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s4lv4tions · 7 months

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labour of love; nsfw

pairing; nanami kento x reader summary; something is on your husband's mind — nothing that can't be solved with a morning in bed, you're sure. wc; 4.6k cw; smut, largely vanilla, nanami kento is a loving husband etc

You’ve long since grown used to the press of knees against the mattress rousing you from your sleep. The gentle dip of the bed, the steady — if not stilted — breathing, the sudden waft of his cologne as he tries to settle himself beside you without waking you. It doesn’t work most nights, but Kento still tries.

He smells like the cleanliness of shower gel and the spicy goodness of his favourite fragrance, all nutmeg and saffron and warmth. It’s enough to have you rolling over to face him, half-lidded and half-asleep, hooking your leg over his waist and burying your nose into his neck. There’s a rough puff of air as he realises he’s failed to be stealthy — not for the first time, either. But he pulls you closer anyways, hands smoothing up your back as if to memorise the curve of your spine, or to cajole you back to dreamland.

If there was a way to become one with him you would’ve figured it out by now. Some days, in this bed, it feels like you’re close enough to discovery. Perhaps if you press every possible inch of yourself against him, share the same air, let your minds float away to the same place, it'll happen. Alas, you wake as two separate people, forced to peel yourselves apart when the sun rises and he's off to work. It’s always accompanied by disappointment, but for now you revel in the feeling of his firmness beneath you, and the beat of his pulse in your ears.

“Sorry for waking you up.”

He always says it, and you never mind, but you reply anyway. “It’s okay. I like seeing you.”

Kento’s arms tighten around you, and he says nothing back. The shaky breath muffled against your hair is enough to tell you how his day went, but you won’t ask him about it. Not yet, not when it’s still fresh in his mind. It’s enough of a blessing that he was able to return home at all tonight, instead of sleeping at his desk with only his jacket to fend off the cold. Still, even a good night’s sleep won’t solve everything. You can deal with it tomorrow.

“Did you eat?” You mumble, trying to ignore the seductive hands of sleep pulling at your brain. “I left… hamburger steak. In the fridge.”

“Mm.” His lips brush your hair, and you feel yourself slipping away, further and further into dreamland. “Don’t worry, darling. Just sleep.”

“O…kay… Sweet dreams… Kento…”

You always sleep best when you’re with Kento. You know this because, without fail, you end up drooling all over him like a dog. It's something that never happens when you’re bundled up alone, but it’s as if every muscle in your body relaxes something fierce when you’re with him. It’s embarrassing, and gross, but somehow he never minds. Just chuckles and watches you fuss over wiping it all away, teasing you about how deep you must’ve been sleeping. This morning is no different.

You’d woken with the sun. The curtains you’d forgotten to close shed honeyed sunlight across every fold of your blankets, every inch of skin, every tiny piece of dust floating in the still of the air. Hair tousled and mouth dry, you were so warm it almost made you fall right back asleep. Any part of you not covered in a blanket was wrapped, in some way, in Kento’s arms. The perfect morning. No longing looks as he rose to go to work; no cold side of the bed if he’d stayed in the office. Just perfection and warmth and… a drool stain on his arm.

Whether your cheeks are now warmed by the sun or a persisting feeling of embarrassment, you cannot say, but his hands are even warmer where they cup your face. You attempt to ignore him, scrubbing at his skin. “I need to tape my mouth shut.”

His thumb begins to smooth back and forth. If you were a cat you’d be purring. “Dramatic.”

A glare that’s far too soft. You push away the corner of the duvet you’d haphazardly chosen as your rag, cursing yourself for your weakness as you abandon your task and instead lean into him. “Oh, and I suppose you enjoy waking up every morning with a sticky bicep, Kento?”

“Mm.” The way he urges you towards him is not lost on you; it’s not until your noses brush and your lips part that he says: “I love it.”

“You’re gross.” Your smile betrays you, but you can’t help yourself. You let your graze trail over the handsome planes of his face; from his strong, pointed nose to his chiselled cheekbones, his thin, expressive eyes and tousled morning hair.

“Mhm. And you married me regardless.”

"Hm. I guess I did."

It's like two giggling children sharing the silliest inside joke. Your laughter is soft and breathless, still muddled with sleep, and it's natural the way that you fall into each other so easily. Your head falls back against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear; your legs intertwine, and your arms hook under his. Close enough to the point where you don’t know where one of you ends and the other starts. If only every day could start like this one, but you're the sort of person who cherishes rarity. And oh, how rare it is to wake up with him — speaking of which…

"You don't have work today?" You ask, trying (and failing) to keep the hope out of your voice.

"No." There's a little pause, before: "I finished up my latest project, so I took the day off."

You haven't forgotten the pledge you made to yourself yesterday: the promise to ease whatever may ail him, or at least to get to the bottom of it. “Woah. You passed up a chance to make money?”

“I suppose I did.”

"Hm, I don’t mind. I like having you to myself." Breakfast, that goes without saying. Maybe he'd prefer to go out for it, or maybe you could cuddle until brunch. Maybe he'd like to take the rare opportunity to stay in all day — and if you're in all day, you may as well do a little more than cuddle...

“You’ll have to share me with the laundry.”

“Mm.” As if drawn there, bolstered by the knowledge that you essentially have all the time in the world, your lips meet the side of his neck. You feel him swallow as you do, but Kento’s nothing if not poised; even as you dare to scrape your teeth along his skin, there’s no other reaction that’s quite so visceral. “I’m a jealous woman, you know.”

“I know.”

Those hands that had cupped your face start to trail down your back — warm and slightly calloused, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Brushing over the elasticated waistband of your panties, lingering just enough to be suggestive, but no more. You pretend that even the slightest whisper of his touch doesn’t make your stomach twist pleasantly, but you suppose you’re long past coyness, considering you are husband and wife. “And you married me, so you know I can’t share you.”

“Even with the laundry?”

“Oh, especially with the laundry.” You finally lift yourself from nipping at his pulse point, flushed and arching into his hands, and stare at him straight on. His gaze is half-lidded, but his eyes — oh, his eyes. So clear and sharp and fixed on you like he wants to print your image onto his eyelids. And his body is so firm beneath you, broad and muscular (you’ve never questioned how a salaryman who has no time to go to the gym is so incredibly fit, but you aren’t about to start now) — even on top of him you feel almost dwarfed. “But, speaking of laundry — we should probably get our money’s worth from the washing machine, then, shouldn’t we?”

An eyebrow quirks. “Oh?”

“Mhm. If we’re gonna wash the sheets, they may as well be as dirty as they can possibly be. Filthy, even.” No use in playing innocent. It’ll be killing two birds with one stone — multiple birds with one stone, even. You can treat your hardworking Kento to an orgasm or two, comfort him after what was no doubt a long, hard day — all the while you enjoy yourself in his arms, and save time and money with the laundry. Perfect.

You’re practically kneading his biceps at this point. The manicure he pays for bi-weekly digs in just slightly, leaving half-moon dents in his otherwise perfect skin. You don't worry about it too much; if there’s one thing you know about Kento it’s that he treasures those little marks above all else.

“How do you propose we do that?” He says, face purposefully blank.

Groaning, you give his arm a light slap. “C’mon, don’t make me say it, Ken.”

“I was joking, darling.” With a smile that sends your tummy flipping, he threads one hand in your hair, large palm flat against your skull, and urges you closer to him. The other settles itself against your jaw, keeping your head firmly in his hands, and it’s with very little shame that you melt into him. It’s hard not to — and besides, why starve yourself of something you’ve waited so long for? “I’m not that cruel.”

A liar he is not; with little fanfare, his lips meet yours, and it’s like every time before and every time after. His lips are smooth, his nose slanted to press against yours, and every movement is deep. His tongue licks into your mouth, lips moving against yours in such a way that you can’t help but moan. It's interesting to experience first-hand how much your relationship with Kento has changed over the years. When you first met him, he baulked at even the mere idea of tongue — this Kento, though, is some measure of depraved, and takes great pleasure in the way you squirm underneath him when his tongue runs over yours.

It’s the type of kiss that, inevitably, makes you want more. You’ve long since parted your legs to hug either side of his hips, and you whine at the press of his growing bulge against your panty-covered clit. It’s that dull sort of pleasure — not enough, never enough, and you’ll curl and arch and flex yourself until it feels like it might be, grinding down on the shape of him. At some point his hands move from your head to your waist — or are they at your back, your ass, your hips? You’re not keeping track. You only know that they sear the skin that they touch and set your nerves aflame, and that’s all that matters.

You’ve just broken apart to catch your breath, prepared to peel off your panties and have your way with him — but in the blink of an eye you’re weightless, and the world twists and warps and you’re under him, suddenly, with the wind knocked out of you. “Kento!”

“Sorry, love.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, the words are barely out of his mouth before he descends on you again, this time laying the entirety of his body against you. It’s all you can do to desperately follow the movement of his lips, the rocking his hips — and you’re clutching at his arms all the while, mind dizzied and chest heaving. You’re liable to let him have his way with you just like this, with your legs around his waist and your ankles pressing against his ass, but—

“Wait, I—” Panting, your grip on his biceps tightens, and you frown up at him— “I wanted to be on top, y’know. I wanted to give you a break.”

His laugh is gentle, breathy. In the haze of the morning every sharp edge of him is cotton-soft, his hair this honey sort of blonde wherever the light hits it — mind twisting juxtaposition to the red-hot pleasure broiling in the pit of your tummy. “It’s a husband's duty to worship his wife, is it not?”

“I—” His head dips to the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your skin in such a way that you shiver in his grasp. It’s sweet and indulgent and him, all him; his weight atop you, his hands on you, his scent around you. “I… Oh, You’re playing dirty, Kento.”

His answer is a hum that reverberates all throughout you. “Am I?”

You’re not expected to answer, and you doubt you have enough control over your muscles to do so, because just as you open your mouth, his fingers slip underneath your panties and slip over the hot, slick skin of your pussy. He’s always purposeful with you, and this time is no different — he does not fumble and flounder, unsure of where to put his hands. He has learned you well enough to know what brings you pleasure, and oh, does he want to bring you pleasure. He makes a glutton of you; gives you far too much, buys into your every whim. He can’t help himself.

You’re wet enough that he can slip a finger in with little difficulty — embarrassingly little difficulty, and you squeak as he slides it all in at one go. His fingers are thick, that goes without saying, but what makes Kento especially dangerous is his skill. He’s too attentive — watches everything, notes every shiver, the pitch of your voice when you whimper his name. He knows just what he needs to do to make you lose your mind — at that, as if he’s read your mind, another finger joins the first, jutting upwards to grind against that spongy spot that makes your legs jerk.

“O—oh,” you breathe, “That’s — okay, that’s good.”

“Is it?” Kento sounds far too amused for your liking, but you’re hardly in a position to scold him, not with your legs spread and your hips rolling up into his hand. “You're like wet velvet.”

“Don’t say things like that!” You whine, slapping a hand over your face. Your cheeks are red-hot, and it only adds to the overwhelming overstimulation — the sheets and Kento against your skin, the coolness of the pillows beneath your neck, the sounds that leave nothing to the imagination.

Sometimes you can’t believe your luck. Almost every partner before him was his complete and utter opposite, caring little for your pleasure and simply using you as a means to an end, but — with Kento, it’s so different. He centres you in everything. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, especially when he wants only for you to lay there and do nothing. It’s hard not to feel a bit lazy, like you have to offer something in return — he says you’ve already given him everything he wants, and it’s enough to make you scream. You suppose you have little to complain about, though, considering you’re regularly being fucked through the mattress.

When you gain enough lucidity to unscrew your eyes, he’s already watching you — like you knew he would be. Somewhere along the way Kento had migrated from on top of you to beside you; he propped himself above you on one elbow, cradling your head. If you were to only glance at him, you’d think him wholly unaffected by your whining, squirming self — but you allow yourself a stare, and are pleased to find the tips of his ears pink and flushed.

“I wanted to take my time,” says Kento, as if reading your mind. “But I’m too impatient when it comes to you.”

“I don’t mind,” you say — breathe — adding: “We have the whole day. You can fuck me slow later.”

It’s as if he was waiting for you to say it. Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth he’s pushing himself up, gently slipping his fingers out of you. You mourn their loss, but you know you won’t be untended for long. Sure enough, he pulls off the sweatpants and briefs that hang low at his hips, and settles himself between your legs once more. His cock is hot and heavy against you, pressed right between your lips, and you shiver as it’s nudged right against your swollen clit — but nothing more. Not yet.

Kento has endless patience — or so it may seem. His impatience, though rare, manifests itself only in his accidental roughness — as if he doesn't know his own strength. Your legs parted with strong hands, your body tugged further down the bed before you can even register the movement... Still, despite such impatience, he takes the time to rest the tips of his fingers against the shiny plushness of your bottom lip. He watches with sharpened eyes as your mouth opens and accepts them in, your tongue all too eager to lave over them, licking over the tanginess of your own juices. His voice is laboured — almost hoarse — when he breathes: “You’re vulgar.”

With a pop, his fingers are removed, glossy and wet and slimy. He wipes them on the blanket as you huff: “You put them there.”

His large hands grasp the back of your knees and push your legs up, until they hook high up on his waist and around him. “Because I knew you were vulgar enough to take them in your mouth.”

“Touché. But—”

Kento’s lips silence any half-baked argument that was about to leave you — this kiss is gentle, almost innocent. Somehow it’s enough to make your cheeks heat up more than any other racy gesture he’s shown you thus far. It’s made even worse when he reaches across your chest to intertwine your fingers — both hands housing a wedding ring.

(And it’s not surprising how romantic he is. Perhaps when you first started dating you were convinced that his blunt mannerisms and professionalism would extend to every facet of his life — and in many ways, it does. He’s the perfect gentleman in public, hands never straying too low, words rarely crossing the boundaries of polite-speak. But here, in your marriage bed, with more than a measly three hours of sleep and the sun casting shadows across your bodies, Kento is softened. Whatever exists outside your room that scares him so much no longer has any place in his mind.)

“I’m going to make love to you now,” he says. It’s just above a whisper, heated and heady against your lips. The gravel in his voice that had attracted you from the moment he’d opened his mouth is enough to make your knees turn to jelly — lucky, then, that they’re kept compacted by the barrel of his torso. “Is that okay?”

Your brain short circuits. Any smart comment or cheeky quip you could respond with is lost, and you’re left staring up at him, wide-eyed and willing. “Yes, please.”

His lips twitch upwards, the ghost of a smile, but he doesn’t attempt to tease — simply connects your lips again, and guides himself to your entrance with that free hand of his. The blunt head of his cock is silky smooth and slippery with your arousal, and barely catches on you before it presses in — the stretch dull and only slightly uncomfortable, but entirely familiar. It’s like stepping into a warm shower after a cold day — not just sexual, not just to scratch an itch or a means to an end — it’s this. Feeling the heat of him inside you; the way his breath catches in his throat as you squeeze around him. Knowing that you’re the only person in the world who has the privilege of having him like this.

It’s with a breathless sigh that he bottoms out inside you, hips flush against yours. On either side of your head, his arms bulge with the weight of his own body, muscles hardened and tensed — and as his hips begin to move, that neatly trimmed patch of hair around his cock grinding against his clit, you can’t help but reach out, anchoring yourself to them. There’s little else you can do except lay there and take it, shuddering all the while, mouth agape in wonder.

“Is this — okay?” Kento asks. His voice is strained, and you try to hide the smug smile it elicits in the bulk of his arm — there’s no point. He’s far too focused on staring at where he splits you open, anyways, watching how your lips split around him, crested by the sweet little pearl of your clit. And he calls you vulgar.

“Mhm. You can — you can go faster, if you want.”

A laugh. “If I want, hm?”

“Please, Kento,” you whine, humping up towards him. It’s embarrassing how much he makes you want him. It should be, at least, though you find you’ve gotten a little shameless as of late — shameless enough to press your feet hard against his ass, pulling him in deeper. “Don’t make me wait.”

Never let anyone proclaim he doesn’t treat you right, because at your request, he does just that. His pace quickens, pulling out to the tip and slamming all the way back in — the rhythm straightens out quickly, and that’ll be your downfall. If it isn’t enough that his hips grind down against your clit with every thrust, Kento (predictably) knows how to use his cock. The mushroom shaped head bullies against your g-spot in that dizzying rhythm — back, forth, back, forth, building you up until you’re gasping for air.

You wonder if it’s like this for everyone. You wonder if everyone in the world is lucky enough to find someone who fits them this perfectly, who listens to them this intently, who isn’t afraid to show such unerring devotion. You wonder if you will ever feel safer, more loved, than you do when you’re in his arms — if you will ever feel such deep, persistent pleasure at the hands of another. Then again, what good does wondering do? When you have all you need at your disposal, there’s little need for wondering. When you’re taken care of so thoroughly, there’s little need for anything else. And God, are you being taken care of.

“Oh — fuck, Ken, I’m—” Words escape you. All that matters is that building heat, the involuntary trembles of your walls around him, the electricity zipping from neuron to neuron; his eyes on you, the furrow of his brow, the comforting weight of him pressing you down. It’s all so much. You could lose your mind. You are losing your mind. “I’m—”

You can’t even finish the sentence. All you know is that your toes curl and your back arches and you squeeze his arms a little too hard but you can’t control it, you can’t control anything, not the way you’re squeezing him in a vice grip, not the way you’re dripping down around his cock, wet and sticky and messy—

“That’s it,” Kento urges, voice ragged as he fucks you through it. Through hazy eyes you see him — strands of hair hanging low over his face, his skin dewy with sweat. Ruined. “Good, that’s it. There you go — damn it—”

When he cums, he very nearly collapses on you, breathing heavily and sweat dripping from his brow. He presses himself to the hilt — of course he does, he can’t help himself — panting lowly as he thrusts with every wave of his orgasm. You can feel him against your cervix, that once-strange sensation of being filled.

In the midst of his pleasure, and fortified by his fatigue, his movements begin to slow. It’s that inevitable syrupy slowness that comes after an orgasm, where desperation is eventually traded for an easy languidness. His head bows to place a sloppy, messy kiss on your mouth, one he’d normally eschew, and you accept it with all the eagerness of a woman in love. One, two, three — another one to your cheek, then, and then to your brow.

That frantic, charged energy finally slips away. Kento holds you tightly to him — he always does, when all is said and done — but something about the way he’s hunched over you makes your stomach twist. You don’t know what is — some sixth sense, perhaps, that blooms into a sense of dread in your chest. The supernatural powers of a wife to know when there’s something wrong with her husband, and coupled with his demeanour the previous night...

“Kento,” you whisper, petting your hands over your head. “Is everything alright?”

“Mm.” A beat of silence, before he pushes himself up again, and — with some difficulty — pulls himself out of you. He kisses your forehead and sits himself up, sheets pooled around the hard lines of his abdomen. With worried eyes you watch as he reaches for his glasses, and then the wristwatch he’d left on the bedside table last night (almost 800,000 yen, one of the few things he’s splurged on himself) and deftly begins to clip it on. He's still avoiding your eyes when, at last, he says: “I… I was thinking of changing jobs.”

You shoot up — or sit up, rather, with what little energy you have left. “Hm? Oh, Kento, that’s wonderful!”

“Mm. It is.” But something’s bothering him. He doesn’t sound as elated as he should, considering he despises the job that he currently has. “It’s a smaller agency. An old… friend of mine runs it. The work is hard, but I won’t have to work much overtime, and… well, it’s better work, I suppose.”

You run a comforting hand over his covered thigh. “But?”

Kento exhales, slow and tired. “But I thought I left that work behind a long time ago.”

You shift, humming to yourself thoughtfully. “The work is hard, you say?”

He nods. “But… rewarding.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t know too much about finance, but I think that as long as it gives you purpose, it’s good, right?”

His head falls back against the headboard, and tired eyes trail over you. “It’s so simple for you.”

“Well, one of us has to simplify stuff, and I doubt it’ll be you. Look — you hate your job now, don’t you?”

“...Mm.”

“Then change it,” you say, rolling over on your side to face him. Your features soften at the sight of him — uncharacteristically unsure of himself, staring at his hands with furrowed brows. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so deeply torn, but then again, you know how hard he’s worked for this job. His career — especially before you met him — was of the utmost importance to him. Money, money, and more money. That’s what he’d told you. He was obsessive. He slept even less than he does now, barely used the fancy apartment he paid extortionate rent for... How do you turn your back on years and years of commitment, of obsession?

You reach a hand up and take his hand in yours once more. The silver of your rings glint and glimmer in the morning light, the garnet stone in the centre of yours a bloody red.

“For better or for worse, Kento,” you say quietly. “That’s what we promised. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be here with you through it all.”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles that one smile of his — the small, wistful, sad one. The one that hints at a far more tragic past than he’s let on, one of misfortune and melancholy. That’s okay. He doesn’t have to tell you, and you would never press him to. In much the same way, you pretend not to see the glassiness of his eyes when he raises your joined hands to his lips, and pretend not to hear the lump in his throat when he tells you he loves you — dearly, more than life itself.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, smiling. "Just don't forget about that retirement to Malaysia, okay? I want a beach house."

He huffs a laugh, and the cast of despondency shatters. Then, a thoughtful hum. "Mm. A beach house... that sounds good."

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento fic #anime x reader #smut x reader #i dont think we focus enough on how hard it was for nanami to return to jujutsu tee bee haytch #i want to hold his hand etc etc #cheeky little mention of malaysia of course couldnt help myself x #my fics

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jasontoddsass · 1 year

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To Gotham's elite, Red Hood is a dangerous murderer with a steadily growing criminal empire. He has no limits, he's unpredictable, and even Batman hesitates before stepping up to fight him.

To Gotham's underground? To it's poor and downtrodden, Red Hood is a guardian angel. He walks sex workers home at night. The minute a drug dealer even thinks about hanging out near a school, they've got a bullet through the knee. Red Hood fist-bumps the kids walking through crime ally and plays lookout when they run jobs. He's their protector, their Saint. Red Hood is their hero.

#jason todd #red hood #i have feeling and opinions #the fic Jason Todd: the Not-So-Outlaw orchestrates this idea to near perfection #its a good fic #bee writes

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succubusmunson · 2 years

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I Can Make You Scream

Pairing: Ghostface!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: You ask Eddie to do something new in the bedroom and he is very up for it

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), slight perv!eddie, rough sex, cnc, somno, mask kink, knife play, dirty talk, boot riding, slight dub con, degradation, praise, slapping. hair pulling, name calling (slut, whore, pathetic), spitting, dacrypfillia, oral (m receiving), ball play, facial, cum play, spanking, choking, unprotexted sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, little aftercare

WC: 3.8K

(I have never done something like this before, enjoy!)

Tonight was movie night for Eddie and you, it happened once a week and neither of you would miss it. It was your turn to host and pick the movie and you of course picked a horror one. “Scream” was your favorite movie and you were about to introduce Eddie to it. “Listen this is one of the best horror movies to be made, I don’t want to hear any complaints coming from you.” Eddie was a picky movie watcher, always putting in his two cents when you never asked. You put the movie on and snuggled up real close to him. “Just try and enjoy this one, okay?” He nodded his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The opening sequence of the movie was playing and you kept looking over to Eddie’s face, trying to read it. Ghostface appeared on screen and it was as if a lightbulb turned on. “Wait,” you got up and paused the movie before turning back to Eddie. “I have a thought..”

Eddie sat up and gestured for you to continue, “I’m all ears, baby.” Suddenly, you were nervous. Why were you nervous? Eddie was literally the most non-judgmental person in the world. I guess your idea was just making you feel very vulnerable since it was super kinky, even for you two. When it came to sex, Eddie and you were beyond adventurous. Before Eddie though, you weren’t as kinky, but he brought it all out. Maybe this could just be another thing to add to the list.

“So, you see the mask right?” You pointed at the television with one hand while the other twisted the end of your shirt, trying to distract your nerves. “Well, what if you were to like, wear it during sex?” You had a thought like this before, reading some taboo/erotica novels that involved something called CNC. The thought of you ever trying it never crossed your mind until tonight.

A smirk grew on Eddie’s face as he stood up and grabbed both of your hands, “Like me play the killer?” The smirk meant he liked the idea, thank God. You nodded your head at him, “we could plan something out. I don’t wanna know when it’s going to happen. I like the idea of a surprise.” Was this really going to happen? Were you really going to live out your Ghostface fantasy? You couldn’t help the throb that formed between your thighs.

“So it would be consensual, but not?” Eddie looked confused at the part, not fully understanding.

“Yeah, just acting like it’s not.” You pressed your body against his, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist, “gives the both of us more adrenaline.” The two of you talked it over more, establishing some details, boundaries, and safe words. Both of you were nervous, but more than anything, you were both excited.

Eddie walked backwards until he softly fell onto the couch, pulling you to straddle him. “Whaddya say we get a little bit of practice in?” You felt the familiar outline of his clothed, hard cock against you and you let out the smallest whimper and nodded your head, rolling your hips against his. “Awe, can you not use your words?” Eddie placed his hands on your waist, slipping his fingers just under your loose shirt. Goosebumps rose in the presence of his fingers, sending a slight shiver down your body. His cock pressed into you more and you wanted, no need, to feel him inside you.

Your hands moved to his pants, quickly undoing the belt. “Practice makes perfect, but right now I need to feel you inside me.” Once the belt was undone and his pants were unzipped, you slipped your hand in and felt his throbbing cock. Eddie hissed at the contact and pulled you in for a heated kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Eddie mumbled against your lips before flipping the top of you over, you now pinned under his body. “I have no complaints about it though.” Tonight was going to be a long night and you were so ready to feel every inch of him.

“C’mon, Eds, need it.” Begging was Eddie’s weakness and he was about to give you everything he had. The movie had now been long forgotten about.

It had been a couple weeks and both you and Eddie had forgotten your little idea, or so it seemed. What you didn’t know was that Eddie couldn’t forget it. He kept thinking back to how nervous you were to ask him to do it and how cute your reaction was when he agreed. Secretly, he had been planning the whole thing. Everything was ready to go, the last thing to do was put the plan into action. To be honest, Eddie had no idea why you were so turned on by the mask and everything, but he was always willing to try something new with you, especially when something was so kinky.

It was late at night and you had the home to yourself. Your parents were off on some trip and Eddie had called earlier to say that band practice was going to be longer tonight. You didn't think much about it, it was normal for that to happen. Instead of just sulking about not being able to see your boyfriend tonight, you turned into bed early. Hopefully tomorrow will be different.

You were in such a deep sleep that you didn’t hear the loud boots coming up the stairs or them making their way into your room. It was quiet, almost too quiet but you were still fast asleep. A cold blade pressed to your skin made you stir a little, worrying him. Your body now positioned to where you were on your back, the blanket off your body, giving him the perfect view of your spread legs and lacy red panties. It’s as if you knew this was going to be happening tonight.

The sight of your panties made him groan behind his mask, he had never seen someone more angelic than you. You were perfect and he couldn’t wait to corrupt you in every way possible. He pressed the blade into your thigh, watching as it made a little indentation in your skin. Trailing the blade higher, he slipped it under your panties, cutting them just the slightest bit. Now, he had a full view of your perfect little pussy and the bit of wetness that shone in the moonlight. God, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you.

A gloved hand traveled up your thigh and jolted you awake. Just as you were about to scream, another hand pressed itself against your mouth, “you make one fucking noise and I’ll make this so much worse for you.” You nodded your head against the hand before it was pulled away. You were a little scared until you looked up and saw the familiar Ghostface mask and you breathed a small sigh of relief. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you let out a giggle until you felt the blade gently pressed against your throat and you noticeably gulped.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask eye level with you. You searched for the brown eyes that you knew too well, but saw only black. “Do you think this is a game?” The knife was pulled away and replaced with a hand. The hand squeezed at your throat and you tried your hardest to act afraid. You were pulled closer to the mask, your face now inches away from it. “I’m gonna fuck you like the stupid whore you are. Maybe, just maybe, depending on how good that sweet pussy is, I’ll show you some mercy and spare your life.”

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Please, I-I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me.” Never did you ever think that you would be begging for your life, even if it was just roleplaying. He grabbed your chin and ran his thumb over your cheek, in a mock sympathy kind of way.

“So desperate to live, are you? I wonder how far you’ll go.” He ran a hand through your hair before pulling at the base, “On your knees.” You quickly followed his instructions, looking up at him with fake fear. “I saw how wet that pussy was when you were just showing it off to anyone,” he slipped his black boot under you, “go on, fuck yourself.”

You were nervous, you had never done anything like this before, but it all seemed so hot. His foot flexed under you and you could feel it against your now swollen clit. It took everything out of you to not let out a moan at the contact.

“Don’t have me waiting all night, you wouldn’t want me to get impatient.” The hand that was still in your hair pulled again and you started to move your hips. It was a weird feeling, the toe of the boot being cool and smooth, but the friction was enough for you to feel good. The more that the foot flexed under you, the more you would grind your hips. You could feel yourself getting wetter, small whimpers leaving your mouth as you held onto his leg to steady yourself.

You heard a chuckle above and you looked up, not stopping your hips. “Does it feel good, slut? Feel good to be rubbing that little clit against my boot?”When you didn’t answer, he placed the knife in his pocket and took his now free hand to slap your face, causing you to moan. “I asked a fucking question.”

“Y-yes, feels s’good.” You never thought you would be into slapping but him doing that sent an electric shock from your head straight down to your pussy.

His gloved hand came and grabbed your cheeks, hooking a thumb in your mouth. “Such a sweet mouth, need to put it to work.” He leaned down a bit and removed his mask just so you could see his mouth. He spit, directly hitting your tongue. “A drooly baby, you better swallow it.” You did as he told, immediately swallowing his spit and letting out a small hum. You kept your mouth open, waiting for what was to come. He took his hand from your cheeks and unzipped his pants, just enough to pull out his hard cock. “I think that my cock deserves some attention.” You had no time to protest, his cock sliding in your wet mouth, hitting the back of your throat. The both of you let out a groan. The feeling of his heavy cock in your mouth added more pleasure to you getting yourself off on his boot.

You kept grinding yourself against his boot as he started to fuck your face. He was timing his thrusts to the way your hips moved. You were so close, so fucking close. Your moans were muffled by his cock and you had him throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Y’gonna cum on my boot like a good slut?” He shoved his cock further down your throat, if that was even possible. You gagged around his cock, causing some tears to flow from your eyes and mess up the leftover makeup you had on. “Would you look at that,” he swiped a thumb over your tears before bringing it to his mouth to lick, “poor baby can’t take my cock, can she?”

That was enough to have you cumming in seconds. You pulled your mouth away from his cock and leaned forward as best as you could. It all came crashing down hard and the moans leaving you were so loud, “Eddie! Fuck, yes.” You couldn’t stop moving your hips, not until you were done making a mess.

“Who the fuck is Eddie?” He pulled your hair to force you to look at him, your breath still ragged. You watched as he moved his boot from under you, your cum dripping off it. “Be a good girl and clean up the mess you made”

You bent down, cleaning it with a piece of clothing before he stopped you. “Use your mouth.” You stuttered to find words and he mocked you, “you made the mess, don’t act shocked.” Wanting to please him, you did as he asked. Your tongue lapped up at the mess and you couldn’t help but let a little whimper at the sweet taste of yourself. “Look at you, nothing but a pathetic little slut. You’re right where you belong; under me.” The way your pussy clenched around nothing from his words was amazing, he was really into this character.

Once satisfied, he pulled you up. You were finally level with him and you noticed those soft lips. Needing to kiss him, you leaned forward only for him to pull his mask back down before throwing you onto the bed. “I-I wanna kiss you?”

He scoffed and moved to straddle your chest, the tiniest bit of his weight pressed into you. “You think I would kiss you? I’m not your boyfriend, slut.” His cock was right at your lips, leaking precum over them. This position was new, but having his cock this close to you had your mouth water. He hooked his thumb in your mouth again before guiding his cock back inside. “So warm for me. I bet your pussy is even warmer, hmm?’” You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, he was making you so needy. His cock throbbed on your mouth and you hummed around him, a groan fell from his lips, muffled by the mask. “Love being a little cockslut, don’t you?”

You tried your best to nod with his cock deep down your throat. He felt so good and heavy in your mouth. It just slides so easily in and out and to hear him groaning above you? Feeling the thick vein on his shaft, just feeling him was so good. Fuck, you could stay like this forever and never complain.

“You know what’s better than having my cock in your mouth?” He pulled it out, a string of your saliva mixed with his precum connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock. “My balls,” you noticed that he had pulled them out and your eyes went wide. “See something you like?” He moved forward, straddling your chest just a bit more. Now, his cock was resting against your forehead and his balls were dangling right in your mouth. “S’good for me, so greedy.” You sucked each ball into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the soft skin. He moaned above you, his hand stroking at his cock. “Wanna cum all over this pretty face.”

He was close to cumming, you could tell by the way his balls tensed up in your mouth. The feeling only made you suck faster, wanting to feel his cum on you. One more suck was all it took to have him shooting his cum all over your face. It was hot and sticky, but you loved it.

“Fuck, that’s it, keep making me cum.” HIs breath was ragged the more you sucked before letting go with a wet pop. “You look so much prettier with my cum covering your face.” What he did next was totally unexpected. He licked up his cum and spit it right into your mouth, watching as you eagerly swallowed every last drop. You not only moaned at the taste of him but at how lewd that act was.

You gulped, not wanting to beg, but you needed something. “Please, please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me. I promise I’ll be good to you.” He chuckled at your begging and moved off of you to strip off his pants and boxers. You noticed your salvia still dripping off his balls and you brought a hand down to rub at your very swollen clit. “M’so wet for you, it’ll be so easy.” You were saying anything at this point.

“You’d let a stranger fuck you to just save your life?” He grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards the edge of the bed, “You really are a pathetic slut, aren’t you?’ Your legs spread out of habit and you swore you heard him moan at the sight of you. “You’re fucking dripping. Is this all for me? Is this because I’m treating you like the whore you are?” Your head nodded before you could even realize what he was saying, you were putty in his hands.

He tapped the hefty tip of his cock against your clit, causing you to slightly jump at the action. His recovery time was impeccable, always so fast. You reached down and grabbed at his cock, holding it still as you grind your pussy against it. “Your cock feels so good. Can’t you feel how ready I am for you?” You watched as he breathed heavier, his cheating rising and falling deeply. The whole thing with you acting scared left the room forever ago, the need for him taken over.

“Gonna take what I give you?” He swatted your hand away before taking his own to guide him into your aching hole. He threw his head back in pleasure as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Your pussy is swallowing me so nicely, might have to keep you around.” He was right, your pussy was made for one cock, his cock, Eddie’s cock.

He slowly pulled out, leaving just the tip in, You clenched around him and let out a broken gasp, “need more.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying your beat to push him back in. The need to feel him deep inside you was too much, all of it was too much but in a good way.

“Oh, I’ll give you more.” He snapped his hips, slamming back in and bottoming out inside you. Your head slammed against the pillow and a scream of his name left your lips, this time he didn’t correct you. “That’s it, let everyone know who is filling this tight little pussy up.” His hands spread your thighs further apart and somehow his cock sunk deeper into you. “Fuck, gonna stretch this pussy out s-so nice.”

There were no coherent thoughts inside your brain, you could only focus on the feeling of him driving his cock in and out of your soaked pussy and the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing off the walls. “Y-you fill me so good, so full.” Your brain was so fuzzy and you felt that familiar tightness bubble up in your stomach again. He noticed it too, noticed the way your legs shook and your back arched up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It came fast, you felt your whole body tense up and cum around his cock. It felt like you couldn’t stop, “t-too much.”

You tried to push him away, but he kept fucking into you. This man was absolutely relentless. “I think you have one more in you, yeah?” He pulled out only to flip you on your stomach and pull your ass into the air. You felt a slap on your ass, and then another one. Each slap sends a shiver up your spine. “Look at you, dripping cum onto the bed.” He swiped a finger up your thigh before popping it under his mask and into his mouth. “So sweet,” he slid back in, his fingers now gripping your hips. It started off slow this time, letting you feel every part of his cock. A hand came around and wrapped around your throat. It squeezed, cutting off a bit of your air. “Mmm, you like this, I can tell. Me choking you made your pretty pussy clench around me.”

“Just like that Ed’s, don’t s-stop.” You bounced against him, meeting him halfway. He pressed his head against your neck, his moans still muffled behind the mask but still loud enough for you to hear. “Please cum in me. Fill me up with it all, want it to be leaking out of me.” He let out an almost growl, snapping his hips faster and shoving your face into the pillows.

“That’s what you want? Just wanna be my little cumslut?” He was getting close, his hips were stuttering and his words were coming out broken. You were close too, your body was reacting in a way you’ve never felt before. Every part of your body was on fire and to add fuel to it, he trailed the hand that was around your throat down your body and began to rub fast circles around your clit.

That was all it took to send your body into a shockwave. Your toes curled and the moans leaving you were borderline pornagraphic. A gush left you and soaked down your legs and made a huge mess on the bed. Your body was working on overdrive and it was like the only sense you had was touch. “Eddie, fuck I-,” it all felt so good that you couldn’t even speak properly.

Eddie was right behind you, slumping over your body as he emptied out inside of you, “milk my fucking cock.” You felt his cum deep inside of you and your body fell forward. Every part of you was sensitive and worn out.

Apparently Eddie wasn’t done, leaning over you to grab the polaroid camera from your nightstand and pulling you up by your hair. “Smile for the camera,” you couldn’t even do that, you were so fucked out.

Eddie pulled out, the sensation making you hiss. “Shh, it’s okay.” He grabbed an old tee shirt off the floor and tried his best to clean you up. You didn’t even notice that he had taken the mask off until you turned your head to look at him. He gave you a gentle smile before walking over to you and pressing a long kiss to your forehead. “You’re fucking amazing.”

You tried your best to laugh before pulling him to lay down with you, “if anyone is amazing it’s you.” Eddie wrapped his arms around you, neither caring that you were both hot and sweaty. “Didn’t know you had that much in you.” Your head rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow down from the adrenaline rush the both of you had just endured.

“Well, I know one thing,” he reached an arm over and grabbed the now fully developed picture he had taken of the two of you, “I’m never getting rid of that mask if that is what it gets you to squirt.” Eddie laughed which made his chest rumble. You both admired the picture before you yawned.

There was no need for covers tonight, the air still hot and sticky with sex. You two just snuggled up together. “Goodnight, Ghostface.” You couldn’t help but giggle at Eddie rolling his eyes.

“Goodnight, baby.” It wasn’t long before you heard and felt his snores, lulling you to sleep. This would definitely be something neither of you forget.

Tagging: @elshifts @rossmccallsqueen @manddoublee @buckleybby @onehotgreasymechanic @plant-hoe69 @aree-you-sirius-rn @nayely45 @pipops

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #ghostface!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things #bee’s st fics

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slasherscream · 2 months

Text

He’s Just Not That Into You

pairing: jordan li x reader

summary: a hopeless romantic, you keep looking for love in all the wrong places, with all the wrong guys. that is, until you meet jordan li, who takes pity on you and tries to help you learn when a guy just isn’t into you.

gif credit: artemidosgifs

“You good?”

"Huh?" Dazed and drifting, you look up from your incredibly important task of peeling off the label for the worst tasting artisanal beer ever created.

You quickly remember why you focused on the task in the first place. The lighting at this party sucks. It's mostly dim, to try and hide all the unsavory things happening in every corner of the house. The brightest bits of it are all flashing. Neon blue. Neon red. Neon green. As if anyone has ever looked good in neon green lighting. That plus the never-ending movement of people dancing is enough to make you sick.

"Are you good or are you starting to tweak?" Your eyes adjust enough to see who's talking and you sit up straighter. Jordan Li. Number #2.

She's wearing her ever present scowl that makes you study extra hard in Brink's class. You don't ever want to be in the position to have to ask for clarification on an assignment or further guidance. Brink's so busy being renowned that he's a pretty absent teacher, if you're not one of his favorites. Everything menial falls to Jordan.

"I'm good! Totally good. Just vibing, y'know."

Jordan stares down at you, looks back out onto the sea of partygoers, "What vibe do you think you're matching?"

“Excuse me?”

"You've been sitting here for almost twenty minutes. You've barely moved. Did you take something?"

"No! I.... I didn't take anything. I'm just enjoying the atmosphere."

Jordan rolls her eyes, takes the beer bottle from your hand, and then takes your hand itself. She pulls you to your feet, easy, despite the way you go limp at the last second to try and stay seated. Without a word she begins to pull you through the crowd. Bewildered, you follow.

She doesn't stop till you're outside on the porch. Surprisingly, no one else is lingering. But the air has a chill that's pretty biting for an early day in fall. You take a deep breath. You hadn't realized how loud the music really was. How overwhelming every smell. The itch that crawled across your skin with each jostle of a body coming too near.

"Yeah, you look like you were really enjoying the atmosphere." Jordan drawls, leaned up against the railing, observing you.

Your first instinct was to say 'fuck you' to that, obviously. But at the last second you remember she is your TA and is probably doing all the actual grading for every assignment you turn in.

You force a smile, "Thank you. Guess I was feeling pretty anxious."

"What are you even doing here?"

"Should... I mean, I was... invited? If that's what you're asking. Although I think crashing parties is pretty typical college stuff, even if I wasn't-"

“Not what I meant.” Jordan interrupts, “I mean you don’t usually go to parties. I never see you at any of them.”

“Maybe we just run in different circles.”

“Not really. You’re in the top ten now. What did you jump to, number 6?”

“Seven, actually.”

“Really? Well, won’t be long. Number 6 is a dick. He’ll be easy to knock out with the type of stats you’re pulling this year.”

Somehow, this compliment bewilders you more than anything. Jordan must see it on your face, because she rolls her eyes again.

“I keep an eye on the competition. Even if you are just a sophomore.”

“Okay, Junior.” You narrow your eyes at her. She narrows hers back, which feels like overkill, because she was already glaring.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Did they hire you to be the bouncer for this party?”

“Jesus, ‘m just making conversation. You looked like you were gonna hurl in there. What? Did your friends drag you here then ditch you?”

“My friends would never do that. That violates the party safety rule. Arrive together, leave together.”

“Oh of course.” She says, nodding in a way that feels sarcastic.

“I actually came without my friends.” You say, standing up straighter. Proud of yourself for stepping out of your shell even if it ended on a sour note.

“You did?” Jordan raises an eyebrow. You deflate a little at the shocked tone. Even your TA thinks you’re lame.

“Well…. I was supposed to meet someone here. But they… I dunno, I must’ve missed them. Or whatever.”

“Who were you supposed to meet?”

You hesitate for a second, but they impatiently gesture for you to go on. So, begrudgingly you admit to, “Uuuuh… Andre?”

“Andre?” In the blink of an eye they shift, and take a step closer. As if he wants you to see the disbelief on his face as clearly as possible. “How do you know Andre?”

“What happened to we run in the same circle?” You snap back. “Andre’s top ten.”

“Andre’s a fucking nepo baby.” Jordan scoffs

“Aren’t you friends?” You frown.

“Andre barely shows up to class, he knows why he’s top ten, trust me.” Jordan says. “Andre invited you?”

“Yes, Andre invited me. We were at the club last week and you know…talked.”

“You were at the club? You’re changing it up like crazy this year, huh L/N?”

“Lot of good it’s doing me.” You sigh. You twist the sleeve of your top, wrinkling the fabric. You’d spent hours picking out the perfect outfit that looked like you weren’t trying too hard, but brought out all your best features.

Jordan’s face twists, you’d almost mistake it for sympathy, “Did you see Andre at all tonight?”

“Did he come here with you?”

“Would you like me to lie or tell you the truth?”

You sigh, moving to sit down on the porch steps, emotionally and socially exhausted. “It’s okay, I already know the answer.”

A moment of silence before Jordan moves to sit beside you. He offers back up the beer he took from you earlier, “You look like you could use a drink.”

“Eh, you have it. If you’re not a germaphobe. Thanks for rescuing me.”

Jordan shrugs, takes a sip and almost spits it right back out, “God it tastes like fucking piss.”

“You weren’t very nice to me during the rescue, so you didn’t deserve a warning.”

“Well fuck me, I guess.” He laughs, staring at you. He let’s out a sigh of his own, “So which line did he use?”

“Huh?”

“What did Andre say to you?”

“He didn’t use a line.” You protest.

“Andre doesn’t know how to do anything but use a line. Wait! Lemme guess,” Jordan looks you up and down before glancing at a few rings on your hand. “Were you wearing those?”

You stare back at him.

“Well?”

“Yes, I was, why?”

“Did he come up to you with one of them and ask if you dropped it?”

“.....Maybe. I repeat, why?” You ask, stomach twisting.

“Cause he slipped it off your finger with his powers so he’d have an opening. It’s his go to for girls that look shy. Seen it a million times.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, actually. Fuck me!” You groan, laying back against the steps and throwing your hands over your face. “You’re really good at comforting people, did you know that?”

“I’ve been told to work on it.”

“Clearly not enough.”

“Just didn’t want you to fall for the bullshit any more than you already have.”

You scrub your face harshly, trying to ignore the tightness in your throat. “Sorry. Do you like apples? I can put a nice shiny one on your desk Monday morning as a thank you for the solid.”

“Are you about to cry?” Jordan asks, bewildered.

“No.”

“Over Andre Anderson?”

“No!” You sit up, glaring at him. He glares back. “Not exactly. It’s just… I don’t put myself out there a lot. So it sucks. That I tried… and all I got was a guy who fed me a line he’s used a million different times on a million different girls, who then ditched me at a party he invited me to. I should’ve just fucking stayed home.”

You sniffle and then remember who you’re actually talking to and how awkward it’s going to be to see their face Monday morning for class if you keep spilling your guts. You stand up abruptly, already planning on apologizing for whatever you said while you were “drunk” tonight. You’re opening your mouth to make your excuses, already taking steps away from the stairs when Jordan reaches out, grabbing you gently by the wrist.

“Wait! I’m… sorry, I mean-”

“Why are you sorry?” You sniff, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I could’ve… I could’ve been nicer. About telling you. About Andre.” Jordan pulls you to sitting back down beside him, slowly, so you can pull away if you really wanted to.

“It’s okay. I should’ve known better.” You say quietly.

“Hey, no. I made it sound like he’s super obvious about it but he’s honestly pretty smooth. His only hobbies are picking up girls and cocaine. He could make… fucking, I dunno, Ellen Ripley blush if he had the prep time! It’s really not your fault.” The comment surprises a wet laugh out of you and Jordan smiles, bumping your shoulders together.

“Thanks, but he probably was obvious. I just… don’t see stuff like that coming very well.” You laugh bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

“I apparently just can’t tell for shit when a guy is actually into me! Or just… entertaining himself.” You sigh.

You and Jordan sit in silence for a second. You have no clue what’s going on in his head. You see him tapping his finger on the beer bottle, the sound of his rings the only noise for a moment.

“I could help you.”

“Help me what?”

“I could teach you how to spot when a guy is just being an asshole or when he’s serious about you. So this doesn’t happen again.” Jordan shrugs, taking another swallow of the beer, flinching again at the taste.

“Piss kink or short term memory loss?”

“Offer retracted.” Jordan laughs.

“Why are you offering in the first place?”

Jordan shrugs, looking out in the distance, “You’re… cool, y’know. Think of it as a welcome to the top ten gift. You’re only gonna get more and more attention now that you’re there. You’ll need to be able to sniff out bullshit or you’ll get eaten alive. No offense.”

“I’ve been in the top ten for the last six months.” You scowl.

“Mazel tov.”

“Dick.” You scoff, fighting back another laugh. You and Jordan make eye contact and both lose the battle, laughing together.

You take a deep breath once the fit passes, “This isn’t a top ten humiliation ritual of initiation thing, right?”

“I’m way too busy to waste my time doing stupid shit like that.” Jordan says, familiar glare falling back onto his face.

“Sorry, rough night, had to ask.” You say sheepishly. “Offer still open?” You smile, extending your hand out for a handshake.

“Yeah, offers still open, L/N.” Jordan rolls his eyes, but he does shake your hand.

“So, number’s one pretty obvious but we have to establish the basics because you told me you were hopeless.” Jordan sips her chocolate milkshake.

“Didn’t use the word hopeless, but sure.” You mutter, tossing a fry into your mouth and frowning at the lack of flavor. “Hit me.”

“If he calls off plans with you all the time he’s not interested. If he doesn’t give you as much heads up as humanly possible before he has to cancel a plan or bail then he might actually hate you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You scoff, shaking extra salt onto your fries.

Jordan reaches over, stealing one of your now delicious fries to dip it into her milkshake. “It’s a type of power play. Too many reasons to name why a guy might feel the need to pull something like that but we don’t wanna get too complicated. All you need to do is memorize the red flags and run when you see them.”

“Okay…. follow up question, what would you consider to be ‘all the time’?”

“If you just started seeing each other and he cancels two dates in a row without desperately trying to make it up to you he doesn’t give a shit.” Jordan steals and dips another of your fries.

“What about emergencies? Like… I dunno, a funeral? What if his Aunt died? So he cancels that one date. Then the next one he tries to plan his car breaks down or something, you know?”

“He should call an uber and get to the fucking location of the date come hell or high water. That’s what a guy who likes you is gonna do. Don’t over complicate, L/N.”

“Oh and you don’t think you’re over-complicating the process of eating my fries?” You smack at her hand as it reaches for your plate for the umpteenth time during this lunch. “You could have ordered fries. Why didn’t you order fries?”

“Didn’t want any until I saw yours.” She tries again but you see the movement coming and block her hand, again. You did not notice the second, slightly sneakier hand that does successfully carry out the theft.

“Did you just juke me over a fry?

“Yeah, and I won.”

You toss a fry at her and laugh when she manages to catch it with her mouth. Asshole.

You sit on the corner of Jordan’s desk, watching as he finishes up some last minute work that Brink asked him to do before heading out. You’d offered to meet back up later but he just shook his head and said it wouldn’t take long.

“What if he’s just a private person?” You ask, kicking your feet lightly.

Jordan looks up from his laptop and frowns at you, “Why are you trying to invent exceptions to the rules? The rules are there to help you. Can you say that for me, L/N? Can you say the rules are there to help me?”

“The rules are there to help me.” You repeat back, mocking their tone.

“Thank you.” Jordan smirks at you, “Like I said, if he’s hiding your relationship from the world then he’s not serious about you. He should be introducing you to people. You should be on his social media. People should not be shocked you exist when meeting you. All that bullshit.”

“And if they’re a private person?” You challenge.

Jordan pushes away his laptop, turning to face you. “Fuck me. The types of guys you’re gonna be around as a hero are all gonna be doing the same stuff as you. There’s gonna be a certain level of our life that’s always in the spotlight. Minimum of two posts a week if he’s constantly posting in general.”

“I don’t post very much.” You counter.

“You should be posting more. Especially as a top ten. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be number 6 right now. You need to be more active on socials.” Jordan gives you a look before going back to typing. Two weeks ago that look would have put you on the verge of tears. Now you roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it.”

“It was an order as your TA, actually.”

“Oh god, an order? I’m shaking in my boots.” You tease, playfully kicking his chair.

“That just knocked your essay from a B- to a C, congratulations.” Jordan quips.

“You were gonna mark my essay a B-, you dick? You know damn well I don’t turn in B- work. Who do you think-”

The rest of the afternoon is lost to playful outrage. The papers get graded late. Yours comes back an A+. No one besides you has gotten a grade of + anything since Jordan became TA.

“Okay, so this is one with a grey area.” Jordan says.

“Oh no.”

“Shut up. If he never gets jealous that’s a red flag.”

“But-” You sit up from where you’re laid out on the blanket you threw on the ground to better soak in the last warm rays of September sun.

“I am not saying go out with some overly possessive fucking maniac.” Jordan cuts you off.

“Be specific, Jordan. You can’t give me rules with built in exceptions. I’ll fail. Is that what you want? You want me to fail, Jordan? That’s messed up-”

“Shut up-” Jordan laughs, shaking her head. “Listen to me, if a guy never gets jealous he just doesn’t care at all. The most namaste, enlightened dude on the planet will get jealous in the right situation. I’m not saying tolerate anything crazy. It’s just good if he like… responds, when you say you’re going to study alone with another dude at 9pm, in the guy’s dorm... while his roommate is gone.”

“Is studying alone with another dude, in his dorm while his roommate is gone, okay as long as it ends before 9pm?”

Jordan rips out grass from the ground and tries to sprinkle it onto your face. You put up a force-field and laugh when she sticks her tongue out.

“He’s gotta give you his full attention. When he’s with you, he’s with you. Everyone gets distracted. But if his head is always somewhere else, every time you see him, he just doesn’t like you.” Jordan swipes at your head, fast enough to be a challenge to dodge but not hard enough to hurt you had the hit connected.

You go in for a kick yourself and he practically twirls out of the way. You try twice more, managing to evade his own hits just barely.

Breathlessly, you gesture for a time out and Jordan sighs, “We gotta get you better at hand to hand.”

“That’s what my shields are for.”

“The way you use your shields is really good. You’ve gotten a lot more creative this year. It’s why you’ve been jumping ranks so fast. You’re powerful.”

The earnest tone he uses makes you lift up from the hunched over position of misery on your knees, “You think so?”

“Well…. yeah.” He clears his throat. “But you can’t get lazy. What if someone wears you out and you don’t have any energy left for them? No more shields. You need to be able to fight.”

“If I don’t have any energy left for my shields and my only option left is hand to hand combat, respectfully, it’s my time.”

Jordan rolls his eyes, “Break’s over. Back in position, stay on your toes more so it’s easier to move, okay?”

You’re about to get back into form when you hear calls of Jordan’s name from across the arena. You turn and see Luke and Cate coming over, wide grins on their faces. You give them a small wave and they both wave back, incredibly eager.

You’ve always been friendly with one another but the strength of enthusiasm is… strange. Enough to make you blink in surprise.

“Thought you said you were super booked up this week doing stuff for Brink? Absolutely no free time.” Cate asks, staring Jordan down.

“This isn’t free time. I can’t slack on hand to hand combat training. It’s important.” Jordan stares Cate down even harder.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Luke asks casually.

“Jordan saw my form in a video I just posted and apparently it was ‘despicable’ and ‘the most insane way he’d ever seen anyone do that before’. He rushed over to show me what the ‘right way to do it is’. Control freak.” You fake a cough as you say the last part.

“You were gonna hurt your back!”

“Super healing.”

“Super herniated disc.” Jordan quips back and you scoff, shoving him.

He shoves you back with an eye roll, fighting back a smile.

“How ungentlemanly of you.” You gasp. A shift, and she shoves you again making you laugh, “and unladylike!”

“You shoved me first!”

“Children, please try and be civil we’re in public.” Luke cuts in and you almost jump at the sound of his voice.

It’s easy to get lost in your own world when you’re with Jordan. You turn to be politely facing your classmates and not just Jordan, wearing a sheepish smile.

“Stop teasing them. They’re cute.” Cate smiles.

“Anyways, you guys need something?” Jordan asks.

“We can’t just hang out? Are you trying to get rid of your best friends?” Luke asks.

“Yes.”

“Jordan!” You bump her with your elbow.

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave you alone. Wanna grab lunch with us after though?” Cate asks, looping her arm through Luke’s.

“You feeling up to lunch, L/N?” Jordan looks over at you.

With three unexpected pairs of eyes on you, you fluster. “If you go easy on me for the rest of training, yes.”

“Not a chance.” Jordan snorts. “We’ll be there though. Now scram. L/N needs a lot of help.”

“No, I fucking do not!” You protest.

The two of you don’t notice Luke and Cate walking away trading looks.

“When you don’t know really know anything about him, it’s not a good sign.” Jordan tilts the bowl of popcorn towards you.

“And what do you mean, specifically, by knowing anything about him?” You ask, taking some pieces and throwing them back.

“Has has ever shared his feelings? Talked about his personal life? If you don’t know anything besides the superficial stuff he doesn’t care about you.” Jordan states. “You also need to look out for him not knowing anything about you. Does he give you space to open up? Does he remember the shit you do tell him?”

“Got it, so just look out for the superficial surface level conversations if you never have any deeper moments.” You say.

“Exactly.” Jordan says before her eyes snap back to the screen suddenly. “Did they say they’re gonna try and make that house feel more ‘open concept’? What the fuck is their problem?”

“Huh?” You look back to Jordan’s TV, which is playing Property Brothers. “You got a problem against open concept?”

“I have a problem with every house being made to look the same, inside and out. It’s bad enough new houses don’t have unique floor plans. Now we’re taking houses that were unique and fucking them up till they’re boring! What ever happened to individuality? I bet they’ll paint the walls grey too. Fuck me.” She huffs, leaning back against the couch.

“Are you really into this show or just really into design patterns?” You ask, charmed at her passion for something completely random.

“A bit of both.” Jordan says. “I wanted to be an architect. Before I got my powers.”

“Shut up! No, you did not.”

“I did.” She laughs, “I used to draw up plans and torment my parents with them every hour of the day.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking about your hidden passions.

You even get the honor of seeing a few of the sketches Jordan made years ago. They were crinkled at the edges, pencil markings dull with age in some places. You smiled down at the folder Jordan keeps the drawings in. When you look up, finally, to compliment them you notice a strange look on Jordan’s face.

Thinking you’d made her self conscious with your long silence you wrapped an arm around her and told her she would have made a hell of an architect. And probably killed someone with the utter lack of load bearing beams in her structures.

You expected her to shove you off playfully but she only leaned into you and smiled, flipping to the next page of the folder.

When you get back to your own dorm room, moon high in the sky, you have to stifle a laugh. The latest post on Jordan’s Instagram is a picture of you standing with your hands on your hips in the middle of their room, looking baffled.

The caption: I handed her the remote and walked away for five minutes. We’ve been looking for almost an hour #jesus christ #banned from room 4ever.

You step out into the hallway and call Jordan up, demanding they take down their character assassination attempt because you two only looked for 26 minutes, actually.

They refuse.

You’re so incensed by the exaggeration that you wind up back outside Jordan’s dorm room not ten minutes later. When she opens the door, and sees you standing there, she bursts into laughter. She drags you inside, and when you ask her when the ban got lifted she just throws you on the bed. You spend the rest of the night arguing semantics.

You and Jordan were sitting in the ground floor of the school’s library where you were allowed to talk quietly. You were teaching them how to fold paper to make little stars while they were teaching you how to make the perfect paper airplane.

“Are you filled with barely suppressed rage? Why is it so damn wrinkled?” You laugh at their mangled star.

Jordan grabs another piece of paper with a huff, pushing her bob back behind her ears. “You are shit at giving instructions. This is impossible. Do the steps slower again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m actually not capable of slowing myself down times 3 like a Youtube video.” You tease.

“Fuck you.” Jordan kicks you under the table with her foot. “Again. Show me.”

“You start with this corner here, then you twist it over here, next you wanna-”

“Hey! Hey! What’s up people!” You and Jordan turn in perfect sync to hiss at the person to be quiet only to find that person to be Andre Anderson.

You turn back towards the table, Jordan moves an arm to curl around the back of your chair.

“Hey.” Jordan says flatly. You make some noise that you hope passes for a greeting.

“Sorry, too loud. So this is where the party is, huh? What’re you two doing?” Andre grabs a chair on the opposite side of the table and you frown, focusing intensely on the paper before you.

“Don’t you have a class right now?” Jordan asks sharply.

“Blowing it off.” Andre grins back.

Jordan scoffs. You only notice your shoulders are practically up to your ears when Jordan puts her hand there and rubs. You relax, letting out a quiet breath you were holding. Jordan gives you a squeeze.

“Awww, you making little stars? Cute. Wanna show me how, F/N?” Andre has the nerve to sound flirtatious.

After ditching you without a word and radio silence to back it up. To really make sure there’s insult to match the injury. You clench your jaw. Keep moving your hands. Try to zone out.

The hand on your shoulder gets bigger and so does the thigh that brushes against yours under the table. “Could you fuck off for a bit? We’re trying to relax after our exams this morning.”

“Ouch. Didn’t know you couldn’t relax with me around, man.” Andre bites back. “F/N, you want me to stay, don’t you?”

You get up from the table abruptly. The sudden sting in your eyes doesn’t even allow you you to collect your things. Your chest feels tight. You have to just get out of here. You hope in a school of future superheroes no one will steal your stuff. You think you hear calls of your name from behind you. Some yelling. Your ears are ringing too much. You break into a sprint.

You can’t even make it to your dorm. You have to settle for tucking yourself into the first patch of trees behind a building you can find. You try to fight back the tears. One breathe. Two. Three. Try to focus on the birds chirping somewhere above you. But the memories are all flooding in at once and you start to cry. Heaving, chest burning sobs.

“F/N. F/N. F/N, hey look at me.” You zone back into the world to Jordan pushing your hair away from your face and you sob.

“Fuck me, I’ll kill him. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d get so upset. You seemed like you didn’t care after that night… I- I’ll fucking knock his teeth in.” Jordan hisses. You’d thought you’d seen them angry before. But their face has never looked like this.

“What’s… are you having a panic attack?” Jordan asks, still petting your hair gently. You manage to nod. “Is touching you okay? Is it making it worse?” You push yourself into his hands and without another word he pulls you into his lap, tucking you against him.

You notice absently he’s wearing his favorite jacket and try to shift, so that you’re not getting tears and snot onto the fabric. He pushes your head back against his shoulder, shushing you gently. You let yourself relax, letting out the rest of the tears. Letting the anxiety leave your body. You start your grounding techniques as your breathing evens. You can see the sharp cut of Jordan’s jaw. Hear his heartbeat. The birds chirping. Feel his hands as they rub soothing circles into your skin. Smell the cologne he wears. You tuck yourself closer, even though no more tears are coming.

“Andre is a fucking loser.” Jordan says, quietly but vehemently, “You shouldn’t waste a second fucking thinking about him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It’s not you. It’s just who he is.”

“It’s not just Andre… It’s… it’s not even mostly Andre.” You say quietly. “I mean he’s a dick but… it just brings up memories.”

“Memories?” Jordan echoes softly, and you know you don’t have to tell him anything but you want to.

“When I was younger… I was even more of a wall flower than I am now. Shocker, I know.” You try to joke, Jordan only hums to let you know he’s listening, pulling you closer. “Even though I had powers I wasn’t popular or anything. I had trouble controlling them. Not enough to be dangerous… just enough to be… well, a loser, honestly. Because of my anxiety, and how loud my head gets my force-fields would just pop out whenever. I couldn’t stop it. If I was scared. If I got nervous. If I was feeling stupid, or ugly. All the time. People called me bubble girl.”

“I learned to just keep to myself but I was such an easy, fun target. Sneak up on the mouse and watch them jump and make a bubble! Fun!” You laugh bitterly. You think you feel Jordan kiss the top of your head, but you’re still out of it. “It made even getting out of bed to go to school hard. Administration wouldn’t take it serious as bullying because I was a supe: if I wanted it to stop I should defend myself.”

“My parents felt the same way. Wouldn’t let me transfer. But I didn’t want to fight back. I didn’t want to turn myself into something I’m not just to be left alone! I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought eventually everyone would get bored, mature a little. But it just got worse and worse every fucking year. Senior year was… bad, though. I was getting better at controlling my powers so what kids would do to make me react was worse. But I just ignored it. I started just… pulling into myself. Whenever anyone would pour paint on my favorite outfit. Or cut my hair. Or hit me, I’d make the bubble in my head instead, and go there. Eventually, towards the end I thought people finally got bored, they stopped fucking with me as much. I thought I’d be able to graduate in peace.”

“There was this one boy… he was popular. But he’d always been nice to me. He smiled at me in the hallways. Would help me up if people shoved me when he was around. He even gave me his sweater once, when someone cut up my shirt during gym. His friends were dicks but I thought he was different, I thought he was nice.”

“He suddenly started being even more nice to me. It felt… when he asked me to prom I just wanted to be normal for one second. I should have known. I probably did know. I just wanted to pretend, for five seconds, I wanted to pretend.” You trail off, lost in the memory.

“What happened?” Jordan asks, voice sounding hoarse. You try to pull back to see what’s wrong but he keeps you still. You realize he started rocking the both of you as you spoke. You didn’t realize how soothing it was.

“It was a joke, obviously. We went to go shopping together, so we’d match, he told me. When we got to the shop he insisted we go to all his friends were waiting for us. Recording, of course. They all laughed at me. I still remember what one girl said, ‘you’re more crazy than we thought if you honestly ever believed someone like him would go out with a loser like you’.”

“F/N, those people were fucking assholes. They… god what the fuck is wrong with people. That’s not true.” Jordan makes you look at him, suddenly. You’re shocked that his eyes are red. “You’re not a fucking loser.”

“It’s okay, Jordan. I know they were just assholes. I always knew. It just hurts still. I’ve… I’ve avoided dating ever since, obviously. My first kiss wasn’t even romantic. It was just with a good friend that I knew wouldn’t make fun of me. So I could get it out of the way.”

“I’m sorry.” Jordan looks helpless, like he wants to do something but doesn’t know what.

“You didn’t do anything, Jordan. No need to say sorry.”

“And then Andre went and fucking… fucking motherfucker I’ll kill him!” Jordan snaps, goes to stand up and then remembers he’s holding you halfway. He sits back down, grip a little tighter, but still gentle.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t even a joke, what Andre did. He’s just… inconsiderate. And I happen to have a nasty experience that makes me blow everything out of proportion. I’ll have to get used to that kind of thing if I want to actually start dating.”

Suddenly both of Jordan’s hands are on your face, holding you still so you have to look at him. “You’re not blowing anything out of proportion. And… and you don’t have to get used to shit, F/N. You’re fucking incredible. You don’t need to tolerate anything, from fucking anyone. You’re a fucking… you’re a fucking dream girl! You’re smart, and funny, and sweet, and strong, and beautiful. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You don’t have to settle for fucking anything. Okay?”

You stare up at him, shocked, he gives your head a gentle shake, “Okay?” You nod slowly.

He pulls you into another hug, the tightest one you’ve ever gotten. You don’t pull away until the sun dips so low you’re both draped in gold.

“Fucking rank number fucking 5!” Jordan screams, arm wrapped around you tightly. A chorus of cheers from the rest of the group and people nearby.

You cover your face, laughing helplessly. Jordan didn’t surprise you with this party, they knew that would only make you anxious, walking into a room full of people you weren’t expecting to see with (even if asked not to) cameras pointed at you.

Jordan had texted you: I am throwing you a surprise party on Friday night to celebrate your new ranking. Please practice your surprised face.

You had practiced. You’d done a very convincing gasp when you walked in.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Jordan says, for the umpteenth time, looking at you. You feel your cheeks go hot.

“Oh shut up. I’ll get a big head soon.”

“You deserve it more than anyone. You’re fucking awesome.” Jordan had started heaping more praise onto you than you knew what to do with, most days.

She claimed it was practically training. That you needed to get used to people complimenting you, with the level of fame you’re going to reach. That alone had made your stomach erupt into butterflies. Jordan believed in you. Really believed in you.

“You’re the one who’s awesome… you’re a good mentor, Jordan.” You reach up to hold the hand that’s been wrapped around your shoulder all evening.

“Are you saying that following my advice works?” Jordan pretends to gasp. You playfully dig your nails into her side and she jumps before grabbing the offending hand and holding onto it. She doesn’t let go.

Her advice had worked. You posted on your social media more, at her insistence. You started to become a beast at hand to hand, thanks to Jordan’s brutal training regimen. You were socializing more, because as long as Jordan was there you felt safe. But you were even feeling confident enough to do things on your own that high school you would be shocked didn’t instantly send you to the grave.

You’d done an interview, for God’s sake! All on your own. Although your eyes kept darting to Jordan right off camera, who smiled reassuringly the whole time.

“I will not. Because then you’ll get a big head.” You tease, giving both her hands a squeeze.

“Let’s get a drink.” Jordan says, tugging you towards the kitchen.

It’s quieter in the kitchen. The drink table in the living room is still overflowing so no one’s had to start looking for leftovers yet.

“How you feeling?” Jordan asks, helping you sit on the counter before going to the fridge. After a second he pulls out your favorite. He hid them in the far back, you can tell by how far he had to lean.

“Good.” You smile as he pops your drink open before handing it to you. He leans against one of your knees.

“Party isn’t too much, right?” He asks, for the third time tonight.

Laughing you push a strand of unruly hair back from his face. He freezes at the touch, before a smile creeps onto his lips.

“Party is perfect, Jordie. Thank you. For everything. For being so…”

“Don’t thank me for treating you the way you should always be treated.”

“You treat me like a princess! What if I get spoiled? You’ll have to deal with a monster.” You tease. “You won’t even be able to be mad at me, because you’ll be the reason.”

“You’ll terrorize the world.”

“Cause complete chaos.”

“Devastation, even.” As Jordan speaks you realize you’d gotten closer. A lot closer. Your chest seizes up with anxiety as you wonder how long you’d been leaning in like this. You almost pull back, ready to apologize. But you’re frozen stiff now and realize the two of you are still getting closer. With a jolt you realize you both leaned in.

Jordan has a hand on your thigh, you reach down, nervous, to hold his hand as reflex. It’s an every day comfort, lately. You give his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back. You don’t pull away as Jordan keeps leaning in.

“Jordan! Come stop Luke from doing a keg stand, please!” Cate’s voice, typically pleasant sounds incredibly annoying at the moment.

“Gimme a sec!” Jordan calls back, still looking you in the eye. You squeeze his hand tighter. He looks nervous. They’ve looked so nervous all night. Nervous you were having a good time. Nervous you were happy. Nervous… nervous to kiss you? Is he about to fucking kiss you?

“He has an interview tomorrow! Hustle please!” Cate calls back in a sing song tone.

“Fuck me!” Jordan throws his head back, shifting, frustrated. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, a little breathless from anxiety and excitement, and dread, and the full spectrum of human emotion. “Okay.”

Jordan stomps out of the kitchen, probably going to rip Luke a new asshole from the sound of her boots on the floor. She sounds like her own stampede. You giggle, pressing your hands, still warm from holding Jordan’s into your face. You may be bad at signals but…

You sit under the hideous fluorescent kitchen lighting feeling like something inside you is glowing. You kick your feet, nervous, waiting for Jordan to get back. Wondering what they’ll do. What they’ll say. If you’re delusional. You have to be delusional. You have to be.

“Guard dog taking a walk?” In the doorway stands Andre, looking a little rougher than usual. His right eye is dark, like a black eye that’s started healing. There’s a small bandage over his nose.

“What happened to you?” You gasp.

“Your guard dog.” Andre says, reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of spicy vodka. “Jordan’s number #2 for a reason. Congrats on making #5 by the way.”

“Thanks.” You say. “When did Jordan do that?”

“A week ago. Would have probably gotten it earlier but apparently Cate talked them into waiting to see me until they were less pissed off. For which I’m eternally grateful.” He says, taking a sip straight from the bottle without chaser.

You don’t really know what to say so you sit in silence. Legs still kicking, more from anxiety now, less from giddiness.

“He gave me a busted lip too, but that healed pretty quickly. I also think he might have kicked a rib loose, been a little sore on the left side.” Andre says, he doesn’t seem to be angry but you don’t know why else he’d talk to you.

“I didn’t ask Jordan to do that. If you’re wondering.” You say, slowly.

“No! No! You’re way too sweet for that. This was just my shitty way of getting around to an apology. I’m sorry. I should’ve said sorry before Jordan kicked my ass but I promise Jordan kicking my ass isn’t why I’m saying sorry. The original plan was to ask you out again, make it up to you with dinner. Jordan just kicked my ass first.”

“I hope to god you’re not working your way around to asking me on a pity date.” You narrow your eyes at him.

“So Jordan could put me in a full body cast?” Andre laughs loudly, shocking you. “No offense, you’re really cute, but nothing’s worth that fucking beat down.”

“Well, I guess I accept your-”

“You don’t have to forgive me. Jordan was pretty clear that I tore up some old wounds. I didn’t mean to, but I’m sorry. I can just be… a dick, sometimes. Often. All the time.” Andre jokes.

“What did Jordan say exactly?” You ask nervously.

“Nothing specific! I could barely pick out anything at all, really. The sound of her fist breaking my nose was pretty loud.”

You laugh then try to cover it up by taking a sip. Andre grins and you relax, knowing it was his way of breaking the tension.

“Can I ask you something?” Andre asks suddenly.

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” You shrug.

“Fair enough.” Andre says, toying with the bottle. “Do you like Jordan?”

“What?”

“Because Jordan sure likes you.” Andre states.

“No, they don't.” It’s a reflex to deny the possibility of someone having feelings for you but the words feel wrong once you say them. Weren’t you just about to kiss? Wasn’t his hand just burning into your thigh like a brand? “Do they?”

“Jordan would never do a fraction of the shit they’ve been doing for you if they didn’t care about you.” Andre takes another sip, then moves to saunter from the kitchen. He stops, a glance over the shoulder. “However you feel, tell Jordan. And soon. They’re looking a little desperate.”

Then it’s just you and the sound of the party, and the cool marble you’re sitting on. And a lot to think about.

“Your incessant leg jiggling is distracting me from how and why they intend to turn this beautiful victorian home into another soulless open concept millennial nightmare.” Jordan says, glancing from the TV to your leg which, yes, has been jiggling for awhile.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Obviously.”

“How can you tell if a girl isn’t into you?”

Jordan turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed, “what?”

You feel heat flood your cheeks, but keep your eyes firmly glued to the screen. “Are the rules the same? Or different?”

“You like girls?” Jordan blurts out.

“What?” The question is enough to make you look at her. And now you're trapped by societal standards of politeness to maintain the most anxiety inducing eye contact you've ever shared.

“You've never talked about… you've never said anything about liking girls.”

“You only offered up the help for the one gender. Didn't wanna get greedy.” You force a laugh.

“How long have you…. have you always liked girls?” Jordan asks and you hope to God you're not hallucinating that quick glance at your lips.

“You follow me on Instagram!”

“What's that have to do with anything?”

“I literally have the pride flag in my bio?”

“I thought you were-”

“-Jordan Li, if you're about to tell me you thought I was an ally I'll beat you to death, and then jump off a cliff.”

Jordan laughs, ducking her head, hair falling into her face slightly. You dig your fingers into your thigh to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear.

“Is there a reason why you're asking… about how to tell when a girl isn't into you, all of a sudden?” Jordan looks up at you and the world narrows down to her brown eyes, and her nose, and her mouth. And the look in her eyes you hope you're not reading wrong.

You blink in confusion when amusement crosses over her face and for one awful second you think Jordan is laughing at you and you could throw up. But you realize you're suddenly looking at her from behind a force-field of light purple and feel queasy out of a different sense of embarrassment.

You can hear a smile in Jordan’s voice, but you refuse to unbury your face from your hands, “Never seen you not be able to control your powers before.”

“Please kill me.”

“Can't. Your forcefield is still up, princess.” She teases, tapping at the bubble.

With a groan of humiliation you drop your field and peek up at her through your fingers.

“First the forcefield, now the hands. Still haven't answered my question though.” You almost snip at her that she should take a wild guess at your answer but there's something about Jordan’s expression. It's teetering between playful, guarded, and… something else. And you have to bank on whatever that something else is.

You take a deep breath in and move in closer, “You're not so awful a teacher that the lessons for a guy didn't stick, but considering you're a girl too who knows what incredibly important lesson you didn't know you had to teach me. The lesson… the girl lesson, that would have stopped me from misinterpreting what's been happening here. If I’m misinterpreting. All I know is… all I can really be sure of, is how I feel. And I, well-” You bite your lip, taking a shaky breath, and Jordan moves in closer, “I'm about halfway to being in love with you.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before her lips are on yours. Her hand curls at the base of your neck, pulling you in closer. A brush of her tongue against your bottom lip before you let her in with a breathless sigh. She moans against your lips, other hand moving to your waist to tug you into her lap.

You lose your balance a little, fall into her in a way that is not at all seductive. You laugh, embarrassed and she chases the sound, using both hands to put you in her lap, holds you there firm and secure.

“You-” She kisses you, interrupting your sentence. “Haven’t-” Another kiss. “Told me-” She holds you tight this time, tilting her head to the side, sweeping her tongue against yours and gasping at your taste. You pull back with shaky hands, keeping her at a distance with a grip on her shoulders.

“Could we use our big girl words?” You ask, breathless and a little dizzy.

“I’ve fucking only been in love with you for two years, thanks for fucking noticing.” She huffs, exasperated and smiling.

“How on Earth was I supposed to interpret your seething stare of hate for being in love with me?” You’re already melting against her as she pulls you back in with the guiding grip on your hair.

“Shoulda looked harder, baby.” She coos, and doesn’t let you up again anytime soon.

A/N: my magnum opus of pining! if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

#bee talks #he's just not that into you #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #gen v #black!reader #this fic is a fucking monster in word count but that's just what jordan li deserves

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two-wizards-in-a-trench-coat · 3 months

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#ell jee bee tea #makes me think of that “what are they proud of” sasuke fic #the summer hikaru died #also this is a horror manga

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ssweetleaf · 10 months

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well if i MUST

steve loves putting a hand over your mouth when you guys fuck in sneaky situations. he loves hearing your sweet noises, but for the sake of not getting caught, he really has to.

but he gets off on it too, placing his huge hand over your lips, hearing your little muffled cries seep through as you watch him with pleading eyes, and he knows exactly what you're begging for too. sometimes he'll slip his fingers into your mouth, and feeling you suck on them so eagerly almost sends him right over the edge.

and then he leans in, voice all smooth and buttery, "gotta keep quiet baby, those moans are just for me to enjoy."

🧎🏼‍♀️😵‍💫😩 i want his babies. do you understand how feral this makes me??

SMUT under the cut

Fucking with a full house was risky, especially with how loud you’d get, finding it hard to stifle your cries and whimpers, sobbing into the sheets and pulling a pillow over your head— trying so hard to stay quiet, though usually failing once the thickness of Steve’s cock rutted into you, abusing your gummy walls and nudging at that special spot so deep, barely halfway to the hilt and already splitting you in two.

So, with a problem like this, a solution was very much needed— and it just so happened that Stevie had just the thing.

˖ ࣪⭑

His cock was stuffed inside you, tight hole trying hard to accommodate his size, quivering and dripping around him with every inward thrust— your parents were down the hall, only a few doors down, noises seeming extra loud in the dark of the night, and it appeared practically impossible to just stay quiet.

“Come on, honey, none of that—” he clicked his tongue down at you, mocking you, his chest pressed snug against your own, stiff nipples rubbing against the course hair that littered his pecs. “gotta be quiet, sweet girl. Don’t want mommy and daddy finding out how dirty their little girl can be, hm?”

You whimpered, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, holding in a sob. The tears were ebbing over your waterline, glistening from the light of the moon between your blinds and boring into his own.

He throbbed at the sight of those tears. You were so pretty when you cried.

“Can’t help it,” you whined, nails scratching crescents into his shoulder blades. “feels s’good, Stevie.”

“You want me to help you out, honey?” He cooed, copying the pout on your lips and smoothing your hair out of your face, hips still rocking, though a little slower than before.

You nodded, sighing all syrupy and sweet, watching with love hearts in your eyes when he brought a big palm up to your mouth, pressing it over your lips and clamping your needy noises down.

You whimpered desperately underneath his palm, the noise sufficiently muffled and your lashes fluttered up at him while he cooed and praised you.

“Oh, look at that—” he punctuated his speech with a rather deep thrust of his cock, the vibrations of your mewl tickling his palm, “pretty baby’s all quiet f’me now, hm?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, hands sliding and kneading and touching, trying to ground yourself and stop yourself from floating too far away, and it was hard with the sparkles that clouded your mind and vision.

“Atta girl, just needed a little help, that’s all.”

˖ ࣪⭑

send me smutty steve and eddie blurbs!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hc #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #⋆⋆☆bee’s hc #☆彡my asks

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

Text

Tango lies back against the walls of Decked Out. Their guests have left now. Most of the Hermits have left by now too. He’s spent the last hour helping clean up and setting the dungeon up to be ready for non-guests again, closing the paths he’d built for hermits to use the dungeon’s eyes for the day.

He kept finding little things as he did. Signs with dumb nicknames. The remnants of everything the hermits had done in the waiting room. Crumbs of Scarland snacks, and a few discarded maps. A museum ticket. A photo someone must have dropped of the finish line at Blue Rivers Raceway. As the lights came up to help him clean, he’d just… he’d…

He’d had to sit down. He’d sat down outside of the door. That’s where he is now. The day is late. The sky is dark. The lights of Hermitcraft are lit on the horizon. Decked Out is cold, and Tango’s chest is warm.

He’s smiling. He’s crying.

He hears rockets and footsteps. “Hey, Tango, sorry for leaving you with cleanup, since I helped set this up I thought I should—”

Grian stops. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tango says.

“You sure?” Grian asks.

“I just. I didn’t think we’d live to see this, this time two years ago. But we’re here, aren’t we? We’re here, and it’s perfect.”

Grian considers for a moment before smiling himself. “Yeah, it was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

They both stay there next to each other to finish watching the sunset. Then, they both go inside to finish making Decked Out presentable once again.

#hermitcraft #a bee fic #tangotek #grian #I WILL NEVER STOP BEING LIKE. MAN TANGO DID SOMETHING SO COOL.#and with that tango clip from big moon going around again and me thinking about some of my fics like that I’m like #MAN. MAN.

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hongism · 5 months

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AND IT'S SNOWING... - A WINTER FIC FEST

brought to you by bee (@atzfilm) and caly (@hongism)

tis the season for fics that have absolutely nothing to do with christmas and everything to do with other tomfoolery! (aka we spent an hour and a half trying to figure out how to make our concepts be christmas-themed just to forgo the idea of christmas altogether...) from aliens to fae to the ex-turned-sugar-daddy, tune in this winter season for shenanigans... and it's snowing! ❄

all fics are rated m and not intended for underage audiences. please heed individual warnings attributed to each work.

WINTER BLOSSOM

written by atzfilm pairing: k.yeosang x reader genre: alien au, secret relationship summary: earth abandoned centuries ago, you travel the cosmos alone. you land on a smaller planet, meeting an exiled dweller that calls himself yeosang.

WHAT LIES BENEATH US

written by hongism pairing: c.san x reader genre: college au, established relationship summary: one busy semester is all it took for you and san to find yourselves struggling to find footing in the storm that is your relationship, yet rather than let go, he asked for one more week, one more day, one last chance to help get you back to shore

APRICITY

written by atzfilm pairing: c.jongho x reader genre: faeries au, enemies to lovers summary: with your kingdoms having been at war for centuries, it's only fitting that you would be kidnapped and locked in the room with your sworn enemy – choi jongho.

SWEET JUICE

written by hongism pairing: s.mingi x reader genre: witches/warlocks au, strangers to lovers summary: the new apothecary in your small village is harboring a dark secret, you're certain of it, if only because he bears a starkly familiar crest on his shop sign - one that denotes the presence of magic.

LOVERS IN THE NIGHT

written by atzfilm pairing: j.yunho x reader genre: sugar daddy au, exes to lovers summary: just out of your college with a freshly printed degree, you set out for a job that would fit your somewhat high standards. after a brief scroll through a sugar daddy website and a meeting set-up, you sit across from the one man you didn't expect to see — jeong yunho, your ex-boyfriend and apparently, a millionaire looking for someone to spoil.

SILLAGE

written by hongism pairing: k.hongjoong x reader genre: royalty au, first love summary: sillage — the scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume — it hardly takes much to fall

SEASONS

written by atzfilm pairing: p.seonghwa x reader genre: blind date au, friends to lovers summary: after failing over and over on every date you've gone on, your friends finally resort to setting you up on a blind date in the hopes of making things go right.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

written by hongism pairing: j.wooyoung x reader genre: roommates au, fake dating summary: you imagine that you've cut yourself a rather decent deal in bagging jung wooyoung as your roommate, and yet, things that seem a little too good to be true have a way of cracking at the seems all too easily.

fics created and written by atzfilm and hongism, 2023. all rights belong to owners. do not copy, emulate, translate, or alter the works in any fashion without permission.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez series #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #winter fic fest 2023 #bee & caly shenanigans !!!!

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tboygareth · 1 year

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here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk. 1k words, mostly dialogue

"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"

"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.

he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.

"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."

"uh, sure?"

eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"

"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.

"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."

"a show? like a concert?"

"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."

"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."

"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"

he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.

"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."

safe, then. tentatively.

eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.

the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.

the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.

"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.

"i'm sorry?"

"i said, the front bottoms."

"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"

"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"

"sure."

eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."

they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.

"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"

"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."

"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."

"well what about you? what do you listen to?"

"guess."

"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."

eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."

out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.

steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."

"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."

this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."

"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"

"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."

"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"

"i am. trauma nurse."

"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"

"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."

"shit."

"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"

"line cook."

steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."

"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."

"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"

"mmm."

it's not a denial.

they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.

"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."

it clicks into place, then, for eddie.

"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"

steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"

"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."

"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"

"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.

"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."

"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.

steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.

so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.

still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.

#steddie #steddie fic #bee's blurbs #idk what this is honestly #it came to me in a vision #buckingham #if you squint

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

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Feel Me*

Summary: The fourth part to Teach Me*

The search for kinks has only just begun as you and your best friend Harry officially cross...The Line.

...so what happens when it's over?

Word Count: 5.7k

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

“Wait…wait.”

Harry stills, muscles tensing beneath your touch as you take hold of his face and guide his eyes to yours.

And you give him a moment to really see. To really understand what it is he’s agreed to.

No, you’re not exactly taking his virginity, but…that doesn’t make this any less real. Any less important, and more than anything…you want to take care of him.

“What?” he pants after a minute more of silence. He’s anxious. Terrified of why you’ve stopped him, and perhaps terrified that you’ve changed your mind. “What, Bee?”

You roll your lips into your mouth and squeeze your palms against his cheeks. “I just…I wanna do this right, I wanna…I wanna make sure this is what you want.”

His brows pull together as he hovers above you, knee still firmly pressed between your thighs as his hands hold him above your quivering frame. “How could I not want you?”

And it’s a sweet thought, but it certainly doesn’t answer your question. “Come on, you know what I mean—”

“No,” he interjects, rather aghast. “No, I don’t. How could you—look, I know this is…for science…or whatever, but I’m not here for the fucking fun of it. Okay, I’m here because…I meant what I said. It can’t be anybody else. It has to be you.”

It has to be you. The second time he’s said it, and your mind goes fuzzy.

You don’t want it to mean anything—it can’t mean anything. It can’t…but what if you wanted it to?

“Fine,” you agree, feigning confidence as you tilt your chin up. “But if you’re gonna fuck me…then fuck me. Do it right. Make it worth it—ruin me.”

You sit up just enough to tilt your head, drag your nails down his jaw, and ghost your lips over his.

“I know you can.”

When you finally kiss him, you feel him slip back into that possessive headspace you’re growing so accustomed to.

And it’s…

Everything.

He sucks on your tongue, takes hold of your hip to grind you down against his knee, and he savors. He savors each fucking second of you and your body and your willingness to be devoured.

He wants to devour you and you can’t fucking wait.

“How do you want it, hm?” he murmurs against your mouth, and your heart leaps into your throat. “How do you want me to fuck you? Just like this? Or do you want me to put you on your stomach? Take you from behind?”

Your cheeks warm at the tenacity in his voice. In the borderline possessive way he speaks, and you wonder how he’s so fucking good when he’s still so new to all this.

Perhaps he’s picked up a few things from porn, and while you’re almost amused, you’re mostly…grateful.

Because this Harry makes your stomach lurch, and your heart race, and your pussy flutter.

You shake your head, nose gently brushing back and forth against his as you do. “No. I’ve got a better idea.”

His brow cocks up as you place your hands on his chest and push him back.

You both straighten up into a sitting position before you give his chin a squeeze and nod toward the headboard.

“Go sit down for me, okay?” you instruct with a soft smile. “I’m gonna grab something.”

Curious but wildly intrigued, he nods faintly and retreats to the head of the bed.

And as he does, you slip off the mattress and make your way for the items beside his nightstand, rummaging through until you find what you’re looking for.

When you look back and meet his eye…your chest grows tight.

He’s mesmerized by you. So entranced by every move you make, and you’ll never be able to understand what his attention does to you. Why you feel so…worthy and important under his gaze.

His lashes flutter when he notices the object in your hand, that fervent hunger returning to his expression as you approach.

“What do you think?” you ask, kneeling beside his legs.

He almost smirks but seems to be too far gone in his fascination. “Yeah. For me or you?”

“You.” You move a bit closer. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yes,” he breathes, head dropping back against the wall as he attempts to grab onto your body and bring you back to him. “Yeah. Whatever you wanna do, Bee. Trust you.”

Trust you. You feel somewhat relieved to know he’s still doing all right, and even more relieved to hear that he’s into it.

So, you nod your understanding, and unfurl the rope.

However, before you can go any further, you feel a firm squeeze to your side. “On one condition.”

You hesitate, lips parting as you wait for him to continue.

He then takes hold of your tank top and pinches the material tight between his fingers as he grins at you. “You have to take this off.”

With a snort, you swat his hands away to take hold of the hemline, peel it over your head, and toss it toward the floor.

And now…you’re completely naked to him.

You’d chosen to forgo a bra when getting dressed this morning. After all, it only would have slowed you down.

However, as his devious gaze falls down to your chest…you almost wish you would have brought one. If for no other reason than to give him a reason to pluck it from your body.

“Shit,” he exhales, nearly inaudible to your ears, but you do catch it. The same way you catch his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

You shift closer, running your hand down his shirt this time. “Your turn.”

With a soft laugh, he sits up, and reaches behind his head to hook his fingers around the collar. Then, in one, swift motion, he pulls it from his body, and tosses it right on top of yours.

You take a moment to admire the two items of clothing, messily strewn together across the floor.

It almost feels symbolic. Your clothes as intertwined as your bodies. Your lives.

Your hearts.

You look back, blinking the thought free as you clear your throat and motion toward the headboard once again. “Go on.”

Fighting off a grin, he scoots back down and brings his wrists to the wooden pole, watching closely as you begin to loop the rope.

You’re careful not to pull the knot too tight but still snug enough that it won’t easily unravel. And you watch his expression for any signs of pain or discomfort, more than pleased when you don’t find any.

In fact, he seems rather excited about the prospect of being restrained.

Although that could just be because your tits are in his face.

Once you’re sure his arms are secure and everything is the way it should be, you lean back…and stand up.

Rather confused, Harry’s brow raises as you begin to walk around the bed and toward the door to his room. “Bee…”

You glance over your shoulder and toss him a wink. “Don’t move.”

His disbelieving scoff calls out to you as you disappear into his apartment, followed by a very agitated, “Bee, do not fucking leave me here!”

You laugh.

When you return, you find him pouting rather adorably as he slumps against the mattress, eyes downcast toward his knees.

His head lifts when he hears you, expression lighting up like a lost puppy, and your heart wrenches at the way he attempts to squirm up.

“The fuck did you go?” he huffs as you make your way back to him. “’Cause if that’s one of the kinks…I did not like it.”

With a smirk, you shake your head, and swing your leg over his hip to straddle his waist like you had before.

However, your lack of quippy retort only makes his head cock, and he studies you as you gently rest your hands along his stomach. “What? What’s wrong?”

But instead of responding, you simply dip down…and bring your mouth to his chest.

You feel his muscles quiver in anticipation, and perhaps lust as you push the object in your mouth toward your lips…and make contact with his skin.

The frigid ice against his warm body makes him reel, and you’re rewarded with a gasp as his arms begin to tug on the rope in retaliation.

But you don’t stop there. You drag it down his sternum, oh so slowly, as he braces himself against the headboard and squeezes his thighs together underneath your ass.

“Shit,” he murmurs as you move toward his left pec. “God, that’s…could’a warned me, you know—”

However, the rest of his comment suddenly melts into another frantic inhale as the cube of ice travels over the peak of his hardened nipple.

His head once again falls back against the wall, veins in his neck tightening as he grits his teeth together and hisses, “Fucking shit—”

And you’re rather proud of yourself for bringing him this kind of gratification as he shifts beneath you and bucks his hips.

You can feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this little detour and the harder he grows, the more inspired you become to torture him just a tad longer.

After all…this is in the name of science.

So, you indulge him. You suck the cube back into your mouth so you can press your tongue against his nipple and flick.

You’d had a feeling he might be into this kind of stimulation and when he whispers your name and something along the lines of, “Fuck...fucking killing me,” you know you were right.

You repeat the action a time or two more before rolling the icy substance back between your teeth to continue dancing it down his body.

And you feel him watch you. Feel him follow everything you do and again, you’re reminded of how comfortable you feel under his stare. How…safe.

You reach his belly button right as your fingers simultaneously reach for the band of his boxers, gingerly curling around the elastic as you eagerly look up.

“Can I?” you ask quietly, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if that’s what he decides.

But you aren’t too surprised to see that that’s far from what he wants, his eyes going wide as he nods quickly. “Yes. Yeah. ’Course.”

So, you begin to tug, guiding the fabric down his hips, thighs, and legs as you crawl back to make room.

Once they’re off, you toss them away, and settle back down over his thighs.

And there it is.

His cock.

You feel momentarily stunned to see it in person for the first time but the immediate rush of adrenaline that passes through you at the sight only makes you dizzy.

He’s…beautiful. Because of course he’s got a pretty cock to match that pretty face. And while you had a rough estimate on his size, you’re more than thrilled to confirm this theory.

“What, never seen one before?” he teases after he notices your rather obvious gawking.

You snort under your breath and move back down, palms smoothing along his waist as you bring the ice closer to his hip.

You follow the curve of his body, tiny droplets melting against his skin as you go. And it’s so fun. So deliciously fun to do this to him, to trail the freezing substance over the tattooed ferns below his stomach until the goosebumps rise.

To hear him curse to himself when he feels the way you drench his thigh, the way you grind against it in an effort to find your previously denied release.

And then…you drag it even further down.

When it grazes the base of his cock, his entire body goes still, and you watch as his eyes nearly roll back from the brief but significant contact.

“Fuck, Bee,” he groans, so low and deep in the back of his throat that it makes your skin warm. “Shit…shit—”

You trail your lips toward the tip, letting the ice melt along the way as he strains against the restraint once more.

You can tell he wants to touch you. Wants to take a fistful of your hair and tug. And you’d quite enjoy that but right now…no, right now the power is yours.

And you’d love to spend all fucking night getting a taste of him. Even without the extra water, you can feel yourself salivate at the very idea. And perhaps one of these days you’ll return the favor, but for right now…there’s something else you have in mind.

You suck the excess moisture off his cock and gather it into your mouth before sitting up and moving closer.

“Bee,” he whispers, but it sounds more like a whine. “Shit, please…please—”

You place one hand on his shoulder and the other below his jaw, fingers pressing firmly into the sides of his cheeks as you force his head back.

Then, you nod your chin at him.

After deciphering the silent instruction, he immediately opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, eager to accept your offering.

The spit dribbles down, landing directly in the middle as his lashes flutter and his fingers curl into his palms.

Then, he swallows.

Like a good boy.

You squeeze his chin once more as a gesture of appreciation before leaning down to kiss him.

This one is slower. Softer.

Purposeful.

He takes extra care of you through this kiss, making sure to convey his gratitude and adoration. He might not be able to say it with words…but you know.

However, the rather tender moment passes quickly as his cock begins to graze against clit. Reminding you both of what you really need.

He curses against your bottom lip, nose nudging your cheek as he whispers, “Shit…Bee…please. Please, can’t…can’t—”

“I know,” you say in return, nodding fervently as you lean back to position yourself onto your knees. “I know. Gonna start slow, okay?”

“Yes,” he breathes, head rolling back. “Yes, go.”

Once you’re in the right spot, you reach out to take hold of his cock and run your palm up, allowing him a moment to revel in the feel.

And it’s everything. His face, his sounds, his fucking body.

You’d whimper if it were any other time, but you focus your attention on his face. On making sure you aren’t pushing him too far. On making sure this is still what he wants.

He sucks the air through his teeth as he fights the urge to thrust up into your hand. And you almost feel bad for how hard he’s trying to restrain himself, but he’s doing so good.

“S’okay, Har,” you murmur, flicking your thumb over his tip. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” he says, so instantly, and so sincerely that it almost hurts. “I know. Always do.”

You smile and scoot a bit closer before taking a beat. “Do you…did you get the condoms?”

He jerks his head toward the nightstand. “Second drawer.”

You nod and look over, but don’t move to retrieve them. “And you…definitely want to use one?”

His brow cocks up, curious to your premise, so you rush to elaborate.

“Just because…I mean, they’re really important,” you explain, feeling rather sheepish. “Like…super important. You know, for safety, and…babies and shit.”

“Right,” he muses in agreement, growing oddly smug. “No, yeah. With you so far.”

“And since it’s still one of your first times, you know…I wanna make sure,” you continue. “’Cause…it’s important.”

“Right. You said that.”

“Right. So…yeah. Just…wanna make sure. ’Cause some people choose to go without. Which is fine. If everybody is clean and…you know, being safe and everything.”

“Mhm.”

“Which I am, by the way,” you add, lip between your teeth as you meet his eye. “Clean, I mean. Haven’t been with anyone since Eric, and I got tested like three times afterward just to make sure he didn’t fuck me over.”

Harry exhales a gentle laugh. “Right.”

“Yeah…so. I am,” you repeat, now glancing down at the sparrows painted across his collarbones. “And…as far as baby’s go, you know…it’s not…it wouldn’t be…I can’t…you know.”

His eyes soften at the reminder, and you imagine he’d be pulling you into his chest right about now if he had the ability to do so. “Yeah…”

You simply wave his remorseful expression away. “Yeah…so, I guess my question is…do you?”

And you want to wince at how idiotic you sound, rambling on and on about condoms and sex education, but you suppose this is a conversation to have…you just wish you were better at it.

A smile begins to curl around his mouth. “Do you?”

You can tell he already knows the answer, but you fidget, nonetheless. “I mean…I want to do whatever you want to do.”

“Well…I’m clean,” he reports, focus flicking across your face, attempting to encourage you. “And I think it should be pretty fucking obvious which I’d prefer, but…this is your call, Bee. Always your call. Just wanna fuck you.”

You take a deep breath, rather pleased by his answer as you look down at his cock. “Well…then, I think it’s only fair we do this right.”

“Yeah?” He almost sounds hopeful as he lifts his head. “Y’sure?”

You nod silently, teeth once again tugging on the flesh of your bottom lip. “Yeah. Wanna be able to feel you. Really feel you.”

“Then fucking feel me,” he murmurs, and you hear the sound of his arms pulling against restraint. “God, fucking feel me, Bee. Please…can’t fucking stand it anymore—”

“I know, I know. Okay,” you agree quickly, scooting back up so you can guide yourself closer. “Okay, are you su—”

“If you ask me if I’m sure one more fucking time, I’m gonna lose my goddamn shit,” he exhales, and you have to smirk.

You bring his tip toward the mess between your thighs and innocently allow it to drag through.

And it’s soft, and slow, and gentle…but it ruins you.

Ruins you both. His head drops back into the wall with a thud while your chin drops to your chest in ecstasy.

Everything.

He swallows a string of curses as he braces himself for you to continue, and you do, almost without thinking. So desperate to feel him inside you that you throw caution to the wind and just take.

Sinking down onto him feels like placing the final piece into the puzzle. Satisfying, and whole, and complete.

The full picture.

You’ve never felt so…filled. So satiated. It’s fucking perfect and your jaw just about drops as you stretch around him and realize one very important thing:

There’s no coming back from this.

Because this—him—is what you’ve been missing. This one moment, this one realization, this one acceptance.

Your body and his, connected in a way they never have been before.

The years of trust, and understanding, and love you’ve built come to a point right here, right now.

This is what needed to happen. This is what was missing from your friendship.

The line you needed to cross…to understand.

His wrists squeeze against the rope, desperate to break free and touch you as you begin to find a good rhythm. And you wish he could. Want more than anything to feel his nails down your back, around your body, pulling at your skin until you bleed.

“Shit…shit,” he seethes before bucking up into you. “Goddamit, Bee…s’fucking perfect.”

Your palm finds his chest, fingers clawing at the butterfly on his sternum as you roll yourself over his cock. “I know,” you manage to whisper but it’s lost beneath the gentle pants slipping from your lips. “I know—”

“Fuck…” His groans grow louder as the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your cunt begins to echo around the room. “God, fuck you for keeping this from me for so long.”

You almost laugh but don’t have the strength to follow through as you begin to move a bit faster. “What can I say…wanted to make you work for it.”

“Yeah? I would. Promise. Fucking do anything you wanted,” he says between gritted teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he attempts to thrust up. “Fucking anything, Bee…just to feel you. Exactly like this…can fucking feel you—”

When you sink all the way down, you both just about lose it, lewd and borderline pornographic moans ripping from your throats.

He throws his head against the wall for a second time, a violent display of outrage and pleasure as he’s forced to keep from ruining you.

And you love it. Love every second of the way he’s forced to simply take what you offer.

Already you can feel the way you’re hurtling toward that edge, already too wound up from everything else that’s transpired so far.

But you try to resist. Try to force yourself to carry on because you want to stay here forever, want to feel this kind of euphoria until your lungs give out.

And looking at him while you ride his cock is sinful. It’s unfair because he’s so…he’s so. And everything about him and this moment could wreck you forever. Could permanently alter your brain chemistry until all you know is him.

“Go,” he suddenly murmurs, nodding his chin toward you. “Go on, make yourself come. Please. Please, gotta feel you come around me, baby, please.”

You nod quickly, free hand coming up to your clit as you do as instructed, fingers rubbing in fast circles.

You cry out at the added spark, pussy clenching around him as he takes a deep breath and watches you. He watches you. He always watches you, and the soft green in his eyes just about does it.

“Har—” It’s a depraved whimper, bleeding through your anxious gasps, and he swallows at the sound.

“I know. Fucking know,” he says, tanned skin beginning to glisten with little droplets of sweat. “Come ‘ere. Gimme your fingers.”

Enthralled with the idea, you take your hand away from your clit and bring it to his mouth.

Your arousal paints across his lips like a mural and he sighs as he sucks you in, tongue lapping across your thumb like a man dying of thirst.

And the sight of his cheeks hollowing as he tastes you, as he consumes you, as he moans around your finger’s tips you over.

No, it shoves you, stars exploding behind your eyelids before you can fully understand what happened.

You lose time. Lose everything except him. Don’t understand a goddamn thing except for this feeling in your cunt, and in your chest, and in your lungs.

Your hand falls from his mouth to his stomach as you scratch at his skin in an attempt to brace yourself and remain steady.

“Fuck…fucking shit,” he hisses before it dances into some sort of debauched growl. “God, there it is. There it fucking is, come on. Give it to me, Bee. Fucking give it to me, that’s right…s’fucking it—”

And no sooner have you managed to grasp onto reality do you see him suddenly snap his wrists free of the rope and lunge for you.

In a matter of seconds, he’s got you wrestled onto your back as he grinds down between your thighs, cock once again pushing against your cunt as you gasp.

“Har,” you nearly scold, rather insulted by how easily he managed to break free. “Wha—”

“Wanted you to have your fun,” he grumbles as pushes your right leg further open. “And you did, didn’t you? Had your fucking fun. Now it’s my turn.”

You get ready to reply but miss the opportunity as he slips back in, filling you to the hilt as you roll your head back and gasp.

“Shit—” It’s a strangled mewl, pathetically whiny as he buries his lips into your neck to take a bite. “God, Har…”

He hums at the sound of his name, and the low vibrations make you flutter around him. “Knew you liked it rough.”

“Could say the same about you,” you retort breathlessly. “Should I start calling you Daddy, too? S’that another kink of yours?”

You’re only half joking but the way you feel his dick twitch inside you as he makes a rather animalistic noise against your throat suggests it might not be so funny.

You aren’t opposed to using the pet name if a partner likes it. In fact, you’ve used this very one once or twice before. Because the name itself isn’t what does it for you…it’s their reaction to it.

So, your fingers find his hair, and you pull at the roots as you ghost your lips over his ear and whisper, “Hurt me, Daddy. Come on.”

He groans with so much tenacity and lust that you swear you could come from the sound alone.

His thrusts become slow and focused. Angry, almost. You’ve only ever seen Harry get like this a handful of times. His passion sometimes overtakes his common sense, and if he’s really furious (or really drunk), he becomes a completely different person.

And right now…you’re more than okay with that.

His fingerprints leave memories on your thighs as he holds you open. As he presses your body to the bed so he can have you exactly the way he wants. As he pulls himself out just to slowly drive himself back in.

It almost hurts the way he drags this on. The way he tortures you with a taste of more. The way the room is filled with the sounds of him and you and everything in between.

And then…there’s a sharp smack to your outer leg.

So zealous and so loud that you moan from the subtle pain. From the understanding that you’ve just been spanked and the understanding that you fucking loved it.

He does it again. Harder this time. Quicker. Then, two more times for good measure, just to feel the way your body clenches around his cock.

If you had the strength to say thank you…you just might.

“Fucking look at you,” he grunts, lips trailing down your chest as he flicks his tongue over your nipple. “Look so fucking pretty like this, don’t you? Filled with my cock. Just dripping for me.”

You choke on a silent cry as you rake your hands through his curls.

His nose nudges under your jaw. “Who would’ve thought? My innocent, baby Bee…just a desperate, little whore.”

You feel breathless as he brushes his palm up your stomach to take hold of your other tit and squeeze.

“Isn’t that right, baby girl?” he muses, almost as if to himself. “Just needed someone to come along and take care of you.”

Your head rolls back as he sucks bruises into your neck, a whimper instantly getting stuck when his teeth make contact with your vein.

“Is that what you need?” His thrusts begin to pick up. “Need me to throw you around? Ruin you? Treat you like you’re nothing but a fucking hole?”

You might not be used to hearing this kind of talk from him but goddamn his voice was made for comments like this. For promises like this, for filthy fucking words like this.

It sounds so natural coming off his tongue and you squeeze your eyes shut as the pain and pleasure planted deep within your stomach begins to coil.

“You do,” he whispers, touch moving back up to your throat. His fingers find their designated spot over your pulse point, and he presses until he can feel your heartbeat hammering against his hand. “You fucking do…want it so bad. Want me to give it to you.”

Yes, yes, yes, you think but don’t say. After all, he’s already far too smug.

And you’re so close to another. So close to just depleting yourself for his pleasure and you wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as he keeps fucking you, as long as he stays right here forever…you won’t care.

“Gonna come for me again?” he asks as his rhythm begins to pick up. “Come on, baby girl. Fucking gimme another. Let me feel you again. Gotta feel you.”

You nod fervently as you take hold of his face and bring it to yours, kissing him so hard, it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs. “Yes, Daddy.”

And you can feel the repercussions of the nickname rolling through his body as the hand around your throat snaps closed and his cock just about slams into you with determined force.

“S’my fucking girl,” he groans against your bottom lip before tugging on it with his teeth. “Come on, Bee. Right fucking now. Come.”

And before you have the chance to oblige, he takes his fingers from around your throat, sucks them into his mouth, and then places them on your clit.

He pinches, and he circles, and he presses until you have no other choice but to do as he asked.

You’re vaguely aware of the way he follows after you but when you feel it—when you feel him and the way he fills you…you simply succumb.

To all of it. To him, to this decision, to this feeling.

His sounds are like a symphony. Like heavenly music being sung directly into your ear as he tries to work you both through your high. As he continues to play with your cunt like a toy, almost as if hoping to encourage a third from you.

You move to wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him on top of you. He’s heavy but the weight feels…freeing. Almost as if he was always meant to be right here.

And as the silent seconds continue to tick by while you both catch your breath, you wonder if this is finally where things change. If crossing this line will be the thing that ruins you both. That ruins your friendship.

You can’t speak for him, but you…you’ve never felt so content.

He is your puzzle piece.

Your perfect fit.

You expect him to pull out and climb off you rather quickly, much like Eric used to.

But Harry is not Eric, that much is certain.

Because Harry…refuses to let go.

He wraps one arm around your body and just…stays. Face nuzzled into your neck, thumb stroking your skin in soft, soothing circles.

He’s quite warm, and it’s almost too hot to have him on you like this…but you don’t mind.

“Are you…okay?” he exhales after a moment, and you nod softly.

“So fucking okay,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Was really fucking good, Har. Oh, sorry…Daddy.”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Good.”

“Are you okay?”

This time, he nods. “So fucking okay,” he mimics with a soft laugh. “Felt so good, baby girl.”

And you aren’t sure why, but this nickname makes your cheeks warm, and your heart race, and your ears ring.

“Shit,” he hisses when he feels you clench around him. “Bee…you’re gonna kill me, don’t do that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, fighting a smirk. “S’kind of your fault, though.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yeah. Where did you even learn all that, anyway? How To Talk Dirty for Dummies?”

“Oh, you fucking—”

With that, his arms tighten around your exhausted frame before he rolls you both over until he’s on his back and you’re lying on his chest.

“Har,” you laugh, attempting to squirm out of his hold. “Stop, for fuck’s sake—”

“No,” he says simply, tucking your head under his chin as he keeps you still. “We’re not done.”

You smile again as your ear presses to his heart. “Oh, we’re not, huh?”

“Nope. Aftercare, right?”

“Yeah, but it normally doesn’t involve squeezing your partner to death.”

“Really? ’Cause it kind of seemed like you liked me squeezing you.”

“Yeah, but not now.”

“Fine, so teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

He nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. “How to take care of you.”

You can’t hide the giant grin that spreads across your face as you roll your eyes. “For one…you can loosen your grip.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Harry.”

“Bee.”

You shake your head, amused, as the room falls silent. You focus in on his steady breaths. The way his heart thumps against his ribcage. Comforting and familiar.

You brush your palm back and forth along his side, absentmindedly continuing to keep the tender moment going. Desperate to feel even closer to him, despite the fact that he’s still half inside of you.

After a minute more of comfortable quiet, you feel his lips ghost your temple. “Bee?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you regret it?”

Your lashes flutter shut. “No. Not at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You lean up just enough to see him, forcing him to acknowledge the truth. “I’d never regret you.”

The side of his mouth pulls up in a gentle smile. “Good.”

Pleased, you reach for one of his arms, fingers trailing down to his wrist as you delicately bring it up to your mouth.

He watches you with wide eyes as you dance your mouth along the subtle red marks across his skin. A gift from the rope, and when you press your lips into the faint bruise…you hear his breath hitch.

“This…can be a part of aftercare,” you whisper as you travel around his hand. “Wrist check.”

“Wrist check,” he repeats, as if in a daze.

You nod. “Making sure that you didn’t get too hurt. That you’re okay. Letting you know you did good.”

You linger for a moment, almost wishing the kiss would melt into his skin, and you feel his heart rate increase.

“And you did,” you say softly, looking up. “Did so good for me.”

His lids seem to grow heavy as he looks at you through a lust-filled haze, and you can feel his fingers squeezing around your hip.

And in this moment…you exist. Your past, and your present, and your future coming to a point right here as you lay in his arms.

Terrified of what happens next, you shake the impending implications free and nuzzle yourself back under his chin, eyes squeezing shut.

You can feel him suck in a sharp breath and hold it.

You do the same.

“Bee?” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

A beat.

His grip tightens.

“Watermelon.”

(Alternatively titled: Fuck Me 😗)

Next Part:

~ Love Me* (Pt. 5)

Previous Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes

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patrophthia · 9 months

Note

Heya, I don't know it's already done or not but can you please write about the egoistic yandere Tom Marvolo Riddle with a hugeeee obsession and love🤔 on introverted half blood slytherin y/n who doesn't give a f*ck him and his looks like other girls of Hogwarts!🫠

thank you for sending this in, i was really hesitant on writing this bc i’ve never wrote anything like this before so i hope you like it!

know you better | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warnings: yandere!tom, very obsessive and delusional way of thinking, death, even more delusions

To fall in love with you was the easiest thing Tom has ever done. All you had to do was merely be in the same vicinity as him and he’d found himself more than just head over heels over you.

For you to fall in love with him on the other hand, that surely was one of the hardest things he had to do in life. You don’t look at him —not because, unlike the others, you didn’t dare to but because you weren’t interested in him. You don’t offer him a smile when he greets you good morning. You don’t throw yourself at him when he turns a blind eye when he catches you sneaking around the castle at night. You don’t care for him.

And quite honestly, it is driving him insane. What is it that everybody has that he doesn’t? Why does everyone else get to see you smile when you won’t even turn in his direction? Why won’t you just admit you want him as much as he wants you?

Though you don’t show it, Tom can read between the lines. He thinks —no, he knows that you’re acting indifferent to play hard to get. He knows you want him, you just won’t admit it.

He tries to be a gentleman about his intentions at first, sliding up to you whilst you hover your cauldron during potions. He calls out your last name cautiously, careful to not startle you; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he accidentally hurts you. You turn to him, a small frown appearing on your lips. “Riddle?”

He skips the formalities, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Would you like to go out this weekend?”

You fix him a look, and then, “no.”

You didn’t hear him right. That’s what he tells himself. Or maybe he’s confused, because why wouldn’t someone want to go out with him? Tom clarifies himself, “I meant on a date.”

You turn back to your cauldron, ending the conversation as is. “No.”

He was certain that you’re playing hard to get now. That was until one of his goons —Malfoy, that was his name, started noticing that Tom’s eyes tended to wander whenever you were in the same room as him; until Malfoy tells Tom exactly why you’d said no.

“Macmillan, that’s his name. Walburga says they’ve been going out for a few months now.” You have a boyfriend? No, no, that can’t be right. There’s no way you had a boyfriend when you were so clearly playing hard to get with Tom this entire time.

Was it because your ‘boyfriend’ was holding you back from your true love? Or were you using this ‘boyfriend’ as bait? Had you known that it was time for Tom to create his next Horcrux and had needed a new sacrifice? How thoughtful of you to take care of these little things for him.

Luckily Tom’s smart, he’s known to be smart, and he’s smart enough to read you like an open book even though you won’t spare a second of your time on him. He admires it, how hard you’re playing this role of not caring for him when you’re clearly as indicated with him as he, you.

He’ll take up on your offer, he thinks as he sets out towards his chamber. The Basilisk is a dear friend of his, it’s even dearer when it does these things for him. In Parsel tongue, Tom says his order. “Kill Macmillan. And be careful not to hurt her.”

The Basilisks set out first, setting off after the aforementioned man; Tom a few steps behind. It isn’t hard for him to follow his dear friend, it leaves a wet trail in its wake for him to follow and it’s even easier for him to know when his friend has done its job from the scream you let out.

Tom’s clever enough to hide behind the corridors as he waits for his friend to return back to his home. His heart aches to hold you as you scream time and time again, asking for help and he reminds himself to reward you for your amazing acting.

With the way you’re so desperately clinging onto Macmillan’s body, you almost convince him that you genuinely cared for Macmillan, like Macmillan really was someone you were in love with. But he knows you, he knows you better than you know you. And he knows you love him.

So he schools his expression to one of worry, if you were really playing the part then he should be a good sport and play it with you. “What’s wrong?” He asks you, not sparing a glance at Macmillan’s frigid body.

“This —this thing, it came and it—” you stutter out, hiccuping out each word as you swiped at your eyes. Tom places a hand on your own, removing your grip on Macmillan’s body and ignores it when you flinch at his touch. “—it, I don’t know what it did but next thing I knew he was— he was gone.”

Oh poor you, he sympathises. Such a good girl for him to play your part so well. He pries your other hand away from Macmillan’s body and wraps his arm around you. “It’s okay,” he offers, pressing your face against his chest. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe.”

You sniffle, pulling away from him slightly. And when he realises that you could see the red glow in his eyes, neither of you mention it; for you were too afraid of the man holding you, and he too in love for something so trivial to take part of your conversation.

— from bee: this is so so new to me,, i hope you liked it!

#— requests #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x yn #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #yandere!tom riddle x reader #— blurbs with bee #🧳: my writing #🍰: 600 with patro!

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succubusmunson · 1 year

Text

Car Troubles

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ll do anything to get your neighbors attention. Even going as far as to break your car.

Warnings: Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI) slight dom!eddie, sexual tension, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, check in (spotlight), name calling: (slut, baby, pretty girl), face fucking, ball worship, spit, slapping, spanking, breath play, pet names, rimming, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, breeding kink, creampie

WC: 4.2K

(Hoping ya’ll enjoy this fic!)

Remember to reblog and support the author!

You couldn’t believe what you were actually doing right now.

The hood to your car was up and you were bent over looking inside it as if you were trying to find the problem, but you know what it already was. The problem was that you took out something called a “spark plug” and tossed it behind your trailer, so far away in the trees that you knew it wouldn’t be found.

Why were you doing this? Your hot neighbor has been working on his van for weeks and as much as you tried to get more of his attention, it never went to plan. So, now here you are with a “broken down” car and all the opportunity in the world at your fingertips.

Now, you’ve known Eddie since high school, but you two were in different friend groups and never had much interaction before. Except for the occasional partnering up for an in class assignment or seeing him step out into his trailer porch for a late night smoke (secretly hoping he would come over to your porch and offer you one). He would always wave over to you, causing you to get those school girl-like butterflies in your stomach. You had always had a crush on him as well.

How could you not? Eddie was always seen as this “no good boy who played a devilish game,” but you were into that. You were into the thought of him being the forbidden fruit that Eve couldn’t have. Just the mere thought sent chills down your spine.

When you looked over at Eddie, your jaw nearly dropped. He had his hair in a low messy bun, some of the shorter hairs falling in his face, and his mechanic overalls tied lowly on his hips. To make matters worse, he was covered in oil and grease, it staining his skin the the white wife beater that he was wearing. Your bit at your bottom lip and gawked at him; as if he was some sex god and from what you’ve heard from some of the women in town, he was a sex god.

Were you bending over your car and making a show of it? Definitely. You were in the shortest shorts you could find; your ass cheeks poking out of the bottom of the shorts and jiggling with each move you made. When you would turn around for a drink of water, you would make sure to let some drip down the valley of your breast, patting yourself on the back when you noticed that Eddie would watch the drip.

Eddie had noticed you as soon as you walked out your door. He noticed the way your shorts hugged your ass perfectly and how your titties would bounce while you walked down the steps. His cock would twitch in his boxers and now he had the chance to talk to you, he wasn’t going to pass that up.

“You need help with something?”

Oh shit, you were caught. When you looked up at his face, he was smirking and wiping his hands over his shirt. The sight of his eyes on you alone was making your face turn beet red and your head speed up.

“U-uh, yeah actually.” Suddenly your mouth was very dry and you didn’t know how to form words. “My car, it won’t-it won’t start.” You nervously fiddled with your fingers as he walked over to you and your car, his hip lightly bumping into yours.

Eddie leaned over your car, looking to see what was wrong with him. You got a whiff of his cologne and couldn’t help but clench your thighs. He smelled like Old Spice, cars, and a hint of weed. It made you want him even more.

You were too lost in your thoughts to notice that Eddie had stood back up and faced you, his body close to yours. “Looks like your spark plug is missing. How does that happen?”

“Missing? That doesn’t make any sense.” You tried to not give it away that you were the reason, so you looked to where the spark plug originally was, shock witten on your face. “Could it have come loose and fell out? Is this possible?”

Eddie flashed you a toothy grin before shutting the hood of your car. “It’s unheard of for something like that to happen, but I guess it could.” He leaned against your car, his hips pushing out a little and you swore you could see the outline of his cock through the bottom of the overalls.

You subtly try to wipe the sweat from your forehead, hoping that he doesn’t see the effect he has over you. “So, what do I do now?”

“Well, I could give you a ride to an auto shop so you can buy the part you need or,” he took a step closer to you, his chest now centimeters from your own. “You can tell me why I saw you throw it behind your trailer earlier.” Eddie smirked at your face, you had been caught and you knew it. There was no going back now.

“Fuck, you saw that?” Eddie nodded and your face turned even more red than it was before. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you and I know you’ve been working on your van recently, so I thought my car not working would help.”

Eddie laughed and got closer to you so that you were now leaning against the front of your car. “You wanted my attention? Is that why you’re wearing this small outfit?” His fingers toyed at the hem of your shirt. “Why when you bent over, you shook your ass thinking I wouldn’t see it.”

His hands wrapped around your waist and trailed down to cup your ass, causing you to let out a small gasp. “I craved your attention.” You backed into his touch, already wanted more of it. “I would’ve gone a lot further if you didn’t catch me.”

“Is that so? How far are we talking?” His face was close to yours, so close that you could feel his breath fan across your lips and cheeks. His voice was deep and raspy: lust practically rolled off his tongue and into your lungs, feeling you with need.

You slid your hands down the front of his overalls and you could feel his cock harden at the warmth of your hands. “Maybe I would’ve left my curtains open and let you watch me strip, or let you watch me play with my pussy to the thought of you wrecking it? I’ve done it so many times,” you squeezed at the outline of his cock, his head falling so his forehead was now pressed against yours. “Came so many times to the thought of your cock ruining all my holes.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to come over here and have a quick fuck,” he pulled your hips to yours, his cock resting against you. “Always wanted to know what that pussy would feel like wrapped around my cock. Bet it feels like heaven.”

A sudden burst of confidence ran through your body as you reached a hand into his hair and gave it a tug. “Why don’t you stop being such a gentleman and find out.”

Eddie took that opportunity and ran with it. He grabbed ahold of your hand and led you to his trailer, decided against yours since he didn’t even know where your room was. As soon as the two of you made it through his door, his lips were against yours. It was a fast and messy kiss; wet tongues sliding over each other and teeth clanking every once in a while. He bit at your bottom lip and trailed his kisses down your neck, making sure to bite and suck hard enough to leave a hickey. You whined out, grinding your hips against his. The need you had for each other is very evident.

“Before we start,” he gently gripped your cheek to make you look at him, “you have to tell me when you don’t like something, okay? Red to stop, yellow to slow it down, and green to keep going.”

You nodded your head, not trusting yourself to speak because you might just moan from how close his body was to you at this moment.

“No, I need to hear you say that you understand.”

“Yes, I understand.” You gripped his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. “Now, please, can we continue?”

Eddie laughed at your eagerness and gave you the go ahead, your lips immediately finding his neck and nibbling on it. You were getting such a rise out of him, he was used to doing all the work.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, Eddie.” Your hand reached for the rubber-band that held his hair in a bun and pulled on it, letting his curly hair flow around him. “Need it down so I can tug on it while you eat my pussy.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” he led you further into the trailer, right into his room. “Think we need to give you something to occupy it.”

Immediately, you dropped to your knees in front of him. “Please? I’ve always wanted to choke on your cock.”

You reached your hands up and pulled down his overalls, his boxers falling with them. The second his cock sprung up in front of your face, your jaw dropped. His cock was thick: veins running across it, and a red mushroom tip that dripped with precum. You knew that it was going to split your holes open, but you didn’t have an ounce of regret.

“Holy shit… i-it’s huge!” You didn’t have words, you were too struck by how perfect his cock was.

“Don’t act so shy now.” Eddie carded a finger through your hair and pulled, angling your head perfect for him. He grabbed his cock and tapped the tip against your lips, smearing some of the precum over them. “Open that mouth up for me, yeah?”

You opened your mouth, your tongue hanging out, just begging for attention. Eddie slid the tip of his cock over the warm muscle and groaned, the hand in your hair tightening. “Always knew you had such a nice mouth,” he thrusted his cock forward, making you gag and tears brimming your eyes. “Gonna throat train you, make my cock fit perfectly in your throat.”

As you whined around his cock, he brought another hand down and held your head still. “Yeah, stay just like that.” He moved his hips, his cock sliding further down your throat and his balls squishing against your chin. Spit began to form in the corners of your mouth, slowly dripping down your chin and sticking to his heavy balls. Each time you tighten your throat, he groans, his head falling forward to watch you swallow his cock. “Shit, never knew you’d be this cock hungry. You’re just so eager to please me, so eager to get my cock in your wet pussy.”

Eddie was wrong about your pussy being wet. It wasn’t just wet, but soaked. You could feel yourself begin to soak through your panties and into your shorts, ruining your clothes. Having him say such dirty things to you and using your throat as a fleshlight was such a turn on, you couldn’t help it. You looked up at him, seeing his eyes roll in the back of his head and his mouth hanging open, he looked so good from this angle. You moved your hips against the air, looking for some kind of friction. Your whole body ached for an orgasm like never before.

“Look at you,” he pulled his cock from your throat, your saliva dripping from it. “You aching to be touched?” His hand caressed your cheek before smacking you, making you moan out. “You don’t get anything until I’m done with ruining your throat, got it?”

His cock slammed back into your throat, making tears flow down your cheek as you gag louder than before. “Hold it, you can take this. You wanted it bad, remember?” His fingers came down and plugged your nose. You struggled to breathe and he just smirked down at you. “Having some trouble?”

Your nails raked down his naked thighs, leaving red marks in his wake. Slowly, you could feel your lungs start to burn from the lack of air and just when you thought it was too much, he let your nose go. His cock still rested in your throat and you could feel it twitch and throb against your tongue.

“Fuck, I’m glad I can finally ruin your throat.” Eddie pulled his cock again, but this time he stepped closer and smashed your mouth against his balls. “But don’t these deserve some attention too?”

Your spit dribbled over the heavy balls, soaking them and making them easier to roll your tongue around. Eddie didn’t know this, but you went weak in the knees for balls. You sucked them into your mouth, gargling around them and trying your best to smirk while he grabbed at your head.

“God damn, that’s a good girl.” He grinded his balls against your mouth, your tongue staying still so he could use you as he pleases.

His balls became sticky as they pressed all over your face, catching on your nose and chin, but you had not a care in the world. It was only making you more soaked being used this way.

You felt as Eddie’s balls drew up and his cock twitched against his forehead, he was close and excited ran through your body. He pulled your face from his balls and forced your mouth open with his thumb, making sure it was wide enough. “You’re gonna catch every fucking drop.”

His hand pumped his cock, squeezing at the tip. The muscles of his stomach tightened and his breath for more ragged as thick ropes of cum shot out: your tongue catching all that you could, some hitting your cheeks. “Oh god, yes.” The tip of his cock got more red as more cum shot out, dripping right into your mouth. “So good for me, so fucking good.”

Tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he kept filming until his balls were almost empty. When he finally opened his eyes back up, he smirked down at you. You swallowed his cum and scooped up what you missed, sucking on your fingers and shoving them down your throat. You were putting on a show for him.

“You’re a cum hungry slut.” Eddie kicked the clothes that pooled around his ankles to the side and tore off his shirt before helping you stand up. “It’s your turn to get ruined, pretty girl.” He pushed you back on the back, your head flopping into the pillows.

Eddie didn’t even have time to strip you, you were already sliding your shorts and panties down your legs, your pussy glistening in the sunlight peeking through the windows. You were so soaked that you were dripping down onto the sheets below you, already making a mess. You looked at Eddie, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He was looking at you like a starving man ready to devour his last meal.

You reached a hand down to play with your swollen clit, but Eddie slapped it away. “This is mine to play with.” He kneeled between your legs and spread your thighs further apart. His thumbs came down and spread your pussy lips apart, your slick stringing between them. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Can’t be the death of you now,” you bucked your hips up, silently begging to be touched. “Haven’t had you inside me yet.”

Soft kisses trailed up one of your thighs before you felt a cold breath fan over your pussy, you clenched around nothing. “O-oh,” you weren’t expecting just that breath to make you feel so good, but you whined out, needing more.

“Look at you,” Eddie swiped his thumb over your clit, causing your legs to shake some. “So wet and just begging to be touched,” he applied pressure to your clit, making you moan out and flop your head into the pillows. “Begging to be licked.”

“Please,” you reached down and tried your best to cup the back of his neck. You needed him closer, needed to feel his tongue on you. “I want you to taste me, make me cum.”

Eddie leaned his head down and swiped his tongue over your clit, humming to himself at the taste. “So sweet, knew it would be.” He licked again, this time with more pressure, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. “Want you to make a mess on my tongue, baby.”

Your legs locked around Eddie’s head as he practically dove into your pussy. His tongue swirled around every part of it, the sound of his spit and your wetness almost louder than your moans.

“H-holy fuck.” Your hands gripped the sheets below you, your body becoming hot with pleasure. “You’re so good, Eddie.”

Eddie’s moans reverberated through your body, your legs shaking around his hand now. The shaking only got worse when he suckled your swollen clit into your mouth, his teeth gently biting at it.

Your back arched up, now resting on your elbows to look at him eating you up. The sight before you almost had you cumming in a second. His big brown eyes were looking right at you, they were dark and full of want. You could see his tongue poke out and lick over your clit before sucking it back in his mouth. His fingers were digging into your thighs, keeping them tight around his head to hold his head still.

“Yes! Right there, right there.” Your hips grinding against his mouth, the coil inside of you tightening each second.

For a second, Eddie pulled away from you, unlocking your legs from his head. You went to whine out at the loss of contact, but stopped when he pushed your legs towards your chest, your hips now almost completely off the bed. He leaned down and spit on your puckered hole and you swear you could see stars form behind your eyes.

“Color?” His thumb swiped over the hole, spreading his spit around.

“Green, very green.” You moaned loudly as soon as his tongue licked over your soaked hole before sliding the tip of it inside. “E-Eddie!”

While his tongue was pumping in and out of your ass, two of his rough fingers slid into your welcoming pussy. The curled right up into the spongy spot inside you, pressing on it. Your moans became louder, the coil inside of you finally unraveling.

Before you felt yourself cum, you heard it. Heard yourself gush over his fingers that were deep inside you and felt yourself clench around them. Your body thrashed around, the feeling of yourself cumming making the hairs on your body stand up. “Yes, yes! Please don’t stop, please.”

Eddie pulled away from your ass, his fingers inside your pussy only pumping faster. “Yeah? Keep squirting for me. Make a mess.”

And that you did, below you the sheets were soaked and Eddie’s chest and stomach were covered in it. When you felt his fingers slow down, you finally let out a breath. You’ve squirted before, but never that much.

“O-oh, my god.” You placed a hand over your face, almost too embarrassed to face him after what you just did.

You felt Eddie press small kisses up your stomach and between the valley of your chest before he moved your hand from your now very red chest. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He gave you a smirk, trailing the kisses up your cheek to your lips, taking your bottom lip in his before letting it go with a pop. “That was fucking incredible.”

“Are you sure? It was kind of.. a lot.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes, even after he said that it was incredible.

“I’m so sure.” Eddie grabbed your hand and put it right on his cock, it throbbing uncontrollably. “Got me hard again, painfully hard.”

You squeezed your hand and Eddie’s hand gripped your wrist as he bit his lip. “I need to be inside you.” He stripped off his dirty wife beater and threw it somewhere in the room, your shirt quickly following it.

He flipped you over, your stomach now pressed against the mattress and your ass in the air. You looked over your shoulder and gave Eddie a wink before wiggling your ass, signaling just how ready you were for him and his cock. “Please fuck me, Eddie.”

Not having to be told twice, Eddie got behind you. He grabbed his cock and tapped it against your clit, chuckling behind you when you let out a small whine. Just as you went to open your mouth to beg again, Eddie slid in. Immediately, he bottomed up, his balls finding home right against your clit. The feeling caused your head to fall toward, your face now in the pillows.

“No, no.” Eddie grabbed you by your hair, forcing your back against his sweaty chest. “Need to hear those pretty noises from your mouth,” his other hand reeled back before smacking your ass, a handprint sure to be visible in the morning. “Got it?”

“Y-yes, I got it.” You grind your hips against him, his cock nudging inside of you. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He pulls all the way out, his tip the only thing in your pussy before slamming back in, sending your body forward with how much force was behind your thrust.

“Eddie!” Your throat burned with how loud you screamed his name, almost like you carved it inside your body.

His hips rocked against yours, his balls squishing against your clit. Your body shook with pleasure, already so close to cumming and losing full control of yourself.

“Such a good pussy, knew it would just be perfect for my cock.” Both of his hands grabbed at your hips and had you meet his thrusts halfway. “Gonna feel this pussy up, watch as my cum drips out of you.” Eddie leans forward to your ear, his teeth barely catching your earlobe. “Maybe even get you pregnant, can’t let all the cum go to waste.”

“Please, just use me.” At this point you didn’t care what he said, you wanted it all with him. “Want your cum inside me, want to be so full of it.”

“That’s a good slut, just so eager to do what I want.”

Each slide of his cock was sending chills up and down your spine, making your body shake. The moans were just spilling out of you now, getting louder each time.

“This is my pussy now, yeah?” Eddie’s hand came down and spanked you again, your ass rippled under his touch. “I said,” he pulled out before slamming his cock back in, your thighs buckling under you. “Is this my pussy?”

“Yes!” Your body was on fire, pleasure flooding your nerves endings, “it’s all yours.”

The faster Eddie’s thrust got, the closer you got to cumming. You could tell he was close to, his thrusts becoming sloppier and his hold on your hips becoming tighter. The two of you were moaning in sync, your pussy clenching around his cock and his cock hitting your g-spot.

Your body slouched forward, the feeling of his cock wrecking you being too much to hold yourself up anymore.

His arm snaked around your body and found your aching clit, rubbing hard and fast figure 8’s on it. And that’s when it happened, your vision began to blur and your whole body convulsed under his touch. You came around his cock; a silent scream leaving you as your knuckles turned white with the grip you had on the pillows in front of you. Your cum dripped down his cock, the squelching sound becoming louder.

“Fuck, fuck- I’m cumming, baby.” Eddie’s body fell against your back, his hips now slamming into yours hard enough to leave bruises. Inside you, his cock twitched as he came, painting your insides white. “God damn!”

Your hips grinding against his again until you both stopped cumming, giving you both time to relax. He pulled out and you moaned at the feeling, his cum mixed with yours dripping out of you and down your thighs.

You reached down and scooped it up before shoving it back inside you, making sure Eddie was watching you, “you said we couldn’t let it go to waste.”

Behind you, Eddie was resting on his knees with a smirk plastered on his face. “You’re fucking amazing.” You flipped over to lay on your back and he joined you, pulling you close to him. “Always figured you’d be amazing though.”

“Me? Did you see how hard you made me squirt? That’s all you!” You laid your head on his chest and listened to his fast heartbeat, just glad to be this close to him. “What do we do now?”

“Well, now,” his fingers ran over your back, drawing imaginary shapes, “we relax before going outside to try and find your spark plug that you threw.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You laughed, “didn’t know it would be so easy to get your attention.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Eddie kissed your head, he was being sweet which is a good thing after he just wrecked you inside out. “After we find it, we can come back here for round two, three, four…”

“Yeah? Sounds good to me.” Your pussy was in for it, but you didn’t care. You were happy to be getting some good dick, especially from Eddie.

tagging: @onehotgreasymechanic @thefreakofhawkins86 @wroteclassicaly @magnoliabutters

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