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the-boy-meets-evil · 4 months

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a new home for the holidays | ljh

(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)

pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut rating: explicit word count: 10.5k warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex

author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.

The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.

Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.

A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)

It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.

“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”

“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off.

“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds.

“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred.

“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.

“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.

“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends.

“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.

“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say.

“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?”

“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth.

“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.

“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask.

“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.

Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow.

Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it.

You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.”

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.

“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh!” you say.

“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.

“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?”

“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”

With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face.

As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under.

It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.

“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”

“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes.

“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.

You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him.

There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.

“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.

“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.

“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.

“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak.

He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.”

You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.

The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.

With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.

Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.

Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone

There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.

You: oh, yeah! thanks! You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help

The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not.

Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now.

An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.

“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.

“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.

“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.

“I was joking,” he says.

You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?”

Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.”

“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.

“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.

“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.

“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.

“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments.

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns.

You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.

It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this.

The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it.

When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees.

With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want.

You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he points out, back still to you.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.

“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.

“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?”

Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.”

“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.

“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.

“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.

“What? Scare me?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.

“That depends. Do you like it?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“Of course it would.”

He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.”

“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well.

It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”

“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.

“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person.

“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.”

Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”

“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.

“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.

“Yeah,” you answer immediately.

“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?”

That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.”

“I get that,” he says.

“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.

His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits.

Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart.

It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned.

“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.

You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.”

“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.

“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.

“No, friend,” you decide.

“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.

“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug.

“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.

The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all.

When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized.

The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream.

With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace.

“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.

“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.

“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.

“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen.

By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it.

You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you.

It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.

“Can I admit something?” you ask.

“Course,” he says softly.

“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows.

“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.”

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake.

He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?”

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.”

Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.”

That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out.

“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.

“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.

“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer.

“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”

“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?”

“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you.

“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching.

You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be.

“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.

“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.

“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.

“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.”

The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses out.

“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication.

He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you.

“I think I want it all,” you whisper.

“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks.

You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady.

“I do.”

It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into.

“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly.

You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”

“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable.

This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down.

You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”

“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.

“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed.

It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time.

“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“A bit, he says,” you tease back.

“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.

“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.

“Fine by me,” he readily agrees.

There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need.

It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.

“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.

“So do it,” he answers.

“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!”

“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.

“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager.

“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says.

Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing.

“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.

“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit.

“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says.

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I guess we’ll see,” he answers

“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.

He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.”

“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over.

The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you.

“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again.

You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.

“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.”

“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you.

He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.”

“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles.

You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.”

“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits.

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft.

“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.”

“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start.

“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say.

He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.

“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him.

“Are you sure?” he checks.

“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off.

In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry.

You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you.

His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”

“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out.

“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out.

Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side.

“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree.

It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you answer.

He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response.

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse.

“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.

You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed.

Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours.

“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away.

“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.

By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room.

You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box.

“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look.

It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.”

“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him.

Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things.

You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.

“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.

“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone.

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”

“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.

“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle.

“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling.

“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.

“You sound like my parent,” you whine.

“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table.

“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.

“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.

“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over.

The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though.

After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…”

“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.

“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.

“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine.

“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words.

He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.”

“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.

He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree.

“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too.

“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”

“Snow,” he interrupts.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.”

You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows.

“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper.

i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕

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beskarandblasters · 7 months

Text

Mothman Fever

Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Shout out to @nostalxgic for making this killer graphic for me!! Also the kick ass banners and !!Mothman!! dividers are by @saradika!! This was my first time writing any sort of monster fucking so let me know how I did!!

Summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no outbreak, drinking, semi public sex, use of pet names (luna lol), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex pollen, dub con, monsterfucking, no use of y/n

“Don’t you think Mothman is kinda hot?”

You glance at your friend Tara in the rear view mirror and raise your eyebrow.

“How can a moth be hot?”

“Oh, come on! You know he’s not a normal moth… he’s got like… muscular legs,” Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat.

“You don’t wanna fuck Mothman?” Tara asks.

“... No? And you do?”

“How can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?” she continues.

“Mothmanner?” you snort.

“Mothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Not really. I’m more interested in him for scientific purposes.”

“That just leaves more of him for us, Tara,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, after you examine him for research we’ll tag team him.”

“You guys are gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.

“Whatcha playin’?” you ask.

“Just a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.”

The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, “Really? The Monster Mash?”

“It’s festive,” she shrugs.

“Oh yeah, turn that shit up,” Tara adds.

You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. You’re into all sorts of cryptids but there’s something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you can’t put your finger on. You’ve been picturing this moment for a long time but… not with Monster Mash playing in the background.

Janelle turns down the music and says, “Look what I found on Facebook! There’s a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!”

She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details.

“Sounds like fun. You down?” Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.

“I mean, why not?” you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant.

To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads “Welcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festival” in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on.

You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldn’t normally cost a lot but it’s Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices.

You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. It’s still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and there’s plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says “Mothman ate my entire ass at a Denny’s”, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of converse before heading out with your friends.

You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a “normal” group photo standing beside it.

The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time.

You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And that’s when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find he’s looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. He’s wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, “Who are you waving at?”

“No one,” you say quickly, looking away from the man.

“Nah, you’re lying. I’m gonna look,” Tara says, starting to turn around.

“Don’t-” you start but it’s too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave.

“Him?” she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her.

“And what about it?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s hot. Go over there and talk to him,” Janelle says.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tara asks.

“I’m… not that forward.”

“It’s the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,” Janelle shrugs.

“Agreed,” Tara nods.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly.

You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if he’s here with another girl?

“Hi, um, I’m here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought I’d say hello,” you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction.

“Hey there. I’m Joel. Would you like to join me?”

“Are you here with anyone?”

“No, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.”

You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.

“Ah so you’re not from around here?”

“No, just here for the festival, like I’m assuming you are,” he says, gesturing to your shirt.

And now you feel self conscious of what you’re wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s funny.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.”

“Oh nice. I’m going to that, too.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Well if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.”

“S-sure that sounds like fun. What time?” you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname.

“Around eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.”

“Sounds good!”

You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends.

“And by the way,” he says, stopping you, “I’m Joel.”

You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, “See you tonight, Luna.”

You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didn’t mind.

“So who is he? What’s his deal?” Tara asks.

“Uh, his name is Joel and he’s here for the festival.”

“Alone?” Janelle asks.

“His brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.”

“Who bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?” Janelle says.

“Not sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.”

“You said yes, right?” Tara questions.

“I did… Was I not supposed to?”

“No! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks, guys… He’s also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.”

“Oooh,” they both say in unison.

“It’ll be fun,” you say, “But let’s eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad I’m leaving you guys tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hot,” Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“And older,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll see if it even works out.”

“You sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. He’s gotta be interested,” Janelle continues.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” she laughs.

You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but… that’s not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt that’s a little bit better; one that reads “I kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depot” and opting for a skirt with the same pair of converse.

Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No worries. Where are we going?”

“Just one of the local spots downtown. There’s a band playing there tonight.”

“Sounds like fun!”

And with that you’re walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.

He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar that’s also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. It’s pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least you’ll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on top– how festive.

“You must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if you’re coming here,” he says, half shouting over the loud music.

“Haha, yeah! My friends think he’s hot.”

“Really?” he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t really get it! I just think he’s interesting but if he were real they’d probably try to fuck him or something.”

“You wouldn’t, Luna?” he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again.

“You would?” you counter.

“Maybe if he bought me dinner first,” he laughs.

After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy who’s a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far.

“I have to ask, Luna… Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks after the third round of drinks. He’s definitely a little tipsy by now.

“No, sir,” you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out.

He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, “What do ya say we get out of here?”

Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state.

You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar.

“Where are we going?” you ask when you step back out onto the street.

“Wherever,” he says nonchalantly, “But tell me Luna, are you a dirty girl?” his large hand grabbing your waist as you walk, pulling you closer into him.

You can’t deny you want him. And you’re feeling a bit more confident than usual.

“For you? Sure am.”

“Dirty enough to do it in an alley?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs.

He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired to say the least.

He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully won’t get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later.

His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you.

“This,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, “is all the evidence I needed,” he finishes.

The deranged and devious look in his eyes as he looks at the physical evidence of how bad you want him makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again.

“You taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,” he says, coming out as a low growl.

Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and you’re so drunk you forget you’re in public, letting out a moan that’s just a bit too loud.

“Shh,” he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quiet…

Until you hear a stern “HEY!” causing you to gasp.

He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officer’s eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs.

“Really guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?”

You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next.

He sighs again and says, “Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goers…”

You blink a few times, in disbelief that he’s letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment you’re feeling.

He notices the look on your face and asks, “What? You didn’t think that was funny?” while trying to hold back more laughter.

“Not really!” you say, lightly slapping him on the arm.

“Aw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It could’ve been a lot worse but it wasn’t!” he reassures you.

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh.

Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when you’ll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didn’t go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, “I think I should get back to my friends.”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll take you back now.”

The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, “And I’m excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.”

“Me, too, Luna,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, we’ll have lots of fun tomorrow night.”

You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case it’s hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, “See you tomorrow, Luna.” And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night.

Heading back up to the room, you replay the night’s events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that you’re definitely interested in him… but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded.

“What?” you ask, reading the expression on their faces.

“An update would’ve been nice,” Tara says.

“I lost track of time!” you reply.

“I get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You don’t know his intentions!” Janelle adds.

“You’re right,” you sigh, “Nothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay! …And that we can finally go to bed now,” Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. I’m just gonna be in the bathroom,” you say.

They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, there’s several marks and there they are but there’s also… a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it there’s flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe it’s something from the bar? That’s the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him.

The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell you’re in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, it’s time to get ready for what you’re most excited for; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you haven’t heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And you’re starting to worry. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you weren’t worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word.

You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; “Mothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lot” because why wouldn’t it?

You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter.

The sun is just starting to set now and it’s about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel:

Hey, will I see you tonight?

You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise it comes rather quickly.

Of course, Luna. Wouldn’t miss it for the world🦋

You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. What’s the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if you’re not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?

You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags there’s a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You can’t blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where there’s a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel.

And… nothing. The sun sets and you haven’t heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, “Are you okay?” and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you.

You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise it’s a text from Joel reading:

Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look.

You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. He’s nowhere to be found.

You type out:

I don’t see you. Where are you?

He replies:

Look behind you.

You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again… nowhere to be found.

You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:

I can see you. I don’t want to leave the evidence behind… Just come to the trees, Luna.

You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend you’re taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. It’s such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday.

You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phone’s flashlight. You call out Joel’s name and don’t hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesn’t pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joel’s phone but not Joel… who’s to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel?

You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with Incoming Call followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you.

You smell something in the air… something fruity… almost like apple cider… with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whatever’s around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first it’s comforting… But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; it’s daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you can’t believe your eyes.

Towering above you is Mothman himself. You’re met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. He’s tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead you’re frozen, not in fear… but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable.

“Joel?” you call out in a small voice.

The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like it’s burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. It’s like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations you’ve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but it’s not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but it’s still not enough. The creature’s eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.

The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, turning… into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer towards you. He’s completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him.

“So once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him.

He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so you’re lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how it’s already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms you’ve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas… barely any relief.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, “Still not enough, huh Luna?”

“No. No, it’s not. Please, Joel, I need more.”

He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing you’re well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time you’re coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still… it’s not enough.

“How you feelin’, Luna?”

“I still… I still need more,” you whine.

“Beg,” he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours.

“Joel, please. I need it,” you beg.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you whine, sounding completely delirious.

“I suppose,” he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidating…

He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. You’re face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree covered moon above him, completely in awe of what’s happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and it’s powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like it’s never ending. You’re silently grateful you’re on birth control even though you don’t know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you.

“I bet now you’re good. Completely spent, ain’t that right, Luna?”

“Mhm,” you say, still a little breathless.

Eventually he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. You’re too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you.

You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But he’s gone.

You try to remember last night but it’s all foggy, like it’s a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and there’s still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that they’ll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, you’re fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness in your core and a stickiness running down your legs.

You’re back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags.

“Don’t be! Looks like you got lucky, too,” Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state.

“Did you guys-”

“Mhm,” Janelle says, “With those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?”

“You bet I did. But didn’t spot any signs of Mothman?” you ask.

They both shake their heads no and you sigh.

“Guess there’s always next year,” you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didn’t even end up using.

You walk back to your car after you’re all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag.

You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:

Until next time, Luna🦋

Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition.

Part two

End note: Hope y'all liked that!!

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priniya · 1 year

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hii, this is very specific but do you think you could write something involving fem!reader who grew up with sirius and they’re childhood best friends (but it’s only ever going to be platonic between them) and one day she transfers to hogwarts and immediately has a thing for james, however james doesn’t wanna make a move because he thinks her & sirius have some unspoken thing? <3

UNSPOKEN THINGS!

synopsis. growing up with sirius black was easy, but falling in love with his best friend was even easier. however, everything gets complicated — james keeps his distance, overthinking your relationship with sirius.

notes. i wouldn’t lie if i said i didn’t like that request, because i LOVE IT!!!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING SM?? obv. james potter x fem!reader. maybe ooc james. gonna make a part 2!

all the good things that had taken place during your childhood had always happened with sirius black by your side. having him next to you was like a pearl you’d never trade for anything. sneaking out at night as children to spend a little more time with each other, pulling small pranks on your siblings, and having a companion for every banquet was something priceless.

you wished that your friendship would survive the sudden shift, caused by your mother’s dream to come back to her roots in southern france, and who was your father to disobey the love of his life? so, he barely turned eleven, when you bid goodbyes, gave him your future address, and hoped he’d write.

since sirius black has always been a man of his words, he did not disappointed you with the amount of letters he’d sent you. some may think that it slowly died down, when you got to school, although it just intensified. you were certain that he told you at least the majority of his stories, confiding in that he was head over heels with remus, his schoolmate.

telling him you were coming back to england was definitely the letter you were delighted to write. seeing him after those years was magical — almost miraculous. unfortunately, something got delayed and you got to london the same day you’d leave for hogwarts.

“sirius!” a laughter left your mouth as soon as you noticed the black-haired boy, standing next to a group of teenagers. before sirius even realized, you threw your arms around his neck, clutching him in a tight hug.

“you’re finally here!” he shouted, lifting you few inches off the ground with a smile, earning a lot of confused looks from all his friends. “couldn’t get any later, could you?” the boy rolled eyes at you, turning his head to face the confused group. “this is y/n, my first best friend.” with that, his arm was thrown around your shoulder, squeezing you a little.

before any of them spoke out, you got at least two seconds to look at them, memorizing their distinguished features, which could help you recognize them later. the boy standing the closest to you, who, you guessed, was james — the only one beside remus that sirius actually put a thought into writing about.

“nice to meet you.” he was first to greet you, embracing you in a short hug, something in his cologne almost made you lightheaded, his scent staying in your mind till falling asleep that night. “sirius couldn’t stop talking about you, always blah blah blah.”

“shut up, could you?” sirius retorted, pulling you away from the potter boy.

few hours later, you were trying to settle in your new dorm, when you heard a knock on the door. “hey.” a head peaked inside before you even got to open them. “am not interrupting something, am i?” potter asked, smile rosing on his lips as he walked in.

“noo, just trying to make this place more like mine, you know?” you smiled back, putting down a few frames with photos of you and your friends back in beauxbatons. “while you’re here, could you help me with putting books on the shelves?” curly-haired boy nodded his head eagerly, before taking a pile of books to put them where you wanted.

it was almost perfect — he was about to put the last one in its place, but something was wrong, and the book fell down, and hit him right in the nose, causing a nosebleed. “shit!” he groaned, immediately grabbing the hem of his shirt, using it like a tissue.

“merde, james i’m so sorry.” you mumbled, embarrassed. the towel quickly found its way to your hand, putting it close to his nose gently. “i’ll try to be as gentle as i can, i promise.” you whispered.

the distance between you was intimidating. his eyes focused on your faces as you carefully tried to stop the bleeding, your cheeks getting warmer with each second his sight was on you. “i’m a man made of steel, it’s fine.” he chuckled, eyes squinting right afterwards.

“i can see that.” you laughed softly, pulling the fabric away, seeing that the bleeding stopped. “don’t worry, you’re still the pretty boy you were before you got here.” blush creeped onto his cheeks upon hearing your comment.

and you stayed like that until sirius stepped into the room without knocking, catching the two of you barely inches away from each other, talking in hushed voices about something insignificant. music you like, movies you want to watch, fun summer stories and anything that found its way to your tounges.

the next few weeks were horrible, having yourself busy with all the workload you got, revising all the things you weren’t taught at your previous school, but they were compulsory at hogwarts. maybe if a certain curly-haired boy wasn’t on your mind 24/7, it’d be easier to study.

“y/n, good to see you!” marlene smiled, grabbing your arm as you were walking back to the common room after the study session you had at the library. “ready for the party?” she asked, grinning widely.

the question had taken you off guard — there was supposed to be a party and you were supposed to be ready by then? to be honest, the amount of time you put into studying, made you so exhausted you were barely standing on your own. on the other hand, the raging urge to impress sirius’ friends (specifically james) was unstoppable, and refusing the party was the last thing on your priority list.

“i’ll be in thirty minutes.” quickly, you matched her smile, stepping into the already crowded gryffindor common room, only to find sirius on the coffee table with james. “guys, this is my best friend, y/n! the party is for her!” your best friend shouted to the people, earning a few laughs and claps.

you laughed along the people, catching a brief glance of james, locking eyes with him for a little too long until he looked away, cheeks tinted pinkish. “geez, pads. let the poor girl change…?” mckinnon shook her head, pulling you away from black.

“so…” she beamed, closing the door behind her. “what’s going on with you and james?” she asked with ease, making herself comfortable on your bed, watching your inept attempts to hide how easy it was for james to make you lit up.

“nothing.” you shrugged. “geez, i feel bad for saying this since he’s sirius’ other best friend, but sometimes i really wish there was something going on. you know, he’s kind, funny, and cute.” a sigh escaped from between your lips as you looked through all the cute dresses your older sister made you buy last summer in italy.

“that’s what i thought.” she giggled, picking up makeup accessories. “well, from the way he looks at you, he seems to think you’re cute too.” she made a pause. “or he’s jealous of you, and doesn’t want to lose sirius.”

upon hearing that you decided to tell the blonde girl about those few evenings, when he just happened to be walking past your dorm and stayed with you for the whole night. “then he’s definitely interested in you.” marlene gasped, immediately jumping onto the spot next to you, grabbing the fitted, silky, red dress. “we’re gonna make him make a move. i swear, this boy won’t be able to stop himself.”

twenty-five minutes later, when you were already done with shower and trying to convince marlene to let you do make up on your own (which didn’t work out and she wanted to do it herself), you were sitting in front of the girl, legs crossed as she did the perfect line on your eyelid, once in a while stealing a glance of your bra.

“think about me if things are shitty with potter, yeah?” her smile made you roll eyes jokingly. “okayy, let’s take a quick pic of the masterpiece and go.” she quickly grabbed the camera from a shelf, snapped a picture of you, and her in the mirror, and left the room shortly after.

you remember the look james gave you, when he finally noticed you came back. he didn’t know if it was just him, but you looked like you could compete with world-level models. seeing you like that caused his heart to do a flip. just when he was about to walk up to you, sirius found his place somewhere next to you, close enough to sent james a signal to back off.

potter instantly assumed that there had to be something between the two of you, mostly by how touchy sirius would become whenever you were around, having his arm thrown around your shoulders or always somehow embracing your waist. and stealing his best friend’s girlfriend was the last thing he ever wanted to do, even if he felt he clicked with you.

as soon as sirius handed you the red cup filled with a liquid you assumed was alcohol, you let yourself forget about the whole thing with james. chugging down the cup as fast as you only could, trying to win the little competition with the black boy.

few hours later, when the entire party began to die down, james was trying to get to his dorm, completely sober, but then he noticed you sitting on the stairs, your knees and palms covered in blood. “shit.” he mumbled under his breath, debating in his mind if he should just walk the other way around or help you, and…

“what… happened?” he sat beside you, his stomach doing few more flips, seeing how your face lightened up at the sound of his voice. “y/n could you talk to me?”

“i fell down the stairs.” you grimaced, head leaned against his shoulder. “one of the seventh years suggested i should go to my own room, but i couldn’t move, ‘cos it hurts.” the grimace was replaced by a pout.

a sigh left his mouth as he picked you up, without saying a word — he believed it’d be easier to help you, and immediately leave than if he’d started a conversation with you. the whole walk to your dorm was silent, none of you hadn’t even let out a whimper until you were seated on your bed, while james tried to take proper care of your scrapped knees.

“are you mad at me?” you whispered softly, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at him. the sadness in your tone made his heart clutch. “why aren’t you speaking then? we hardly even talked today.” you added, when he just shook his head.

“i don’t want to do something, both of us might regret later.” his reply was strange, did he really think you’d regret anything that includes him in any way?

after that, the room remained silent — wordlessly, james handed you clothes that seemed like a good pyjamas material and turned away while you shamelessly changed. “can you stay with me?” you asked, stopping him in his tracks.

“of course.”

he laid down beside you, his eyes focused on the ceiling above. “have you ever thought how would your life looked like if you stayed in england?” the question left his mouth swiftly. “or if you never got back, do you think you’d fall out of touch with sirius?”

“there’s always a possibility that could happen, but i don’t think so, you know.” you answered, shifting on the mattress to see that he was already looking at you. “however, there were times when i thought he would throw away all those years of friendship.”

his curious gaze made you continue. “two years ago, he told me all about his plans with you. that you’d live together, far enough from his parents to not be threatened by them, but close enough to visit your parents every weekend. it sounds funny now, but all those plans — the apartment somewhere in the southern london, traveling and other stuff were exactly what we’d planned before i was forced to leave. that’s the only letter from sirius i didn’t keep. i couldn’t, it was a sign that the friendship wouldn’t last forever, so i burned it.” you shrugged, laying the fluffy blanket on top of your bodies. “i really wanted to hate you for this all those years, you know? but you seemed too fun to do so, coming here just made me more certain.” that was the first time in the whole evening that you’ve heard him laugh, feeling as if his normal self was coming back to you.

“look where we ended up.” the smile on his face was contagious. you beamed, laughing. you were so jealous of james two years earlier, and now you didn’t want him to leave the warm sheets of your bed. his face was getting so close to yours, you let yourself think he wanted to kiss you for a moment. maybe it was just the intoxication? “i don’t know where this might go, so i’m gonna say it know. i want us to stay on friends basis, please.”

and with those words it was your time to turn silent, acting sleepy to make him think you were about to drift off to sleep. “don’t worry, that’s what i wanted too.” you muttered with your eyes closed.

from that moment on, you hardly even spent time with james anymore, always finding an excuse to bail out if someone even suggested that you should hangout with them. the way you two acted was growing suspicious, and who would remus be if he didn’t notice?

“you’re sulking.” lupin retorted, when it was only james and he in their dorm, both pretending to not paying attention to one another. “care to elaborate? it’s been a month since you got so grumpy.”

“you won’t tell sirius?” potter tilted his head to the side, putting away the magazine he was reading and looked directly at his friend, who shook his head. “it’s about y/n.”

“so? you seemed to get along well when she got here.” remus frowned. “i mean-, you’re right, but then there was the party in october and uh, we almost kissed. i wanted to kiss her, but i quite panicked.” the seeker explained, making the werewolf to deepen his frown. “james, i swear to god what have you done?”

but remus already know. marlene had told him a few days after the party that the two lovebirds were drifting away, and prongs was definitely the reason of the sudden change in their dynamics. until now, he was just looking for a chance to speak with him about it.

“i said i wanted to keep it on friends basis, she rarely talks to me ever since.” he sighed, turning down the volume of the radio. “i really wanted to keep talking to her without breaking sirius’ heart if something between us happened.”

“wait.” the frown was now an unchanging part of remus’ face. “why do you think you’d possibly break pads’ heart if you started dating y/n?” lupin shifted on his bed, yet to connect all the dots.

james grimaced at the thought of his response, wasn’t it obvious? “well, it’s against the brocode to steal someone’s girlfriend, isn’t it?” upon hearing that, remus choked on water, confusing his friend even more.

“prongs.” the blonde boy laughed, making his way towards the other boy. “i believe that if you started dating y/n, sirius would be far from heartbroken, and he wouldn’t consider you a girlfriend thief.” another bursts of laughter escaped from between lupin’s lips as he clutched his stomach. “if you’d like to break his heart, you’d have to steal someone else, not a girl he considers a sister.”

all remus regretted that moment was that he left his camera at lily’s, so he was unable to capture the funniest expression on james’ face, he has ever seen. “you should really talk to her, to at least explain yourself.” he squeezed his friend’s knee in reassurance, before james stood up. “i’d look for her in marl’s dorm, if i were you.” he hinted, disappearing behind bathroom’s doors.

you sat on marlene’s bed with dorcas right next to you, her arm thrown around your shoulder as you drunk the wine, she bought specifically for that evening. it happened to be the day, when girls had their weekly girls’ night, so mckinnon thought you should tagged along.

the knocking on the door interrupted lily’s story about remus and hers trip to edinburgh last summer, and the one hot girl she met back then. “hey, is y/n there?” james’ voice rang loudly in the room, giving you shivers. you couldn’t have a day without thinking of him, could you?

marlene flashed you a look, before looking back at him. “i don’t know, do you think she’d like to talk to you?” she crossed arms at her chest, watching the rosing confusion on his face, before you appeared in the view, ruining the whole scary girl gig. “we’ll be right here, love.” she nudged you lightly as you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you.

“heard you were looking for me…?” you asked, muscles stiff at the thought of being one on one with him. “can we do it quickly? my wine’s bottle is probably emptied by dorcas now.” you chuckled, trying to sound as calm as you only could.

“i don’t want to be friends anymore.” his confession made your heart twitch. the alcohol running in your veins almost made you vulnerable in front of him. the sigh that left your mouth was his signal to realize you misunderstood him. “you really came up here to tell me that?”

it was getting pretty bad, and james knew, there was one thing he could do that wouldn’t mess up what he wanted to tell you. hands flew to your cheeks, cupping them with his palms as leaned in to kiss you. it was definitely unexpected — but you couldn’t resist him, the thing you’ve wanted so bad, finally came true. james’ lips on yours.

he took his time before pulling away, and when he did, you were reminded that there was world beside him. all the misery you were in was long gone, just by seeing the smile on his face. “i’m sorry.” the seeker began, his eyes tracing around your face but not stopping on your eyes once. “i misinterpreted the relationship between you and padfoot, and it got all messy in my head. i thought you two were… you know, a thing.”

a quiet chuckle escaped from between your lips, caressing his cheek gently with a thumb, involuntarily smiling at his vivid embarrassment. “james,” you spoke out softly, amusement still audible in your tone. “hypothetically, if sirius and i were a thing, would i really invite you to spend time in my room, one on one, always suggesting that you should stay overnight? you, my hypothetical boyfriend’s best friend?”

“well, i haven’t thought about it.” he shrugged, smile tugging on his face. “nonetheless, i’m taking you on a date, but don’t tell sirius. i’m sure he’s going to kill me for hitting up on you.” james scoffed, hair getring ruffled by his fingers.

“when did i agree on going on a date with you?” you asked, biting back a smile, at the same time trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “don’t worry, i’ve never told on a cute boy before.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but marlene opened the door and snatched you inside, before you could even react, her action earning a few laughs in response. “excuse me, lover boy, but the time is up!” the blonde laughed, visibly tipsy, and disappeared behind the door.

now, james potter had two things to do — figure out where should he take you out, and how to tell his best friend that he wants to date his childhood best friend.

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 month

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How about reader, who is a seasoned gamer, invites Gaz to play something like Valorant or Fortnite etc. She says "dw it took me a while to get good too" but he picks it up stupid quick. He spends the rest of the time enjoying winding her up more than the actual game.

absolutely absolutely. gaz can and should get away with everything.

1,833 words / lucky number 13

...

"Gaz... you know most people play video games to escape their responsibilities."

"So you've told me." Gaz's voice crackles over your headset.

You're staring at your screen, watching as he confirms his character selection in the game's lobby. "You're absolutely sure you want to play tank?" you ask him.

He locks in his character, and it appears in the pregame lobby: a bald-headed, square-jawed guy with a muscular build and heavy armor.

"Positive. You're playing healer, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm playing tank. Pocket me."

"You've never even played this game. We'll both get obliterated."

"Come on. How hard can it be? Shoot, use ability, reset. I take the damage; you heal me; I dish it back out; we win; you thank me for carrying you as always. It's just like our usual game."

"Repeat that last one. I think your mic cut out on account of the bullshit."

"You don't think I can keep the heat off you?"

"I don't need you to keep the heat off me. I just want you to have fun and not die in the first five seconds of the round," you tell him. He did buy this game specifically to play it with you. After a totally reasonable amount of prodding on your part. It's been your go-to for weeks.

"Then pocket me and I won't die. I'm not having fun if I'm not in the thick of it. You know me."

"Fine. For one game."

"Bet," Gaz says, sounding smug about it. "I'm not gonna disappoint."

During that first game, he's getting his bearings. But he takes to it rather intuitively, especially with your help over voice chat. His tactical skills are whip-sharp as always. As you pocket him, you focus your character's abilities on keeping Gaz alive. But you switch to upping his damage output when you realize he's holding down a choke point by himself, taking on enemies and laying out a field of fire for your team. It's impressive, considering this is his first time playing the game.

When an enemy sneaks up on you, his pocket healer, he disposes of them with slightly more prejudice.

"You're pretty good at this," you tell him, scanning the results screen. "I mean, maybe mid-tier if you were on your own."

"Mid-tier?" he says, a little affronted. "It's called being adaptable. Not that you'd know. Hundreds of hours in this game and you're mid-tier support at best."

You cross your arms, leaning back in your computer chair. "Because I don't play support. You know what? I'm switching to DPS. See what you carry without me patching your ass up every ten seconds."

Back in the lobby, you select your main. Gaz eyes the character with a bit of respect. "A rogue, huh? You must think you're pretty good. Gonna need a lot more healing."

"Only if I get hit."

"I could sponge that damage right up for you. Keep you nice and safe."

You scoff. "Won't need it."

"Let's see."

In the next round, you weave in and out of combat, gleefully dodging attacks and landing devastating blows before you disappear. Your bread and butter. Meanwhile, Gaz does--at worst--an admirable job tanking. Still, when you look back and see enemies surrounding him, it's clear he could use an assist.

You double back and flank two of the enemies on him, picking them both off one by one. But before you can gloat, his voice in your headset interrupts you.

"Good kills, baby."

That's not the reaction you wanted. It immediately ticks you off. "I know."

He chuckles and takes down another enemy. He's tunneling in on the fight now that you've got him back on his feet, but clearly he still has time to talk to you. "Can't take a compliment."

The face that he's purposely pushing your buttons just irritates you more.

The next few games, he makes himself indispensable as a tank. It should be a good thing, but he keeps getting in your way specifically. You'd swear it's on purpose. He tanks hits for you and then acts like you'd lose the game without him. His cockiness is insufferable. Worse--you can't ignore how deftly he's scaling the difficulty curve here. He's holding the attention of the enemy players, keeping them away from you while you deal the damage. And you'd never admit it, but the way he's holding aggro is saving your ass.

You shouldn't need him to do that, though. You tell yourself the only reason you're not playing better is because he's forcing you to maneuver around him.

Then he offs the enemy rogue right as you're finishing her off. You swear into the mic. "Gaz, come on! You stole my kill."

"I'm giving my little rogue the help she needs. Besides, you know it's not about getting the most kills. It's about the team's collective score," he teases, and you have to remind yourself it's just a game.

It's like he can tell exactly what to do to piss you off in record time after that. Bossing you around, telling you to take this point or make that kill. He even pipes up once to remind you it'd be a good time to use your ult. You open your mouth to tell him it's not ready yet, but to your chagrin, you glance down and realize it is. Somehow he's keeping track? Unreal.

You're a little impressed about that one, but you'd never tell him. In your defense, he's distracting you with all this banter and teasing. He's making it hard to focus.

"No backseat gaming," you tell him.

"Wouldn't have to backseat game if you played better."

"I would be playing better if you weren't crowding me!" You sigh out your nose. "You're only doing this to get a rise out of me. Micromanaging me. I swear you get off on it."

"You're giving me too many opportunities to obsess over you." He sounds smirky.

The way he says it makes something in your lower stomach flip. You lose focus for half a second--long enough for the enemy rogue to slip past Gaz and smack you.

Gaz slams into her with his shield to stun her, then spins around and uses his special to deal more damage. That last hit downs her. You don't even have a chance to react.

His voice in your headset is smug still. "Like I said."

"Fine. Thanks."

"You can thank me by not dying again."

After the game, you sit back in your chair, arms crossed. "You sure talk a lot of shit."

"Am I?" You hear him grinning. "I hoped you'd give me a little more attitude than that."

"Oh, I know. You're not subtle."

"Neither are you. You get riled up so easy."

"You want me to fight you? Because it sounds like you'd rather me just roll over and bite the damn curb."

"No, you want that. You're a masochist."

"Thank you."

"It isn't a compliment."

"I know. Keep bullying me," you snark into your mic.

It's hard to resist teasing you when you say stuff like that. "Okay," he says, his tone turning playful. He leans back, crosses his legs, and situates himself in his chair. The game's results screen idles on his monitor, forgotten. "You've gotta stop making it so easy for me, though."

"I get that a lot."

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

"Ooh, are we doing condescension now?"

"I've been condescending to you since minute one. I can turn it up if it's not obvious enough."

"Keep going and I'll get off."

"Off voice chat, you mean?"

You smirk. "No."

He smiles, rolling his shoulders back. "I can absolutely be more condescending to you if that's what your incompetent little heart desires."

You laugh. "You were just waiting to bring that one out, weren't you?"

"I've got several of them tucked away just in case you got mouthy, But let's be honest--you're always mouthy."

"You're one to talk. You talked hella trash that last match."

"Only because I had to pull your ass out of the line of fire all the time. If you were better, I wouldn't have to. You're giving me ammunition, here."

"I just think it's telling that you play tank."

"Are you saying I'm compensating for something?"

"You said it. Not me."

He rolls his eyes, smirking. "You want to talk about projecting? You're the masochist, and you play a rogue? The one class known for being fragile? You're putting a target on your own back. What does that say about you?"

"Better than a tank main," you quip.

"I'm taking all the hits so you can DPS your way to getting play of the game. Makes me sound proper generous."

You examine your nails. "Makes you sound like a control freak."

"Why don't you look me in the eye and say that? Turn on your cam."

Your grin widens. "Gaz, please. If I turned my webcam on every time some guy online asked me to, I'd never have time to play."

He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Who says I'm kidding? Come on, baby. Give me eye contact. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm a control freak."

"Nope." You know he hates that you're not budging.

"Why? Aren't you decent?"

"More like I have Cheeto dust all over my hands."

"Doubt that."

"It's true."

"Come on. Prove it."

"See? Control freak."

"Fine, I'm a control freak--withyou. But you like it, don't you?"

"Oh, I love when you order me around. I love knowing exactly what you want me to do so I can avoid doing it forever."

He sits back in his chair and stares through his screen. It's not like he's never seen your face before. You've posted a selfie or two in shared chats. But he's never seen you cozied up in your pajamas. Or in a cute little robe. Or maybe a big t-shirt, the soft kind. Like he wears.

Yeah, he's realizing he's down bad. Worse than he thought.

"You wanna make the next round more interesting, then?" he asks.

You arch a brow, propping your sock-covered feet up on your desk. "Like how?"

"You lose, you turn on your camera, obviously."

You snicker. "I don't know what you think I get up to on a Friday night, but you're gonna be sorely disappointed." You pop another Cheeto in your mouth, knowing he'll hear it crunch.

Gaz laces his fingers behind his head. "I've already curbed my expectations. Bet you're sitting around in sweats and a hoodie with some anime character on it." Not that the thought of that isn't appealing. He suspects you don't let many people see you that way.

"You're... uh..." You look down at what you're wearing. "Not far off, actually."

"I know, baby. I've seen your Discord handle."

"So what if I win?"

"Then I won't tell anyone how hard you got stomped these last few rounds. And trust me, I'd be telling everyone. It's embarrassing how much of a load you were. Don't take that the wrong way, though--by all means, just sit there looking cute while I carry this next game."

"Oh, you're on."

Gaz grins, leaning forward. "Yeah, we'll see how cocky you are when I put you back in your place."

You pull your chair back up to your desk, hands poised over your mouse and keyboard. "Promises, promises."

Gaz readies up, too. "Don't worry, baby. I'll keep my word. But once I humble you, you're gonna regret ever doubting me."

...

more Gaz / masterlist tag

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snaillock · 9 months

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could I pls ask for a boyfriend's Nagi x male reader? like him having a weakness for the reader and being like a puppy with him? idk if I'm explaining myself idk how to put it in words 😭 I love blue lock and there's almost no x male reader with them so I'm excited to find this sorry 😓

nagi x male!reader

AHHH my first request!! tysm for asking i would love to make this! i also got curious and only found like three nagi x male readers (two of which were smuts that i was too uncomfortable to read☠️) but don't worry im here to save the day. this also ended up being a lot longer than expected but still really hope you enjoy!! ^^

tags: male reader, sad nagi backstory moment, me getting too carried away with build up again

you were one of the few people who didn’t look at nagi like he was some anomaly. while others in your school would steer clear and gossip about him behind his back, you were one of the only people who spoke to him and treated him like an actual person and not some freak of nature

you would try to talk to him in class but he wouldn’t talk back (since “talking is such a pain”) so you assumed you were bothering him and eventually stopped.

nagi eventually noticed you wouldn’t talk to him in class anymore and it didn’t bother him at first. but eventually he finds himself missing it and would make the rare effort of trying to initiate conversations with you.

that led to you guys talking every day during class. the more you two spoke, the more you realized how much you had in common with him. you soon asked him if he wanted to come over to hang out.

he usually rejects any hang-out offers from literally anyone. though when you asked him if he wanted to come over to your place to play video games together, he accepted because he found you to be less of a hassle to be around compared to others.

when he came over, he realized he actually really enjoys being around you and had fun spending his time playing games with you. he even took a look around your room to admire all the things you’ve collected that represent your personality and interests. this only made him more captivated by you and wanted to be much closer friends

now for the exciting part

once some time has passed and you two got closer, you soon find out he’s a shamelessly clingy person both emotionally and physically.

whenever he would see you, he randomly wraps his arms around you and latch onto you. he hates being forced to let go whenever you two have to go to class.

he gives absolutely zero fucks about being publicly affectionate with another guy in school, paying no mind to the weird stares and whispers

he constantly wants to stay over at your place and when you come over to his for the first time, he introduces you to choki (a hugeeee moment for him trust me)

nagi truly loves being with you. at first, he didn’t care about being an outcast until you showed up in his life and showed him what true friendship and love was like

soon his feelings for you as a friend develops into something much more unfamiliar before he can realize it. falling in love was definitely a new experience for nagi and falling in love with you specifically was a slow delicate process

he definitely didn’t realize for a while that he likes you in that way until he finds himself admiring you as you somehow have soft lighting all over your face and pink flowers and hearts circling your head (all in his imagination my boy is completely whipped). he then thinks, “hmm this feels like one of the shojo mangas i’ve read befo- ohhhhh!”

once the initial shock is over, he’s already bold enough to confess to you quickly after. i can imagine him suddenly telling you how he feels in the most random scenario ever.

it would be so out of nowhere. you guys could be out walking in the park. you casually sip out of your bottle when he nonchalantly says, “wanna be my boyfriend?” with his signature neutral face, making you choke and cough on your water.

he would then elaborate on how much he likes you with the plainest face ever like it was a regular tuesday conversation. the one difference is the light flush on his cheeks and you can definitely tell that he truly means all of it. so once you stopped coughing, you obviously accept his confession

if you thought he was already pretty damn clingy prior to you two becoming a couple, then be prepared for that to increase tenfold

holding hands isn’t enough for him, ideally he needs to be super glued onto you permanently for the rest of his life

you guys are definitely the couple people gag at when they see you both curled up cuddling each other in the hallway.

once again, he gives absolutely no shits. he needs to show off what an amazing boyfriend he has so he’ll never tone it down on the pda

on the very very rare occurrence that you're not with him and you happened to be talking to someone else in the hallway, he sees this and immediately gets a little possessive. so he walks up right behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on you. you assume he's just being needy again and find it cute, completely unaware of how he's now glaring deep into that person’s soul from over your shoulder. i mean you’re his man and his man only so everyone needs to know.

he requires you to pet and run your fingers through his hair for a low minimum for uhhh 2000 times a day. you swear that he purrs every time you do it but when you try to listen out for another one, he already fell asleep on your shoulder

whenever you guys are cuddling either at his dorm or your place, he just lays his entire body weight onto you like a heated blanket while resting his head on your shoulder with your fingers carded through his hair. if you try to gently nudge him off so you can get up and use the bathroom, he audibly whines and eventually relents. he totally tries to follow you into the bathroom after that.

whenever you compliment or praise him, he looks totally unaffected but internally, he’s jumping around screaming. meanwhile, he will randomly drop the most endearing and beautiful arrangement of words at you in a completely neutral voice and just move on with his day like you didn’t just witness the most flattering thing you’ve ever heard.

loves whenever you randomly grab his chin and give him a short but very sweet kiss.

nah actually scratch that. nagi loves kisses from you anytime anywhere. fleeting cheek kisses before you both head to class. kisses on his forehead as you hold him close under the covers. drawn out victory kisses you both finally finish a difficult match together. no matter what it is, he always helplessly melts into each one.

before you appeared in nagi's life, his world was just one big dull pain he simply had to push through every day. now that he had you by his side, he finally had the motivation to get out of bed every day.

#★ snail.writes ★#blue lock #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x male reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x male reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock fluff #male reader #scheduled #wrote this while getting into the smashing pumpkins #so so good btw totally recommend hello kitty kat

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say-al0e · 6 months

Text

Starlight

Rating: PG

Summary: As your back seater, you trusted Bob with your life. He was the one person you could tell anything. He cared enough to listen and did what he could to ease your anxiety. He knows something's wrong but he couldn't imagine the birdstrike made you consider feelings you thought were better left buried. [Ft. "It's you, it's always been you, it always will be you." + "I'm so in love with you and you don't even notice." "...you're in love with me?" Requested by Anon ages ago - sorry!] Warnings: Anxiety, mentions of work related injury (birdstrike), brief mention of sexism in the workplace. Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x fem!Reader (Pilot!Reader) Word Count: 3.8k Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

Robert Floyd knew what it was like to be anxious. He spent his fair share of days in a suspended state of fight or flight, really only relaxed when he was in the air - a contradiction, he knew, but being strapped into his seat with nothing but the blue expanse of sky stretching before him was comforting in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

Anxiety was something he knew all too well but he knew you, too. Over the years, Bob had learned to read you better than the most well-loved book on his shelf. The little tells that everyone else missed - the downward curve of your mouth, the slump of your shoulders, the uneven measure of your breathing - never escaped his notice.

It was easy to guess that the measure of comfort, the ease with which he read you, came from your proximity. As your back seater, Bob spent more time with you than anyone else. He was trained to notice things, to anticipate the next move, to read a few lines ahead, and you - your moods, your tells, your general being - were at the top of the list of things he noticed.

For better or for worse, good day or bad, Bob could tell with a single look.

There was no hiding from Bob, not that you even tried anymore, and there was never any surprise that he saw the signs of your anxiety immediately.

The moment you stepped into his room - fingers trembling, lashes fluttering as you blinked just a little too quick, breath coming in a little too shallow - he knew. There was no point in trying to hide it, no use in pretending that it was anything other than anxiety. Bob could see right through you by now.

Way back when, when he first realized that you were just as anxious as him and lived in that same state of suspended fight or flight, he’d asked what helped.

For Bob, it was music. Very few people knew he enjoyed playing guitar - even fewer had ever heard him play to know that he was good at it - but when he found himself lost in thought, crippled by an anxiety that left him nauseous, he took a few moments to sit and strum away. His vinyl collection remained back home, waiting for the day he moved into a place that he could really make his own, but when playing guitar didn’t work, he still turned on the playlist he made specifically for moments of anxiety and let himself get lost in the music.

Bob remembered the look on your face when you admitted that you had no idea. That frown - a little confused, curious as to why he even asked; a lot upset, crushed that you had no idea how to help yourself after spending your life almost hyper independent - and the way you nearly refused to meet his eyes, intently staring at the stained carpet of his bedroom floor, remained seared into his memory.

Before him, there’d been no one to acknowledge your feelings. Growing up, you were always the tough one. In the Naval Academy, and at Top Gun, you pushed yourself to be the best - eager to be taken seriously in a world dominated by men. Outwardly, everyone saw you as the strong one; the one that was capable of pushing through, no matter the circumstances.

Before him, no one cared enough to truly look and see beyond the facade. If they noticed, no one ever really cared enough to try and help. Before him, each time you felt anxious - chest aching, lungs tight, heart racing, skin prickling - you isolated yourself.

Dealing with the problem on your own was easier when there was no additional disappointment caused by another’s apathy.

Bob, however, cared.

If you told him that isolation really helped - truly meant it, really needed time alone to gather yourself, to pick apart the pieces of your panic and put yourself back together again - he would’ve gladly given you space. But that wasn’t the case and Bob knew that.

At first, he had no idea how to help, but he knew that leaving you alone wasn’t the way too go about things. No matter how hard you tried to push him away - something he was thankful you no longer tried to do.

And after a great deal of trial and error, he helped you figure out what worked best.

Instead of allowing you to step further inside, Bob was on his feet and reaching for his keys and jacket the second he caught sight of your face. He could see the glass of your eyes, the far-off stare as you willed yourself not to fall apart. And despite the blistering heat outside, he could see the way shivers racked your body.

Without a second thought, he draped the soft fabric over your shoulders. It was light but it served as a weight against your skin, a sort of tether to reality, as he guided you out of his room.

Warmth bled from his palms, seeped through the fabric and into your skin as he placed a hand at the middle of your back, and his mouth curved into a soft frown as you leaned into the touch. It wasn’t as exceedingly rare as it seemed that first time - way back when, before Bob knew whether your partnership would work, before he was comfortable enough with you as a friend to really allow himself to fall for you - but you really only leaned in like that when you were so far in your head that he wondered just what sent you spiraling.

Bob wasted no time wondering, however. “C’mon,” he urged gently, voice quiet and soft in a way it always seemed to go in moments like this. “Let’s go for a drive.”

As he guided you out of the building, he kept closer than he usually stood - only a fraction of an inch between you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body and the shivers racking yours - and squeezed your shoulder gently as he opened the passenger door. Soft brown eyes, wide and searching, met yours as you climbed in.

When you offered him the ghost of a smile, watery and in no way reaching your eyes, he returned it as best as he could - encouraging, soft, easy - and mumbled a quiet, “It’s okay,” before rounding the vehicle.

There was no need to ask where he was taking you. This had become an increasingly regular occurrence - a byproduct of the stress of work and life, family and all their endless frustration, all settling heavy on your chest - so you wrapped the soft fabric of his sweatshirt tighter around your body. The warmth mattered little, even as Bob turned on the heat despite his own discomfort, as you inhaled deeply.

The jacket smelled of him - the soft, clean scent of his shampoo; the woody, citrus scent of his cologne; acrid jet fuel, achingly familiar, that managed to permeate every item either of you owned - and it calmed your heart, if only slightly. Though it was light, the added weight helped, pressed on your shoulders and eased the tremors in your limbs, as Bob slowly maneuvered the streets.

Doe eyes flickered between you and the road occasionally, soft brown reflecting orange streetlights and glittering with a concern you only really saw directed at you. Bob cared about a lot of things - his friends, his family, his job - and was anxious about even more. But he really only worried about you these days.

Bob never voiced it aloud, never said it in so many words, but you knew. Everyone knew. There was very little fragile about you - he knew that, had seen you take charge on more than one occasion; regularly watched you hold your own with men like Hangman, men who somehow managed to be worse than Hangman ever thought about being - but he still worried.

Outwardly, the pair of you could’t seem anymore different. Bob relegated himself to the shadows, allowed the world to spin without throwing himself right into the center of it all. You never sought attention but, somehow, always seemed to garner it without so much as the blink of an eye. Not that he blamed anyone for focusing on you, he was guilty of it, too, most days.

But he knew that you shared more similarities than differences.

Long years, left out and forgotten, invisible to nearly everyone else; less than stellar childhoods, spent building fantasies that had yet to come to pass as a means of protecting yourselves; years of service, marked by exemplary records and commendations, even through relative silence.

If anyone could really understand what you felt, the anxiety that all too often plagued you, the root of what really kept you up at night, it was Bob.

As buildings rushed by, passed in a blur of shadows and orange streetlights, you busied yourself with a fraying thread at the cuff of his jacket. Though silence was not unusual, this was heavier than normal - nearly suffocating, without the usual comfort, lacking the distinct feeling of home that so often came with spending time together - but breaking it was the last thing on either of your minds.

Bob would never push, would never make you speak before you were ready, and knew that you were one of the few who truly appreciated his ability to remain a quiet, steady force as he navigated the familiar course through town.

The beach wasn’t a place either of you frequented - sun and sand and a preening Hangman didn’t top either of your lists of favorite things - and before being stationed in California, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d stepped foot on one. There wasn’t really much there for either of you but Bob had discovered one thing about the beach that managed to help your anxiety.

Sitting in the sand, cloaked in the soft light of the moon, as you listened to the crashing of waves made it easier for you to catch your breath. Watching the twinkling lights of distant stars, planets, passing planes - sometimes pointing them out, others just watching in silence - brought your heart rate down and stopped the tingling in the tips of your fingers.

Neither of you expected the beach to be the place you found solace but Bob had no intention of questioning something that helped you return to yourself.

Arriving at the beach meant following a familiar routine. Bob parked, grabbed an oversized towel from the backseat floorboard, and spared you a final cursory glance before climbing out to open your door for you. He guided you, with a hand at the middle of your back - always so respectful, always careful not to dip too low - along the wooden path down to the sand before stopping and helping you remove your shoes.

When you settled in the sand, close enough to the water to feel the occasional spray of sea air but far enough ashore to remain out of reach, he always returned his full attention to you.

Sometimes, Bob asked if you wanted to talk. He never pushed, was never one to swear getting whatever it was off your chest would make you feel better - he knew from experience that it wouldn’t, not always -, but he always offered to listen. However, more often than not, you refused his request with one of your own.

“Can you talk? Doesn’t really matter what you say.”

The words were always spoken softly, nearly lost in the crashing of waves, but this was routine now. It didn’t really matter if he heard the words or not, he could see the request in the curve of your mouth - in the way your eyes glittered with unshed tears as you glanced at him from beneath your lashes.

That request was always followed by an even quieter, “Your voice helps.” While Bob wasn’t known for being the most talkative, he swore he’d spend the rest of his life speaking, just for you.

When you first made that request, he nearly asked you why. His voice wasn’t one people sought out, wasn’t one people cared to pay much attention to. But for some reason, you seemed to find comfort in it - in him - and the thought warmed his heart more than he cared to admit.

Bob never really let himself think too much about any of it, though, not where you were concerned. If he allowed himself that indulgence, he knew it would be glaringly obvious how he felt. There would be no denying just how deep his feelings for you ran, no denying that he’d known about those feelings since that first night at the beach. But most of all, there would be no denying that he was desperate to do anything and everything to make you happy.

There wasn’t a world in which Bob could see you returning his feelings - not just because of your jobs, not just because your lives were so thoroughly intertwined at this point that your inevitable rejection would destroy the effortless working relationship you’d built - so he kept them buried down deep.

It didn’t help to know that he wasn’t the only one who’d found you immediately alluring. Still, he’d witnessed you turn down Fanboy, Rooster, and Hangman in rapid succession - something that dashed any remaining sliver of hope that you could ever want him.

Regardless, the more time he spent with you, the better he got to know you, the deeper his feelings ran. You allowed him to catch glimpses that no one else ever got the privilege of seeing, allowed him a look at the inner workings of your mind. You let your guard down around him, gave him an intimate look at the person behind the bravado you felt necessary to survive in this world, and he was grateful for every glimpse.

As desperate as he sometimes felt to put a little distance between you outside of the cockpit, Bob knew that he couldn’t stand it. Not when he was the one you turned to, not when you seemed to find such comfort in him. So, he did as you asked.

“My grandma called this morning,” he began, voice quiet so as to avoid shattering the peace that surrounded you both. “She said it snowed yesterday and threatened to hang up on me when I told her it’s been seventy-five and sunny here every day.”

From the corner of his eye, Bob could see the ghost of a smile lift the corner of your mouth. A soft exhale, something that resembled quiet laughter, escaped and he began to smile a little himself. You’d had the joy of meeting his grandmother on her last visit - asked about her just as often as she asked about you - and loved to hear stories of her more than anything.

“The neighbor’s cows got into her yard again, trampled what was left of her flowers. Mr. Abbott, down the road, said he’d come fix her fence when the snow clears so it won’t happen again and his wife promised to help replant her flowers so she’s not too upset, I guess.”

Bob held his breath as you shifted closer, rested your head on his shoulder and hummed thoughtfully, but willed his heartbeat to remain steady as he swallowed. “Lizzy’s supposed to have her baby in a few weeks. She told me to tell you thanks for the gift.”

Another soft hum, this one a little more lively than the last, reverberated through his skin as you acknowledged his sister’s gratitude. “Glad she liked it.”

“Think she’s got pretty much everything she could need now. Can barely get in the baby’s room,” he confided, laughing lightly as he glanced out at the still ocean. “Grandma said they’re gonna have to store some stuff at her house, until they need it.”

A brief quiet fell over the pair of you then as you attempted to focus on your breathing while Bob made a conscious effort to keep his hands from shaking as he dusted sand from his palms. This was in no way new. In fact, he should’ve expected it - the quiet, the close proximity, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose as you attempted to gather yourself - but it managed to shock him to his core every single time it happened.

Though a small part of him wanted to linger, to allow you the time to speak when you were ready, he couldn’t help himself as he asked, “What’s on your mind?”

Bob waited patiently as you considered your answer, waited with few expectations as you weighed the words carefully in an attempt to decide just how honest you wanted to be. He expected many things - a lament of how hard you’d all been training, a huff at how difficult Hangman had been, a roll of your eyes as you mentioned your mother’s latest tirade - but he felt a sort of mild surprise when you answered.

“The birdstrike.” He was the person you let in the most, the person you allowed a glimpse beyond your tough facade, but the birdstrike was something neither of you spoke of.

Nearly two weeks had passed since the incident, one that saw you both ejecting in the middle of training - one that left you with a concussion and Bob with a bruised rib - and he’d assumed you were planning to avoid speaking about it. There’d been a tense moment in the hospital, one in which you’d shared a wordless conversation, and that was that.

Really, though, he should’ve known better.

“What about it?” He wasn’t one to press, not really, but he felt the need to ask as you began drawing nonsensical patterns in the sand at your side.

“I… I know it was just a freak accident. It happens. But I was just… I was afraid,” you admitted, voice quiet over the rush of the ocean. “I was afraid of what would happen to us, to you. I didn’t,” you paused then, taking a moment to inhale a shaking breath as you gathered your thoughts. “I didn’t want that to be the end. And I know I should’ve been thinking about something more important in that moment, like my family or the future or something, but the only thing I could think about was the fact that I’m so in love with you and you don’t even notice.”

For a moment, Bob feared the exhaustion he was beginning to feel had caught up with him. There was no way he heard what he thought he did. There was no planet on which you returned his feelings, no timeline in which it made sense for you to love him, too, but the words echoed loud and clear in his ears.

To know that you’d spent that moment thinking of him, wondering if he reciprocated your feelings, simultaneously eased the ache in his chest and sent his heart rate soaring. It was difficult to do much more than blink, to flounder as he searched for something comforting to say, and he ultimately landed on the obvious.

“…you’re in love with me?” The question was high-pitched, edging on hysterical, but Bob couldn’t bring himself to care very much as he tipped his head to glance at you.

There was a faraway look in your eyes as you glanced out at the ocean, a deliberate attempt to keep from meeting his eyes, as you hummed. “Yeah.” It was defeated, quiet, almost resigned as you made a thoughtful noise. “You make it so hard to be anything but in love with you.”

Robert Floyd had been called many things in his lifetime; quiet, odd, difficult. Lovable was never a word he’d encountered. His mouth opened and closed several times in search of the right words to say, something that would adequately portray his own feelings, but all he seemed to be capable of was a disbelieving, “I… no one’s ever said anything like that to me.”

“That’s always so surprising to me,” you revealed, still refusing to glance in his direction, though he was certain you could feel the rapid beat of his heart. “It’s you. It’s been you from the moment we met and I’m starting to think it will always be you. I realized it before then and I know that this is probably a terrible thing, being in love with you when our lives are so intertwined. If you don’t…” You trailed off, pausing for a moment to gather yourself, before you cleared your throat. “If you don’t feel the same, work might be weird. Or if you do and something happens later on, it might ruin what we have. I’ve thought about it for a while, whether I should say something, and after that I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have but I figured you deserved to know.”

Those were fears Bob had, too, reasons he’d kept his own feelings to himself as he realized you’d likely be assigned a new back seater and your time together would be cut in half, but knowing that you felt the same made it difficult for him to continue upholding that line of logic.

There was always a chance that you’d be separated - that you’d be sent in different directions, across the world from one another. To refuse to act on feelings that he now knew you shared out of fear for the unknown no longer seemed like the best course of action.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, poetic words that he could share to assure you he felt the same way, but nothing felt right. The only action he felt capable of in that moment was reaching out to cup your cheek. With your head tipped in his direction, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion, he leaned in to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he confessed, voice soft as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I have been for a while. There are a thousand ways this can go wrong,” he acknowledged, “but that doesn’t feel like it matters when you love me, too.”

“Can we worry about the future tomorrow? Right now, I just want to be in love.”

Bob knew that the conversation was one you’d have to have sooner rather than later but he was glad to grant your request. The future was uncertain but one thing he knew now, clear as day, was that his love was not unrequited and that was enough to get through the night.

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I started this ages ago but I finally finished it. Slowly but surely. Maybe I'll finish a few more requests before the end of the year!

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @callsignharper, @peoniarose, @hangmanscoming, @rh3tt, @dakotakazansky, @silversprings-mp3

#bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fic #v's fics

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 10 months

Text

taedros twodros

part one: taedros taedros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 1.9k reader: femme afab (maybe just afab idk again lemme know if you think it needs/doesn't need a femme label and i didn't use any pronouns so?? but i'm playing it safe just in case) SPECIFIC WARNINGS BELOW CUT ~ MINORS DNI MATURE SMUT!! summary: after weeks of loserbestfriend!taerae eating you out and seemingly wanting nothing in return, you finally find out the reason and offer to repay his original favor... okay. i did it. don't say i never did anything for you. don't spend it all in one place. 💀 also yes i ai enhanced that pic but i had no choice. he's so lame i love him. y'all like the title? twodros. okay bye.

EXPLICIT SMUT BELOW CUT-- MINORS DNI!!

specific warnings: oral f & m receiving, p in v (riding), subbyyyyy taerae want to make that clear but also switch taerae, switch reader, cum play, virgin taerae oops, pet names, taerae's red sweatpants, calling taerae's pussy eating obsession an "addiction", literally no mention of condoms or bc idk you know that's not always a good idea in real life but also i'm not a safe sex authority do whatever you want babe just think about it first :)

~*...*~

pressing light, teasing kisses to your clit, taerae chuckles at the frustrated sounds you’re making for him. his being so annoyingly cute even when eating you out isn’t helping. god, you’re dying to get your hands on him.

you don’t know when you started feeling this way about your best friend, but in the last three weeks something had undoubtedly changed. what started out as a pitch for taerae to tame your curiosity had since seemingly turned into a game of how many times during your weekly “movie night” he could make you cum before you passed out.

spoiler alert: it was a lot. taerae ate you out so much, in fact, that you were actually starting to worry…

was taerae addicted to eating pussy? had you been unknowingly enabling his pussy addiction? were you going to have to stage an anti-pussy intervention?

help check him into pussy rehab?

“fuuuck,” you whine, fingers threading through taerae’s hair as the sudden feeling of his tongue fucking into you breaks your train of thought. you’d already cum twice but taerae has caused you to become so greedy.

even if taerae had some sort of problem… who were you to complain when you were reaping all the benefits of it?

a moan from taerae brings your attention back to him and you notice he’s already begun humping the bed just a few minutes in. the past two weeks, he’d become less and less able to hold himself back; rutting into his mattress while you came on his tongue for hours.

you’d seen taerae like this last week and gently pulled him up to you by his shirt collar; salivating when you saw how hard he was in his joggers. your fingers hooked over his waistband as you looked up at him tentatively. you expected him to eagerly agree, but instead he’d just shook his head and returned his lips to your swollen cunt.

watching as taerae moans into you at both your sweetness and the friction on his clothed cock, you realize just how desperate you are to make him feel as good as he had been making you feel.

“taerae,” you say but he doesn’t hear you, eyes closed as his tongue laps at your folds. you tug his hair a bit harder to get his attention, repeating, “taerae?”

his eyes flutter open as he looks up at you-- pulling back from your pussy reluctantly. he runs the back of his hand across his chin, wiping some of your juices from his mouth. “what’s wrong, baby? everything okay?”

you shake your head. “tae...”

“what, baby?” he asks, pushing up on his hands and sitting up to dote on you. he places a hand on each of your knees, pressing kisses to the inside of each leg. “tapping out already? i know you can give me more.”

“tae, i--,” you whine at his words; sitting up a bit on your elbows. eyes falling to the crotch of taerae’s ugly red sweatpants he'd had since high school, the small wet spot you find sends a fresh wave of need to your core. “want you. want you so bad.”

“y--... you do?” he asks in utter disbelief. he blinks at you nervously; swallowing hard as he averts your gaze. “are you sure? ‘cause i can just keep doing this if you want--”

“do you really not want to fuck me or something?” you interrupt, pouting at your best friend. “you’re so hard you’re soaking through your pants, so i just thought that maybe you’d want to. but you absolutely don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“fuck, i want to,” he says softly, squeezing your knees as his eyes find yours again. “but...”

“tae,” you coo worriedly, finally closing your legs and climbing over to him. “is something wrong? is all of this too weird? maybe we shouldn’t have done any of this...”

“no, no, no! i like this,” taerae pleads, shaking his head quickly. he presses his lips together for a moment, clearly unsure of whether or not to say his next thought. “i--... i don’t wanna fuck this up.”

your brow furrows at the sentiment. “you’re not gonna fuck it up, tae.”

“i am,” he says, scrunching his nose up. “because... um. well. remember when i said i ‘wasn’t a virgin’?”

“OH MY GOD, I KNEW IT!” you shout; much to the horror of taerae. you take his face in your hands, squishing it up cutely. “why didn’t you tell me, you absolutely adorable little virgin loser?”

“i thought you’d make fun of me,” he huffs through the pout your hands are squishing his lips into. you unsquish his face; pushing his floppy hair back out of his eyes sweetly.

“you’re really fucking good at eating pussy, tae,” you compliment; his cheeks tinging red. “you had me fooled... is that the only thing you’ve done?”

he nods shyly.

“well look at us,” you say with a laugh, poking at his dimples. “no guys would eat me out and all girls will let you do is eat them out.”

he sighs; blinking quickly through his embarrassment.

“well i guess we can be done for tonight, if you want,” you say, starting to climb off of his bed when a hand around your wrist pulls you back. you look at him, the expression on his face telling you he’s as “curious” as you were a couple weeks ago.

“or i can help you out,” you suggest and from the way his cock twitches in his pants, you know he was hoping you’d say that. “if you wanna... see what it’s like?”

“mm. wanna see,” he evhoes softly and you’re surprised by how much cuteness is radiating off of him right now. you’re on top of him in seconds, finally kissing him for what you realize is the first time. his lips are so soft and responsive and when he whimpers into your mouth, you tug his shirt up and over his head and push him gently to the mattress; his head resting on his pillow as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

situating yourself between taerae’s legs, you pull at the waistband of his stupid red sweatpants and he helps you remove them. his bulge is straining against his black boxer briefs and you begin to palm him through them to help relieve some tension. as soon as he feels the slight pressure, he bucks his hips into your hand-- whining for more.

“do you want something, baby?” you ask, squeezing a bit firmer. he nods frantically, placing his hand over yours to keep you there. you squeeze a bit too hard now and taerae seethes at the pain. “don’t get demanding. you’ll take what i give you.”

he nods again, eyes wide with understanding. “m’sorry. m’so--... oh my god.”

pulling taerae’s boxers off his hips and down his legs, you sink down onto your stomach-- both of your hands wrapping around the base of his cock as you lick a long stripe from the shaft to the tip.

his dick is pretty— even prettier in your hands and you’re dying to put it in your mouth. sticking out your tongue teasingly, you tap him against it and the whimpers that fall out of taerae make you feel a bit dizzy with power.

after playing around a bit more with the head of his cock, you take his length in your mouth— pressing down on taerae’s hips to keep him from bucking down your throat by accident.

tapping the back of your throat lightly, the sound that he makes is both deliciously obscene and concerning. you really don’t want him to cum before you get to feel that pretty cock stretching your walls.

you pull off of him and the bratty whine from the loss of contact that escapes him only inflates your ego. “if you cum down my throat, you’re not gonna get to fuck me. is that what you want?”

taerae whines again, his hand finding the back of your head and gently trying to push you back down on him. you know he’s not actually being forceful— he just wants you to react.

as you smack his right thigh hard, the mesmerized look in taerae’s eyes is thrilling.

“let me take care of you, okay?” you soothe, sucking his cock sloppily in between words. “you’ve been so sweet to me, baby. wanna make you feel good.”

taerae nods with a whimper as you straddle him; grabbing the base of his cock to position under your entrance. as he feels you sink down onto him, all he can cry is, “oh my g— oh fuuuck."

“fuuuck,” you echo in aas your walls slowly mold to taerae’s size.

“please, please,” he moans; clearly already out of his mind. “n-need you s-so bad.”

“you’ve got me, baby,” you soothe, a hand gripping at either side of his chest. “how does it feel?”

“pussy so warm,” he cries, a hand finding each of your hips and holding them tightly. “so wet, too. oh my god it’s amazing.”

you wish all the guys you’d been with had talked to you like this. the way taerae basically worshipped your pussy was intoxicating.

“baby,” you whine— starting to fuck yourself on his cock. you watch as taerae’s eyes roll back in absolute bliss.

it’s only a few minutes before his nails are digging into the skin at your hips as he warns, “fuck, i can’t. m’sorry i can’t— gonna cum, g'nna—.”

“you can cum, baby,” you allow, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. he keeps you there for a moment, kissing you and moaning into your mouth until you pull back. “want you to cum.”

“fuck, i--. fuck, m’cumming,” he cries; hips bucking into you as he reaches his high. as he slowly comes down, he’s unintelligibly babbling, “pussy s’good, honey— wanna live in it oh my god s’perfect i could die…”

“ssssh, baby, it’s okay,” you coo, pressing kisses up his chest. “you did so good.”

“mmm,” he mewls, covering his face with his hands as his cheeks flush pink.

“you’re gonna wanna see this, tae,” you reach up and remove his hands from over his eyes, letting one fall to his chest and pulling the other towards you. lifting up off of him, taerae hisses at the loss of warmth as his cock falls to his stomach-- still leaking slightly from the tip.

“holy fuck,” he moans-- the sound turning to a light, disbelieving laugh as he watches both of your juices start to drip out of you and onto his balls. you bring his fingers to your core; coating his middle and ring fingers in the mixture and bringing them to your lips. you pop them in your mouth, sucking them clean as you see taerae’s cock twitch at the sight. “you’re so fucking hot-- i can’t take it.”

taerae sticks his fingers back in your entrance; this time bringing the liquid to his own lips. he pops his fingers in his mouth, exhaling with satisfaction at the taste. taking you by the waist suddenly and flipping you onto your back, he folds your legs to your chest-- granting himself full access to your pussy. he looks at you; the hungriest you’ve seen him yet as his focus returns to your messy, throbbing cunt. you whimper as taerae husks, “gonna clean you up.”

so what if he's addicted?, you think as he dives in again.

so are you.

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steve-faglan · 4 months

Text

Cat // Mouse

Reader x Steve Raglan (William Afton)

TW: NON CON!! DUB CON!! DRUGGING!! HE'S MEAN!!!!!!!!!

SUMMARY: You get a job working for an old man you want to fuck. Are you misreading things? Where did that vibrator come from?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is this considered a slow burn? It felt slow to write. It's supposed to be like will they? Won't they? But it's... Well yeah. Look at this gif??????? My PUSSSY????????

WORD COUNT: so many.

Daddy issues. At least, that's what they call it. That's what your ex screamed at you about before he left you in a state thousands of miles from the one you were raised in. He said it was because you made him feel immature; less than. But maybe he was. All he ever wanted to do was drink and play video games, you craved more.

After he left, you realized you'd have to get a better paying job to cover the portion of rent your ex was paying. You take a day to really let it settle in. You cry and drink an entire bottle of wine while watching Dirty Dancing, and then you schedule a meeting with a local career counselor.

You sigh as you hang up the phone. It's embarrassing to need a temp agency's help finding employment, but you're new to this area. You don't know anyone and you're barely sure where to start.

Your alarm blares throughout your room, startling you awake. You barely remember falling asleep at all, and somehow, it feels like you couldn't have possibly slept enough. You're sluggish and groggy, but you still find the energy to get ready for your interview. You're hoping a little extra effort will get you further in a small town like this, so you spend a little more time on your makeup before heading out of the house.

The drive across town to the agency is quick and easy. You pull into the parking lot and emerge from your car, shielding your eyes from the sun to read the rickety sign that's hanging on for dear life outside the building. You huff, unsure if this was the best place to go looking for higher-paying work. When you step inside the door, a petite old lady greets you with a smile. She points to an office down the hall and tells you to knock.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

You push the unlatched door open slightly and a warm voice invites you in.

"Come in, have a seat." The man instructs. You scan over his office. It's dated, and decorated with styles reminiscent of corporate America in the 80's. You read the name tag on his desk, Steve Raglan. You take a seat in one of the muted yellow chairs opposite Steve and await his introduction.

"Steve," he extends an arm over the desk and you shake his hand, telling him your name.

"Thanks for having me, Mr. Raglan. I'm new to town, well, new to the entire coast, really."

"Wow, a little far from home, aren't we?" Steve chuckles kindly, smiling with a tightly closed mouth, spreading his mustache across his lip.

"You have no idea," you laugh exhaustedly and Steve tilts his head as if he's pondering something, but he doesn't mention it. "Anyways, here's my resume. It's not much, but uh..." You hand him a folder with your work history document professionally stored inside. Steve happily takes the folder and begins to read through your papers.

Your resume is impressive. You're well educated with a strong work streak. Your work ethic stands out to him. He's reading through your accomplishments aloud, commending each one. You're unsure why, but his praise fills you with a very specific need. You crave more and something in you tells you that you'd do almost anything to get it.

"A course in robotic engineering?" Steve's voice sounds surprised. He looks up at you with raised eyebrows. A grin spreads across his bearded face. "Huh."

"Yeah, I actually took a few courses. I never did anything with it though."

"Do you remember a lot from those classes?" He sets the closed folder to the side and casually places other papers on top of it, distracting you enough to keep you from asking for it back.

"Oh, sure. Mostly coding, I guess." You shrug.

"Coding." He repeats to himself, nodding knowingly. He can think of a million places in this town that could use a smart, pretty little thing like you. A strained silence grows for just a moment before he speaks again. "Well, Y/N. I think I have an offer for you, but it's not much of a pay raise like you'd hoped."

"What is it?" You ask, hoping for at least a dollar difference.

"Did you see Mrs. Penneman out there?" Steve points in the direction of the kind old woman who greeted you.

"Mrs. Penneman?"

"She's at the front desk. She's retiring in exactly one week. That position will be open." He goes on to talk about the ways you could incorporate what you learned in your engineering classes as they switch from mostly paper to computers after Y2K.

"What's the pay like?" You ask, already knowing you plan to agree the second he stops talking.

"Not great, but!" He pauses for a moment. "Plenty of opportunities for overtime." Steve's not an idiot. He saw how looked when he was praising you. The way the red in your cheeks was flaming hot at the mere mention of you doing a good job. He knows what he's doing to you, and he loves it.

"Overtime?"

"Of course. Switching the entire employee records from paper to digital isn't an easy feat. It's going to take a lot of time you may not have during the work day. Does this suit you or should I keep looking?"

"Oh, uh," you hesitate. Steve stifles a grin as he watches your inner battle decide between being around him or possibly making more money. "Yes, that's perfect. Thank you, sir."

"Excellent. You start Monday." Steve ends the conversation abruptly. A jarring switch from friendly and conversational to busy and indifferent. It triggered something in you. A desperate need to get that warmth back.

"Right, okay. I'll... See you Monday." You leave the office, yearning. And Steve is well aware. He sits alone in his office, staring forward as he makes plans for you. He folds his hands together and rests his chin on them as he imagines the way he'll pick you apart like a toy. You're already so desperate for his approval, you've done the hard part for him.

Monday rolls around and you, of course, wake up a little early to get ready. Of course, you don't want to come off as desperate, so you're very tactful in the way you dress and present today, your first day. You've all but forgotten your ex was ever here, let alone the fact that you moved all the way to Hurricane, Utah for him.

Nervous, but good at hiding it, you walk into the building with a beaming false confidence. You're trying to remind yourself that while Steve is attractive and older and something mysterious about him draws you in, you're still here to work and you really can't let rent slip because homelessness is not an option when you're this far from your home state.

You brace yourself for what you assume will be an extremely long day, and you hope it is. Not only for the money but the view as well. When you walk up to the desk, Mrs. Penneman is nowhere to be found. All her belongings are missing from the desk, leaving a generic canvas of an office. You glance down the hall to Steve's open office door.

"Mr. Raglan?" You knock lightly on the door, stepping inside slowly so as not to intrude. He's not there. The entire building seems eerily empty. Just as you turn to leave his office, you run flat into a broad, solid figure. Steve. You stumble before finally falling backward. You sit on the floor for a moment, red-faced, but keeping your composure to the best of your ability.

"Someone's punctual." Steve extends a hand to you, helping you up to your feet.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Raglan. I couldn't find-"

"Mrs. Penneman decided an early retirement was in store. I'll be training you, if that's alright." Steve smirks, knowing he relieved his previous secretary of her duties early specifically to have this time working so closely with you. He dressed it up as a gift to her.

"Oh, okay. Of course. Where should I start?" You smile, awaiting instruction. You cling to every word he says, the guidance, the leadership. The way his dimples deepen when he smiles in the slightest. You become dependent on making him smile simply for this reason.

Steve sets you up for data entry and asks that you let him come check your work every so often to make sure things "meet his standards." You've never been more determined to do something perfectly in your life. With unbreakable focus, you start the first few tasks. You're mindful, double-checking, efficient, and fast.

"Mr, Raglan?" You appear like an angel in his doorway. He looks up from his papers and waits for you to continue. "I finished the first portion. Could you come check it for me?"

Steve smiles warmly as he stands to follow you to your desk. The warmth of his gaze melts you from your head to your pussy.

"This looks great, Y/N. Good job." He adds the last bit just to see the way your eyes shift and sparkle when he compliments you. He leaves you to do the rest of your work in peace, but he lingers a little longer in the hallway, watching you for a moment, carefully hidden from your view.

You pick up on the data entry rather quickly and finish the very last employee record by the end of your first week. When Steve comes to finalize the task, he grabs a chair and slides it next to yours so you can both look at the screen together. You're poised and collected by now, the initial lust seeming to die down after a week of seeing him every day. Though his words of approval still cause a knot to form in your stomach.

Steve picks up on your dwindling excitement and decides this is war. As the two of you sit next to each other, he carelessly allows his legs to take up more and more space. Normally a man's obliviousness in a situation like this would boil your blood, but when his thigh grazes yours so softly, you freeze. His touch lingers and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. His face is dangerously close to yours. He leans in even closer, boldly placing his lips mere inches from your ear.

"You're a very impressive young woman. You know that?" His warm breath brushes against your ear, inviting a million little goosebumps across your skin. It takes everything in him not to chuckle at your visceral reaction. You're frozen, staring straight ahead, basking in the closeness to this man you desire so badly. A few moments pass and a light chuckle leaves his lips. Still ever so close, he speaks again. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"S-sorry! Thank you, Mr. Raglan. Sorry," you nervously laugh, wishing so badly you could go back in time and rip the sticker off your forehead that says "Fuck me, Mr. Raglan."

"Don't mention it." He suddenly withdraws from your personal space, leaving you clinging to the dwindling body heat he's left behind. His tall figure towers over you, especially so when you're sat. He's gone just as quickly as he arrived and you can't help but feel perplexed. Was he not just coming on to you? Did you project all of that onto a perfectly normal interaction? He warps your reality without even touching you.

"What the fuck?" You question aloud to yourself. Your heart is racing. Your mind is constantly replaying the moment. His voice, his words, all of it.

The next day, it starts as any other. You're replaying the day before over and over again, just as you did when you shamelessly touched yourself last night. The sound of his voice so close to your ear, the way his leg brushed against yours. Just thinking about it feels like butterflies in your stomach.

"Good morning, Y/N." Steve walks right past you. You try to return the greeting, but you're cut off by the sound of his office door closing. He's frustrated, but you're not sure why. Disappointed, but not really the probing type, you decide to just get to work. Today was supposed to be the day he trained you for a "side project" utilizing your coding skills, but you're hesitant to ask about it while he's so visibly upset.

The day continues as usual, though it does seem to drag on a little longer for you when you don't get to stare at Steve. You're straightening up the waiting area, bent at the waist to fan out the magazines. When you stand, there's suddenly a tall figure behind you. Steve is pressing the entire front of his body directly against you. You involuntarily release a small gasp when you feel what you're sure is his half-hard cock pressed against your ass. Steve takes only a second to inhale your scent and feel himself pressed against you before he whispers in your ear once again.

"You're my secretary, not my maid." He steps away and you frown, still facing away from him.

"I'm sorry, sir. I've run out of things to do." You shrug and you turn.

"Out of things to do? Already?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir." Your formality is adorable to him. And something about you calling him "sir" makes him hard just hearing it.

"Well," Steve steps closer to you now that you're facing him. He's so tall, towering over you, craning his neck to keep his eyes locked on yours. "You're such a good girl," there it is. His words make you shudder. There's no way he's fucking with you right now, right? Wrong. He once again creates a gap between the two of you.

"Good kid with a good head on your shoulders. Try not to overthink it." He smirks at your beet-red face and swiftly disappears to his office. You're becoming frustrated. It's as if by the time he walks away, you're so enthralled that you can't remember whether or not your degenerate, horny brain over-dramatized the memory. Angry and even a little embarrassed, you make your way back to your desk.

Steve sits in his office carefully listening to the sounds of your frustration. He loves the way you'd fall to your knees for him right now if he asked, but he likes fucking with you more. He hears you sigh away the sexual tension and he grins. Having this much power over someone like you. You're so smart and beautiful, what are you doing melting in his hands like that? His strong hand finds the growing bulge in his slacks, hoping to relieve any of the pressure he's been building up for the both of you.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his teeth still palming himself, picturing you bound and gagged in front of him. Maybe that's why he's so insistent on teasing you instead of fucking you on his desk like he knows you dream about. Maybe he wants the chase, the restraint. You're too easy, he wants you to be scared.

At the end of the day, you decide to say "fuck it" and see what he'll do if you match his energy. He's grabbing his things to leave when you slip into his office and close the door behind you. You're shaking-nervous, your heart is pumping at an inhuman rate. You have no idea what your plan is until it happens.

"Mr. Raglan, can I ask you a question?" You make your way across the room, passing the boundary of the front of his desk, standing with him behind it. Steve tilts his head in a bemused expression.

"Y/N, feeling a little comfortable, are we?" His sarcastic question leaves you a little more unsure of yourself, and you take a step back. "Ask away." Steve smiles innocently.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but..." You're shocked at how steady your voice is as you fall into this sultry character you've created for yourself. It's never failed you before. "I feel like there's something you're trying to tell me. It's not very subtle." You lean against the desk casually. "Am I wrong?"

"Oh, wow," Steve can't help but grin, but he quickly replaces it with a smug, sarcastic expression. "You must be the queen of subtly, right?" His snarky words catch you off guard. "No, dear. Sorry about any miscommunications on my part. See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Steve steps around you and walks out the door without another word. You're stunned silent and extremely embarrassed. You consider leaving a resignation letter on your desk and never coming back. Furious, you slam the door to your car and drive home. By the time you get to your driveway, you've calmed down and accepted that everything you thought he was doing was just your imagination.

You're still angry, unable to fully accept that you'd be that delusional, but who really knows? From then on, you put away your fantasies and focus on work and getting money set aside for rent. The next few days continue like normal, with no more "misunderstandings" or advances. Until... Steve reaches for a binder off a shelf behind your desk. As he slides in behind you where you stand, right behind your pushed-in computer chair, and reaches his long arm up to the shelf, his other arm searches for a surface to brace on. That surface is your pencil skirt-clad waist.

You gasp quietly, but you don't allow yourself to react any further. Steve has the binder in his hand, but he doesn't remove the other from your waist. He lingers, staring at the back of your head trying to read whatever emotion must be displayed on the other side. You're rigid, like you usually are when he pushes these boundaries, but he also senses your frustration and boredom. He can't help but chuckle as he steps away.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says, waving the binder as he walks away to his office. Did he even need the binder? No, probably not. You huff at your seat, officially deeming him untouchable. You decide he must just be a weird old man that doesn't understand personal space and you can accept that now that he's no longer the object of your desire.

This is what he wanted. Your indifference. It's all part of his plan. As the days continue and your attraction settles to dust, he waits for you to make a mistake, any mistake. To his surprise and perhaps even dismay, you're nearly perfect. Then finally, you accidentally double-book a client meeting that leaves someone jobless with no way to reschedule. You're horrified and apologizing left and right to the man who is more than understanding, making you feel worse.

The man finally leaves, with no job, and no meeting. You sit at your desk and mentally scold yourself for being so careless. The stress of the approaching deadline of your rent seems to be taking a larger toll on you than you realized. Steve's client meeting ends and he sends the temp on his way with high hopes. You wish him a good day and try to focus on your computer.

"Y/N, can I see you in my office?" Steve appears from nowhere in front of your desk. He moves so silently when he means to, it's unsettling. You shamefully look up from your work and nod, following him to his office. You both sit in the appropriate seats and he releases a sigh.

"I'm disappointed in you, Y/N." His opening statement crushes you. "That was a huge fuck up, was it not?" His voice is stern and the use of cursing lets you know this is not a formal scolding. You're in trouble.

"I-I know, but it's the first one I've ever made since I started, sir."

"So that means I should just forget about it, right?" He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "A man can't feed his family because he doesn't know when he'll have a ride back here."

"I know, sir. I'm... I'm sorry." You sigh, eaten alive with guilt. "He was very kind."

"Did you deserve it?" He's angry.

"No." You look away from him.

"What was that?" He tilts his head, eyebrows still arched. You glance at him, confused for a moment.

"No... Sir." You add.

"I think you're getting too comfortable here, Y/N. 'It's not very subtle.'" he quotes you and your face ignites with blush.

"O-Of course, sir. I'm so embarrassed. I'm sorry."

"Well, don't be embarrassed. Do better." You nod and begin to stand to leave when he leans forward with a softer expression. "Coffee?"

"What?" You don't even mean to ask him to repeat himself, it was just such a jarring switch in tone.

"Coffee. I just made it." Steve stands and crosses the room to a little black coffee maker in his office that you'd never noticed before.

"Uh, sure." You accept, hoping the caffeine will give you some sort of drive to improve your current work performance. Steve pours you both a cup and passes one to you. They're the same cup, but his looks comically small in his large, nimble hands. You take a few sips of the hot, dark liquid and begin to feel light-headed.

Everything around you seems to melt away. You've completely disregarded where you are or why you might feel this way. You try to stand and you drop the still-full cup on the office floor. Steve watches it all leaning against the table across the room. He nonchalantly sips his coffee as he waits for you to collapse. Just as he planned, the minute you get to your feet, your knees buckle beneath you. You're out before you hit the floor.

"Look at this. Look how little you think of yourself the second you hear how disappointed I am." Steve chuckles as he lifts your unconscious body. You're bound and gagged in the back seat of his '79 Ford Fairmont as he makes his way to an undisclosed location. Yeah, that one.

You wake up with a deep, sharp gasp as if you'd been holding your breath the entire time. Your head is spinning and your vision is blurry as you try to scan your surroundings. It's a dank grey room littered with failed attempts at his "side project" he'd mentioned to you weeks ago. Crumpled endo-skeletons and half-built robot heads cover each corner while wires and bolts cover the rest. Your heart begins to race and you try to rise from the cold, metal table you reside on, only to find that your wrists and ankles are strapped in place with thick leather binds.

"What the fuck?" You mumble to yourself as you continue to try to wake up. "Hello?! Help! Help me, please!" You scream and thrash on the slab.

"They all say that, you know? They always scream for help as if anyone's coming." Steve slowly enters the door. His tie is loose along with a few buttons, and his sleeves are haphazardly shoved halfway up his arms. His normally carefully combed hair is disheveled and damp with sweat as if he'd been hard at work before entering this room.

"'They?'" You tremble, rattling the metal.

"Of course, you're the first for this type of venture, I guess. Normally I just skip to killing," he chuckles, removing his tie. You're in a state of shock, sheer disbelief. Hearing that last word sends you into hysterics.

"Please don't kill me, sir. I- I won't fuck up again, I promise. Please-"

"Shut. Up." Steve's stern voice cuts directly through your pleas. "I haven't decided yet."

Tears flow steadily down the sides of your face as he begins to grope you. His rough hands explore every inch of you. His calculated hands knowingly leave bruises on your tender skin.

"Please..." You whisper with your eyes tightly shut, afraid of every movement he makes.

"Sweetheart, if this part scares you, I'm not sure you're gonna survive what comes next." He's only inches from your ear as he whispers. Your body shudders with terrified sobs. The cries only get louder when you feel Steve cutting off your clothes. You're too afraid to fight him off, unsure of whether any injuries you may acquire would be accidental or not.

"Why are you doing this? I-I literally came on to you!" You try to find reason in his actions, mostly to distract yourself from the fact that you're completely exposed, the remnants of your clothes a tattered mess beneath you.

"Where's the fun..." he drags the tip of his knife softly from your ankle to your navel as he steps closer to your blushing face. "In that?" He continues, positioning the weapon to stab through your abdomen, should he press down with any effort at all. Goosebumps erupt over your skin. "Now, are you going to shut your fucking mouth or do I need to shut it for you?" He places a gentle hand on your cheek. You nod frantically, looking into his eyes. They look so calm.

You hate to admit it, but the way he touches you seems to attempt to dig up that insatiable attraction you felt for him not long ago. Your fantasies never ventured to this genre, but you used to dream of him making you orgasm. You're torn from that memory when you remember his admittance to murder and how you know that means you probably won't make it out of this room.

Steve places the knife to the side and slowly slips his middle finger inside you. You gasp, and he plunges away, growing rougher with each stride. He curls his knuckles and watches your face closely as your crying eyes roll back into your skull. You yank against your restraints, trying to squirm away from him, but he's ruthless.

"You're so... Peculiar, Y/N." He removes his fingers from you and cleans them of your undeniable arousal with a pocket handkerchief. "I almost caved when you confronted me in my office. So bold. It's been a riot just picking at you." Steve reaches a hand into a desk in this mysterious room and retrieves an unknown device. You gasp as he slips the small, cold object inside you.

"What are you-" your question is swiftly silenced by the small remote in Steve's hand activating a powerful vibration from the item in your pussy. His free hand rubs rhythmically up and down your clit, stimulating you further. Steve stares down at you as you melt away into pleasure, ashamed and silently begging for more. He's laughing at you, hovering his head over yours as you anxiously avoid eye contact.

"Look at me," he demands, but you can't. You shut your eyes. He releases a breathy chuckle and raises the intensity of the vibrating gadget. "Don't start enjoying yourself or I might have to really scare you." You don't want to know what that entails, so you force yourself to look into his soulless blue eyes. The eye contact deepens the red shade that washes over your cheeks and Steve shakes his head, laughing at you again.

"Why are you so embarrassed now? Would you still be this shy if I'd bent you over my desk like you wanted? You're so much tighter when you're scared." Steve abruptly removes the vibrating toy from between your legs. You whimper pathetically in the absence of stimulation. He leaves the room and returns with yet another machine. This one's larger, a box.

He places the box down between your legs, as close to your throbbing entrance as he can get it. The side of the box facing you is adorned with a hole housing a phallic shape made of soft, silicone material. Your heart is bound to give out at this pace. The box itself covers a mass of gears and wires, a motor to power the rod in and out of its destination. You.

"We'll start it out slowly for you, how's that?" Steve presses a button and the machine pushes into you, slipping in easily as your body clearly craves it. You whine and cry out in pain as the machine stretches you out, slowly boring in and out of you. "If this thing's too big for you, what makes you think you could've taken me?" He laughs as he leans against the desk and watches the mechanism fuck you out. Every so often, he increases the speed.

Finally, it's maxed out. You're squirming and wailing in overstimulated pleasure and pain.

"Please! Please, I can't take it- I can't-" your begs are ignored. Steve places a rough hand around your neck, carelessly cutting off your oxygen and blood flow while his other hand delicately flicks your clit. That's it, that sends you over the limit. You climax harder than you ever thought possible, drenching the machine that's still fucking into you as your body quivers. Steve allows you to breathe again and takes his sweet time powering down the penetration machine.

You're shaking. Your tear-stained face is frozen in a look of exhaustion. The last thing you're able to do is move or speak. Your breathing is a plethora of hitched coughs and gasps and you flinch at even the possibility of being touched again at all.

"I think you might be ready now." He unfastens your bindings and takes a step back to observe. You don't move at all, not a single muscle. The truth is, you can't, even if you wanted to. Steve smirks, pressing a foot-lever under the table that lowers you right down to his waist. Two powerful hands hook under your legs and pull you so your beaten hole is perfectly accessible to him. You cry out as he moves you.

"I-I can't, Steve. I-" Your nearly inaudible mumbles are knocked from your mouth as he lands a hard open palm slap across your face.

"You're going to." He makes quick work of his belt and quickly aligns himself with your entrance. At one point all you wanted from him was this, but now you'd rather be anywhere else. Your cheek is ablaze, covered with a spreading stinging sensation. You're too distracted by the pain to notice Steve rearing back. He slams into you at full force, throwing his head back in ecstasy.

"Nooo!" You whine, unsure of how much more your body can truly take.

"Fuck!" He's almost primal when he's inside you, digging his fingertips into your flesh like he intends to take it off your body. "After all of that, you're still so fucking tight."

He reaches to your breasts and roughly gropes at the delicate skin. Your weak hand tries to tug at his wrist, but he simply flicks you away like a pest, continuing the assault. He slams into you, hoping to do more harm than anything, smiling at your sobbing face. Your makeup is a smeared mess and your hair is in disarray from the way you fought back on the table. You look pathetic to him and he loves it.

"You want to be filled up, don't you sweetheart?" He huffs, slowly approaching his climax. Your eyes open wide and a new wave of fear and adrenaline shoots through you, but you're still too weak to manage. Steve easily pins your wrists by your shoulders and thrusts deeper and deeper, hooking his hips to temporarily reach the very limit of your cunt.

"Please don't! Mr. Raglan, please!" You beg between gasping sobs as you listen to his labored breaths become unsteady. His agonizing thrusts lose their rhythm and suddenly you can feel his thick erection twitching inside you, brushing your G spot and carrying you over the edge again as well. You didn't even think that would be possible at this point.

You and Steve ride out your highs. He continues to pump into you making a heinous sound as he fucks his cum deeper inside you. To his surprise, he remains hard, so he continues to rut into your destroyed pussy until his legs threaten to give out. Steve finishes inside you a second time, laughing as he watches your horrified face realize how full of him you are. He's taking his time pulling out of you, playing with your cum soaked clit until you finally pass out from exhaustion.

Steve releases a breathy laugh as he fastens his belt and collapses in a chair nearby. You're lying there, naked and dripping cum from your swollen, demolished pussy. He can't get enough of this view. His original plan was to just get rid of you when he was done here, why not? But this is too much fun for him. Maybe he needs a new pet.

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lovelybee666 · 1 month

Note

Hello!

Could you please make headcanons of what they would do with you on Valentine's Day,💌

Everyone needs some love and I love your contents

(Sorry if this is something wrong, I'm using Google translator for this.)

Autor's note: I LOVE YOU FOR THIS‼️‼️Here they are the Smiling Critters from the cartoons (they almost always are but I say it here specifically because of some words I use in the Catnap one, and I will also divide this into parts before I have a stroke)

WHAT THE SMILING CRITTERS DO FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

(part 2 coming soon)

DOGDAY

• he would be too happy and for days before he would be making a big BIG list of things to do for Valentines Day.

• The Smiling Critters can wait, today is he and his S/O special day!

---

• They were both holding hands while walking.

• Dogday was looking at the long list he had in his hands, they had been doing activities for a long time, even Hoppy would be exhausted by so much.

"Write things we like about each other? Finished! Make heart cookies? Finished! Make stuffed animals of each other? Finished! We are missing six t—"

• As Dogday was going through the roll call for the second time, a voice interrupted him.

"Dogday dear, why don't we just leave that list for a while and just walk for a while? We have been doing activities back and forth since the morning"

• You gently caressed Dogday's cheek as you smiled at him.

"...Yeah...that....that sounds good...♥"

• Dogday had a small blush and his tail was wagging from side to side, they continued walking while Dogday put away his list and smiled happily.

CATNAP

• He would like to celebrate it at night since during the day there is a lot of noise and you two must do special activities with the Smiling Critters.

• He probably wants to have a little picnic somewhere high.

---

• They both eat some heart-shaped cookies they made earlier in the day while sitting next to each other and watching the stars.

• You both hold hands and see a shooting star, Catnap intertwines his tail with yours (if you don't have one, he intertwines his tail with your leg or waist).

• He settles his head on your shoulder and eats another cookie while purring into your shoulder.

• It may not be the best Valentine's Day but at least they managed to find some peace in this loud and noisy place.

BOBBY BEARHUG

• Valentine's Day is definitely her favorite holiday and she will spend the WHOLE day with you celebrating it.

• And they will have a romantic movie marathon.

---

• It was already night, after spending all of Valentine's Day with Bobby being...Bobby, They were lying on Bobby's couch watching the third romantic movie tonight, you even forgot what time it was.

• Bobby has one hand on your waist while she ate some sweet popcorn with her other hand.

• They both began to fall asleep as time went by and the movie was not as entertaining as it seemed.

• Shortly after, they both fell asleep hugging each other and the popcorn glued their fur without realizing it (I couldn't explain it)

I wanted to upload on February 14th but I had an artistic block 😭😭

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #smiling critters x reader #dogday #catnap #bobby bearhug #dogday x reader #catnap x reader #bobby bearhug x reader

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pandorasprongs · 11 months

Text

JAMIE TARTT | and i don't even like you that much. wait, i do. f*ck.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: jamie is actually a board game nerd and starts spending more time with one of the employees of a local shop.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: this idea came to me as someone asked me if i wanted to buy another volume of a board game we had HAHA if you can figure out what game i'm referring to in this story, hmu! alsooo i want to apologize for the length i swear i didn't mean for it to get that long, but still, i hope you all enjoy! title is from the song 'apple cider' by beabadoobee!

It was another slow morning in the store, given that most of your frequent customers were forced to be in school at this time. You ended up continuing one of the readings for your class during your shift. Despite a wave of drowsiness hitting you the moment you opened the book, it was still better having free time to be tired than the afternoon rush when 13-year-old boys came in to get another booster pack of Magic: The Gathering cards.

You were practically setting all these children up for a gambling addiction the way they'd spend 20 pounds trying to get one of those shiny ones in their deck. You never bothered to learn the names really, because that wasn't part of your job description. When it came to those kinds of things, those boys probably knew more than you did.

When it came to board games though, that was your area of expertise. It was partly one of the reasons you applied to work here while you were finishing up your Master's, — and also because of how generous the owner was with your salary, — so you always loved helping people out for their board game nights. You didn't have regulars that would come in often, but here and there, there would be a person you recognize from before asking about another game.

You don't know how much time had passed, but after deciding that your brain could no longer take reading the word cognitive multiple times in a sentence, you end up shutting the book and resting your head on the counter.

Soon after though, you hear the bell at the top of the door ring, causing you to jolt up. You only catch a glimpse of the guy walking towards you before he drops his head, his cap completely blocking his face, and a loose black hoodie covering his frame.

For a second, you get worried that the store was about to get robbed but the man finally stops in front of you and speaks, in a thick Mancunian accent. "Do you have any suggestions for board games? Like for family and stuff,"

You swear you've heard his voice before. Maybe from school? Or a former customer? You decide to shake it off before replying. "Well, this is a board game store, so there's quite a lot to pick from. Do you have any specific theme in mind? How many players?"

"There'll be 3 of us, but I'm not really picky with the game. Not any of those monopoly type shit though, cause I'm sick of never winning."

You chuckle at the revelation and that's what gets the man to look up at you. It definitely wasn't his appearance he was worried about. His chiseled jaw and striking blue eyes almost draw you in, not to mention his hairstyle looks eerily like the one David Beckham had in the 90s, who you had to admit was a crush of yours as a kid. He could even pass as a contestant on one of those dating reality shows.

And then it hits you where you've heard his voice before. This guy was on Lust Conquers All and was immediately voted off. You remember it well because your sister was so pissed at him for joining the show since the football season had just started. Jamie something, but the show never mentioned his last name. You try to hide your realization by turning to the shelf behind you.

"Alright uh, I’d recommend this one." You turn back around and slide it across the counter as Jamie (?) starts looking at the box from all angles.

"Looks cool," is all he says in reply and he looks back at you, presumably for you to explain the game. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before going on your usual introduction to the game.

"Basically in the game, there are 4 characters you can choose to be your 'heroes.' Your main objective is to get your opponent's health to 0 using the different cards in your set. All the characters have different decks and skills you can use throughout the game, and some of them even have side kicks." You look back up for a second to see his expression and you can tell that you're still holding his interest.

"So for example in the one I gave you, you can battle Sinbad, Medusa, King Arthur, and Alice, who's fucking amazing, by the way."

"Alice? From fucking Wonderland?" You laugh at his surprise before nodding to affirm it. "She's your favorite then?"

"How'd you know?" You ask sarcastically. "But yeah, she's just really versatile and it's just really fun to shrink and grow every turn just to piss off the other players. I'm practically unbeatable using her." You admit though you're not really sure why.

Most of the time when customers come in here for a game, they don't ask questions and just buy the first one you suggest. That’s probably why you answered Jamie's question so earnestly. Cause he's the first one to ever ask you what you liked about the game.

You quickly run through the rest of the rules and mechanics of the game with Jamie chiming in occasionally. You describe the other editions as well and Jamie is tempted to buy the other one — "How is anyone supposed to beat fucking Dracula?" — before he ultimately decides to take home the one you offered.

"If I end up losing using Alice, you owe me a refund." He states as you ring up the game. You playfully roll your eyes as you scan the barcode on the box.

"Oh yeah, since you're the first customer of the day, you get a 7% discount on your purchase," you quickly inform him when you glance at the post-it note on the register screen reminding you about it in bold letters.

Instead of the usual gratefulness or blip of happiness from hearing that news, Jamie instead asks, "Is that really a thing or are you doing it because you know who I am?"

You look at him to check if he's serious and given his blank look, you assume he is. You don't know how to respond to that, so instead you just slowly shake your head.

"Wait, do you not know who I am?" His question itself comes off as arrogant, but given the genuine surprise in your voice, you're not sure how to feel about the guy after he says it.

You decide to answer him honestly. "I do, but given that you walked in here in clothes that make you look like a stalker who's about to rob the place, I didn't think you'd want me to make a big fuss about it, Jamie."

His shoulders seem to relax at your statement and once he goes quiet, he finally pulls out his wallet. You quickly place the game in a paper bag and hand it over to him.

He whispers a quick thanks and turns to leave, before pausing. He turns back to you, "Look, it's not like I'm dressed this way because I'm embarrassed to be in a store like this—"

"I didn't think you were," you answer blankly with a hint of sarcasm. You decide to mess with the guy a little bit because hey, when's the next time a famous footballer comes into your store again? "Why, is there something I should be embarrassed about?"

Jamie quickly shakes his head. "No, fuck no! I think it's cool, really. You know, being surrounded by all these games and cards and knowing so much about them. Especially someone like you,"

You tilt your head in amusement. "What do you mean someone like me?" Jamie's embarrassment only seems to deepen at that.

"Fuck I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, when I came in here, I was expecting some teenage boy to be at the counter. Wait no— I mean, girls can like all this stuff too! I just didn't expect someone attr—," he stops himself and shakes his head. "Shit, wait,"

You watch Jamie scramble for words and you decide to just put an end to his misery. "Look, look, I was just joking around. I don't give that much of a shit about what you said." The football player visibly relaxes and you hold in a laugh at that reaction. "And you're basically right about the kind of people who work here. Most of my co-workers can't work these hours right now 'cause they're off studying for their A-Levels."

"Yeah, well thank you for this," Jamie lifts the bag slightly and you give him a genuine smile.

"No problem. Hope you enjoy the game! And if you ever feel compelled to dress like a shitty robber again, you can come back and tell me what you think." Your sarcasm no longer throws Jamie off who instead, just playfully rolls his eyes and leaves the store.

You go back to your reading for your behavioral science class, putting your interaction with the football player in the back of your mind.

—

The next time you see Jamie is two weeks later, although this time, he comes in right before closing. Technically, you weren't the only one assigned for this shift, but you decided to let your co-worker go home early since he said he had an English exam the next day and still hadn't studied.

So, you were counting down the minutes to 8 pm when you hear someone come inside. Fucking hell. You force a smile, "Hi, welcome! We'll be closing in a few minutes, but please approach me if you need anything so you can have a speedier process."

"Are you really that desperate to get rid of me?" The person moves away from the shelves and turns out to be Jamie Tartt, you learn his last name is. He's wearing another grey hoodie but seems to have decided to ditch his hat. Good, because you weren't sure how much longer you could stare at the ICON written on it and not judge him. "I wanna know, did you think offering to help the customer would get them out of here quicker?"

"I had to try something," you defend yourself, shrugging. You notice Jamie carrying the bag you used to wrap the board game and slightly frown. "Didn't like the game?"

He follows your eyes and is quick to correct you. "I loved it, actually. First time playing a board game that Simon didn't win during the first round." You aren't sure who Simon is, but you laugh nonetheless. "And you're right, Alice is fucking unbeatable."

"I'm glad you liked it, and Alice," you start, but then glance at the time on your phone. "But, is that the only reason you came here?"

"Well no, I was wondering if you wanted to play. That's why I came so late, in case there would be too many people if I came at the usual time."

"Yeah, there was a fuck ton, actually, as you can tell from the fully stocked store." You say, pretending to look around the room. "But sure, if you want. I don't have anything going on tomorrow anyway," Now you're really glad that you didn't procrastinate that paper due tonight.

Jamie smiles as he starts to unbox the set and you grab one of the chairs behind the counter and push it to the other side for the footballer.

Never did you imagine you would spend a Saturday night with a hot football player playing one of your favorite board games, but here you were. In between one of the rounds, the topic of football is brought up and you admit that you don't know all that much about it despite your family being made up of fanatics.

"Everyone has their team they support. My dad loves Arsenal, my mum loves Chelsea, and my sister bounces between West Ham and Crystal Palace. Though, she fucking hates Rupert Mannion, so maybe this is the end of her West Ham support." You answer as you shuffle Jamie's deck.

"Shit, the season must be fun for you guys," Jamie remarks and you snort, though instantly regretting letting that sound out. The football player looks unfazed, so you decide not to apologize for it and answer his question instead.

"Yeah, I basically end up being their messenger till the finals, which ends up becoming World War 3 if their teams are competing," you hand him his deck back and start the round, but your conversation doesn't end there.

"What team would you support then, if you got into football?" He looks hopefully at you.

"Yours, probably." You confirm as you look through your first hand of cards. "I mean, I'm about to destroy one of their players at this game. It's the least I can do."

"We'll see about that," Jamie replies and you roll your eyes playfully, but you smile.

Working at the store meant you were surrounded by board game fans every day, but not even your regulars would come in here after your shift to play. You couldn't help but feel warm at how Jamie matched your enthusiasm about the game, something, you admit, you didn't expect from the player. You knew nothing would probably come from this harmless happy crush of yours, but if he decided to start coming in often to play, you wouldn't be opposed to it.

Your attention turns back to the game once Jamie picks his next move. He smirks at his decision until his expression suddenly shifts. "Wait, if you're not into football, how'd you know who I was the other day?"

You move your piece before looking directly into Jamie's eyes and respond, "I just really love trashy reality shows." Jamie playfully groans at the reminder and you burst into laughter before you continue the game.

True to form, whichever of the two of you uses Alice is the one to win that round. You finally decide on a tie-breaker with your favorite being banned from usage.

"Christ, if this is how you maneuver in a board game, I wonder how good you are at football." You tease, as you glance at his character being at only 4HP.

"I'm fucking amazing, actually. Ask your family, they'll tell you." Jamie moves a few spaces on the board, hoping to escape your Medusa, but instead, he falls into one of your traps.

You corner him and finally reduce his King Arthur's health. "And there you go, 3-2."

It takes Jamie a second to absorb everything before he slouches. "Fucking hell." You laugh before getting up from your chair and helping him keep all the pieces and cards.

"Better luck next time, Tartt."

Jamie, whose competitive side seems to be shining in this game, doesn't let it end there.

Almost every week, he would come into the store at night asking to play. He was definitely getting better, but after making a deal where the loser has to tell an embarrassing story after the round, you realize you know more about him than he probably does about you.

"God Jamie, how are you alive?" You ask as he shares a story from when he first started the league.

"How was I supposed to know doing multiple headers in one match could lead to a bloody concussion?" He retorts, only making your eyes widen even more.

"I'm pretty sure that's common knowledge to about 80% of the population," you say through your laughter.

It's almost 10 when you finish playing, so you grab your jacket and start heading to the door with Jamie. You lock the store up and notice that Jamie's still hanging around you.

It's dark outside, but it seems like his features were even more enhanced by the moonlight. The light hit his eyes just the right way that it made the blue more evident. You notice just then how his hair is neater today, mainly because of his sports headband. The front strands of his hair had fallen out it though, falling on his face in just the right way that it gave you butterflies. Did all footballers look this attractive?

You realize that you may have been starting a bit too long and as you tuck the keys in your jacket pocket, you decide to ask, "Need anything else?"

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head. "Nothing actually, just good night," he waves and starts walking in the opposite direction, but you swear you hear him muttering something under his breath.

—

It had been a week since then and you had to start telling yourself to not be so excited when you hear the bell ring. Every time it did, you'd look expectantly at the door expecting to see Jamie again, asking for another or a new volume or even just game tips. Each time, you'd end up disappointed and would have to fake a smile to the customer approaching you.

This time you hear it ring, and you do your best to not look up. If it was Jamie, you knew that your boss George probably would be sounding an alarm. You only learned the Monday after that he was a major AFC Richmond fan when you mentioned that a football player had visited the store multiple times to play board games.

"Do you think we can get him to sign a picture and put it on the wall? Can you ask?" You quickly have to explain how those interactions were the only times you ever spoke to Jamie and had no actual way of contacting him.

As you close your laptop, — one more paragraph and that essay is done! — you look up to find two guys standing in front of you.

"Hi, do you have any board game recommendations?" the one on the right greeted, his accent quickly revealing him to be Welsh.

You don't have a chance to answer because the left one lightly elbows his friend before whispering (though loud enough for you to hear), "He already told us what to get, bruv."

You may not know who this 'he' is, but the guy pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of a board game, the same one you recommended to Jamie. Wishful thinking gets you to believe that they were friends of his and he liked it so much that he told them about it. And maybe about you, too.

You've never been so happy to be right.

You nod your head and as he kept his phone, you started pulling the same edition from the shelf behind you when you hear a screeching sound that almost made you drop the box.

"Oh my God, Colin Hughes, and Isaac McAdoo!" George exclaims and you wonder where you've heard those names before.

The owner joins you at the counter as you place the board game in front of you. Maybe you weren't pretending to be as peppy as you usually do, because George decides to ask, "How are you so calm? Do you know who these guys are? They're Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo!"

"I heard you the first time," you turn to the two guys once again, embarrassed on behalf of your boss.

"They're part of the starting team of AFC Richmond!" And that's when it clicks. On one of your all-nighters, you decided to take a break and search up Jamie Tartt just to see what you could find. You ended up at his club's website and saw the rest of the players as well. You didn't pay them much attention given that you were so focused on player number 9, but you saw enough pictures to recognize them, at least.

"So you guys do know Jamie," you think out loud and the two players turn to each other, before sharing looks of realization.

"Oh, you're the girl!" Colin exclaims and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, I guess so," you try and act as nonchalantly as possible, so neither of them picks up on anything. You turn back to the game and ask, "Is this the one you wanted?"

"Jamie said there were other versions?" Isaac asks and you nod your head to confirm it, which he smiles at. "We want the Sherlock one."

"Okay," you reach for that one on the shelf as George starts offering them discounts on the game.

When he almost offers to give it to them for free along with another set, you stop him by slamming the box on the counter. Why were you the one trying to keep his business alive? "Here it is, hope you enjoy it!"

You ring up their purchase, still trying to hold your boss back from scaring these footballers away before they can pay. You finally bag the whole thing and hand it to them. "Thank you!" you shout as they exit the store.

"Yeah, see you soon!" George says afterward and you look at him in confusion.

"What the fuck was that, George?" He only sighs, most likely the embarrassment only hitting him at that exact moment.

Once he goes back to doing inventory, you can't help but replay what Colin said. Oh, you're the girl! Why was such a simple phrase like that affecting you so much? For all you know, he might've mentioned you being a sore winner, which wouldn't be the first time you've been called that.

But you still hope he said good things about you and maybe even kept better things he thought to himself.

—

"Okay, time's up. Please pass your papers." You write one last word as you get up to give your exam to the proctor, sighing in relief that the semester is finally over.

You had asked for leave for the past few days and didn't have a shift until tomorrow, so you decide to treat yourself to some coffee and pasta for lunch at the campus cafe.

As you settle down at one of the tables, you get a phone call from George. He was more than happy to let you take the time off, so you wonder what emergency had to happen for him to contact you.

As soon as you pick up, George screams your name into the phone. You pull it away from your ear for a second, and respond, "What? What do you need?"

"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but you said that your test ended at 2:30, so I decided to hold off calling you till then. Anyway, someone came in a few days ago asking if we host board game nights."

"And we do," you answer for him as you chew your sandwich.

"Right, and then he said that he was from AFC Richmond." You flinch after imagining how your boss could've reacted at that revelation. "They wanted to hold it a few days ago," George pauses.

"Why didn't you say yes? You could've been game master."

"Yeah well, I wanted to, but they specifically asked for you to go." You put down your sandwich and straighten up. George continues, "I told them you were on leave, but they said they could wait till you were back at work. I said that your test was this morning and I would ask if you'd be willing to end your leave early."

"Okay, sure." You answer, a little faster than you intended. You couldn't believe that the team — and maybe even Jamie personally, — was willing to postpone their game night just so you would be the one to facilitate it.

The surprise was evident in George's voice. Normally, you would reject his idea the moment he mentioned board game nights, but something about this was different for you. "Oh okay, well, I'll send you the address. I'll be bringing the boards there since you don't have a car and I'll meet you there at 4 pm. It's a restaurant, so maybe you can get something to eat before 'cause shit can get crazy at those things and it's best to load up."

You don't know how a board game night could get crazy, but you decide not to comment on it. He sends you the details through text before you end the call and continues eating your sandwich. The place wasn't too far from campus, so you didn't have to rush to get there. But after 10 minutes, you consumed your sandwich and were out the door with your coffee in hand.

While walking, you decided to familiarize yourself more with the players trying to put names to face before you had to interact with all of them at once. You started to get the hang of it, — even looking at team photos and naming them one by one as a test — as you get to the venue at around half past 3.

You arrive at a restaurant called Ola's, and you remember seeing one of the Richmond players post about it. Your dad wanted to have dinner here once, but they were always fully booked so the four of you gave up trying to get a table there.

Because of that, you expected the place to be swamped with customers, but instead find an almost empty restaurant. You notice one guy standing in the middle of it and approach him.

"Hi," He turns around and you recognize him as Sam Obisanya, meaning he must be the owner. You introduce yourself quickly before asking, "Am I at the right place? I'm here to help host a board game tournament."

Sam's eyes widen as he seems to recognize you. "Oh yes, this is the place. Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so early. We already fixed up the tables, but I can also help in setting up the boards if you like."

"Ah no, it's alright. My boss is the one who’s bringing them. I came from my university, so I don't have any of them on me right now." You quickly explain and Sam nods as he leads you to one of the tables to relax, while he grabs some appetizers from the kitchen.

He makes his way back to the table, though he can't seem to stop looking at you. You subconsciously start fixing your hair, wondering if you should've gone to the bathroom before going in here.

He seems to pick up on this and is quick to reassure you, "Oh, I'm sorry for staring. It's just Jamie has mentioned you so many times, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the football player. You grab some of the food he offered as you reply as calmly as you can, "Oh yeah, did he tell you how he is nowhere close to beating my number of wins?"

Sam lets out a short chuckle. "No, but I'm not surprised. He did say you're very good at it." You smile and decide to ask why they decided to do a board game night.

It takes a second before Sam replies, "Oh well, Coach always says to do team-building activities every once in a while, and seeing as Jamie has asked almost everyone on the team to play the game at least once, we thought it would be a good idea. I think Isaac and Colin got their own board too and they started bringing it to the clubhouse."

"Shit, I didn't realize that football players loved board games so much," you remarked as you hear the door to the restaurant open.

Both of you look up to see George, who is trying to carry 12 boxes of board game sets. You rush out of your seat to help him out and so does Sam. The sight of the player almost makes your boss drop all of them from his arms, but you quickly scoop four of them and Same takes another four.

"Sam Obisanya," George exhales, once some of the weight is literally lifted off him.

The player simply says, "Hello," and states that he'll start setting up the four boards on the tables near the back.

You snap your fingers to get George out of the trance and the two of your start setting up on the rest of your tables, dropping the character figurines at the bar table and putting the sign-up sheet next to it. Slowly, the restaurant starts filling up with players with George gradually losing his mind at the number of footballers from his favorite team.

You finally get him to leave, but only by promising to convince the team to take a picture with him when he came back to pick up the boards. You're pretty sure he's already making plans to put it on a canvas and hang it on his bed.

You settle yourself behind the bar table to be in charge of the players setting up, each time expecting it to be Jamie standing in front of you. You try and keep your focus on the task at hand every time you hear the boys greet someone new.

Isaac and Colin are the next to write their names and they give you a look that you can't quite decipher. Soon enough, Jamie finally gets here and you straighten up in your seat. He greets some of the players till his eyes land on you.

He approached the bench and once he looked up, he observed out loud. "You're here,”

"Aw, did you want to get rid of me that badly?" You mimic him before explaining that you finished your leave earlier, "just to see you, of course." — with some truth behind that statement. Jamie laughs — albeit, a little awkwardly, — and takes the clipboard. As he signs up, you decide to take the chance to tease him. "Heard you were talking about me to your teammates."

Jamie's eyes widen and he stops writing to shoot glares at the rest of AFC Richmond, not sure who told you. Jamie turns back to you and you laugh. "Don't worry, Tartt. I'm sure you just told them how I'm an absolute god at the game and you're glad I'm not playing tonight." The football player simply rolls his eyes as he joins his teammates.

Once the whole team is complete along with their kit-man Will, you decide to start the tournament. "Okay, hi everyone! Welcome to your board game night." The crowd cheers and you're startled by their enthusiasm. You quickly explain the rules of the night, — though they seem to already know most of it, — and the order of players. It's a draw lots method, so the players will be randomly given a character and an opponent.

Once everyone gets their characters and settles in, you start making rounds in case anyone had any questions. After a while, you start heading back to the bar when someone taps you on the shoulder. You find Jamie already done with his round.

"How'd you win that quickly?" You don't try to hide the surprise in your voice. "Even I take like 20 minutes minimum to win."

"Oh I didn't," Jamie clarifies, and you widen your eyes. "I just couldn't attack Dani. I mean, look at that face." You turn to their table and find Dani smiling at you — "This is fun!" — and waving using his Dracula figurine.

You laugh at his reasoning. "Alright then, guess you're done for the night." You walk back to the bar and Jamie stops on the opposite side of it.

"You hungry? Sam said there's prepped meals in the back and since none of the games are ending soon…" Jamie offers and you obliged, seeing as this might be the only time you might ever get to eat in this restaurant. He grabs two plates from there and settles down next to you. Surprisingly, he managed to grab one of your favorite dishes. You remember mentioning to him that you had tried it at another restaurant in the past and loved it, but you doubt he even remembers it and dubbed it a coincidence.

You decide to keep the topic off board games and instead let him talk about what he's doing since he last saw you. Turns out they had multiple back-to-back matches, so practice was tight and he didn't have time to visit you. He also said the next time he did, it was one of your teenage co-workers manning the counter.

"Oh, Chuck! Yeah, he's pretty shit at board games." You say blankly while you shove another spoonful of food into your mouth.

"I ended up just buying a card game and leaving." Jamie continues and you laugh.

"Sorry, you went all the way there for just that. I go to class on Wednesdays, so I don't have a shift then." The conversation then shifts to your degree and you explain that you plan on becoming a psychologist.

"There is another upside to getting that degree too," Jamie chimes in, and you tilt your head. "You can fuck with someone's head while playing."

"Okay, psychology isn't mind control." Though, you think about it for a second. "But it is pretty close. You’ll be my first victim.” You make your sound more ghostly in that last sentence and Jamie pretends to act terrified and faint.

There is a short silence between the two of you when you realize that most of the rounds are done. You start organizing the next round and once the games start, the other players start going around and rooting for their teammates.

It leaves the area near the bar much more isolated and Jamie lowers his voice. "About that card game I got, it's pretty fun, too."

"Yeah?" You ask as you bring your plate back to the kitchen.

"Yeah. I'd love to take you out and talk about it," you stop in your tracks before turning back to the footballer who adds, “If you want."

You turn around to see Jamie is much closer to you now. It's only then you realize how much taller he was than you, but despite that, you’re not intimidated, especially with him looking so expectantly at you.

It takes a second before your mouth turns into a smile. "I think I'd like that."

Jamie does this small bounce thing on his heels, before trying to tone it down. You only laugh and kiss him on the cheek before heading to the crowd of players. He follows suit and rests his arm on your shoulders.

Some of his teammates notice and start cheering. You look at them confused before deciding to ask Jamie, "Was this all an elaborate scheme to ask me out?"

He shakes his head, "No, 'course not. Was there a deal made after I lost a game to Jan? Possibly," The both of you laugh as you playfully push his head away. You start to accept that this unfairly attractive football player — whom you'll be going on a date soon — can be as much of a nerd as you.

If this is what George meant when he said game nights could get crazy, well, maybe you should’ve given them a chance earlier.

#jamie tartt #jamie tart x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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natsessence · 2 years

Text

The New Maid

pairing | dom!natasha x sub!reader

summary | After being hired as a maid under Natasha Romanoff's care, your suspicions on her intentions with you soon grow weary. With her request to wear a revealing uniform and her elongated stares, it's not long before you can submit to more than just your attraction for her.

warnings (18+) | smut, dom/sub, dark-ish nat, praise kink, possessiveness, rough sex, fingering, mommy kink, bondage, dirty talk, degradation, spitting, slight spanking, multiple orgasms, oral sex, vibrators, mommy nat (drooling), short skirts, fucks you over her desk tbh

a/n | hi this has already been published on other platforms for a whileeeee but i’m trying to cross upload my work on here cause i wanna write more. this was also my first time writing anything ever (let alone smut) so enjoy :)) any feedback is appreciated!!

word count | 6.3k

warning! (18+): language and sexual content. please refer to tags before reading.

Working under Natasha Romanoff had been a dream. From the very generous pay to the no expenses of living in her lavish mansion, it baffles you how lucky you were to get this job. It started off as a one-time summer thing, a side hustle to earn some extra money before your sophomore year as a college student. But once you learned how well a live-in maid gets paid, you realized there were far too many benefits of pursuing the job for more than just one summer.

Training as a maid was quite simple as well, the owners would usually have articulated plans or certain schedules you follow throughout the day. However, Natasha Romanoff wasn't as easy, she had you by her side practically every second of the day. You're not exactly sure what her job specifically entails, but it must pay well for her to be able to afford such an enormous house. You're glad for the digital map of structure and layout otherwise you'd get lost just looking for the bathroom, which still occurred quite a lot. You do, however, know it has something to do with Stark Industries. When you've had to deliver messages or meals to her grand office, you've overhead her conversations with Tony Stark. Although, it sounded much more like she was talking to a friend than a business call, it was none of your business. She seemed to be a very powerful woman, and you'd hate to cross her, but so far, she's been nothing but more than accommodating.

It's only been a week, but you've wondered if she has other employees. So far, the only people you've seen, besides Natasha, is the chef, pool boy, gardener, and the silent security guards at every gate. You've yet to meet other maids or butlers for that matter but realized Natasha Romanoff is just one person. It'd be quite excessive to have multiple live-in maids. It just felt quite lonely to think about Natasha all alone in such a huge place.

Aside from the very small and revealing, cliche maid outfit she requested you wear the night you arrived, you figured Natasha was just a traditional woman and had no complaints. Especially none with spending almost every hour attending to Natasha Romanoff's needs. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt for her, but in all honesty, who could? She was an undeniably gorgeous woman. The long touches and stares she sent you at times didn't help either. You'd feel her eyes burn into you as you served drinks or prepared her dinner. The outfit she provided failed to hide the blush in your cheeks at every pet name she threw your way. Especially when she would say goodbye and leave a longing touch on your arm or stare at you too long. Every time you were with her things became much harder to focus on. But this job was the highest-paying gig you’ve ever had, so you’d have to suck it up and ignore the little (huge) crush until the end of summer.

Waking up and eyeing the maid uniform hung above your closet, you prepared yourself for your day. You'd assumed the outfit had probably been tailored for the last maid, who may have been (extremely) smaller than you. But with you having to do work around such a colossal property, it required you to move around a lot. So, when you had to practically walk everywhere and bend over every surface to reach the things, you would feel the rise in your skirt and always missed the smirk that rose to Natasha's lips when she was around you.

For the schedule today, you would help her prepare for an on-call business transaction. She asked you have her breakfast served in bed and prepare her outfit and office for her before noon. Simple enough. So, with a final brush of an invisible wrinkle on your top, you hurried along to serve Natasha her meal.

Knocking on the door three times with a tray of caviar buttered croissants, lobster scrambled eggs, and cinnamon brioche french toast in your arms, you opened it to find Natasha plaid in nothing but a black silk robe. Your eyes couldn't help but fall to her chest, where it was barely covered by the thin fabric, finding her cleavage peeking out tauntingly. Her red locks were barely tussled, you'd never be able to guess she had just gotten out of bed.

"Good morning, Ms. Romanoff. Here's your breakfast." You said as you placed the tray onto her bed and above her, your face dangerously close to her chest before you straightened yourself up by her beside.

"Mmm, good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?" She asked, a smile playing at her lips at the sight of you as she faintly rubbed her eyes.

With your hands rested behind your back and a thump in your heartbeat at the use of the pet name, you replied, "Yes, splendidly, miss, thank you. Is breakfast to your liking?"

She groaned at the use of your "Miss and Missus," the first day you arrived she insisted that you use her first name; Natasha. She definitely wished for the use of a different name on your lips, but she couldn’t scare you away just yet. Using her forename never felt polite to you, and you're not sure you would be able handle letting her name roll off your tongue that easily when you could barely manage being in her presence. She gave up soon, but it's not like she didn't enjoy hearing you call her Ms. Romanoff, either. The sound of her name on your lips made her stomach twist with desire.

Your outfit was no mistake, either, she had of course received your profile and knew your measurements, she just couldn't resist seeing you in such a thing. Natasha was a woman that paid attention to detail. Usually, she'd never even have a live-in maid, or a maid at all for that matter. She'd probably just get Tony to whip up some robot to do all her biddings, but she wasn't that shallow. After Steve had teased her about living all alone in such a large home, she figured she just needed a little more human interaction in her home life. Eventually she found a housekeeping service. Intentionally, she had only wanted to find a maid or butler that would come in during the weekdays, but after crossing your profile and seeing your picture. She couldn't help herself. She found you irresistible and absolutely perfect. Even more when you met her, and she fell in love with your innocence, shy blushes, polite manner, and cute smiles. She felt like a teen all over again.

She knew she had to have you.

She raised her glare to find you obediently awaiting her answer. She smiled to herself, "Yes, sweetheart, it's divine. Tell Jeffrey I send my compliments. Have you eaten, my love?"

The painted pink on your checks only grew stronger with her constant use of pet names. Natasha knew this just as well, she loved seeing you blush and even more when she knew she was the reason why. "No, not yet miss. I was planning on picking up something on the way to prepare your office."

"That's nonsense, Jeffrey prepares an amazing breakfast every day. You've been here a week, honey, make yourself comfortable. It's practically your home, too." Your head dropped slightly, nodding at her reprimanding request.

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” before you could make your exit, she grabbed your wrist and tugged you into her bed, catching you in surprise. "While you're here, you might as well eat, darling."

It sounded more like a command, but you wouldn't deny her either way, knowing you were always hopelessly compliant to her demands. That's what made Natasha so set on you, not only were you a wonderful sight to see, your obedience is what made her sure you were perfect for her, even after only a week. No one had this effect on her as much as you did. She planned to make you hers, she just wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait.

You could barely move a muscle on the large black silk comforter of her bed, awaiting her next command and watching as her hands moved to slice the French toast and raise the fork to your mouth. You eyed her, hesitantly opening your mouth as she fed you.

"Good girl," she hummed satisfied, her eyes following your every move.

You nearly choked at her words, feeling your heart beat harder against your chest and heat rise to your cheeks. After a few more bites and her gazes in between, your heart paced even faster at her next move. "Stay still, honey, you have something righttt there." She said as her hand rose to grasp your face, her thumb moving to your bottom lip as she wiped away the powdered sugar that stained your mouth. She moved the same thumb to her own mouth and licked the residue slowly, glossy green eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't do much but stare starstruck at her lips in front of your face, agonizingly close as she licked them teasingly. The action alone made your stomach shudder sensually and pool heat to your center.

You composed yourself and mumbled a timid, "thank you." Before rising to your feet and picking up her tray to place onto a table to distract yourself from the wetness growing between your legs. "I'll get started on your outfit. Does it need pressing?" You said as you returned to her side. Natasha let out a small chuckle at her effect on you.

"Yes, I believe so. It's hung in my closet; you can do whatever you see fit. I trust your eye for clothing." She acknowledged with wink as she moved to grab her reading glasses and a book from her nightstand.

You nodded, moving to her walk-in closet and setting your eyes on her tailored, black suit. You planned on pressing it in the station of the laundry room before Natasha called out to you just as you were leaving, suit in hand.

"Do it in here, I want to see you." She said, signaling you to use the table that stood within her large bedroom. You couldn't help the thoughts running in your head, but only one remaining prominent; she wants to see you.

You swallowed a gulp and nodded compliantly, turning your back to her as you began pressing her suit. Natasha smiled to herself, enjoying the view in front of her as she occupied her mind of everything she would do once she got her hands on you. It was hard enough restraining herself from pouncing on you any second of the day, but with each movement your skirt rose ever so slightly, giving Natasha a perfect view of your white lace panties and having her wishing she could rip them right off. She was practically drooling at the sight.

Once you were done, you moved to hang it in her closet where it laid before. You returned to her side before clasping your hands behind your back and asking, "I've finished, Ms. Romanoff. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She took a moment to drink you in, standing obediently in front of you in your tight outfit. Your breasts pushing against the fabric and legs covered in white stockings. Before eyeing you up and down, she hummed to herself, "There are lots of things you can do for me, sweetheart. But for now, everything is fine, thank you."

Your eyes widened slightly at her remark, were you hearing things? You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to handle this woman and her seductive teasing. But you blamed it all on your attraction for her, declaring you were just making up things in your head. You nodded and made your way to her grand door, feeling eyes glued to your body as you made your exit.

At noon exactly, you had already finished preparing Natasha's office for her business meeting, you were tidying her bookshelf when you heard the door open. Twisting your head to find her in the same suit you had pressed earlier today. It hugged her body perfectly, but you didn't have time to admire any further as you clasped your hands together to greet her. "Good afternoon, Ms. Romanoff. Your office is ready. Let me know if you need anything." You bowed slightly and continued to the door before she grabbed your arm as you attempted to brush past her. Your bodies were excruciatingly close, you hoped she couldn't hear your heart practically pounding out your chest.

"Stay, dove. You won't be a bother, just continue your work. If you've finished, you're free to leave. But I'd much rather you stay." She blew into your ear, her grip never loosening from your arm as you stood tense at her side.

"I-uh yes, Ms. Romanoff." She beamed at your answer, nodding and reluctantly letting you go. You already missed the feeling of her skin on yours. She continued to make her way behind her desk, sitting in her extravagant chair that made her look ten times more powerful. She began working on her computer, typing away and eyeing you every so often as she continued to work. It wasn't soon before her meeting began, you were thrilled to see her in action. Not knowing exactly what her job was, you were glad to at least gather some intel on what she did for a living. You barely understood the terminology or language they had been using throughout the meeting, you really wished you had taken Russian instead Spanish. You’re not sure if it would’ve mattered anyway because the majority of the time you were distracted by how hot Natasha was, exerting her power and getting fueled up when something didn't go her way, spitting out what you assumed were Russian curse words. You couldn't ignore the same pool of wetness that grew between your legs as you watched her intently. You didn't mind staying her office, sitting patiently in the seat across from her while reading a book you picked from her office library. Natasha most definitely didn't mind either, being able to watch your every move as she worked, she loved every second.

Once her meeting had finished you assumed she would dismiss you, so you rose to your feet as soon as she did. But she only moved to unbutton her blazer, releasing it and letting it drop down her arms with a frustrated sigh. The sight alone was probably the most attractive thing you’ve ever witnessed. Your eyes followed her as she moved to her serving cart and poured herself a glass of scotch, taking a sip with one hand before walking back to her previous spot. She stood across from you, eyeing you amusingly with one hand in her pocket while the other held her drink.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Romanoff?" You questioned hesitantly, noticing her irritation from the meeting and offering aid. At that remark, it seemed any residual anger from the businesswoman had disappeared and been replaced with lust.

"Yes, actually." She said, a smirk tugging at her mouth ever so slightly. You nodded eagerly, urging her to continue. "Come and kneel for me, sweetheart." You stood in shock for a moment, mentally pinching yourself to see if you'd heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

When she gave you a look and reiterated it with a, “You heard me, pretty girl.” It was as if your body was on autopilot as your mind ignored the shock of her words and you nervously moved onto the space in front of her. Dropping to your knees compliantly and awaiting silently for her next direction, looking up to her face, doe-eyed and sweet.

She bit her lip as her hand rose to your face, her fingers sliding underneath your chin as her thumb swiped across your bottom lip once again. However, unlike this morning, her thumb pushed further into your mouth, behind your teeth and reaching your tongue. She took a moment to admire you, legs tucked underneath you as your hands rested in your lap pleasantly with her finger in your mouth. "You look so pretty like this, kotenok."

You squirmed on the floor underneath you, trying to ignore the soaked panties you had stained from being with Natasha all day. Wanting to please her, you wrapped your lips around her thumb, your cheeks hollowing around her while your eyes never left her hungry gaze.

Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head. "Such a good girl. Skazhi mne krasivaya devushka (tell me, pretty girl), what do you want." She requested; her thumb coated in your saliva as she moved it from your mouth to let you answer.

"I- you. I-I want you."

"That's no way to ask, little girl. Where are your manners?"

"Sorry, Ms. Romanoff."

"Wrong. Try again. Tell mommy what you want. Correctly, this time." She released as her grip tightened around your jaw.

"I-I want you, mommy. Please."

She groaned at your words, grinning slyly as her hand continued to caress your face.

She had you right where she wanted you.

"What a good little girl you are. Come sit on mommy's lap, sweetheart." She let out as she dropped to her chair and tapped her right knee twice, thighs spread to leave room for you in between her legs.

Like the obedient girl you were, you rose to your feet, taking only a few steps towards the woman in front of you with insatiable hunger. As you took your place on her lap, your skirt flew up, leaving nothing but your bare bottom in lace panties on Natasha's thigh. Her hand immediately moved to your thigh, rubbing slowly as it made its way up and down. You whimpered in frustration, wanting to feel her hands all over your body. Eventually she reached your clothed heat, stroking painfully slow over your drenched panties. You tried not to squirm under her touch, wanting to push yourself further onto her fingers but her hand firmly wrapped around your waist kept you in place.

She noticed your impatience, chuckling softly before swiping her fingers harder against your core. You moaned at the feeling, pushing your hip into her hand, desperate for her touch.

"Greedy slut, aren't you?" You couldn't answer, your mind only focusing on grinding your hips against her now spread-out palm.

But soon you felt a stinging slap against your thigh, dangerously close to your heat, you jumped in surprise and whined at the loss of her hand against you. "Answer me."

"Yes, mommy, only for you. Please, I want you so bad."

You didn't have time to concentrate or dwell on the loss as she began stroking your bare thigh again, spreading your legs firmly and pushing her fingers back to rub circles against your cunt. Her mouth soon attached itself to your ear as your mouth was left open at the sensation, letting out labored breaths.

She slid her tongue around your lobe and into your ear, "You have no idea what you do to me, kotenok. Walking around in that little outfit, I've wanted to fuck you senseless since the day you walked in here."

Your legs closed in reflex, feeling the undeniable drench between your legs. But Natasha only growled against your ear, moving her leg to wrap around your ankle, keeping your bottom strapped against her.

"Is that what you want, pretty girl. You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk?" She teased across your cheek, peppering wet kisses along your jaw and to your lips, leaving her centimeters away from your mouth. You knew better to answer this time, closing your eyes from sensation of her palm rubbing against you.

"Yes, mommy. I want you inside of me, please, I need you so bad." You whined against her and moaned once she moved your panties to the side and slid her fingers through your juices.

"Oh baby, you're soaked. My good little girl, all wet for me, huh." She continued, looking up to your flustered face as you writhed on top of her.

Before continuing her movements, she paused, "Say red if you want to stop, sweetheart, I won't be mad. Yellow if you want to slow down and green for go. Understood?"

You nodded before realizing she wanted a verbal response. "Yes, mommy."

"Good, printsessa," she smiled before shoving her fingers into your heat, muffling your moan with her mouth and she connected your lips into a heated kiss.

You could barely focus on kissing her back with the way her fingers were deepening inside you. You so desperately wanted to keep up, and you loved the feeling of her plush red lips on yours. The way she tasted only made you crave more; cherry and scotch, it was as addicting as it was sexy. She moved with incredible expertise, knowing how to get you breathless with a lick of her tongue against yours. You could feel her smirk against your mouth when you struggled to keep up with her hungry kisses, instead letting out breathy moans into her mouth. Natasha continued exploring your mouth, growing wetter at the sight of the strings of your mixed saliva connecting your mouths.

She continued her thrusts, adding another finger as her thumb rubbed against your clit, only causing more sounds to escape your mouth. Just as you felt yourself clench around her fingers and tighten your fists as your hips rode against her, she pulled them out, eliciting another whine at the loss. Releasing her hand drenched in your juices and sliding it into your mouth. You were forced to open wide as she commanded.

"Shut up and suck," you did exactly that, running your tongue through her manicured digits and tasting yourself around her. You loved the way her eyes were devouring you, as if she was about to rip you apart on the spot.

She moved to grab your wrist, moving your hand to let you feel her packing through the crotch of her pants as you began stroking her through the fabric. Your thighs clenching at the thought of how big it was. "You want my cock, printsessa, huh? Wanna get it all nice and wet for your pussy?"

You didn't waste a second to respond, desperately letting out a "Yes, mommy, please."

She grinned at your eagerness, motioning her head to the floor in front of her again and saying, "On your knees, krasivaya devushka." You obeyed, dropping to the carpet beneath you once again and placing your hands neatly flat onto your lap.

She watched you like a hawk before rising to her feet, towering over you before unbuckling her belt in front of your face. She pulled the belt from its loops and circled to your back, pulling your arms from in front of you and locking them together in her belt against your back. The position only brought your breasts up further against your tight outfit, displaying them in front of your body. Natasha moved in front of you once again, enjoying the sight but still insatiably wanting more.

"Color, my love."

"Green, mommy."

She smiled before kissing your cheek. After a pause she moved her hand to grab her drink once again, taking a sip before deliberately extending her arm out and pouring it into your cleavage, feeling the cold liquid roll through your body and onto your stomach as your mouth drew out a gasp.

"Oh my, I'm so clumsy, dove. Let mommy help you with that." Natasha feigned with faux innocence as she bent her body down to your level, eyeing your shiny chest and immediately ripping apart the blouse effortlessly with both of her hands. It left you in your matching white lace bra, presenting your breasts perfectly into Natasha's view. She groaned, moving her two hands to grope them above the fabric. You could only watch, immobile with your hands tied behind your back as she unclipped your bra and let it fall down your arms. Your heart raced against your chest as she moved to the drink once again, dropping the cold liquid all over your bare chest as inhaled sharply, feeling the cold sensation run down your body. Natasha only stared further, wanting this picture of you to last in her mind forever. She opted for the next best thing, reaching for her phone on the desk and angling it to get you into view. She snapped a photo of you, knowing she would be using it for later purposes and hoped she would have enough for an album soon, she would make sure of it. She couldn't help herself and soon enough, began sliding her tongue up against your stomach and around your breasts, palming the opposite one and pinching around your nipples. She sucked each of them, humming at the taste of scotch tainting your skin as your arousal grew as you watched her worship you.

After enough teasing, she moved to drop her pants in front of you, revealing the large red strap on teasing your face. She shoved two fingers into your mouth again, coating them in your saliva before she gripped your cheeks open and tilted your face up to her. "Swallow." She directed as she leaned down to drop a ball of her saliva into your mouth before kissing it. She hummed against your face and continued to stand up straight in front of you, pushing the strap into your face.

"Good girl, and you know what good girls get?"

You shook your head, awaiting her response before she continued and began playing with your nipples, "they get to suck on Mommy's cock, you want that, baby, don't you?"

"Yes, mommy, please." You whimpered from underneath her, fighting the urge to rub your heat against the floor.

She pinched down extra hard on your breasts, tugging at the tip and taking the opportunity to shove herself down your throat when you opened it to moan. You internally thanked yourself for your lack of a gag reflex, adjusting to her size quickly as you let her continue. She picked up her pace, both her hands traveling to tug onto your hair and keep you firmly thrusting back and forth on her appendage. Your cheeks hollowed against the toy, swallowing whole to please her.

"That's right, baby, sucking my cock like a good slut. You're such a pretty girl, aren't you, my pretty little girl." Natasha moaned out between her rough thrusts.

Soon she released you, a string of your saliva connecting to tip of her cock and tears brimming your eyes when she pulled your hair back to move your mouth off of her. "What a mess you are. I bet that pussy's just as much of a mess, huh? Why don't we check. Stand up, slut."

You gathered your breath and brought yourself to feet, struggling slightly as your thighs rubbed together and your hands still remained tied behind your back. Natasha smirked at your appearance, chest open at her mercy and plaid in a skirt with suspenders connected to your white stockings.

You were soaked, you knew it, too. You could feel your wetness roll down your thigh and feel it press against your panties. You'd do anything to relieve yourself, but you were completely at Natasha's will.

"Oh, I'll never get tired of this. Maybe I'll make you walk around the house like this. Put on some panties with a vibrator in it and watch you tremble while you do your chores. You'd like that wouldn't you, pretty girl." She teased, her hands caressing your backside before delivering a smack to your ass. You jumped in surprise, squealing before answering her. "Mmph! Mhm! Anything to please you, mommy."

She groaned into your ear, feeling her body ghost over your back as her hands massaged your bottom. After moving to face you once again, her hands never resisting the chance to grope your boobs, she moved her hand down your core. Rubbing the fabric against your cunt as her palm made contact with your clit, making you jerk forward and whimper in pleasure. She released her hand from you, removing your skirt and moving to slide her hand down your stomach and to the top of your panties. She followed the pattern of the lace before hooking her fingers and dropping them to the floor. You stepped out of them and felt yourself being pushed down onto the desk, bending over and wondering when she had cleared it for you. You turned your head to the side, looking down and noticing the mess of papers on the floor from cleaning off her desk. You wondered if you would still be responsible for cleaning it.

Her nails pressed into the curve of your back, pushing you down against the cold wooden desk. Her hands found her way back to your bare bottom, sliding down to smack it once again. You screamed in surprise, knowing it had been harder than the last.

"If you can't keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed, I'm gonna have to do something about it." She vocalized above you.

"I'm sorry, mommy, I'll be good."

"You will be, princess. Now, look at what we have here, such a pretty little pussy. Can't wait to bury myself inside you, baby. Gonna fuck you like the whore you are." Natasha groaned at the thought, enjoying the whimpering mess you were bent over her desk. She dropped to her knees behind you, running her tongue up your thigh and following the trail of your slick until she reached the spot you needed most.

You let out a sob in relief, moving back to grind against her tongue and the way it pressed flat against your heat. She continued her movements, teasing your folds before shoving her tongue inside of you. Once she began to play with your clit, you screamed in pleasure, but soon whined once she retracted her mouth. It wasn't soon before she appeared in front of your eyes with your white lace panties in hand.

"I told you to be quiet, slut. Now mommy's gonna have to do something about that." She scolded before rolling your drenched panties into a ball and into your mouth, gagging you. She caressed your face gently as she smiled down at you, brushing loose strands of hair from your face before moving behind you once again. She pulled your hair, lifting your body flush against hers. "Now, kroshka, I'm gonna play with your pretty little pussy and if you can be a good girl, I'll let you come. But if you can't keep those panties in your mouth, I'll be punishing you tonight. Color."

"Green." You let out, muffled by the fabric occupying your mouth. She flipped your body to face her, using her muscled arms to lift your hips onto her desk and manhandling you. She forced your legs apart, letting cool air hit your bare bottom and drop your wetness onto her desk. Natasha loved the sight of your cunt glistening in front of her. You placed your palms on the surface behind you to sturdy yourself, but once your eyes widened at the vibrator Natasha had in her hand, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself together. She laughed at your reaction, moving her hands to your breasts again and stroking over your nipples.

Catching you off guard, she immediately pressed the vibrator down to your core, buzzing against you and having you scream in pleasure against your gag. She immediately began rubbing it through your folds, teasing you and ignoring the only spot you truly desired. You wailed against her, pushing yourself further onto the machine before she slapped your thigh.

"Naughty girl, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you. Stay still, or your wrists won't be the only thing that's tied." She ordered, pressing further against your cunt and clutching at your nipples.

She took mercy on you, moving the vibrator onto your clit and enjoying your reaction as you moaned in pleasure on top of her. Your head was thrown back, and your eyes rolled to back of your head once she began fucking you with two fingers. You could hear the obscene noises coming from your core as she thrusted into you, even louder were the groans and whimpers escaping your throat, only to be muffled by the gag.

"You hear that? You're so wet against my fingers, can't imagine how you're gonna sound taking my cock, slut." She continued to curl her fingers against you, moving the vibrator against your clit painfully. You could feel yourself reaching the edge, bucking your hips into her movements and whining against the device.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" You nodded frantically above her, practically riding her fingers as the sensation on your heat grew stronger.

"Cum all over my fingers. Now." She demanded, adding a third finger. You did just that, biting down on your gag before becoming a whining mess. Covered in your own slick as the sensation washed over you while Natasha kept her pace. Your thighs were trembling on top of the desk when you let out a final cry, collapsing against her.

She halted her movements and grazed her hand over your face as she pulled your panties out of your mouth. Sweat was trembling down your body as she began kissing your face. You struggled to keep your eyes open to watch her suck each of the fingers she had fucked you with. You could taste yourself on her tongue as she connected your mouths, dominating you in record time. Your breath hitched when her hands and lips began to roam all over your body. Tweaking with your nipples in one hand while she sucked the other.

Soon the toy between her legs found its way between your folds, sliding itself against your sensitive cunt and becoming coated in your cum. It wasn't long before you were dripping again, despite barely coming down from your orgasm.

"Is my printsessa ready for my cock?" She taunted, continuing to grind her hips into your center. You gasped as the toy slid across your clit, attempting to thrash away from the feeling but Natasha's hand on your leg kept you still as she released a dark chuckle.

You gathered your thoughts, responding to her before you received punishment. "Yes, mommy. Please."

"Aw, my pretty girl can do better than that. Beg me, slut."

You writhed on top of her, letting the moans fall effortlessly from your throat as you rolled your hips on her length. Natasha noticed you getting lost in enjoyment before she moved her cock away from you and slapped it against your cunt. "Answer me."

You struggled to get your words out, growing frustrated you shouted, "P-Please, fuck me! Need you inside of me, I'll be a good girl. Please just fuck me, mommy! Use me!"

She grinned, beaming at your desperation and wasted no time before lining her tip and inserting herself into your core. The moan you let out was the loudest yet, your head was thrown back in pleasure and mouth left open as she plunged herself further into you.

"Oh my- fuck. Nat, you're so big."

Her head snapped up to your face, you hadn't noticed your slip-up but once she gave you no warning and slammed her entire length into your pussy, you could only scream in satisfaction. Natasha roughly picked your body up from the desk, twisting you and shoving your head down to bend over once again. Her cock never escaping your pussy, she began relentlessly thrusting into you, her hands reaching in front of her to grab your hair.

"That's not my name, naughty girl." She scowled, her hand coming down to smack your bottom repeatedly while you flailed beneath her.

"S-sorry, mommy! Please, harder, you feel so good." You cried between her thrusts. You didn't think it was possible for Natasha to quicken her pace, but she began pushing in and out of you rapidly, the only sounds filling the room were her grunts, the embarrassing squelch of your pussy, and sound of her skin flapping against yours when she bottomed out at each thrust.

"Such a dirty girl, taking mommy's cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it, baby." She moaned on top of you, pulling your hair to bring your back flush against her body. Her hand moved to your bare stomach, gliding to clutch your breasts and pull at your nipples. You let your head fall back onto her shoulder, you could feel your knees trembling from beneath you. If it weren't for Natasha's sharp thrusts and hands holding your body, you're not sure you would be able to stand on your own.

Once her fingers found its way to your sensitive clit you couldn't take it anymore, between her rubbing circles on your clit and her relentless force on your cunt you felt yourself helplessly clenching and squirming around the toy.

"P-Please, mommy, can I c-come." You cried, your voice wavering between her movements.

"Come, baby, be a good girl for mommy." Natasha began focusing on pleasuring you, playing with your clit and reaching to tug on your nipples while she fucked you into your orgasm. Her hips continued ramming into you as your rode out your high, letting out noises you didn't know you were capable of making and screaming her name in a loud moan.

You slumped against her body, breathless and covered in cum, sweat, and alcohol. You turned your head to face Natasha tirelessly, she smiled against you and placed a kiss to your lips.

"My good little girl, you did so well, detka." You hummed at her praise, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips caressing your body while her strap was still buried inside you.

"Come on, baby, let's get you cleaned up."

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