," you call him.

he hums to acknowledge you, mouth full of hairpins.

"...why did you break up with me?"

taking out the last piece of hairpin (he thinks it's the last), he throws them away before sitting behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

"i... i thought i was doing you a favor," he admits, "with my job... it's not easy being with me, you know? i'm scared you'll think i'm a monster for what i do - it still terrifies me."

"so i thought if i just pushed you away, it'll make things easier for both of us," his grip on you tightens, "but it didn't. at least not for me. and i know i'm being selfish here by wanting you back, i know i don't deserve it, but i just... i can't imagine living without you. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you turn around to face him, straddling his thighs and kissing him softly. "if being selfish means i'm stuck with you, then you need to be more selfish."

he grins, arms wrapping around you. "i love you."

"i love you more, ryo."

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x female reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #ooc sukuna #sukuna jjk

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weird-is-life · 1 month

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hii! So I've never made a request before- but I was wondering if you could write a sunshine!reader × spencer where reader is a but dimmer(less sunshiney? Idk lol) than usual? Something sort of fluffy and comfort like if that makes sense :) I love your work sm and i saw your requests were open so- <33

Hii lovely ty for the request🥰! And thank you for loving my work, ily😭 hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, reader is a bit upset, mentions of food/drink, use of pet names(0.9k)

You come to work without your usual cheery aura. You greet everybody with a smile, but Spencer sees right through it. He can tell the difference between your real smile, and between this fake smile. I mean, he would be kind of a bad boyfriend if he couldn't differ them.

Spencer comes up to your desk, his hand immediately finds yours, "hi, sweetheart."

You look up at him, fake smile already plastered on your pretty face, "hi, Spence."

"Are you okay?" Spencer whispers, trying not to draw any attention to you.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I just didn't sleep well," you respond way too quickly so Spencer knows you're lying right away.

"Really?" Spencer asks softly, trying to get the real answer.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Really." You form another fake smile on your face. But Spencer doesn't push you, he knows you'll tell him in your own time if you want to.

Spencer squeezes your shoulder lovingly, and lets you get back to work. And even though he isn't going to try, and force you to tell him what's wrong, he's not letting it go.

Spencer settles on the plan to try to cheer you up, even if just a little.

Spencer goes to grab a coffee to a little café near the Bau so he grabs a drink and some sweet pastries for you as well. He even buys you a flower, just one simple flower not a bouquet, but it's your favourite so he hopes that you'll like it.

As soon as Spencer gets back to the office he makes a beeline for you. You don't notice him coming, too focused on the papers, until the beautiful flower is right in front of your face.

"Oh," you yelp in surprise, small but genuine smile right away on your lips, "what's this?"

"This," he also puts the drink and the pastries on your table," is for you."

"For me? Why?" you ask a little confused, but Spencer already can see that your mood has been lifted even if just a bit.

"Just because," Spencer beams at you.

You raise your brows at him, "just because?" you giggle. Your giggle makes Spencer almost melt away.

"Yeah, " Spencer shrugs his shoulders. He would have bought you thousands of flowers if it meant that you would smile at him like this again. He overwhelmingly wants to kiss you, but he just can't kiss you in the middle of the office.

He decides that a little peck on your cheek wouldn't hurt. He quickly looks around, and then does it.

You cheeks go rosy, "thank you, handsome. This is really nice."

"Of course," Spencer smiles at you one more time before he leaves you be. He sits at his desk, and takes a sip of his coffee.

It's missing the very much needed sugar, even if he did ask for more sugar at the café It's still not enough. He goes straight to the small office kitchen.

You notice Spencer going there, and follow him. You can't believe how sweet Spence is. I mean, you know he's literally the sweetest person on the earth, but still it takes you by a surprise every time. It makes you love him even more everytime, too.

You swear, you were very close to crying when he brought you the flower. You haven't been feeling very well since the morning. It's just one of those days when you wake up with an upset mood, and there's no actual reason behind it. It's just this way sometimes.

You know Spencer noticed this bad mood. And of course, he's trying everything he can to make you feel better without being forceful. So you want to thank him again.

"Hi, sweetheart, need more sugar too?" Spencer notices you straight away.

"No, I just wanted to say thank you again, Spence," you say sheepishly.

"No need to say thanks again. I'm glad you like my little surprise," Spencer can't help it when you're around him, his hand immediately lands on your hip.

You try to give him a smile, but you just anxiously look at him, "I just... Y-you were right. I-I don't feel good today."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Spencer softly asks in hushed voice, his hand starts to do circles on your exposed skin where your sweater has risen.

"Can we talk about it later?" You don't feel like talking about it right now. Especially not at work. You'd rather do it later with Spencer's arms around you.

"Definitely, lovely. You can come to my apartment if you want to. We don't even have to talk, we could just put on a movie or something. Does that sound okay?" Spencer proposes unsurely, he doesn't want to make you even more sad. He wouldn't survive it for sure. He's so used to your happy smiles and cheerful mood that it's weird seeing you so sullen. He doesn't like seeing you like this at all, it breaks his heart a little.

"Sounds perfect." You look at him like you want to ask him also something else, and Spencer doesn't even need to guess to know what to do. He's seen those puppy eyes on your numerous times.

Spencer quickly wraps his arms around you, instantly whispering sweet things in your ear, "I love you, y'know that?"

"I know, love you, too," you say into his shirt, already feeling a small amount of tension leave your body.

You stay like that until you are positive that you are blushing like crazy from his compliments, and until someone else comes into the kitchen for a coffee (you don't want to be another lecture about inappropriate behaviour at work, you leave that to other people).

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid

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wholoveseggs · 3 months

Note

Hey, I love the stories you are writing for us! Thank you so much! If there's room for another one, here's an idea: human reader is pregnant with Elijah's child but is afraid he might not believe her as it is impossible for a vampire to procreate. His reaction, in fact, causes her to leave New Orleans, and a few years later, she returns, and Elijah learns he is a dad. Fluffy, possibly smutty. ")

Devotion

he's so daddy, he's so father

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

When you find out you are pregnant you are afraid of how Elijah will react. His anxieties around fatherhood get the best of him and he gives in to his darker impulses.

♡♡ Thanks for the request(s) @originals23 @classymesstuff009 & anon ♡♡

I combined the ideas and changed some elements, but I hope I captured the spirit of the requests -xoxo

7.7k words - Warnings: this is less of a story with a plot and more of a series of events over the course of readers pregnancy, lots of angst, childbirth, so so so corny, so much fluff, lots of belly touches, Elijah being violently over protective, more fluff, lots of affection, smut at the end, unprotected sex (duh)

"No no no no no," you mumbled, staring down at the fourth positive pregnancy test you'd taken that day. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't possible. But as you glanced over the little box and read the word "pregnant" again and again, it began to sink in. You were having a baby, Elijah Mikaelson's baby, a baby whose existence was impossible.

A sob you had been suppressing broke free, and you collapsed on the edge of the tub. You had no idea what you were going to do, your relationship with Elijah was complicated and had no label, and the thought of raising a baby by yourself was daunting.

"I'll figure it out," you told yourself as you pulled yourself up and splashed some cold water on your face.

You needed to tell Elijah, which was an entirely different kind of terrifying. He had always been very clear that vampires were unable to procreate, so he likely would not believe you. The thought made your stomach turn, and you rushed to the toilet once more to empty the meager contents.

It took you a couple weeks before you were able to build up the courage to tell Elijah. You had tried to find the words to break the news, but every time you thought you had it figured out, you panicked and decided against it.

But you were starting to show, and you knew it wouldn't be long until your clothes no longer concealed your growing belly. So, the day after your second ultrasound you invited Elijah over for dinner.

He was worried about you, it had been over a month since he'd seen you last and over two months since the last time you were intimate together. He missed you, and wondered if you'd met someone else. But that was the only explanation he could think of.

When he arrived at your place, he noticed something different right away. You looked exhausted, but you had a small glow to you, he also noticed that you gained some weight and he enjoyed how it filled out your figure.

You greeted him at the door, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before handing you a bottle of wine. "Thank you," you smiled softly, leading him inside and taking the wine to the kitchen.

"It's been awhile," Elijah began, not knowing where to start, "are you doing alright?"

"Not exactly," you admitted, pouring two glasses of water and taking a seat on the couch next to him. Your hands began to shake, fear gripping you once more.

Elijah reached over and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "What is wrong?" He asked, searching your eyes.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment before speaking. "I'm pregnant."

You could see the confusion, the anger, the disappointment and a dozen other emotions flash through his eyes. You couldn't stand the way he was looking at you, so you pulled your hand from his and stood, pacing around the room.

Elijah didn't know what to think, clearly you were seeing someone else. It hurt him, but neither of you ever had the talk about being exclusive. The thought of you with another man disappointed him immensely, it made him realize how much he wanted you all to himself. But it was too late for that now.

"Elijah, say something," you begged, tears streaming down your face. You were desperate for him to just say anything.

"Who is the father?" He questioned, his voice low.

You expected this question and had thought about your response for a while. Of course he wouldn't think it was his, it was impossible. But you had been with no one else, and you were tired of being a secret, you wanted to be a family, and if he rejected the idea, then that was on him.

"You," you answered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"That's not possible," he shook his head. "I can't procreate."

"Klaus can, why not you?" You snapped. You weren't expecting him to believe you, but the reality of it hurt more than you expected.

"Klaus is unique, I am not," he stated plainly. You were quite distressed and although he didn't believe himself to be the father he still had sympathy for your situation.

“Is the father not... A good man?" He asked.

You began to sob, the hormones were really working against you, and you didn't know what to do. He had no idea how to react, and the longer you stayed silent, the more worried he became.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice low, as he moved towards you.

"Don't," you shook your head, pulling away from his touch. "If you don't believe me, that's fine. I'm not going to beg you. I can raise this baby on my own."

"I can't be the father, y/n," Elijah said, trying to reach for you once more.

"Just leave, please," you pleaded. He didn't believe you, he thought you were seeing someone else, and you couldn't stand to be in the same room with him any longer. "Get out Elijah!" You shouted.

Frustration rose within him, he didn't enjoy being blamed for something he didn't do.

“Fine," he muttered, moving towards the door.

You felt overwhelmed with despair and wanted nothing more to do with him, so you watched him walk out the door without saying a word.

It had been a few weeks since you last saw Elijah and your mental health was deteriorating at an alarming rate. You had very little support financially or emotionally and it was taking a toll on you.

You hadn't slept or eaten well and when you did, you often felt sick afterwards. You had known about postpartum depression, but apparently there was something called prenatal depression as well. You had been reading online about the symptoms, and it was almost as though you were looking in a mirror.

You needed help, but couldn't will yourself to ask for it. You had no family, and no friends in the city. The only person you knew in Louisiana was Elijah, and you didn't want anything to do with him.

His rejection of you and the baby hurt more than anything you'd ever experienced before. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at a picture of the ultrasound. You felt alone and abandoned.

You would walk the streets at night, a foolish thing to do considering the threats in New Orleans. But it was the only thing that seemed to calm your mind, and the fresh air helped ease the nausea.

It was a clear, warm night and the streets were quiet. The soft glow of the street lights created a calming atmosphere, and the cool breeze blew the hair away from your face. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the moment of peace.

Then you started to cry, your hormones making you feel like you were losing your mind. You hated it, you would start to cry for no reason and then cry some more because you were frustrated over crying for no reason. It was an endless cycle.

You felt so lost, you thought you could do this all on your own, but you hadn't even had the baby yet and you were falling apart. Even though Elijah didn't believe the child to be his, it was still a Mikaelson and that came with many consequences, some you couldn't possibly foresee. You knew of Hope and how she barely survived her birth, what if the same thing happened to you and your child? You didn't have Elijah to protect you.

You knew you needed to swallow your pride and convince Elijah, he was the only one who could protect both of you.

Your feet took you to the compound before you could talk yourself out of it, and you stood at the gates, hesitating for a moment before making your way inside. You could feel the baby kick and move, it strengthened your resolve.

Elijah was in his study when he heard you approaching, and he wondered what you wanted. He decided to leave you alone after you kicked him out. It was the right thing to do, he reminded himself, he was not the father.

When he saw you standing in the doorway, he could tell you were upset, but he had no desire to talk to you, not after the last time.

"Elijah, please listen to me," you said softly, the words sticking in your throat. "The baby is yours, I have never slept with anyone but you. There is no one else, only you."

He sighed, he wished he could believe you, but he knew it was not possible. He wondered how awful the true father had to be if you were here lying to him once again.

"I know we were never exclusive, but I wish you would be honest with me about whoever the father is," he said, his voice low.

You stared at him for a moment before a sob escaped your lips. "Elijah, there is no one else, there has never been anyone else."

"Why do you insist upon lying?" He asked, turning away from you, unable to stand the pain in your eyes.

Sudden rage boiled over inside of you and you lashed out at the nearby table, knocking the items onto the floor. "I am not fucking lying!" You shouted.

Your outburst was quite unexpected, and he turned back to look at you, his eyes narrowing. Before he could say anything Freya walked in, alerted by the yelling and broken glass.

"What's going on?" She asked, stepping in between the two of you.

The tears returned, always at the most inconvenient times, and you just sobbed into your hands and knelt to the floor. Pure frustration and exhaustion took over and you were completely overwhelmed.

Freya looked at Elijah, confused and annoyed. He wasn't the type to yell, and certainly not at a pregnant woman. She wondered what was going on and why you were so upset.

Elijah shook his head, and began cleaning up the mess you'd made. He couldn't bear to look at you, the pain in your eyes was too much for him.

Freya walked over and knelt next to you, rubbing your back. "Tell me what's wrong sweetheart," she said softly.

The moment Freya touched you she felt it, her own blood, running through your veins.

"It's okay," Freya assured you. "Can I touch your belly?"

You nodded again, and she gently placed her hand over the swell, and instantly felt the magic pulsating from your womb. Freya could always sense her own blood, so long she searched for it. And here it was, right in front of her.

She was overjoyed, she had a niece or nephew, a new tiny Mikaelson for her to dote on. She was also so angry at her foolish brother she could have strangled him.

"Elijah," she said sternly, mustering her big sister voice to scold her little brother. "It's yours," she said firmly, standing and facing him.

He froze, a mixture of emotions passing through him. First he felt disbelief, then excitement, and finally dread. If this was his child, then the threats they faced everyday were even more dangerous.

"Are you certain?" He asked, not wanting to believe, fear gripping his heart.

Freya nodded, and moved to stand next to you, helping you to your feet. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally.

"Why didn't you bring her to me sooner?" She asked him, helping you over to the sofa and fetching you a glass of water. "Look at her Elijah, how could you leave her like this?"

He knew his sister was right, and he felt ashamed. He had been a fool, and caused you unnecessary suffering. He would not be making that mistake again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, coming to kneel in front of you. "Forgive me, please."

"I tried to tell you," you said softly, sniffling quietly.

"Leave us Freya, thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off you.

Freya was reluctant, but agreed, closing the door behind her. Elijah sat next to you, his posture stiff, and his face a stony expression. You were afraid, unsure what he would do or say.

He was always prone to self-loathing, but this was a new level, and he didn't know what to do. He felt incredibly guilty and responsible for the pain and stress he caused you. You did not look well, and he knew he needed to do everything he could to fix this.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, you looked dazed and swayed a bit, he pulled you close, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Don't apologize," you whispered, lifting your head and looking at him, "just promise you will help me, that's all I ask,"

Elijah was taken aback by the request. Of course he was going to help, why wouldn't he? But the fact that you needed to ask, made him feel terrible, made him feel like Klaus.

"Of course," he assured you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

A few tears escaped your eyes. You were tired and overwhelmed and his words and gentle touches were enough to completely break you. You began to cry, burying your face in his chest as you sobbed. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions washing over you, frustration, anger, guilt and a tiny hint of relief.

Elijah felt terrible, and he hated himself for causing this. You were pregnant, alone, and suffering. He would never forgive himself.

"You will stay here and you don't have to worry about a thing," he soothed, gently rubbing your back, "I will take care of everything, I promise,"

He meant it, you and the baby were his responsibility now, and he would protect you both with his life.

It had been a month since you moved into the compound and Elijah was true to his word and took care of everything.

He compelled doctors to check on you and Freya was also doing a spell daily to ensure the baby was healthy and developing well.

But he didn't have to compel people for the things that mattered. He was the one cooking your meals, helping with the nursery, and ensuring you were getting rest.

One night after dinner, you were sitting on the sofa together, talking and laughing.

You were starting to feel better, but you still struggled with your emotions, and Elijah did his best to make sure you were always happy and stress free.

You began to feel a little anxious, and he immediately sensed it, pulling you close to cuddle with him. Neither of you had discussed your growing feelings and neither of you knew where you stood with each other.

He placed a warm hand on your growing bump, and it instantly soothed the baby, and in turn, helped calm your nerves. You leaned closer into him and he wrapped his other arm around your shoulder.

He enjoyed having you so close, and he could smell the sweet scent of your shampoo as you rested your head against his shoulder. He still felt such guilt for the pain and stress he had caused you.

"Is this okay?" He asked softly, his hand slowly moving over the swell.

You smiled, enjoying the gentle caress. "Mmhmm," you hummed, snuggling deeper into his side.

He was being very sweet, and you were beginning to suspect that he had more than just feelings of obligation for the baby.

Elijah was enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his, and he hoped that he could continue to make amends for the way he behaved.

"Have you thought of any names?" He asked, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Hmmm," you thought, enjoying the warmth of his hand and the rumble of his chest. "I'm thinking… Elijah jr," you teased, giggling.

He chuckled and gave you a light squeeze. "Absolutely not," he smirked, kissing the top of your head.

It was a pleasant moment and the two of you laughed and talked about the upcoming birth and baby names.

Eventually, you fell asleep, and Elijah picked you up and carried you to bed. He gently tucked you in and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Now that you were asleep, he could let his own anxieties surface. The trauma around Hope's birth still haunted him and he would do anything to prevent that from happening to you.

So he did the same thing he had done every night since you moved in. He left the compound to go hunting.

The first night you arrived, he went out for a drink, planning on just having one to calm his nerves. But then he heard a group of young vampires discussing the strung out looking pregnant woman walking the streets at night. And when they wondered what a pregnant woman's blood would taste like... Well they didn't stand a chance after that.

It made him feel better, seeing their body parts scattered around him, to smell their blood and have their dead hearts in his hands.

And so on it went, he would stalk the streets of the French Quarter, waiting for anyone to dare mention you or the baby. It didn't matter who, why or even where, they would never get a chance to speak again.

Every night he would return, his hunger sated, and he would climb into bed with you. You were still sound asleep and unaware of what he was doing. He would pull you close to him, and listen to the soft rhythmic beat of your heart and the heart of his child. It was the only thing that calmed him, and it helped him drift off into a peaceful sleep.

But that night you woke, the baby was kicking and it made you feel nauseous. You got up to go to the bathroom, too groggy to notice Elijah in the shower until you walked in.

You gasped at the sight of him covered in blood, halfway through washing it off of him under the warm water.

He noticed the shocked look on your face, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Is that... blood?" You asked, eyeing the pink tint to the water as it disappeared down the drain.

Elijah hesitated, "it's nothing you need to worry about," he insisted.

He wasn't trying to lie or deceive you, he was trying to protect you. He knew it was twisted and wrong, and he would be the first to admit he had a dark side, but he would never want you to see it.

"Why are you covered in blood?" You asked, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of your stomach.

Elijah was not accustomed to answering questions, he was usually the one giving the orders, but you were not one of his siblings. He would tell you the truth, you deserved that.

"It's the blood of those who wish to do us harm," he admitted.

He expected you to be shocked, but the truth was, you weren't. He was a Mikaelson, and a powerful vampire, it was only natural that others would want to hurt him and his family. Hayley had shared with you what happened to her when she gave birth to Hope, you were beyond frightened of it happening to you. Fear is a powerful thing, it can override any sort of morals you may possess.

"And did you kill them?" You asked, looking directly into his eyes.

He nodded, he could see that you were not upset, and he was relieved.

"How many?"

Elijah was slightly taken aback by your curiosity, and it gave him pause.

"A lot," he admitted, his dark eyes flashing in the dim light of the room.

"I know you are afraid, I am too," you said softly, reaching out and touching his face. "I'm afraid of the birth, of our child being in danger," you confessed, "and I'm afraid for you and all the darkness you take on to protect us,"

"I'm doing what I have to," he said softly, covering your hand with his.

"I know," you nodded, leaning closer and resting your forehead against his. "And I am grateful for that, and I trust you, but I don't want you to be consumed by it,"

He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tight, listening to the gentle beat of your heart and that of your child.

"Let's get you back to bed," he said softly, kissing your forehead.

You were still exhausted, and he wanted you to rest. He helped you back to bed and tucked you in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before heading to his own room.

From that night on he stopped hunting, and spent more time with you. The two of you were becoming closer, but he didn't want you do feel any sort of pressure to be with him. He would be happy with whatever you were comfortable with.

He was plagued by nightmares, visions of you dead in his arms the same way Hayley was, and he woke up in a cold sweat every night. He would climb into bed next to you and pull you close, placing his hand on your bump and waiting for the baby to kick. When the child would move, it was a reassurance that the two of you were alive, and you were safe.

Your eighth month of pregnancy was difficult, and Elijah had become even more attentive. Your ankles were swollen, your back ached, and the baby was a wild one.

But the worst part was the hormones, they were completely out of control. You cried at everything, the commercial about a cute dog, a sad movie, and even a happy song. You were a wreck and it was a struggle just to get through the day.

Hayley, Rebekah and Freya had noticed your increasing distress and decided to throw you a baby shower. It was nice to be surrounded by people that cared about you.

The women of the Mikaelson family understood you more than anyone ever could, and they did their best to make sure you were comfortable. Hayley was especially sympathetic and supportive, having been through it herself.

"The last three months are killer," she laughed, patting your belly.

"Tell me about it," you sighed, watching Rebekah and Freya decorate the courtyard for the upcoming party.

"They are really going all out for this," Hayley laughed, and you could tell she was pleased that the other two were trying to make you feel welcome.

"I think it's more for the baby than me," you giggled, "they love being aunties,"

"Am I an auntie too?" Hayley teased, knowing she wasn't biologically connected, but the baby was still family.

You nodded, and she was beaming with joy.

"Well, i'm excited for Hope to have a little cousin, she needs someone to play with," Hayley smiled, her hand still resting on your belly.

You were both startled by a sudden sharp movement from the baby, and laughed.

"Well, this one will definitely keep her on her toes," you laughed.

The party was extravagant to say the least, it was more of a ball than a baby shower. Klaus had invited every faction of the supernatural world and there was an assortment of vampires, witches and wolves mingling together.

Klaus and Elijah decided to take an entirely different approach to your pregnancy and the impending birth than the one they had with Hayley.

They knew not to repeat the mistakes they made the first time and wanted to foster peace and harmony among the factions.

Elijah was on edge, his nightmares becoming increasingly worse, and he was struggling to find a way to ease his anxieties.

He would have preferred not to have this party, but he was overridden by the rest of his family.

He knew it was important, a sign of good faith and acceptance. But his mind was plagued with the past and the pain and suffering that came from that. He wanted to forget the horrors and the violence and the blood, and focus on the future and the new life that was coming.

He dove head first into the politics, spending the evening schmoozing and talking business with the representatives of each faction. It was the only way for him to feel calm and in control, and it kept his mind from drifting into darker corners.

"Are you okay?"

His thoughts were interrupted by you, and the sound of your voice calmed him. You had come over to him and was holding his hand, looking concerned.

You looked so beautiful, your hair in soft curls, your belly protruding from a flowy blue dress. You were round and glowing and a perfect picture of motherhood.

"Of course," he assured you, squeezing your hand and taking a sip of his drink.

You were worried about him, he seemed distant and preoccupied.

"It's too much isn't it? This party," you asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the crowds.

"No," he shook his head, "it's wonderful," he forced a smile, not wanting to worry you.

"If you want to leave, we can," you offered, feeling uncomfortable, and not wanting him to be either.

He kissed the side of your head, a gesture that made you blush. "This is for the baby, and I will not deny the baby anything,"

Elijah had always been a bit affectionate towards you, but he never overstepped his bounds and you were unsure of how to handle it. You enjoyed his presence, but it was getting a little confusing.

You were a bit flustered, and excused yourself, going to find some air outside. Elijah watched as you walked away and was tempted to follow, but he had his hands full, trying to talk the wolves out of challenging a vampire for a perceived slight.

You leaned against the balcony, letting the cool air calm your nerves.

"How's it going?" Said a party goer, you weren't sure what faction they were a part of, but they seemed a little drunk.

"Fine," you said, not wanting to be bothered.

"Pregnant with a Mikaelson, that's some shit luck," he snorted, clearly intoxicated.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed, wondering why this was a topic of discussion.

"I mean, there are three benefits to fucking vampires," he began, holding his hand up to count them, "one, no diseases, two, usually really good in bed and three, no pregnancies,"

He began to laugh, and you felt angry and defensive.

"I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut," you warned, not wanting to hear the drunken ramblings of an idiot.

"Was it worth one and maybe two to not have the third?" He laughed, clearly not getting the hint.

You were furious, and you went to walk away, but he grabbed your arm. "Lemme touch your belly, I wonder how strong a Mikaelson kicks," he laughed.

Before you could react Elijah appeared and had the drunk man by the throat. A crowd of party goers gathered to watch the scene.

Elijah was completely overcome by his rage, the fear in your eyes when the man grabbed you took him right back into his endless nightmares. A small part of him knew he should let the man go, but he couldn't, he was consumed by the thought that if he let go, he would lose you, and that was unacceptable.

He squeezed tighter and the man gagged, clawing at his hands and begging for mercy. The crowd gasped in horror as Elijah's eyes went black and veins crawled across his face.

"To anyone here who thinks it's okay to touch her, let this be an example of the fate you await," he snarled.

"Elijah!" You yelled, but it was too late.

The man was dead, and his head fell from his body.

You stood in shock, the entire party was silent, and Elijah dropped the body and turned towards you. He was shaking, and his eyes returned to their normal color, the veins disappearing from his face.

He turned to the crowd, projecting his voice loud and clear. "Do I make myself clear?" He growled, looking at the faces of everyone around him.

The room was full of fearful nods, and the crowd slowly dispersed.

Elijah took your hand, leading you out of the courtyard and towards his room.

You followed without a word, still in shock. He closed the door behind you and you sat down on his bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kneeling in front of you, his hands on your bump.

You nodded, and placed your hands over his.

"You have to understand," he began, and you could hear the strain in his voice, "when he touched you, when I saw his hands on you, I..."

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, "I can't- I won't. Lose you."

"It's okay," you soothed, placing a hand on his cheek.

Elijah could hardly control his emotions, the fear and anguish was too much, and he let out a sob, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

You cradled his head in your hands and held him close, whispering sweet words and letting him know it was okay.

He was the strongest person you had ever known, and seeing him like this made your heart break.

"Shhh," you soothed, kissing the top of his head, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere,"

You felt his grip loosen, and his breathing became more steady.

"It's okay," you repeated, placing soft kisses on his cheek and forehead, and moving to his lips.

You hadn't kissed in nearly 8 months, not since the night you had made love and conceived the baby. But you felt him return the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around you.

He was hesitant and unsure of how you would respond. You had been together once, but things had been complicated and stressful. But he wanted to show you just how much he loved you.

He pulled away, searching your eyes, and finding only compassion and acceptance.

"I'm hoping we can try again, to be together, if you will have me," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

You leaned into his touch, and he was hopeful that you would want the same.

"Of course," you agreed, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, and running your fingers through his hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and enjoying the moment. It was peaceful and the first time Elijah had truly felt at ease in months.

The day of the birth was finally upon you, and you were nervous and in pain. Freya and Hayley were at your side, holding your hand and trying to keep you calm as they helped you through your labor.

Elijah was pacing in the hallway, anxious and on edge. He had been a wreck, barely able to eat or sleep, and it was obvious to the entire family.

He stopped, listening to you moan and groan and hiss in pain. He wished he could take it all away, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"Why don't you go be with her," Rebekah suggested, putting a hand on her brothers shoulder.

"She doesn't want me in there," he sighed, he had tried, and you had pushed him out, not wanting him to see you like this.

"She's in pain, she's probably not thinking clearly," Rebekah insisted, "trust me, she wants you in there,"

Elijah wasn't sure, but he couldn't handle not being near you any longer, so he went in, ready to be rejected.

You were in bed, sweating and panting and groaning. Hayley was holding your hand and Freya was using a spell to soothe your pain.

You opened your eyes, and saw him, and reached out for him, and he ran to your side, taking your other hand in his.

"You are doing so well," he said softly, his voice full of love.

"I can't," you groaned, feeling as though you couldn't go on.

"Yes, you can," he encouraged, kissing your knuckles.

You were in agony, but his touch and his voice were like a balm to your soul, and it gave you strength.

Rebekah was right, having him next to you was the best thing in the world, and it helped you through the hours of labor.

Finally, the moment came, and you screamed as you gave one final push. The room was filled with the sound of a crying infant and you collapsed back against the pillows.

"It's a boy!" Freya announced, cutting the umbilical cord and wrapping the baby up, passing him over to you.

"Oh my goodness," you cried, tears of joy running down your face as you looked down at the precious life in your arms.

"A boy," Elijah whispered, staring at his son in awe. He reached out and placed his hand on his sons head, feeling the soft downy hair.

"He's beautiful," Hayley commented, admiring the little bundle.

"Just like his father," you smiled, and Elijah kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you and your new baby.

You were exhausted, but ecstatic, and Elijah couldn't help but feel pride and joy. He had helped create such a perfect and precious creature. Out of all of his darkness came something pure and beautiful, and he would do anything to protect his son.

As the night went on the others left, leaving you and Elijah alone with the baby. The both of you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"We need to decide on a name," you said softly, stroking the babies face with your finger.

"I think," Elijah began, watching the baby squirm and wriggle, "he should be named after his uncle Henrik,"

"That's perfect," you smiled, a tear running down your cheek, "Henry,"

"Henry," Elijah repeated, looking at his son, "I'm your father, and I promise to always love and protect you,"

"I will love you, until the end of time," you whispered, placing a soft kiss on Henry's tiny nose.

Henry let out a little squeak and yawned, and you and Elijah laughed. He was the most perfect thing you and Elijah had ever seen, and the two of you couldn't stop smiling.

Life at the compound was hectic, with Hope and Henry underfoot. Elijah was always watching the babies, making sure they were safe and happy. He was a wonderful father and uncle, and it made you fall in love with him even more.

The two of you were utterly exhausted new parents and Rebekah insisted that the two of you take a break and spend a little time together. She convinced you and Elijah to let her care for Henry for a weekend, while the two of you got away.

It was hard for both of you, you had never been apart from him for more than a few hours, but the two of you needed the time alone.

"Just go, have fun," Rebekah had encouraged, taking Henry from Elijah, "you both need a break,"

The drive was long, but Elijah's company made it go by faster, and you finally arrived at the cabin.

"I hope this is okay," Elijah said, helping you out of the car.

"It's perfect," you assured him, it was cozy and private, and the view was spectacular.

The two of you walked inside, and took in the surroundings. It was a large cabin, with a beautiful stone fireplace and a big open kitchen. Elijah started the fire as you cooked dinner, the two of you fully in sync.

It was easy having him as a partner, and you felt relaxed and at home. The only thing missing from your lives was sex. Once Henry arrived it was a constant state of exhaustion and there wasn't much room for romance.

You thought back to the night Henry was conceived, and how passionate and hot the experience was. But you were nervous to do it again, the pregnancy had changed your body, and you weren't sure how he would react.

After dinner you cuddled up with him on the couch, his arm around your shoulder and your head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and smiled.

"I've missed this," he said softly, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

"Me too," you admitted, running your hand up and down his arm.

He took a deep breath, and you could tell he was nervous about something.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, turning to look at him.

"Yes," he nodded, his brown eyes meeting yours, "I just...want you to know that I am completely in love with you, and I will do anything to make you happy,"

You blushed, and looked away, not sure what to say.

"And I know our relationship has been a bit unconventional," he continued, his voice low, "but I would like to court you, if you will allow me,"

"Court me?" You chuckled, "darling, I think you are doing this all backwards,"

"Perhaps," he laughed, taking your hand in his, "I couldn't ask for a better mother for my child, and a more devoted companion,"

You smiled, and leaned in, kissing him, and the spark was still there. He kissed back, cupping your face with his hands and pulling you onto his lap. His hands roamed your body and your breath hitched when he ran them up your thighs.

"Is this okay?" He asked, stopping, and looking up at you.

You nodded, and pressed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against him. He groaned and gripped your hips, guiding them to move with his.

You could feel his growing erection, and the friction against your core made you moan. You had missed this, and could hardly believe you had waited so long.

He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down and crawling on top of you, his lips never leaving yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair, and his hands traveled up your shirt, caressing your skin and cupping your breast.

You felt a bit self-conscious, your body was different now, and he hadn't seen it. You didn't want him to be disappointed, but you knew he wouldn't judge you.

"Darling, are you alright?" He asked, pulling away, "we can stop,"

"No," you shook your head, and sat up, "it's just, I'm a little nervous,"

"About?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

"My body," you admitted, "it's different now, and I know it's stupid, but I'm worried,"

He gave you a knowing look, and pulled your dress up over your head. You body was different, your breasts fuller, your hips wider, stretch marks across your belly and thighs.

"These scars are nothing to be ashamed of," he began, kissing the stretch marks across your stomach, "they show your strength and the fact that you brought a beautiful and healthy baby into the world,"

"Elijah," you blushed, not used to hearing him speak so openly about your body.

"These breasts, they have nourished our son. These hips, they carried and protected him," he continued, his hands on your body, caressing every inch.

"I have no words for how beautiful you are," he concluded, his eyes full of lust, "may I continue?"

You nodded, and he pulled his shirt off, exposing his chiseled torso. You ran your hands over his shoulders, tracing his muscles, and down his chest.

He trailed his lips up to your breasts, gently kissing them and sucking your nipples. He was gentle and slow, and it felt incredible. They were extra sensitive from breastfeeding, and his touch sent a shock straight to your core.

He slowly removed your underwear, his eyes raking over your naked body. He kissed every inch of your skin, loving every part of you.

His lips traveled down your belly, and settled between your legs. His tongue moved expertly against your clit, and you gasped, grabbing the sheets.

He hummed contently, missing the taste of you, and wanting to please you. His hands held your thighs, and his tongue teased and swirled.

You moaned and arched your back, it had been so long and you were so close already. He knew just how to get you there, and it only took a few minutes for him to bring you over the edge.

He didn't stop, and continued, sucking and licking, bringing you to orgasm again and again. Your head was spinning, and you could hardly breath, but it felt amazing.

Finally he stopped, and kissed his way up your body, until his lips met yours.

"You deserve a reward for being such a perfect mother," he smiled, his voice full of pride.

You smiled, and kissed him again, running your hands down his chest and stopping at his waistband.

"Now I think it's your turn," you whispered, unbuttoning his pants.

He smiled and watched your face as you underdressed him. His cock sprung free, and you stroked it, running your hand up and down the shaft. Looking into his eyes as he kneeled over you, his eyes heavy and filled with lust.

"It's been so long, I missed your touch," he growled, his voice husky.

"I've missed this too," you replied, stroking him and running your thumb over the tip.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, moaning as your hands worked him. His tongue explored your mouth, and you felt him twitch and throb in your hands.

"Hold on," he said softly, moving away from you.

He got up and rummaged around his bag, coming back with a condom.

"I've never used one of these before," he said sheepishly, and it was the most adorable thing.

You laughed and sat up, taking the foil packet and opening it, rolling it over his cock and kissing him.

"Now, where were we?" You smirked, laying back down.

He crawled back on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He was still gentle, but you were ready for him, and the two of you were eager.

He pushed in, and it felt like the first time, hot and tight. He took his time, pushing in a bit at a time and allowing you to adjust.

Once he was fully inside, he waited a moment, kissing you, and savoring the feeling of being joined with you.

You moved your hips, signaling him to move, and he complied, thrusting slowly and deeply.

The two of you rocked back and forth, the soft sound of skin against skin filling the air. He moved with the perfect rhythm, hitting the right spot with every thrust.

His mouth was on your neck, leaving love bites, and his hands were on your hips, gripping tightly.

"I love you," he groaned, his voice strained.

"I love you too," you moaned, feeling yourself getting close.

You never wanted this to end, a part of you longing for even more than what you already had. You looked into his eyes, feeling the way his body connected with yours so perfectly.

Your orgasm rushed over you, and you squeezed him so hard he pulled out for moment, his cock resting on your stomach. He looked down at you, your pupils blown with love and lust.

"Do you want to make a sibling for Henry?" You said softly, toying gently with the tip of the condom, searching his eyes for an answer.

"Is that something you want?" He asked, looking down at you with pure love.

"Yes," you nodded, "I want another baby, I want a whole family with you,"

He kissed you in response, then smiled down at you, his eyes shining with happiness.

"I will give you anything you want," he whispered.

You pulled the condom off slowly, both of you panting heavily. He looked down, watching as your hands wrapped around his bare cock, pumping up and down, spreading the precum over the head.

You lined him back up, and he pushed back in, his breath catching as he eased his way into your warm and wet heat.

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his length twitching and swelling as he got closer. He moaned, and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shut tight.

"I want you to cum inside me," you whispered, knowing he was close.

You could feel yourself getting close, and his breath was labored, his hips grinding against yours, your wetness coating him.

His hips snapped, and his hands gripped the sheets, and with one final thrust he came, filling you up and pushing you over the edge.

He kissed you as he came down, his cock still pulsing as he softened inside of you. He hummed happily, keeping you connected as he rolled you on your side.

You curled up against him, and kissed him, and he pressed his hand gently against your stomach, imagining a tiny being forming inside.

"I always wanted a family of my own," he said softly, nuzzling into you, "thank you for giving me that,"

You squeezed him tighter, understanding the weight of his words. He had given you everything, love, devotion, a family. It was everything you ever wanted. He had helped you become the happiest and the best version of yourself and you did the same for him.

The two of you laid there, cuddled up against each other, safe and content. Tomorrow would bring a new adventure, but right now everything was perfect.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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luveline · 9 months

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hiii jade i have a request for u if you’re up for it!! something about spencer and the reader in a new relationship and sort of keeping it from the team but having to tell hotch for an HR report or something and the subsequent kind teasing from him and the team? thank u love u have a wonderful day

thank you, ily I hope you have a great day too! tysm for u request! —you and spencer tell the team you're in a relationship. 1.1k, fem!reader

You decide to take the plunge if only to save Spencer the embarrassment, but things don't go as planned.

You knock on Hotch's office door primly, invited inside with the same professional politeness. You and Hotch actually get along very well, and though it took some time for him to warm to you, once Hotch is warmed, you can't ever not feel it.

"L/N," he greets. You're startled to receive his full attention, no notes scratched under his hand or phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

"Hi, Hotch. So, uh, I'm a little nervous, but I have something to tell you."

He sits back in his chair subtly. "You don't have to be nervous," he says. "Unless you've broken the coffee maker again. I'm afraid I won't be as forgiving twice."

"It's nothing broken, it's…"

"Do you want to sit down?" he asks, his joking softened to a familial concern.

"No, it's not as bad as I'm making it out, I just know how embarrassing this is going to be. I," —you squeeze your hands together as you take the plunge— "asked Spencer to be my boyfriend, this weekend. And he said yes. I know it's not very convenient because we work together, but I checked the government website and it said that we have to tell you, and that you'd actually have to fill out a bunch of forms. I'm sorry."

Hotch's eyebrows rise a little further with every sentence. "I'm sorry you can't be afforded a little more privacy," he says, standing up. He smiles as he rounds his desk. "Congratulations, Y/N. This is good news, no matter how many forms I have to fill in."

You sigh in relief as he pulls you in for a hug. "Thanks, Hotch. I'm really happy."

"It's been a long time coming," he murmurs, rubbing your back quickly before he steps back. "Excuse me a second."

You bring your hands together at your abdomen, startled. "Sure."

Hotch walks out of his office onto the landing overlooking the bullpen. Spencer, who didn't know you were going to do this, is sitting unawares at his desk, a look of dread flooding his features.

You frown.

"Reid, a word," Hotch says.

The rest of the team look up at his scary tone, see you confused in his office, and offer looks of mirrored confusion plus a good helping of sympathy.

Spencer gives you a reassuring smile as he follows Hotch back into the office. The door closes with a formidable thunk.

"Y/N's just told me you have news."

Spencer's hand twitches toward you.

"Congratulations," Hotch says, dropping the act.

You're honestly astounded —Hotch can be playful, especially with the team, but not often at work.

Spencer seems a little dumbfounded too. "Thanks, Hotch." They share a hug. Spencer relaxes into it quickly. "We're sorry about all the forms," he says.

"Y/N's already apologised. What's another mountain of paperwork?" They step apart. "I'm happy for you both. Really. This job is different when you have someone at home you're doing it for."

You leave Hotch's office together and in shock, though the floor feels cushioned, weight shelling off of your shoulders with every step. Spencer puts his hand behind your back as you descend the steps back into the bullpen, his fingertips impossibly affectionate. They're only fingertips, how can they be loving? But they are.

You smile at him dopily, endeared by the blush staining his cheeks.

"What the hell was that about?" Emily asks in a whisper shout, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. "What did you guys do?"

Spencer steps closer to your side. Too close; a colleague would never have reason to do so, nor to put the hand behind your back. He doesn't even need to curl his hand over your hip for Emily and Derek to understand, but he does.

"You're kidding!" Emily cheers.

"Don't act like you guys didn't know," you say.

Spencer isn't the shy, awkward boy he was a few years ago, but he also isn't uber confident, and the attention you feel all of a sudden has his grip tightening on your hip.

"You finally told her?" Derek asks, practically leaping out of his seat.

You get the first hug. Spencer gets the longer one. You know it means a lot to him that Derek approves, and luckily Derek loves you. "Actually, she asked me," Spencer says, pulling away with a blinding smile.

"Really?" Emily asks.

"Well, I asked Spence to be official," you amend, accepting her side hug. "He kissed me last week in New York."

"I knew it!" Emily says in your ear, nearly deafening you.

"I thought you chickened out?" Derek asks Spencer, jabbing him in the side with two hands.

Spencer did not chicken out, the opposite. You'd been sitting together at the end of his bed after the case finished, lamenting over your lack of sight-seeing. Spencer had shrugged, said, "We'll come back."

"For a case?" you'd asked. "That's not likely, right? We barely ever come to New York."

"We could come without the team. Me and you."

"You and me?"

It wasn't an overly charged run up, though there have been moments of tension between you both. This was tame, and sweet, the perfect confession. Spencer as courteous as he always is, cautious with nerves, took your wrist into his hand and looked you in the eye. "If you want to see more of the city, we could come together. There are so many places here I think you'd be interested in."

"As friends?" you'd asked, knowing it was make or break.

"No… Not as friends."

It wasn't a second longer before you were closing your eyes for a kiss.

"I told you, man, it's the city of love," Derek says.

You laugh and move forward to slide your fingers between Spencer's. "That's Paris."

"You kissed, didn't you?" Derek pretends to dry his eyes. "My babies are all grown up."

Spencer rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "We'll be subjected to this for a while."

"A few weeks, at least," you agree.

"Wait until JJ and Penelope find out," Emily says with a laugh, her eyes lit with amusement.

You look up at the side of Spencer's face with a huge beaming smile. You can take any amount of ridicule if it means the space between you is finally nullified. You're sure of it. He turns his head to you, smiling with less zealous joy but the same budding, dizzying affection.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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oneforthemunny · 4 months

Text

have i the right? |yandere!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: ever since you started working at turtle's tapes, you and eddie have grown closer and closer until he finally asks you out. it feels like the pieces of your life are finally falling into place, things are going right for once- but things are not always what they seem.

contains: minors dni 18+. dark fic. dark!eddie. yandere!eddie. dark tones of the fic. stalking, obsession, breaking and entering, mentions of past violence, mentions of past trauma and relationships. masturbation.

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you walked in. Eddie didn’t know what divine intervention had stepped in, decided to shine down on him and bring you into Turtle’s Tapes, a resume in hand, asking for Mel.

You had been so jittery, fingers drumming on the strap of your leather shoulder bag. Red nails, freshly painted, Eddie could tell by the smudges around the edges you hadn’t bothered to clean up. He didn’t point it out, couldn’t even if he wanted to. Tongue too thick, breath caught and suffocating in his throat, wrapped around the words he wasn’t even sure he’d form yet.

He managed to point you to the back office, croak out the words he couldn’t even remember, hoping his cheeks didn’t reveal the flush of heat thrumming through his body when you smiled at him, waving when you walked away.

“You’re working again?”

A giggly voice had Eddie turning, spine straightening, shoulders rolling back when he turned from the stack of records he was sorting.

You had your hair up today, pulled back so he could see your face fully, more features for him to memorize.

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted, chin ducking to his chest, a waterfall of curls hiding the pink of his cheeks. “Brenda called out of another shift.” The eye roll he added made you giggle.

“Again? Why do they even keep her around?” You muttered, grabbing a stack of records out of the shipment box, handing the top one- Out of Time- over to Eddie. Your nails were starting to chip now, around the edges, flaked red polish.

“Well, she-she’s not bad. Pretty good on the register.” Eddie grabbed the record, sucking in a breath to calm the excited tremble in his hands.

“Right.” You frowned, lips puckering out the way they did when you were thinking. Eddie noticed it on your first day of training, when he was explaining how to stack the eight tracks, an adorable tick he found himself thinking about at night, staring at his ceiling replaying every word you’d said.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be bitchy.” You shook your head lightly. “I was- I mean, you’re always taking her shifts. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no,” Eddie’s grip tightened on the record, the plastic wrapping crinkling under his touch. “I know you weren’t.”

Stupid, stupid, Eddie cursed himself, watching your face fall. The bell trilled, pulling your attention to greet the customer with a cheery tone. You were still new, still eager to impress and help, not weathered and worn from customer service like Eddie. He was thankful for it, truthfully.

Eddie liked watching you work, liked watching you in general. When he could cut his eyes, stare shamelessly like he used to in freshman year algebra, watching Stacy Simmons from the back corner of the class.

You were better than Stacy Simmons. Prettier. Definitely nicer. Stacy never even looked at Eddie, he wasn’t even sure she knew he existed, even when he sent her the candy-gram on Valentine’s Day.

He wondered what kind of candy you liked, what it would have been like to go to high school with you. If you would have acknowledged him, maybe even been friends with him? Gone to prom, wore a corsage he pinned on with his Judas Priest button.

“Were you a cheerleader in high school?” Eddie asked when you finally migrated back over to him, stocking on the other side of the stacks.

“What?” Your nose crinkled lightly, lips curling in a tiny smile. “A cheerleader?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s heart hammered, chest burning with regret, embarrassment. What a stupid fuckin’ question, Munson, why would you ask that?

“No.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Do I look like I was a cheerleader?” You snorted lightly, brow raising playfully.

Eddie wanted to tell you, you looked like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, prettier than a cheerleader, than an angel.

Instead, he thumbed through the stacks, pretending to look for a record, a desperate attempt to play it cool. “Kinda.” He shrugged. “Not in a bad way, you’re just… you get really peppy when you’re helping people.”

“Peppy?” You laughed.

“Yeah.” Eddie smirked. “I mean, your voice raises.”

“Wow.” You shook your head, lips rolling, biting back a smirk. “I didn’t even realize I did that. I guess I do.”

Eddie’s stomach turned, a violent, sharp jab when your smile dropped slightly. Munson, don’t ever speak again. What the fuck is wrong with you today? Get it together.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Eddie shook his head, sweaty palms gripping the stack of records. “You’re- The customers really like you.”

“Thanks.” You muttered. There was that silence, filling the space between you. Eddie loathed it, feared it, terrified that it would linger forever, that he might never hear the sound of your voice again because he drove you away.

“Do you close tonight?” You hummed, shuffling down to the next stack. Head still tilted down but eyes lifted to look at Eddie, lines creasing on your forehead that he’d never seen before. A new angle of you for him to preoccupy his thoughts with, play in his fantasies.

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, swallowing down the growing lump in his throat, thumb twisting the ring around his middle finger. His stack was gone, finished, but he wouldn’t dare leave to get another. Not while you were talking, while he was in your attention.

Instead, he pretended to organize the names, shuffling the stacks. “Just us tonight.” His lips curled, dimples deep in a grin.

You smiled back, soft but bright, enough to make his heart flutter and take flight. “Fun.” You shrug sweetly. “That means we can change the music, right? I don’t think I can listen to Amy Grant on a loop again.”

“Yeah, definitely. As soon as Mel leaves we can.” Eddie swore he was in love, hoping you couldn’t see the blush in his cheeks. Every second he spent with you, time built his feelings, made them grow stronger and stronger.

“Play something actually good.” Eddie smiled. He’d been shuffling the same records back and forth, fiddling between his hands.

“I’m sure you will. You have great taste.” The compliment was so natural, so easy coming from you. Still, it made Eddie blister and burn at the praise, so sure his heart might swell and tear through his ribcage, splatter all over the aisles and on your t-shirt.

“The customers really like you too. Always come in and ask for your recommendations.” You added, filing in the last of your record stack.

“Yeah? Thanks, I mean,” Eddie took a breath, swallowing down a stutter, jumbling of words. “Thanks. Just trying to keep the kids cool, y’know? This grunge shit.” Eddie shook his head. “Sorry, I know you’re a fan. Nirvana’s not that bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him, an empty box cradled on your hip. “So I guess I can’t convince you to spin Nevermind tonight?” You batted your eyes at him sweetly, lip tucked between your teeth. Eddie’s knees tightened.

As soon as Mel left, Eddie was tearing open the album, shoving Heart in Motion back in its slip with far less care than he should have. Mel would bitch him out, bitch him for opening and playing a non-approved album on the store’s system. Eddie didn’t care, he’d buy the album in secret, give it to you maybe. Slip it in your locker with a note.

If your smile was anything like what you gave him when the opening chords to Smells Like Teen Spirit played through the speakers, he’d buy you a million of those fucking albums.

The hours were slow for a Thursday, especially with the new releases. Not that Eddie minded, he’d never complain about a lack of asshole highschool kids, demanding for cassettes and tapes.

“I think it’s because of the rain.” You tilted your head back, looking out the front window, painted and splattered with rain drops.

Eddie was convinced you could read his mind, sure you might be his soul mate, made just for him. “Yeah, I think so.” He nodded, wiping off the counter with a sudsy rag.

You sighed, heavy, pushing past your lips, puckering them in a perfect pout. Eddie’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, the soapy warm water seeping through his fingers.

“I was hoping it would hold over until I got off.” You admitted, shoulder’s falling, dragging the broom lazily around your dust piles. “I forgot an umbrella or a rain jacket.”

Eddie paused, a second longer than he should have, your attention moved to him. “You- Sorry, you walked?” Eddie shook his head lightly, curls bobbing, brushing against his cheeks.

“Yeah,” You muttered, looking down at the broom, pushing the piles of dirt around. “My car’s in the shop. They said it would be ready a week ago.”

Eddie’s fingers curled around the rag, water piling and pooling in the spot in front of him. He’d find where your car was, make them fix it, fix it himself if he had to.

Still, your rainy predicament gave him an opportunity he’d been looking for. Plotting and mulling over for the past twelve days.

“I can give you a ride.” Eddie shrugged, dragging the rag, stained with dirt from the years of use, over the glass, prismatic streaks on the glass from the cleaner.

“No,” You shook your head politely, sweeping the dirt pile into the dustpan. “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s fine, honestly, I live really close-”

“-C’mon.” Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “It’s pouring and it’s dark. Shouldn’t walk alone at night, anyways. Lots of weirdos out.”

Your own heart skipped at his tone, thrilling and thrumming with excitement. “I mean, if it’s not a problem.” You hesitated. “I can give you some gas money-”

“-No, don’t.” Eddie said firmly, plopping the rag back in the bucket of water. “It’s not a problem, seriously. I don’t mind.”

Your lips curled, a shy smile. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I really appreciate it, Eddie.”

“It’s not a problem.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, you’re not wearing the right shoes.” He nodded towards your white Keds, cloth on top, stained with dirt from your walk here. “Can’t let them get ruined.”

“They’re already ruined. Really dirty, I need to clean them.” You smirked, toes wiggling in your sneakers. “But thank you.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.” Eddie shrugged, trailing you when you crossed the store, bending over to brush up another pile of dirt. Your shirt rode up, jeans lowering just enough for Eddie’s breath to still entirely. The strings of your panties, high cut, a lavender shade peeking over the band of your denim, that had Eddie’s head spinning.

His face flushed, blood rushing straight to his crotch, shamelessly. A still soapy hand adjusted himself, turning so you wouldn’t see. Wouldn’t see how easily he was flustered, attracted to you. The last thing he needed to do was scare you off, fuck this all up again.

Like with Chrissy.

Eddie winced, teeth clenching at his own thoughts. No, he wouldn’t think about her. You weren’t anything like her. How dare he insult you like that, comparing you so lowly to her.

His eyes cut back to you, hips swaying while you swept to the beat of Lithium, head bobbing to the clash of the drums.

No, he knew better this time. He’d be more careful. He wouldn’t mess this up.

Eddie gave you his keys to the store, let you lock up while he took the trash, sprinting to his van. He shoved the cigarette buds in the plastic trash bag, smushing down the brown, grease soaked fast-food paper bags he’d carelessly tossed in his passenger side. He would’ve had his car detailed if he would have known he’d be giving you a ride.

“Ed?” Your voice carried around the corner.

“Back here!” Eddie called, jamming his keys into the van’s ignition, the engine sputtering to life before evening out into a steady roar. One leg out, Eddie stopped, sucking in a breath. He swiped the yellow scrunchie off his gear shift, shoving it in his pocket just as you turned the corner.

Eddie smiled, walking to the dumpster, flinging the bag in. “Sorry, just wanted to get the car started. It takes a while for it to warm up.”

He held the door open for you, bowing dramatically when you slipped in. You giggled at his antics, and his heart soared, fluttered with pride. Eddie slipped into the driver’s side, eyes scanning the console and back of the van nonchalantly when he backed out, making sure he hadn’t left anything lying about.

He was more careful after what happened before. More aware, double checking his steps, but the scrunchie had him on edge. It was close, too close for his comfort.

“Seriously, thank you.” You looked over at Eddie, the glow of the street lights cast a nearly angelic, golden luster over your features. “Saved me from getting sick.” You nodded towards the window, Eddie’s wipers creaking with every swipe over the glass.

“Can’t have that now.” Eddie smirked, looking over at you, throwing his blinker on. “Have to take your shifts too. Then I’ll really be overworked.”

You laughed, looking out the window, smile falling as Eddie cruised down the familiar street.

“But seriously, if you ever need me to take a shift for you, I don’t care to.” Eddie shrugged, eyes cutting over to yours. He didn’t see the way you’d stilled, hands wringing in your lap, spine rigid. “I was just kidding.”

You stayed silent, heart hammering, inching further and further up your throat. Eddie frowned, looking over at you. “You alright?”

Your wide eyed gaze met his, scared, startled. He saw flashes of Chrissy before him, merging into his vision. “What?” Eddie cringed. He didn’t mean to sound so fierce. “Are you alright?”

“How do you know where I live?” You asked, blinking at Eddie, eyes rounded. Your eyes cut to the road ahead, Eddie inching closer to your apartment complex.

His heart stopped, a pause that lingered a little bit longer than he meant it to. “You told me.” He blurted, a white knuckled grip on the wheel, turning back towards the road. “When you started, you told me you lived at Magnolia Place. My friend Jeff lives over there, remember?”

You had mentioned it, not to him, to Lindy. Eddie had overheard it, when he was lingering around, watching you from behind cassette stacks. You frowned, but your grip loosened, relaxing. Eddie held his breath, switching his hand casually, freeing his right hand- just in case.

“Oh,” You chirped, flushing with embarrassment, chin tucking towards your chest. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot about that.” You shook your head.

“It’s alright.” Eddie shrugged casually, his fingers loosening around the wheel.

“No, that was weird of me.” You shook your head, hands rubbing down your face. “I watch too much Dateline.” You laugh softly. “It’s always the single girl in an apartment alone, y’know?”

Eddie smirked. “Do I give off those creeper vibes?” His eyes cut to yours, longer than they should have, reading your reaction. “Bundy vibes or something?”

“No,” Your laugh made him relax, exhaling slowly. “I’m just- I don’t know. I need medicated. I get, like, super worried about things sometimes.” You looked down at your nails, picking at the chipping polish.

“No, that’s a good thing. Better to be careful.” Eddie nodded, turning into the apartment complex. “Ok, now I do need you to tell me which one. Left or right?”

“I’m in the very back right.” You pointed through the rainy window, drizzle still steady.

Eddie turned the wheel with his palm, slowing the van to a cruise through the parking lot. “Where does your friend live?”

“Hm?” Eddie hummed, brow furrowed, looking over at you.

“Your friend?” You pressed lightly. “You said he lives over here? Where, if you don’t mind me asking? I just… it would be nice to know someone just in case.”

Eddie craned his head, heart thrumming in his chest rapidly. “He lives right there.” Eddie pointed, finger pressed to the window. “On the left side.”

You nodded slowly, leaning forward, close enough that Eddie could smell your perfume. His head spinning, stilling entirely, scared to move and have you inch away.

“But if you ever need anything,” Eddie followed your muttering of directions. “You can just call me. I don’t live too far.”

“That’s sweet,” You smiled softly, turning so you were inches away from Eddie’s face. He hoped you couldn’t feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“You’re not.” Eddie shook his head. “I promise. I’ll let you know if you bother me.”

“Yeah?” You laughed, Eddie could feel your breath on his curls.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded, sliding into a parking space easily. “You’ll know.”

You smiled, and for a moment, Eddie contemplated leaning forward, grabbing your face with his hands and kissing you. You moved before he could, unfastening your seat belt instead. Eddie tried to hide his huff of disappointment.

Too slow, Munson, you’re always too fucking slow.

“Well, thank you, again.” You reached for your purse, slipping your arm through the leather strap. “I really appreciate it.”

“Any time.” Eddie’s fingers drummed on his denim clad thigh, desperately racking his brain for anything, anything to get you to stay. Even just for a second longer.

“Enjoy your day off.” You smiled, the streetlights above you catching in your eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks.” Eddie gave a tight lipped smile, heart jumping when your fingers cradled around the door handle. “Wait-” Eddie’s voice was sharper than he meant, your head whipping around towards him.

“Sorry,” Eddie blushed. “I just- You don’t close tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked, foot shaking by the brakes, the rumble of the engine vibrating the soles of his shoes.

“No, I’m an opener. I get off that four.” You smiled proudly.

“Oh, well, I was thinking if, um,” Get it the fuck together, Munson. “If you’re not busy tomorrow after work, I- we could go to The Hideout?”

You blinked. “I mean, I know we talked about it, and you said you’d never been. I’m not playing tomorrow, but I-I know the band that is. We could go and listen to the music, or just go and hang out. It’s really fun, really chill.” Eddie rambled. Chill? Who says chill?

“If you want to.” Eddie blurted before you could reply. “I-I know you probably have plans, or something better to do-”

“-No,” You shook your head, a smile spreading over your features, beaming as bright as the streetlamp about the two of you. “I mean, yes I want to go. No, I’m not busy.” You gave him a small, breathy laugh.

“That sounds like fun.” Eddie was convinced it was a dream, the entire interaction. You in his van, agreeing to go out with him. His luck was finally changing, falling into place.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes were bright. “Yeah, I-I mean it will be. I promise.” His foot still shook. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, that-that would be nice.” You beamed, heart fluttering with butterflies, tingling with excitement.

“I can get you at seven? We can get there kinda early and get a good seat by the front if you want.” Eddie couldn’t help his smile, couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to.

“Sounds good.” You smiled. There was a pause, and you weren’t sure why, what came over you when you leaned forward, lips pressing in a soft peck to Eddie’s cheek, soft over the crease of his dimples.

Eddie flushed, body burning, flaming with heat, he knew he wasn’t hiding. You grinned, a small giggle, bubbly like the two of you were in junior high, kissing behind the bleachers.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” You grinned, opening the door. Eddie nodded, eyes still wide, lovesick or maybe lovestruck- he couldn’t decide.

“Thank you again!” You squeaked, shutting the door, scampering to your door. You turned, waving at him before pushing the door open, slipping inside.

Eddie sat, in a daze, head foggy, blinded with a rush of emotions. He could feel your lips on his cheek, a light tingling imprinted onto his skin.

He’d nearly ruined it, fucked it all up before it even began. He wouldn’t let that happen, couldn’t be careless like before.

Eddie pulled out of the parking spot, the light from your bedroom catching his eye in the rearview as it flickered on, blinds wide open. For someone who watches so much Dateline, you should know better.

Eddie’s stomach turned, foot pressing into the gas, halting in front of another complex. Eddie turned, adjusting the rear view mirror so he could see you. Maybe you hadn’t left it open. His mind swam, flooded with fear. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened.

Just a quick check. Make sure she’s alright, and then leave. It won’t be like last time.

Eddie let the van roll to a stop, cutting the headlights before killing the ignition. A steady stream of rain drummed on the roof of the van, melodic and calming. Eddie reached in his pocket, holding your yellow scrunchie. The thing that had nearly blown his whole plan. He swiped it from your locker four days ago, held it close to his nose that night, hand wrapped around his shaft, eyes fluttering closed, breathing in your scent and imagining what it would be like if you were there instead.

Eddie closed his fist around the silk, tucking it back in his pocket, reaching for his leather jacket, thrown over the back seat. An old Yankees cap, navy and worn in the floor of the van’s trunk. Eddie slipped the cap over his curls, pulling the brim low, zipping his jacket up.

Hands in his pocket, Eddie scanned around him. Nobody out to see him, catch him like last time and stop him. He wouldn’t let them even if they tried. Not this time.

The rain beat off Eddie’s shoulders, repelling off the leather of his jacket, wetting the ends of his curls. A final look over his shoulder, and Eddie was slinking back towards the wet brick of the opposite unit. Shuffled side steps, creeping closer and closer into the dark, angling himself to see your window.

He stilled, pressed fully to the brick, when your figure fluttered out of the corner of the window. Eddie watched the steam roll, following you out of the bathroom in a cloud, a towel wrapped around you, another in your hair. Toothbrush lazily scrubbing inside your mouth, flicking on the TV in your room.

She’s safe, now leave. Leave. Eddie’s mind screamed, but his feet were cemented in place. Hidden in the dark shadows, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, the light luring him though he stayed still.

You disappeared, Eddie watched you in the large mirror above your vanity.

Now, go now. Before she sees you. She’s going to see you.

The pounding in Eddie’s ears roared over the falling rain, deafening. Still, he stayed. Frozen in fear, maybe instinct.

When you returned, dropping your towel, kicking it to the corner of the room, Eddie was glad he stayed. Eyes wide, willing himself not to blink. He didn’t want to miss a second, not a single one. Your bare figure, better than his own imagination could curate. Soft edges and curves that Eddie couldn’t wait to feel. How jealous he was of your hands, smoothing the Avon body lotion over your shins, up your thighs.

What he would do to be the one doing that instead, his mind fading, slipping into his imagination. Inside your bedroom, instead of out, pressing soft kisses to your freshly lotioned shoulders, nose trailing along your soft skin. He wondered how you’d feel in his arms, letting yourself relax in his touch.

Eddie’s fantasies were halted when you moved to the vanity, snapping back to his cruel reality, a jolt of icy cold fear dumped into his veins. He could see himself in your mirror, the very corner. You bent down, picking up your comb and he took his chance, stepping back, hidden from your gaze, only a sliver of you to be seen, when you’d tilt your head a certain way to blow dry your hair.

Eddie stood, cold puffs of air clouding around his nose, clutching the switchblade in his jacket pocket every time he heard the smallest rustle. Ready to attack, to do anything he could to keep from being caught. He couldn’t ruin this, lose you before he ever truly got you. He was so close, so close.

Your light didn’t turn off, the same warm glow spilled out from your window, rain beating against the glass. Eddie’s feet ached, heart rate stroke level high. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie muttered, carefully stepping back towards the window.

You were no longer at the vanity, instead on your stomach, painting your nails at the end of the bed. Not red, from what Eddie could see- black. His lips curled. He liked to think you were doing this for him, for tomorrow, to match his dark and moody attire.

Eddie army crawled under your window, holding his breath when he passed under your window sill. He could hear the muffled sound of the TV- Dateline. You really should know better. Eddie would make sure to tell you that when he finally got inside, make sure to put in blinds and curtains for you.

His jaw flexed at the thought of someone trying to hurt you, someone else watching you. Watching you to harm you, not keep you safe like Eddie. The thought nearly had him staying in his van, parking closer and keeping watch through the night. He decided against it, the risk of nodding off and you seeing him there stronger than his want to stay.

Instead, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot, watching your window in the rearview mirror of his van as he drove away.

“Morning.” You sang, a skip in your step that you couldn’t hide, punching your card with glee, putting it in the assigned pocket.

“Good mornin’ to you, Sunshine.” Brenda grinned, brows raised at your cheery demeanor, running the price gun over the new cassettes. “What’s got you so happy on a Friday morning?” She snorted lightly.

“Mm, nothing.” You hummed, twisting the metal lock around. You were getting better at it, thanks to Eddie. He’d helped you the first few times. Tricky things, he’d told you with a half smile.

“Nothing?” Brenda sang, a playful mocking tone that had you blistering in heat. “You’re just that excited to stock tapes all day? That’s it?”

“Yeah.” You snorted lightly, pulling the lock open, wrangling it out of the metal hold of your locker. “No, I…” You spun the lock in your hand. “I’m going on a date tonight.”

“Oh?” Brenda’s brows raised.

You nodded. “Yeah. With, uh, with Eddie, actually.” Your heart fluttering in your chest, bubbly and excited.

“Oh, really?” Brenda laughed, putting her hands on her hip, pricing gun still in head. “Well, that makes more sense then.”

You frowned. “What?”

Brenda shook her head, kicking the box lightly with her foot. “That boy,” She snorted lightly. “He called my phone night before last, all crazy, I thought he’s been hurt or somethin’. Askin’ me to switch shifts with him last night.”

You paused, stilling. “H-He did?” You squeaked, hand closing around the lock tightly.

“Yeah,” Brenda smiled. “I mean, I was a little confused why he’d want to work a closing over an open, ‘specially with all the shifts he’s been picking up. But I thought, hey, none of my business. Maybe he needs the money.” She held her hands up playfully. “This makes me feel better, though.”

You twisted the lock nervously in your hands. “It does?”

“Yeah.” Brenda looked at you. “He just likes you. Wanted to take you out. Probably scared I’d tell you or somethin’, you know how he is.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “He gets a little paranoid about things. Dramatic, that one.”

Your stomach turned, sharp and twisting. “But-But Eddie, he wouldn’t, like, he’s a good guy?” You asked. “I mean, he seems like a good guy, but you-you know him better than I do.”

“I’ve known Ed since he was a little boy.” Brenda waved you off, her flippant tone made you feel better somehow. “I used to date his uncle, actually. Wayne started taking care of Eddie when we were together. He was wild, I’ll tell ya. But the sweetest kid. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Right.” You nodded, swallowing down your nerves. “Right, I- I’m just not from here, ya know? I get kinda…” You waved your hands, slinging your purse in your locker. “I also get paranoid.”

“A good match then.” Brenda grinned. “You’ll have fun with him. If he doesn’t treat you right, you let me know. I’ll tell his uncle and he’ll handle him, alright?” Her eyes shone in a playful way, comforting. Soothing your nerves with a warm smile.

You were anxious, and why wouldn’t you be? You hadn’t been out on a date since you moved to Hawkins.

Since you left your hometown.

Since you left him.

You swallowed, shaking it from your mind. You wouldn’t let him ruin this for you, wouldn’t let your mind consume itself. Eddie’s locker was just above yours, a plethora of stickers- Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and so many more all collaged together. Some peeling, overlapping and covering the others. Right in the middle, a bright, smiley face sticker. You’d given it to him last week, the grocer at Melvald’s snuck one in your bag.

“I brought it for your sticker collection.” You had grinned at Eddie, waving the yellow sticker around playfully. You hadn’t expected him to put it right in the middle of his collaged locker.

It was sweet. A simple, sweet, silly gesture that had you giggly and blushy for the rest of your shift.

You pinned your badge to the inside of your shirt, letting the metal back snap into your soft cotton, pushing out the back doors and towards the register, letting your mind drift into daydreams about tonight. About Eddie, while you straightened the tapes on the front table.

A ringed hand gripping the plastic cup, warm from the coffee inside, Eddie sipped slowly, eyes trained on the corner. He waited, parked and hidden behind the row of bushes in front of McDonald’s, hoping it would camouflage his van enough.

His breath hitched, strangling the liquid in his throat when a figure rounded the corner. Your hair was down today, freshly styled, and you had gone without your white Keds. Eddie’s heart bubbled, fluttered to life with a soaring warmth. Your nails were painted black, he could see it as you got closer on the sidewalk, shrinking in his seat, peering just over the steering wheel to track you until you got to the store.

When you slipped into the door, safely inside Turtle’s, Eddie geared into reverse. Van rolling steady back towards Magnolia Place.

“It’s always the single girl in an apartment alone, y’know?”

Your voice rang in his head, a rhythmic melody that lured him into a trance, tunnel visioned all the way back to your apartment doorstep. The flathead screwdriver and allen wrench heavy in his pocket, clammy palms wrapped around them.

As much as he hated his father, cursed and blamed him for the way he was, every hardship he’d endured, he did have to thank him for making him resilient. Al had passed on more than just his wild curls to Eddie. He’d given him his resourcefulness, taught him. Eddie thanked Al, wherever he was, when the door clicked open.

Your apartment smells exactly like how he thought, looked exactly how he imagined. A hodgepodge of second hand furniture, throw pillows and blankets neatly folded and placed on the patterned couch. Your shoes kicked in a pile by the door, your white Keds amongst them.

Eddie crouched down, cradling the shoe in his hand. The small speck of dirt splattered on the sides from your walk to work yesterday, an imprint of your foot molded into the sole.

Eddie let himself wander around the small space- your space. He hoped he’d be back tonight, invited in this time, but in case he didn’t, he just needed a look. To see the full thing, to see how you lived, feel closer to you any way he can. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know everything about you, every single thing.

Your perfume taunted him from the vanity, clouded his mind the very same way it did when he smelled it on you, catching whiffs when you’d walk past. Eddie drenched the edge of his band tee, saturated it in your perfume. For later, when his mind would wander back to you, when he’d miss you, when he’d long to smell you.

Stacks of photos lined the vanity, a man and woman donning similar features to your own. Even when you were younger, you always had the same smile, bright and warm. Your towel still kicked in the corner of the room from the night before, bed sheets crumpled from sleep. Eddie’s hand slid across the crinkled cotton, he hoped they’d still be warm.

Next to your sink, a bottle of purple acetone, red soaked cotton pads in the trash. A small tray of nail polishes next to that, pushed into the corner, every color imaginable- including the red. The same red you wore when Eddie met you. That you kept painting over for the following days until you finally gave up, let it chip away.

His mind screamed, roared at him not to. That you would know.

I’ll give it back. I’ll give it back when she invites me over. She’ll never know.

Eddie plucked the Revlon bottle out of the group, pushing the others back into place, pocketing it.

Ok, that’s enough. Enough. You’re gonna get caught. It’s going to be Chrissy- No, no, don’t fucking even compare her to that sick-

Eddie’s mind spiraled, pulling deeper and deeper into himself, a white knuckled grip on the counter, eyes crossing in a hazy daze, foggy and distorted. A familiar buzz ringing through his ears, a roar of static, heart hammering so fast he was sure it wasn’t beating at all. Flashes of memories he’d tried to forget, beat his head against a wall and knock them out, unforgiving and rapid.

A sliver of purple peeking out of your wickered hamper halted those hauntings just as quickly as they’d begun. Carelessly thrown on top, Eddie’s vision honing in through the mirror. The same lavender thong that had teased him the night before, consumed his thoughts later that night, hand pumping his cock, free hand holding your scrunchie to his nose, eyes screwed shut picturing- wishing it was you instead.

I’ll bring it back. With the nail polish, she’ll never know.

Eddie was nearly in a trance like state, swiping the panties off the top of the towels, shoving them in his pocket. He couldn’t- not here. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

Instead, Eddie waited until he was back home, in the sanctuary of his trailer. Pulling the old, metal lunchbox off the top shelf of his closet, he sunk into the mattress. A treasure chest, filled with all his favorite things. All his memories of you.

The scrunchie, a note you’d written him about an order signed with a heart before your name, your application he’d swiped off Mel’s desk after you got the job. It was small, smaller than Eddie would have liked but it was safer this way. The nail polish he tucked away, but the panties he kept out.

Reaching for the Jergens by his bed, Eddie freed his length from his boxers, settling back against the headboard. Tail of his shirt tucked by his chin, the overwhelming scent of your perfume wafting up to him, dizzying his senses. Eddie sighed, free hand tugging at his shaft, relaxing into the pillows.

He could see you, a fantasy that challenged his perception of reality, riding him soft and slow. Would you like it like that? Harder? Rougher? Sweeter? Him on top? Eddie’s mind flurried with worry, what if’s, pleasure simmering out slowly.

Eddie blinked, a heavy lidded gaze landing on the panties in his hand. You flooded back to his mind, picturing you in your little panties, shy and bare before him. He swallowed down a groan, pushing the crotch of your panties to his nose. A pungent, spicy scent, swarming with something so intoxicating. Eddie whimpered, pushing the lavender panties further under his nose, suffocating himself nearly, but he didn’t mind.

He hoped to have you in a different way, to experience you authentically later tonight. Even just to kiss you again, feel you again, his body ached for it. But for now, Eddie would suffice having you this way, his own little secret, a dark and twisted fantasy just for him.

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